#they just weren't prophetic or quite like this

[kyliafanfiction]

Honestly, if I thought it might actually be possible to just... exorcise the Amy brainrot from my head and move on with my life, fic ideas unwritten, fics unread and Worm unfinished, I'm tempted to.

Not because of the brainrot itself, but because of how fucking annoyed thinking about Ward and all the Ward-era WoG shit Wildbow pulled gets me.

[moonlightspencie]

part 2 of the fake dating!james drabble as suggested by @simp-for-fiction!

part 1 here : part 2

pairing: james potter x reader

——————————

It had been two weeks since the night he kissed you and then proceeded to pretend as if he hadn't. You really couldn't blame him considering that you had also been hesitant to bring it up. After all, it was a part of the act.

But then again, it felt so real.

He was dragging you to yet another event today, telling you to dress nice. You complained, of course, but the second he mentioned that you'd be getting a nice fancy dinner for free... who were you to turn down such a compelling evening?

You showed up at his flat in your sleek black evening gown, feeling quite pretty, and knocked on his door. He opened it a moment later, looking a bit frazzled: his hair was a mess, his tie undone, and his glasses absent from his face.

"...hey?" you greeted.

"Hi," he replied quickly, ushering you inside before scurrying through the flat. "Sorry, promise I'll be done soon!"

"You okay?" you asked hesitantly, following him to his room.

He shuffled through things in his room, spraying himself with cologne and trying to smooth out his hair.

"Fine. Just... maybe, accidentally fell asleep and only started getting ready fifteen minutes ago," he winced a little.

You snorted a laugh. "Alright, that's fine. Do we need to be there right on time?"

"No... I guess we don't, but," he sighed, finally taking a good look at you. "You showed up on time looking... beautiful. The least I can do is get you there when I said I would."

"James, we've known each other for years. I'm not exactly expecting you to turn things around for a girl you're pretending to date."

He smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess that's true. Still, though."

"Don't worry about it," you reiterated, sitting on his bed.

He continued getting ready, now quite a bit less frazzled, and you were on your way before you knew it. He led you inside some charity event that he'd been invited to. You knew his family was rich, but this... this was something else.

"So... Lily is gonna be here?" you ask in a bit of surprise as he walked you through the ballroom.

"No," he replied simply, bringing you to sit at a table with little place-cards indicating your seats.

You furrowed your brow. "What... then, why are we here?"

"Photos, of course. They go in the Prophet. Evans will see them, and hopefully get jealous."

"Thats a pretty elaborate plan, Potter."

"It'll work," he said, waving off your concerns. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing here."

You snorted, but didn't really feel like complaining the second the food and drinks came out. Even more, you were perfectly happy once dancing began. It felt like a really fancy school ball with a bunch of people who were much more intimidating than your classmates. But... James made it easy.

"And spin," he instructed with a laugh, twirling you around. He caught you, pulling you into his chest again. "See? You're a natural."

"Far from it," you laughed. "If it weren't for you, I'd be tripping over my own two feet."

"Nah. You're great," he smiled brightly, annoyingly charming as always.

"I didn't grow up with this stuff. You dont have to lie to make me feel better."

"I'm not lying. Swear. You're good."

You smiled a little, shaking your head. "You know, we should really hang out more. I think I like hanging out with you when I'm not being paraded around for you to get Lily's attention the whole time."

"We hang out," he said, tilting his head a little.

"Not really," you smiled a little. "I hang out with Remus and Sirius, and... sometimes you're just there. I wouldn't quantify us as friends, per se."

"I would. Per se," he snorted a laugh. "We are now at least."

"Maybe."

"Don't maybe me," he laughed cheerfully.

You chuckled right back, about to respond when a flash went off. You blinked, looking in the direction of the light.

An older man who looked far too happy with himself, held up his camera. "Beautiful young couple! That will make a lovely photo for the papers."

"Oh, we're not--"

James cut you off. "Thank you! We've been told."

"Oh," you nodded a little. Right. This was the whole point of the event.

The photographer gave you another overly-peppy grin, then bid you adieu. You glanced at James.

"You really think she'll see that?"

"Everyone will see it," he shrugged.

"Everyone?" you swallowed. "Ugh. James, I don't know if that's a good thing. For everyone to think we're..."

"What, am I not enough for you?" he teased.

"That's not what I mean, James. It's just that people talk. Do we really need a public break up from a relationship we were never in."

"Eh," he shrugged. "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

"It's supposed to be cross that bridge."

"Either way," he grinned.

"Quit worrying," he kissed your cheek. "Now, come on. We have the whole rest of the night to have fun together, now."

"Right. Lead the way, Potter."

[darin-nidk]

Family dynamic. | Vox's sibling!Reader.

Content: Implicit imposter syndrome, subtle hints of depression. General description of S.Reader's relationship with The Vee's.

A/N: Probably the last thing you'll see of this particular reader unless I get requests for potential relationships with other Hazbin hotel characters.

Frankly, Hell wasn't exactly what you had in mind, if anything, this particular ring of Hell was like Earth with extra steps and fancier titles: people (read: sinners) still got killed, sometimes there was a transactional reason behind, sometimes just because ; consent was also a bit of a myth here too ; politics? Not exactly. Religion? Uh, duh — after all, the fancy titles previously mentioned were: Archangels, Seraphims, Angels, Sinners and Hellborns (was Adam his own category? His title was First Man and, according to some sources, he had self-proclaimed as Dickmaster or the original dick).

The only upside thus far was that your physical form was kind of cool (literally, a humanoid robot so... an android that had to regulate its body temperature to not overheat), no bones ached, no muscles hurt and you couldn't get sick (a virus, maybe...?) plus your cult leader brother was, to no one's surprise, a cult leader! With the power of hypnosis which, in retrospective, was kind of like his gig back on Earth with manipulation skills that had been perfectly crafted and mastered throughout years and years of studying the human psique and emotions.

The TV head was... new. Unexpected, certainly hilarious even if the context was gruesome to an extent. It made sense, same goes with you: the right-hand, the prophet of this newfound god. Although your form was different since you died electrocuted because of a faulty electrical connection.

Ah yes, what is there to do in Hell..? The Radio Demon had gone missing as well as Lilith, part of you heavily believes that those two separate events are, in fact, connected despite the lack of evidence. A hunch though without something to back it up, you kept quiet — after all, you weren't a big mastermind, though you did enjoy chaos and creating a ridiculous amount of back-up plans in case something went terribly wrong. Cautious? Anxious? Oh, yeah. Your stubborn egotistical brother was careless when going through his many power-trips or when his rage made his (seemingly) perfect persona crack, hence why you just had to have ways to ammend any and all mistakes. Problems made you uneasy, utterly sick — gotta fix 'em, gotta have potential solution for every possible scenario no matter how insane they could be. You never know! You have to know, a sense of being capable of choosing, to own something, just about any single aspect of your life just had to be yours to control.

Nonetheless... Hell, huh. What to do? Unlike Vox, your powers were quite limited and served as support for his, rinse and repeat a life on that one. Besides that, you weren't an official Vee member, more like an honorary one — and thanks to you being a charmer, a problem solver (people-pleaser) and overall someone who rather live comfortably, well... You started babysitting looking after Valentino whenever Vox was too busy (read: didn't want to put up with his bullshit) and this lead to uhhh, unwillingly being dragged to his studio. The porn actors loved you, which made Valentino hate you but also love you as well because "motherfuckers are more willing to cooperate when there's una cara bonita como la tuya around these parts" while squeezing your 'cheeks' (screen). Yeah, you didn't get why Vox wanted this mothman carnally, though his voice was podcast material, the accent? Delicious.

Now when it came to the backbone of The Vee's, it was a trickier situation — mostly due to not having an actual reason to interact with Velvette. Sure, you guys exchanged texts like roasting Vox and Valentino, gossip, some blackmail material... Memes, selfies, the very basic. Being physically in the same room was comfortable, pleasant silences while sitting next to each other and showing funny videos from your respective devices ; or sharing private conversations that were hilarious with or without context, that's for sure! Oh and, let's not forget that this fashionista icon and unforgiving social manager will absolutely roast you if you are dressed like last century. Still, she was kind to you and, in return, you behaved the same way — work collegues, or flatmates would be a way to describe how you two got along.

If you like my stories, consider donating to my Ko-Fi! Even cents are plenty of help!

Y si hablas español, 'tonces no seas garca y dame $2 para honrar el billete que no esta en circulación y que ni siquiera es de colección a mi MP .

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT. 5

Sun in Scorpios need to realize that they should allow growth in their true forms. We cannot see who you are just by you coming to us or walking in the room. Sure we can see their power but their true expression is what the world needs to see so that the energy can truly evolve. It is with this self-mastery can formulate.

Moon In Scorpios have a unique drive to succeed in whatever it is they are passionate about. Any harbored up emotions can lead to great achievements if they use it well. Whatever hurt them in the past this is quickly used as fuel to strengthen their energy. It is through time they learn that this power should be used wisely and not on other peoples opinions and feelings over them.

Venus in Aries are unmatched. Like their auras are bold, eccentric, daring, and just sexy. The more confident they are the sexier they become. They'll grow into their beauty if they just believe in their self worth. Venus aries can turn people on by just the way the move. They should be more open to being the person to start the conversation because it draws people in and it makes them stand out.

Pluto in the 8th have a mystique aura to them. Quiet and chill tempered. They haunt people by their self expression. You use other peoples reaction to gain insight on the world view. How are you doing? serious question. Your energy is tantalizing to some, boring to a few, enraging in others, and just amazing, powerful and dynamic to many. You get the whole spear of reactions dealing with others. Your memories of past lives are quite alarming, and you know the future quite well. You have gifts in being a prophet/seer, unusual abilities in the arts of the occult, and so much more. It would be a wonder to understand you but your power is so infinite, we'll just sit in awe.

Mercury in Aquarius shows an intellectuals who's powers in the mind are beyond the years of their peers. Your gifts come in the form of mathematics, scientific pursuits, and using the mind past its limits. You might get insight on future events and can use them to explore the beliefs of the world around you. Could help change the way another human thinks by expressing your point of view. Helping other humans see that there are are more possibilities than what we know helps shift the third eye into new horizons.

(Before someone says because i know they will: no, maybe you weren't the best at math or science as a kid or even college but now its time to find new avenues as their are so many different ways to study these two topics. Also knowing aquarius, they tend to go into different things and finding out something new. This is how they become the originator and the first to do it. They think it then they do it. Thats their super power).

Neptune in the 3rd has a sensual expression in the arts. Their ability to master the senses and being able to express that into words is amazing. Because this is the third house and its ruler is mercury/gemini there can be talents with the hands so they could probably paint, draw or even do photography. There talent can make others see beyond whatever it is they are looking at. It's as if we can see a whole new world insight of their thoughts. Our imagination can grow with just their speech alone. Crazy gift.

[radiocmyk]

Time loops could be scarier.

They're always a day or less. They could be longer though. A time loop could be a full year. Imagine if, at the stroke of midnight on December 31st, 2024, you look at the calendar, and it says... January 1st, 2024. Nobody else seems to notice.

Everything is how it was 1 year ago, on January 1st, 2024. Events that transpired over the course of 2024 now have yet to do so. Likely you are surrounded by different people in this room, or alone when you weren't a second ago. Probably you are in a completely different room. Maybe your new favorite movie or your favorite song no longer even exists. Everything is how it was on January 1st, including the weather, your friends, your life, and even your own body. If you lost or gained weight. If you got a tattoo. If you transitioned in any way. If your health got better or worse. It's all back.

Imagine if you had a health episode in 2024 and now it hasn't happened yet but you know it's coming. You can't exactly stroll into a hospital and tell them what you need them to do several months before you need it. You're going to have to suffer again. The countdown would be agonizing. If you left your job, congrats, you've got your job back! Even if you quit. Even if you found a better one. If you moved out of a shitty situation, you're back. If you cut out shitty people, they're back. If you made great new friends, or even found love, they're gone.

If you lost someone since January 1st, they're back. What if a friend died last March? To look into their eyes again, it feels like a miracle, a blessing. What a gift you've been given, even if they don't understand why you embraced them, or why you're crying. You're crying, of course, because you realized you have to lose them all over again. And over again. And over again.

You're 90 years old. You're 150 years old.

It's not like a 24-hour time loop. There are consequences, consequences you feel for far longer than a day. People whose reactions and emotions would feel far more real and important if they were suffering for your actions for months. There's no fun Groundhog's Day montage of reckless abandon. You can't just up and take off in your car to see the world. Maybe you think you can for a fleeting moment because you've got a whole year to do whatever you want!-- but no, you can't just do whatever you want actually, you only have so much in savings and it especially won't cover 12 months if you lose your job. And you still need food and a roof, because otherwise you'll die, and if you die, the loop resets. So you have to go to work. You have to go to your job day to day. You're in a damn time loop and you're at work. Typical.

You're 200 years old. You're 1,00 years old.

You can't convince people you're in a time loop. Of course, already impossible enough to do so in a 24-hour time loop. But a 24-hour time loop teaches you every conversation and every event much faster. Can you remember every intonation of every word of every conversation you had 11 months ago? Can you sit people down and beg them to understand without looking insane? Without being institutionalized for a full year? Because you'll be feeling that one. Your family will be feeling that one.

It's not the classic time loop question of "how long until despair starts to creep in?" anymore. The answer is right away, of course. The new question is, "how long until you can't even feel that anymore?"

You're 1,000,000 years old. You're 3,000,000 years old.

Maybe eventually you do learn how to have some fun. Study the news intensely. Maybe on one loop you do a little prophet scam, predict some events, do a little Back to the Future, make some bets, now you're having fun, now you're rich. Steal, swindle and cheat your way into a few millions and now you've gamed the system, you can travel the world, you can quit your job and live it up. Now you're on a roll! Now you've got that classic Groundhog's Day montage romp going!

You don't know how old you are.

Maybe eventually you are able to convince people. Now you do know every conversation. Or your portent knowledge of the year's random and natural events is enough. Prevent your health episode. Save your friend's life. You convince your loved ones at first, but eventually you'll be able to get the whole world convinced. Governments. Scientists. Physicists. Plead for help, and they believe you. Maybe they can even try to save you with the five or six months you have left after the process of convincing them.

But at the end of the year, none of it matters.

Because on January 1st, it'll just be January 1st again.

[karlachismylife]

People Are Strange

Yup, a surprise drop from me instead of any of the things I promised. Honestly, I just fell into a weird state today and very much was missing the state and things I'm describing here, so I just wrote some extremely self-indulgent blatant self-insert thing I doubt anyone will enjoy. Yup, everything here, except the surprise guest part, is how I sometimes spend time, and the paintings are actually my real paintings too. Welcome to the mind of Juju, I guess, lol.

So yeah, sorry, I'm hoping this will shake me out of today's stupor and let me do the things I actually should. And maybe someone will like it, I dunno.

CW: afab!reader, smoking (a lot of it), alcohol mentioned, clearly unhealthy behavior and habits, altered state of mind, unsafe behavior (please don't let strangers into your home at night). Reader is a painting hippie-adjacent weirdo (hello). Basically no plot. Probably OOC Ghost. Or not. He's also a weirdo, you know.

(Title from a song by The Doors, but it's this track by Ren I've been listening to this whole time, recommended to listen while reading)

There was a certain irony in the fact that it was the evening you spent blasting The Doors in your lonely apartment that your door got knocked on.

You weren't expecting anyone, self-inflicted isolation has already spiraled to the point where everyone knew to leave you be until another episode passes. All the friends that tried to get ahold of you, were left with unread messages, unanswered calls and your neighbours' reassurance that you were still live and going out to buy groceries - stacks of cigarette packs, the same brand of beer and random assortment of both proper food and unhealthy snacks.

You were fine. You just needed a pause, a break to get recharged in that suspended state outside normal world. Forget about the clocks and proper routine, submerge yourself into nowhere and nowhen, take time to allow yourself some doubt whether or not you even existed.

And paint. You also wanted to paint.

Waking up late past noon, spending time just laying on the parquet board of your floor, eating leftovers and chasing yourself into that limbo by the time darkness fell over the city, you disappeared from here and now every night for already two weeks. World stopped being real, cigarette smoke filled the room in an infinite chain of drags, coiling in a prophetic dance under your slightly yellowish lamps, music warped your sense of space, until you finally dissosiated with that excited tingling in the tips of your fingers holding a brush in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Sounds and objects turned unrecognizable, carrying you through the ever-new and exciting inside-out of the universe.

So it took you some time to finally gather that it was knocking on your door that you heard - you were so far away from Earth, mix of reds, oranges and pinks gliding over your wet canvas, that you forgot even to get scared by someone knocking, quite insistently, into your apartment at one past midnight.

Not that you even remotely knew what time it was.

Still delayed in your reactions, you finally put the butt of your snuffed out cigarette into the overflowing ashtray - the mountain of ash with butts sticking out of it reminded you of that little chemistry trick with ammonium dichromate, and then got up. Once you opened the door of your bedroom, you almost sobered up from your hazed state, much cooler and clearer air of the rest of the apartment hitting your cheeks and exposed shoulders - you didn't even realize how much your train smoking fogged the room and dimmed the light there. The lack sounds in lifeless, yet still lit with all the lamps, rooms, also made you feel like the world got muffled. Must've been all the music you've been listening to for hours.

Or maybe you were still somewhere partially outside your body, far, far away from that two-bedroom apartment with windows looking outside at their yellowish twins littering unevenly neighborly buildings.

Someone knocked again, finally startling you, and you padded barefoot to the door, unlocking it without peeking outside - you forgot.

You didn't know that large man standing outside your apartment, dressed in all black, matching up to the surgical mask on his face. You moved here a few months ago and were going out at normal hours before you had your little episode, and you have never seen him before. What could he even want?

A realisation dawned on you as he looked you over with a visible disappointment in his piercing eyes - was it your sirwal pants, your paint-stained skin exposed by a Ganesha tanktop, all the bracelets or the paint brush you wer still clutching in your hand, you weren't sure, but he looked like the kind of man to grunt "damn hippies" into your back with all the disdain he could find in himself. So the logical conclusion came quickly, despite your brain being slow and foggy, still stuck at the canvas you were engrossed in to the point of using your fingers to paint too.

"Music, yeah?"

He blinked at you, clearly cut off in the middle of his sentence - fuck, you didn't even register his voice, must've been on the wavelength you've already got numb to. But you still tried.

"Sorry, I didn't... my music's too loud? I can turn it down, sorry, I didn't realize-"

"No. I knocked not because of the music." You blinked now, too, the stinging in your eyes hinting that you haven't done that for some time. "I'm from the apartment across... you're new here?"

"Couple... three months, I think. Sorry, I've never seen you, is that Billy's apartment?" Maybe it wasn't. You were pretty sure it was, though, you met Billy once or twice, busy lad, but a nice one. His hoodie was the colour of beans and he looked much friendlier than the guy towering over you in front of your door.

"Aye, bloke's my landlord. Listen, love, I only knocked 'cause ya're the only one not asleep on the floor yet. Can I come in? Got locked out, just came back from work and bloody lock got jammed. Can't call anyone this late." He sighed again and you blinked very forcefully this time, raising your eyebrows to clear your vision and get another, real good look at the man.

He looked tired.

Somehow the more you looked at him, the softer his feautures got - all the hostility now revealing itself to be just plain human irritability and grumpiness from exhaustion. Deep shadows under his eyes - although there was just pure black smidged under his left one, so maybe he actually wasn't as sleep-deprived as he seemed. His posture was off, slouched shoulder that did nothing to make him look less hulking, weight shifted onto one foot to support a duffelbag on one shoulder. Nice boots, though, and keys with the familiar key to common door - so he actually did live here.

"You wanna sleep over?" Your disorganised self tried to do several things at once - ask a question like a normal person would and open the door to invite in a stranger like no normal person would - and almost got stuck in the middle, so you slurred your words and stopped before your door was open enough to let the broad guest inside.

To his credit, he only leaned forward, as if for a step, and then paused, blond eyebrows furrowing with suspicion.

"Ya drunk? High?" Watching him take a step back, you tried to think about his question. Were you? Probably not.

"No, jus' tired." That was easier to explain than the fact that you felt your head fill with fuzzy black dots and little spiky wheels running over the inside surface of your skull. "Come in. I have a spare bedroom."

He came in. Judging by the sound it hit your floor with, his bag was loaded - if you could spare a minute to think properly, you would realize it shouldn't be a surprise if he left for more than three months to avoid meeting you. Wiping your suddenly sweaty and greasy forehead, you tried remembering what is usually done when you have guest's over.

"So... you can leave shoes here... toilet's down this hall, the furthest door, bathroom's close-"

"Name's Simon."

For whatever reason, it was his name, thrown out there right when your playlist paused between Crystal Ship and Spanish Caravan, that made you finally snap back into your body. You felt the itch in your fingers where your brush handle dug into the skin, smelled the smokey aftertaste in the air left by you opening the door and letting that one and a half packs worth of smoke into the apartment, and felt cold in your bare arms. Even felt the hairs on your forearms rise protectively.

"Right. Nice to meet you, Simon. Sorry, I'm a little bit... distracted." Scratching your eyebrow, you named yourself and repeated the instructions about the shoes and hands washing - surprisingly, Simon did just as you said. Seeing him in the bathroom with half of the tiles decorated by those special markers was funny.

Too much glitter and unicorns for such brute of a man.

"So, uh, I wasn't actually going to sleep yet... I can turn off the music so you can rest... want some tea?"

Simon didn't answer straight away, hesitating between two towels, until you finally rushed to help him and shoved the one with Pinky Pie in his wet hands.

"Wouldn't mind a cuppa, love. And don't worry 'bout the music. 'M not gonna sleep either, jus' need a place to stay until I can call 'bout the damn lock. Jus' a few hours and I'm gone."

A few hours was exactly how much you had left in you, before you would sleepily fry your ritualistic veggies for a 6 am supper and collapse on the bed next to a new painting. Somewhat relieved that you didn't have to interrupt your hypnotizing background noise - even though the man himself was quite an interruption - you hummed and padded to the kitchen, finally placing the brush down on the sink edge to keep paint from staining your counter and putting the kettle on.

As you turned, another cigarette between your fingers by inertia, you finally got actually scared - dropped your lighter and everything, big hand reaching out to catch it inches above the floor with inhumane reflex.

"Oh fuck! Shit, sorry, you scared me, you- you're so quiet... thanks." With a trembling hand, you put your cigarette back into your mouth and let Simon light it for you. If your eyes weren't so full of pink from the painting you were doing, you would say his ears reddened a bit.

"Sorry. Jus' a habit," he offered with an awkward nape rub and checked the steadiness of your kitchen table before leaning his hip against it. Behind your back kettle finally started gurgling and bubbling. "Not gonna open a window?"

"Oh, you don't like the smoke? Sorry, I, uhm... well, shit, I kinda got whole apartment fumed..." His eyes smiled - and he chuckled. It was the friendliest sound he made so far, and you liked it. "What? I didn't expect anyone! I just don't wanna get distracted from what I'm doing every time I need a smoke."

"And I take it, you need it a lot, huh?" He chuckled again, and you rolled your eyes at him, turning away for a moment to shake the ash off into the sink. You weren't expecting him to say much more, but he suddenly asked: "Can I 'ave one, too? I mean, I've got mine. Jus' asking if you mind."

Having someone else be okay with smoking inside was nice. Granted, he was probably just using an opportunity since it wasn't his apartment, but your mind flashed with the times you had friend gatherings like that - gutar strings plucked for everyone sitting in a circle, bottles scattered conviniently and that same overflowing ashtray somewhere in the middle, dangerously close to the giant bowl of freshly fried chips.

"Yeah, sure, mate, just... let's go to my room first, I have my ashtray there. Lemme make the tea and I'll show you..."

"Not too hard of a guess which way to go, lass, but sure." Simon was a tease, you finally connected. Taking the piss, a joker. Sarcastic, just like someone you knew.

You missed them less and more now that he was here, disrupting your isolation. Got you completely sobered up by the time you sipped the tea to make sure it won't spill over the rim of the mug, but the thing was, you didn't mind. You passed Simon his mug, the one with "seven days without a pun makes one weak" - suited him well, you thought, and he clearly loved it judging by his chuckle - and grabbed your brush, clutching your cig in your teeth to make way to the bedroom.

Simon blinked as if all the colour and clutter hurt his eyes, when he entered, and then, after a quick scan of the room, locked in on your canvas.

"A real artist, huh?" His tone was surprisingly not mocking - not that you expected to be taken seriously by him. You weren't taken seriously even by yourself.

"No, not really. Just get in the mood sometimes." You showed him the ashtray buried under the hours of trash and took a fresh drag, desperately trying to get back into said mood.

Simon made it hard, though.

"Right. Quite the gallery for "not really" an artist," he circled the room, generally pointing out all the other canvases. Or maybe all the colourful junk in general. "Making a series or somthin'?"

You glanced at the wall he nodded at. Two more pieces with hands imagery. He was right.

"A triptych. Didn't take you for an art person." He cuckled again, as if you made a funny joke, and shook his buzzed head, tapping his cigarette over the mountain Ash.

"'M not. But ya ain't making it hard to guess." While he wandered around your cluttered room, you sat back down at the easel and looked at the rough silouettes of holding hands in the top third of the canvas, trying to rememeber what feeling was strangling your mind to the point of pleasant asphyxia while you were painting them. "And this one?"

Unhappy girl started playing and you caught the irony. A lot of irony tonight, too much for normal world - that's why you felt so safe: you were still not in the real human world where bad things happened to reckless people.

"That's a self-portrait." You grinned as Simon made a point out of looking between you and th big canvas.

"Sorry if that's offensive, but that don't look like ya, love."

"That's cuz it's a self-portrait of how I'm often feeling. Maybe I am a lil' bit of an artist, see, metaphors and shit."

He laughed. You liked that a lot, too. Something started coating your brain in a muffling blanket, and you left your tea mug and cig, picking up the brush again.

"Hands a metaphor too, then?" He finally sat down, on your bed, right where he could watch you paint. You've never been watched, especially while painting, baring your incompetence, chaotic thought flow and emotions.

Your self-portrait was frozen in a constant agony of screaming, overflowing with all feelings at once. If you didn't dissosiate while painting, you would scream in the process too.

"Yeah, hands are a metaphor too," your voice didn't sound right. For some reason, you imagined what you looked like from Simon's point of view from behind.

Like that Johannes Gumpp's painting of himself painting himself from a mirror reflection.

"Of what? World peace?" Simon grunted somewhere behind you, shifting and rustling with something on your bed. Cleared some space for himself among the herd of your stuffed animals? Propped himself on your pillow, still in his street clothes and with a cigarette clutched in a big ungloved hand?

A diturbing feeling of a French stop motion short film enveloped you starting from your forehead, artistic unease of standing on the border of something normal people can't even comprehend. You watched your hand move across the canvas, adding colour intuitively, making judgements on light and shadow intuitively, no training and theory behind your hypnotized movements.

"No... it's a story about coming out of a dark place. I called the triptych "Exit"," you paused, words slurring again as your thoughts slowly choked in the grip of the process and the thrill of having someone witness the birth of your last piece.

Someone who just shifted you back into the right headspace despite being the last person you could imagine doing it.

"It's three steps I'm taking to get out of a bad place in my head. The first piece is To Be." Simon grunted, leaning slightly to the side to glance at the darkest of the paintings. "Cuz that's enough for a start, you know? Just being."

Dipping your brush in bright yellow, you left a stain on the dry skin of one of the hands you were painting. Simon didn't say a word, but you felt that he listened.

"The second one's To Create. Because creating is the opposite of destruction."

There was another pause in the playlist and you lowered your brush, not noticing that the yellow somehow found its way onto your own hand - and now pants too.

Silence lasted probably a million years back at the Earth while you just sat there with your guest. Then the bed creaked, a lighter clicked and a blow of smoke flew over your shoulder, looming form casting a shadow over your bright colours - not a single black spot on this last, third piece.

"And this one?" Simon's voice rumbled right above your ear. You took the cigarette from his hand, slowly, underwater movements and phantom brush of dry lips with an ugly scar on your throbbing in an airless bedroom temple.

"And this one is..." you blinked, a clear thought that he knows hitting the roof of your skull like a suddenly thrown tennis ball. "This one is To Love."

You were still only on your second step, deep into creation. But maybe Simon knocked on your door tonigt to remind you you'll have to move onto the third one soon.

[acutemushroom]

My opinion on some Hatchetfield ships

The title says it all, these are my opinions on Hatchetfield ships that nobody asked for ! 😅 More seriously. I first want to make it clear that these are my personnel thoughts on them and that you are free to like those you like and think what you want on them. I also want to get out of the way the fact that I have a bias for canon ships. So yeah, I'm generally a bit less into the ships involving a character in a canon ship and another.

Now, to the ships !

PAULKINS (Paul Matthews x Emma Perkins)

The one, the only, the original, the OG, the Paulkins ! I quite like them. A boring but also brave office worker and his crabby barista with survival skills. They're cute together, how can I not like them ? Though, I admit I prefer them in angst fics and don't really read Paulkins fluff. Part of it is because I love to see the character I like suffer. But also because of how they got together in the first place. In an apocalypse, a dire situation filled with stress. Paul who was constantly protecting her and fighting a literal God's control to try to save her. Emma who we discover a softer side to because of her relationship with Paul. I think they work best in desperate situation than in pure fluff. But that's just me though.

PAULKOTHO (Paul Matthews x Pokotho)

They are my roman empire. I've already talked in length about them. I've wrote fics in which I explored my view on their relationship, even if they weren't the only focus. I have others staring them planned. I fucking adore them. A relentless, controlling, uncompromising God and his absolutely unwilling and resisting prophet. I love them more than is probably healthy.

ROASTED CHAI COFFEE (Paul Matthews x Ted Spankoffski)

I am mostly neutral about them. Not my cup of coffee, but I see their appeal. Though, I can see it happening in a context where they both know for the cosmic horrors ruling Hatchetfield, that there are Gods interested in them both. But without being under Pokey and Tinky's clutches either. They just have to deal and cope together with the knowledge of what happened to them in other timelines.

Paul Matthews x Bill Woodward

Not a ship I go out of my way to read, but one that I am quite fond off. I especially love the interpretation of it where Bill divorced when Alice was still young and Paul was there for him. A solid friendship that evolved into something more. It's a really cute ship and one I can definitely see happen in different timelines.

TIME BASTARDS (Ted Spankoffski x T'noy Karaxis)

"That's a ship ?" was my first reaction upon stumbling on them for the first them. But I definitely see it's appeal and it absolutely grew on me. That Tinky loves his Spankoffskis is not a secret. So, him taking human form in at least one timelines and reaching another level with Ted ? Yeah, that sounds about right.

Ted Spankoffski x Charlotte Sweetley

Again, not a ship I'll necessarily go out of my way to search for but that I am quite fond off. It's clear they care about each other. I love to see it in timelines where Charlotte leave Sam. She makes Ted less off a bastard. He makes her more confident in herself. That's how I see it.

LEXTAN (Lex Foster x Ethan Green)

Yes. They care so much for each other and it breaks my hurt that they'll never be able to go to California together. Ethan is Lex safe heaven and he cares so much for her. He also care so much for Hannah to the point of considering her like his kid. He put himself in danger, and once died, just to protect them. Lex left Hatchefield with Hannah in an attempt to protect him. I just want them to succeed, alright.

TOCKY/BARNSTON (Tom Houston x Becky Barns)

Highschool sweetheart that found each other again, good person wrong moment. They're cute. Again, not a ship I am particularly passionate about, but I do like stumbling upon them from time to time. After what they went through, it is nice to see them being in love with someone again.

Wilbur Cross/Uncle Wiley x Wiggog Y'rath

Another flavor of human and Eldricht abomination ship that I quite like a lot ! They have this big tsundere side to them, at least how I see it, but they're also the embodiment of "assholes in love". I do love a villain power couple.

LAUTSKI (Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski)

I love these two. She's protective of her nerd and he's so supportive of her. They were both ready to sacrifice themselves for the other and during The Summoning Pete was trying to shield her from a literal God. I love them.

Stephanie Lauter x Grace Chasity

I could swear I remember their ship name... Not one I shipped at first, but they are starting slowly starting to grow on me. I have no particular reasoning as to why, it's really just because of fanfics I've stumbled upon. I like this ship in angsty fic dealing with the aftermath of Nerdy Prudes Must Die (show). I don't know, I like hurt/confort and they provide hurt/confort.

JAGERTITTY (Max Jagerman x Grace Chasity)

That ship name will never fail to make me laugh... I am generally not really found of the whole jock x nice/nerd girl dynamic but they do strike a chord in my heart. Max is so whipped it's adorable. And he's making her reconsider her basically everything. I love them. I would love see them change the other for the better as much as I'd love see them kill people together. I'd read as much fluff as I'd read angst of them. A heavenly good match made in Hell. I love them.

MICHIE (Max Jagerman x Richie Lipschitz)

I will be burned on the public place for this, but I don't ship them. I am really not a fan of jock x nerd like said above and they don't have the same unhingedness that makes me like Jagertity. I don't hate Michie. I can see why the ship is so popular. It simply not for me. Sorry. Though, great respect to you all for making like, a third of the NPMD fics !

Peter Spankoffski x Richie Lipshitz

Two bros being in love. Didn't have the chance to stumble upon them on Ao3, mostly just some stuff here and there on Tumblr. But I do like them. After all, aren't the best romantic relationship also really great friendship?

THE NERDS or THE NERDY PRUDES ( Ruth, Richie and Pete or Ruth, Richie, Pete, Stephanie and Grace)

What I am going to say apply to both. Haven't really read or seen anything on them. But I absolutely love the idea !

[angelsanarchy]

What It Cost: Samuel Lafferty x Y/N Mini Series PRT 03

Tagging: @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @madamemaximoff06 @romanroyapoligist @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @dukesofsp00ks @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @lustkillers @s-0lar @hisemoslut @roryculkinsgf @ultrakissed @starry-eyed-wild-child

With the head of the family away on a mission, the Lafferty boys and their spouses let loose on the farm for the night. Y/n still made sure the chores were taken care of, most of the wives worked on dinner for everyone and she had kept an eye out for the kids while she cleaned.

Things felt a little more relaxed without the matriarch and patriarch to oversee things. They were able to have a little more fun, a little more freedom to move about the farm without a watchful eye making sure you were doing what you were supposed to. Dan had made sure things were still getting done, as he seemed to be trying to break in his desired role as the man in charge.

He had pulled Y/n aside twice to talk to her about her intentions to stay as an unwed woman in their family and how one day she might have to become a plural wife. The idea coming from Dan's mouth was unsettling, as he was not the Lafferty brother she was interested in but she made sure to put on a smile letting him know that she has an open mind and an open heart for the prophet.

"There you are. I feel like I haven't seen you all day." Samuel popped into the storage closet where Y/n was stacking some of the kids toys.

"Hey stranger. I've been keeping busy all day while you boys have been running around playing." She teased seeing how sweaty he was. She could smell the musk coming off of his skin and she wanted to taste it.

"I wish we had been playin' all day. I feel like I've worked twice as hard today and we weren't even supposed to be working at all." She watched as Sam chugged ice water from a glass, letting some of it drip down his chin into his collared shirt that was unbuttoned at the top.

"You should take a break and cool off. You are quite sweaty." Y/n tossed him a rag and he laughed taking it.

"Sorry if my being is offensive right now." He wiped his face and she rolled her eyes, walking out of the closet towards the sink and rinsing the rag in cold water to bring back over to his face and running it down his neck.

"I would never be offended by your presence in any state Samuel. You should know that by now." She smiled sweetly.

"I find that hard to believe. You should see me after trash day. I'm covered, head to toe in cow crap." Samuel smiled back at her and she shook her head.

"Well that might be a my limit but you in this current state doesn't bother me at all. I actually prefer you a little sweaty, smelling of a hard days work." Samuel cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Good to know." Samuel made a mental note of this moment and filed it away in his brain for potential fantasies. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about the last time they were together for her baptism. The taste of her on his tongue, the color of her nipples shown thrown her wet baptism gown. She was in the forefront of his desires since they met.

"I had an interesting conversation with your brother Dan earlier. I wasn't aware you all were considering plural marriage." Samuel looked at her with concern.

"Dan said that? When?" he questioned as though he had never talked to him about it.

"Just today. He found me doing the laundry and told me how great of a wife I would make and that once you all make the switch, he would happily take me on as a plural wife." Y/n watched Samuel's jaw clench.

"I assure you, the last person who you would want to be married to would be Dan. He is far too high-strung." Samuel tried to say without seeming as angry as he felt.

"Dan is a very nice man but he's not my type. Certainly not my favorite Lafferty brother." She winked.

"Oh yeah? And who might that be?" Samuel leaned against the door frame of the storage closet making her laugh.

"I don't feel like it should be said out loud. That just seems rude." She knew he knew it was him.

"Well I don't know how close we are with plural marriage but it hasn't come up with our father so he's probably just blowing smoke. I think your secret is safe." Samuel watched her bend over to push the bin of toys under the shelf and she sighed.

"Good to know. I think staying unwed is probably for the best anyway." Y/n turned her full attention to Samuel now.

"Although, if I were to take another wife, you would absolutely be the only choice I would have." He walked towards her, letting the door shut behind him.

"And how exactly would you treat me as your wife Samuel?" She crossed her arms over her chest and he chuckled taking her arms away from her chest to hold her hands.

"I would treat you well, how well would depend on how you treated me as your husband I suppose. How would you treat me as your husband?" Samuel challenged as she took a step into his space, removing her hands from his to run down his shirt towards the button of his pants.

"Would you like to see how I would treat you as my husband?" She asked undoing the button of his pants and he licked his lips as she kissed the corner of his mouth. Words escaped him as he watched her fall to her knees gracefully.

"You're already off to a perfect start...Sara...she doesn't like to use her mouth..." Samuel gasped feeling her warm mouth engulf his cock. Her fingertips stroked his thighs before gripping his balls firmly.

"F-fuck." Samuel gripped a shelf that stood next to them, full of children's toys and books. Y/n pulled her lips all the way to the tip making Samuel look down to see her chasing his eye contact.

"I want you to look me in the eyes." Y/n swirled her tongue around him and he bit his lip, shaking his head silently. He held her gaze desperately as she bobbed her head back and forth along his cock, letting the tears run down her cheeks as his tip continuously met the back of her throat. He felt how hard he was breathing and didn't realize it was himself who was groaning until she started cooing around his cock, the vibrations shooting directly to his balls.

"Do you want my cum down your throat? Is that what you want?" Samuel breathed putting his hand on the back of her head. She nodded, not slowing her pace.

"Such a perfect wife, taking my cock down your throat, sucking my seed and letting it swim in your belly the whole day. God made your mouth just for me to fuck." Samuel pulled her hair tightly and slammed her face against his crotch, feeling her choking on him as he pulsed cum down her throat. She gagged and he felt the push on his thighs but he didn't let her up yet. He waited until he was spent before pulling back and releasing her hair. She gasped and cleaned the spit and cum from her chin as he relaxed back against the locked down, cock hanging completely drained.

Once she managed to catch her breath, she crawled forward and took his flaccid cock in her hands, putting him gently back in his pants so she could rebutton and zip him as she got to her feet.

"As a wife, I would start and end my husbands day just like that." She ran her hands down his chest, smoothing his shirt out. He smiled at her and nodded his head.

"you would make the perfect wife." He pulled gently on the back of her neck to kiss her but before their lips could meet, he heard feet coming down the steps. They straighten themselves out and managed to open the door before Ron emerged at the bottom of the steps.

"We need you out here. Breaks over." Ron said with minimal expression. Samuel nodded his head and Y/n cleared her throat.

"Ron, please stop long enough to get a glass of ice water. You look simply parched." She handed him a glass and Ron gave her a small smile before taking the glass from her and going up the steps.

"Back to work Mr. Lafferty." She smirked walking past Samuel and going back into the closet. He tried to hide his grin as he climbed the steps to get back to work. She was simply feeding his every fantasy as if God sent her to him directly.

[tblsomedoodles]

Raph is the eldest, the Protector. He was the shield to keep his siblings safe no matter what and a role model to show then right from wrong. They could come to him about anything and he would promise no judgement (well, maybe a little teasing) and his complete support and he had made sure his brothers had known this since they were very young. And he'd been doing a pretty banged up job of it too, bug brothering like a Boss!! At least, that was what he had thought up until this point. Then he discovered Leo and Donnie were a little more special than they'd first thought.

They were a Fated Pair, according to a decidedly smug Draxum. According to yokai legend, every few hundred or so years a pair of seers, usually twins although not necessarily. And he had suspected for quite some time that Leo was one of them, although it was only recently he figured out which. Leon was a doom prophet, someone cursed with prophetic dreams and vision of future disasters, while Donnie was ironically the soothsayer, blessed with visions of fortune.

All Raph had really understood out of that was that his brother's dreams weren't just dreams and his brothers had been keeping soem serious secrets from him. He'd always known Leo had trouble sleeping and Donnie had the uncanny ability to guess good news even before it's told, but he'd never really thought too much about it. Donnie has freely admitted to recording and even spying on his family before so it wouldn't be hard to imagine he'd just overheard it while Leo is... Leo. He's never been much a of a restful sleeper. He'd never thought anything of it until recently.

Then CJ came along.

Raph adored the human boy, they all did, but that's nothing on how downright protective if the time traveler Leo and Donnie were. How they seemed to just know things about CJ that they shouldn't know at all, like his fear of snakes (something shout a crazed snake yokai trying to eat him when he was younger). And of course theirs the stories CJ would tell, about how Leo and Donnie's future selves. Whenever the boy would bring up anything about Leo and Donnies' future selves' uncanny ability to plan ahead for almost any eventuality, even when there was absolutely no foreseeable way for then to tell soemthing was going to happen, the turtles in question would be quick to change the subject, insisting that it must be exaggeration on the part of the apparently prevalent rumor mill of yhe apocalypse.

That was the start of it, and not long after the kid came along and they'd fought their greatest battle yet, the truth was revealed. Raph was concerned, of course, who wouldn't be learning such a terrifying thing about their younger brothers!? Donnie would insist the visions aren't anything to worry about, more a nuisance than anything.

"Whats the point of a surprise party or dazzling someone if you already going to know what's going to happen!?" Donnie would complain whenever asked about it, "I'd rather not know what my next birthday present will be thank you very much..."

On Leo's end the slider would just shrug it off, likening his visions to just another nightmare.

"I'm used to it, it's jsut more of the same right? Insomnia stops me form sleeping and I get nightmares. Just cuz they come true don't mean much if anything!"

Raph had a feeling that Leo was downplaying how bad his dreams were and that Donnie wasn't being completely upfront in the matter of his feelings about his visions, but considering the circumstances in which they had discovered the visions the snapper couldn't blame them. This was something deeply personal that got thrown out for the world to see after all, and as long as they know to come to him if it gets worse, all is well and good. Besides having brothers who can see the future is actually cool, or at least thats what Raph ahd thought until he had to witness one of them.

Leo had woken him late one night with a terrified scream, prompting him and Mikey to rush to his room. His eyes and markings were glowing as he gasped and whimpered in desperate pain, nails digging into his face as he scratched desperately at his temples and scalp, convulsing with the sheer power of hus uncontrollable visions. He was having a vision, one of the rare waking ones where he wasn't asleep, and Donnie was nowhere to be found! Stuck and unsure what to do, Raph tried to snap him out of it only for Leo to curl up more, more pained cries escaping his beak. Mikey was fumbling with his phone, trying to get Donnie on the line. Nothing they were doing was helping and Raph, desperate, jsut did the only thing he could think of.

He scooped Leo into his arms, sitting in the floor with the convulsing and crying turtle in his lap and wrapping himself around the smaller liek the world's most dense weighted blanket and just held him close, heart breaking as Leo instinctively clung to him, nails digging in as he bit his lip in a desperate attempt to stifle his crying. Donnies voice came on the speaker, held close by Mijey with promises of coming home as soon as possible and telling Leo to hold on.

Donnie sounded breathless, telling stories about good times yet to come as he runs, not hover but actually runs, back to the lair in n attempt to comfort Leo. The sound of his twin seemed to help, but not enough, it wasn't nearly enough and Raph's heart shattered even more as he picked up the panicked tone in Donnies voice as the realization that nobody knew how to handle this set in.

Leo was the expert when it came to this strange future sight... Donnie had freely admitted to only recently even noticing his own powers and beginning to learn them but Leo had been aware of then for far longer and any questions they had would be best asked of the slider or Draxum. Draxum was away on some charity event the school he worked for was hosting to help with the hundreds of people now homeless after the invasion, and Leo was catatonic and suffering.

As Raph sat there waiting for this to pass, Mikey curled against his shell for comfort but unwilling to slide in next to Leo who needed it more and Donnie rushing back, he thought. His many times, he asked himself, how many times has this happened to his brothers and he wasn't there to help!? How much has Leo and Donnie kept hidden from hin because they didn't want to worry him with these visions? How many times was Leo brought to this state, alone and suffering in the dark as he stifled his crying? What was it Leo was seeing, that made it so his strong and thick skinned little brother would cry and weep and convulsed in pain form sheer grief at what he was seeing!?

No more. Raph won't let them suffer alone anymore. He may not get this whole seer thing much but he doesn't have to to understand that his brothers need him. Hours later, when Donnie had arrives and Leo's episode had ended, twins sleeping peacefully once more, Raph carefully traced the yin and yang marks on his brothers' faces before tucking the blanket around them closer. They were in a turtle pile, everyone too freaked by Leo's waking vision to sleep alone.

Tomorrow, Raph will discuss setting up soem ground rules on regard to what the twins do and do not hide when it comes to their visions and ask Leo just what it was he had seen.

This is so great!!! Raph is such a good big brother! I love this so much!

also just

He's going to be talking to them about all this. But tomorrow. (off mikey's getting more blankets and pillows for a proper turtle pile)

THank you!!!

[spectator-moon]

"Helio wouldn't have let that happen."

But. He. Did.

I have so many emotions and I saw a couple pictures of Buddy so yunno art did a thing

Also pictures of this with Cotton candy Bitchfuck beside him being the little creep she is

And more Rambles under the cut!

I so desperately want Buddy to not meet Helio. Because he was raised in a cult. He was raised, literally and figuratively, to die in Helio's name. So if he meets Helio, regardless of how he feels about his death, it is over for him. He is done.

I want this to happen.

Buddy Dawn opens his eyes, and he is not greeted by the endless corn fields of his god. No, he finds himself in a forest at night. He hears the skittering of small (and perhaps very large) things moving about, just out of sight, and he instinctively moves to grasp his holy symbol (which, for dramatic reasons, is around his neck). But it is not there. Instead, he meets a hand. It is warm, pleasantly so, under the cool chill of the wind. It carefully takes his, and as his eyes clear, he sees in front of him, Kristen Applebees. But not quite.

The being before him is a Kristen with long hair, in a ponytail, and a tye-dye camp t-shirt (he thinks of a summer camp he went to, and quietly notices the same style). She is clearly not mortal.

But Buddy Dawn was raised nothing if not righteous under Helio's law. So he asks, "Where is Helio? Where is my god?"

She, who he now knows is Cassandra, tells him, "Are you sure he was yours? Or were you his?"

And Buddy thinks. He thinks of days in service where he could barely breathe for the singing, of days where he saw people around him use Helio to do terrible things, of days where he could not eat enough because of how weak (malnourished) he had become and the tests. The tests upon tests of his faith, where he wondered, if only for a moment, if Helio was worth this.

Buddy Dawn hears a branch snap, somewhere off in the woods. Close. Too close. It is so dark in these woods. He realises he may be scared. He doesn't know how to fight. Not really. Rats and spiders can only do so much.

Cassandra takes his hands again, from where they have fallen beside him. She looks him dead in his Helio-worshipping eyes, and tells him, "This is what I offer."

And he thinks, What is she saying? Fear? That is what she offers?

"I," Cassandra says, "offer this. There is doubt. You are in the woods, at night. But you are not alone. I am holding your hand. You cannot be hurt with me. It does not matter what is lurking in the trees. It could be a monster, but it could also be...a fox! Or a rabbit. Just because there is noise does not mean it could hurt you. I am the goddess of finding comfort in doubt, in uncertainty. You do not have to fear."

And Buddy Dawn, Helioic to his very core, begins to cry. "I was a kid. That isn't fair! I wanted to live."

And Cassandra, goddess of the unknown, smiles, and tells him, "Would you like to become alive again?"

He asks, through tears on his bloodstained clothes, "What?"

And she tells him, "Were you ever really alive, or did Helio just tell you that you weren't only surviving?"

And she hugs him, and he feels his throat close, and it is comforting. She gave him a sentence that most Helioic people would run from in fear, and it is comforting.

And Buddy Dawn wakes up.

___

Spreading my Buddy Dawn, prophet of Cassandra propaganda everywhere I go. He needs to be reformed.

[sapphorror]

so I don't necessarily have anything to *say* about it just yet but I find this moment very interesting because if there's one thing that's always been very central to Dib's characterization it's that he, like Zim, is driven primarily by ego—and more to the point, his sense of heroism is ultimately constructed in much the same way Zim's role as an invader is. It's a shallow fantasy he's crafted for himself to make living more bearable, and I would think that the opportunity to be hailed as an entire planet's chosen savior would be exactly the kind of thing he'd seize on. It's EXACTLY how he sees himself, or at least, how he wants to see himself.

And the really interesting thing is that we actually DO see exactly this happen later on in the same story, when he finally wins and it maybe just a little bit goes to his head. He's genuinely well-intentioned, and he wants to teach the Plim to rise up and save themselves rather than rely solely on him, but that's just it—his ultimate end goal as Defender of the Earth has always been to expose the truth and make people realize how blind they've been, but now that he's opened their eyes they can go forth and seize their own destiny, which just happens to look a lot like all the things Dib personally cares about. Perhaps ironically, his desired role is less hero than prophet, and maybe that's why he finds it so hard to swallow the notion of starring in someone else's pre-made narrative.

(And there's something to be said here, about how Zim, for all his unrepentant Zim-ness, might've actually gotten one thing a little bit right when he told Dib the Plim weren't suited to self-actualization—that they didn't want it. To Zim's view, of course, this only makes them exploitable and we're right back to him being horrible again, but I think there is something worth considering about the Plim's autonomy and that, faced with all the evidence and every means with which to save themselves, they still asked—literally asked—Dib to do it for them. Which begs the question—is Dib's continued insistence on developing the Plim's independence itself a kind of subjugation? How about his fixation on showing humankind something they so obviously don't want to see?)

... But you know the really funny part?

Dib ultimately rejects yet another heroic title that isn't to his liking, albeit much less surprisingly this time. Lesson unlearned.

Take this all with a grain of salt—I'm thinking out loud here and quite literally didn't expect to say any of this, but it's an aspect of Dib's character that interests me, and it was actually really unexpected and exciting to read a piece of canon material going into it. I think I'd like it if there'd been more emphasis on Dib's initial motives being largely the same as Zim's in essence—that is to say, feeding his ego and spiting the nemesis—since his ultimate epiphany is that all this time wasted on a petty popularity contest could've been spent actually, you know, being a hero, but the message still comes across and the core of the story being told is really solid. I'm going to be obsessed for weeks.

Also, Plab is everything to me. And I really do think it says something that the single faithful outlier among the Plim still thought Dib could maybe afford to cool it on the reclaiming-their-individuality bit. That's honestly more telling to me than the opinion of any crowd.

[bradassholemajors]

Wtf Is Shock Treatment’s Deal? (Or, Local Critic Discovers Escapism and Having Fun In The Midst of Late Stage Capitalistic Dread)

Watched Shock Treatment for the first time this week, and I am a changed man lol. Here are some disorganized thoughts:

I think something that makes Rocky Horror so special is that it can be as deep or not-deep as you want it to be. Like, if you want to think about the cultural implications of the themes portrayed (hedonism, gay & trans liberation, gender roles, the Invasion-of-the-Body-snatchers style infiltration of outside queer forces, the downfall of the safety contained within a collective identity), you can absolutely do that! There’s so much to be interpreted there!! But if you are just here to see Tim Curry looking incredibly sexy and violently thrust along to the Time Warp at a midnight showing with a bunch of cool strangers, that is absolutely awesome, too. Slay!! Take what you want.

BUT SHOCK TREATMENT MANNNN??? Shock Treatment is a whole different ballgame lol. Like, it is also a thematically rich goldmine, if you’re willing to squint a little— in terms of content included, not necessarily how it’s portrayed within the narrative. In the words of Barry Bostwick here, “it was a statement about the future that we weren't quite ready to explore. We didn't really even have the mental emotional vocabulary to understand what Richard [O’Brien, the creator] was trying to say.” I think this is spot-fucking-on!!! It’s absolutely frighteningly prescient, especially today in terms of the commodification of mental health. Like, woah. Janet being crowned “Miss Mental Health” felt like such a Gwyneth Paltrow moment. Cultural prophet Richard O’Brien saw the dark cloud of Betterhelp and wellness culture galloping over in the horizon in the distance of the American landscape, and he set out to warn us.

I still don’t quite understand what happened in the movie. I still don’t know what my takeaway was supposed to be. And I guess if you’re a little insane and love having fun doing thematic analysis with weird media (like me), taking Shock Treatment seriously may be right for you, lol. But thematically overall I think it’s safe to say: it’s a lot less coherent than its predecessor. It’s messy. It’s not interested in being flawless. It’s not interested in appealing to an audience. It’s barely interested in being a sequel. Shock Treatment is lowkey pointing and laughing in the face of those who showed up expecting a masterpiece— which admittedly was me, because I take Rocky Horror pretty seriously. (I put off watching Shock Treatment for a while bc I wasn’t sure about how it would affect the Rocky Horror Universe I had in my head.) If not for the internet reviews prepping me, I would have walked in completely expecting another nuanced perfect symphony of a movie to measure up to Rocky Horror’s magic.

But the thing was? Watching Shock Treatment, it ended up I did not really care!!!!! I was having the time of my life!!!!!

(more under the cut whoops)

Wtf was going on!!!!!!!!!!! Who knows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I still don’t quite know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I loved it!!!

This reaction of such joy, just letting myself vibe out made me think because when did I start getting surprised when watching a movie is more pleasurable than not??? Isn’t that the entire point of media??

I think with the modern commodification of media analysis and examining pop culture up close, I’d argue that Fun Media without a message is actually pretty hard to come by— at least in mainstream culture. Even stuff as sanitized as Disney movies are now digging into like generational trauma, appealing to what seems to be a collective search for depth (or at least the appearance of depth.) Modern neo-nazi brands of fascism wields power like never before, horrific images of violence follow everyone left and right. Sometimes it seems like this open secret, that everyone knows there’s this looming darkness at the forefront of our minds at all times.

So this transition from Rocky Horror to Shock Treatment felt actually sort of powerful to me. Rocky Horror’s generation-long reverberations of shamelessly depicting sensual revelry are so powerful; it’s bold even for today! (Of course, we all know transvestite isn’t a term commonly used today, but looking at it through the lens of its time, it becomes clear what a miracle the movie is. Knowing what it must have meant to queer people at the time it became a phenomenon— giving them a real space to be themselves in a hostile world criminalizing who they were, in a time of oppressive pressure to stay silent — that is the type of brave blatant acceptance hard to come by in any era.) Rocky Horror is something I don’t know if will ever happen again, and its sequel seems to concur.

Shock Treatment has been called a cash grab but I beg to differ. If you’ve seen it, no offense: but does this seem marketable to you??? It seems like it’s a Richard O’Brien project (already wacky) that went through several levels of development hell and heavy modifications through the creative process. Said with the utmost respect… it may have got away from them a bit. Put lovingly, Shock Treatment lowkey kinda sucks a little at times. It’s silly, it’s got a huge cast and musical fun galore. It’s serving B-movie realness. I don’t say this to bash on it, I say this with a bemused respect— I think the existence of Shock Treatment is as much a miracle as Rocky Horror (aren’t all creations???)

So in the first iteration, we have advocacy and fighting for freedom for those long silenced… but also, Shock Treatment seems to allow the creators to just let themselves have fun. Aren’t they both revolutions in their own right? Does everything have to be lasting cultural milestones or does our enjoyment matter in the moment? I’d argue we need both as human beings to thrive. It comes back to that Rocky-Horror-experience philosophy I covered where you’re taking what you feel you need most from the media you consume: a message or a celebration of just being here.

In conclusion, sometimes shit doesn’t have to be that deep. More movies should just say “fuck it, we ball” and give you the most absolutely incoherent fun time of your life. I love not taking things seriously, and I love creators willing to not take their work seriously. Perhaps Richard O’Brien also had a premonition with Shock Treatment in the sense of how he just had fun with it! Maybe we need less attempts at masterpieces and more attempts at just creation for the joy of it— or both, because joyful creation makes masterpieces!!! I’d love to see more creators of every skill level and every background, known and not known, say fuck you to capitalism and expectation and marketability and just say, we’re gonna do it anyhow, anyhow!!!

[ideas-on-paper]

Thoughts on the Tron audio commentary

So, I've listened to the Tron audio commentary for the first time now. It's incredible just how much work they put into this movie back then (all the frames had to be edited INDIVIDUALLY!).

Considering the enormous amount of effort, it's quite unfair that the movie was disqualified from the Oscars because using a computer for special effects was viewed as "cheating" - meanwhile, special effects are almost synonymous with CGI nowadays. xD

I also like how they gave so much room to the programmers as characters (for example, Alan's first name is a reference to Alan Kay, the spiritual father of the laptop), how they incorporated the theme of "large companies vs individuals" (which somehow feels more relevant now than ever), and that they designed the electronic world as a kind of "mirror" of the real one (like the employees' cubicles being a parallel to the cells the programs are held in).

However, my absolute highlight is this quote by Harrison Ellenshaw about CGI and computer animation:

"Ironically, one of the things that was our creative philosophy we enjoyed and were proud of was that we were taking computer animation and letting it stand on its own. We weren't trying to make computer animation mimic reality, and the job was then to make reality - the actors and the sets - look like computer animation. We used to say, "well, if you got lemons, make lemonade", everybody else - and certainly since this point - has been going nuts trying to make computer animation mimic reality perfectly. And I found that the limitations of computer graphics at the time were the most exciting thing. If computer graphics - if computer animation - is no longer different from reality, maybe we've lost something in that."

I love this quote for so many reasons - on one hand, it feels almost prophetic considering that modern movies are showing us that there are limits to the realism of CGI (the resolution of today's movies is higher, but that of the CGI is not, which just ends up making everything look cheap and fake.) On the other hand, I love how they just defied the trend that everything always has to look "realistic", and instead embraced the different look of the CGI as something positive.

The creators of Tron didn't view the CGI's weaknesses as a bug, but as a feature, and the result was one of the most unique, visually distinct movies even to date.

Making art doesn't consist of simply copying what others did - what really defines creativity is walking paths that no one dared to walk before, and doing things that nobody was able to imagine before.

[wishmaker-astra]

Hrm, never really know how to deal with those who are impacted massively by some abilities I also have, but who have a much less positive relationship with them.

Yeah, this is about being psychic. Like, I have talked about the downsides, but I legitimately love being psychic and completely think it's a net positive. Yeah, even with finals week having ended being some of the worst shit experienced and being dunked in the Nasty Vibe Soup. Having a campus full of stressed out, depressed, angry, and other stuff individuals screaming into your mental receiver is a garbage experience that is incapacitating. I still fucking love being psychic.

I guess also part of it is that I've legitimately had to claw my way here outside of being a stuck on receiver for "loud" individuals... and the prophetic visions. Seriously, quit fucking giving me ones on the stairs. Anyways, that relationship is fundamentally different so... yeah. I don't know. I had to spend so much time figuring out the bare basics and get even basic shit to work. That's a different relationship than someone who was born and raised in a situation where you knew you were and did not actively and consciously choose to embrace it for one reason or another.

Life's complicated. I'd never give up being psychic, even if I want tweaks to how I am. Some people wish they weren't for completely legitimate reasons. Shit, if my telepathy was stuck on at a more sensitive level picking up more at a deeper level... who knows what my relationship to being psychic would be.

Just... as a psychic who loves being psychic... yeah, those out there who dislike being that: I getcha. I may not have the same relationship with psychic abilities as you, but I getcha. If nothing else it's sorta like my ADHD for you I guess. It's fundamentally part of me... but that executive function machine is broken even if it leads to things that can be useful in situations.

Dunno man, just rambling. I hope things work out for ya. Best of luck ending up in a position you're satisfied with and others not being dicks about it.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

I feel like there's a problem of power when it comes to single-reincarnation stories when they also include revenge.

Certainly there's a big advantage, in a situation like high school, in knowing who's trustworthy and who's a lying viper, but a) some people will change how they treat you based on how you treat them (a lot of the "reincarnated and trying to break things off with the tyrant" stories center around this point, actually; In the process of trying to be just annoying enough to get the tyrant to break things off without beheading her, she ends up being his manic pixie dream girl) and b) going directly after vengeance is one of the fastest ways to cause divergence from the storyline/situation you know and get into stuff where you're just blindly guessing what might happen.

At this point the reincarnated character either has just the single advantage of getting a second chance where most people don't (which is a big deal but doesn't allow the same tone or even the same premise as the story started with; like how later seasons of Prison Break weren't about prison breaks), OR they have an unreasonable advantage as the writer, in an attempt to maintain the tone from the start of the story, gives them BadSherlockItis, a condition where their supposed deductions are just guesses but the writer makes them always be right about said guesses.

And I feel like a lot of this has to do with the desire from the author to show off someone getting to do, essentially, future-crimes revenge? It's a neat premise, at least for a shorter story. But the characters aren't prophets. They're reincarnated ladies with a specific set of memories about the life they lost. So it's a well that very much can run dry, and that drying-up process is almost always sped along by the very revenge fantasy that started the whole thing.

It's quite a pickle!

[burinazar]

(This post is mostly a direct copy-paste with edits of my twitter thread about the same thing, so you don't need to bother reading it if you've seen that already. Contains spoilers for MiA season 2!)

ahhh. the abyss wiki has one of Irumyuui's occupations listed as this. (Ebil takes 1000hp mental damage and expires)

Now i personally have been known to talk a lot more often about how "made a symbolic religious sacrifice" is what the Ganja and most directly Waz and Vue did to Belaf, but that's because i'm trying to point out something that isn't obvious. Meanwhile i don't usually point out that deification is also what they all did to Irumyuui because, well...duh! This one seems blindingly obvious in being the conclusion the narrative wants us to reach. Elevation, idolatry, cast in the role of savior and praised as a "queen"...for all intents and purposes just another form of dehumanization, if less physical and literal than the other that she suffered.

The sages, and Irumyuui. A prophet and a savior and a sacrifice -- "we sought to become something more than human" -- and, of course, one who was human until the end...

But, to be more precise i think the Three Idiots themselves weren't actually able to find self-deceiving refuge in a view of Iru as a holy savior instead of an exploited child. When Vueko says 'people can get used to anything, even hell', I take it as referring to (among other things) how the rest of the Squad were able to rationalize and live with this. The non-sage Ganja seem a lot more likely to fall into that kind of thinking, from the bits we see -- the taking of the children seems to become a sort of ritual for them.

Vueko and Belaf were never able to think of her as a holy savior for a second, both of them literally tried to kill themselves because they were TOO aware their 'salvation' was not divine providence but the product of making a child (THEIR CHILD!) suffer. And I think Waz is uhh. very realistic about what they were doing. Also, I get the sense that HE didn't view himself as having a 'righteous' heavenly mandate -- while he feels moved by a higher power that 'gathered' them all, i don't at allthink that he would claim moral absolution on those grounds the way religiously or spiritually motivated characters doing bad things in fiction are sometimes seen to do. (Relatedly, I speculate he wouldn't really see it in terms of absolution or culpability at all -- I believe his sense of personal responsibility and free will may be very skewed by his prophet situation, but that's getting into the weeds of Waz speculation that i could write several posts on alone...)

No, I think all three of them understood more clearly than all their followers that Irumyuui was just a child thrust into the role of savior.

Meanwhile the rest of them, the ones we see kneel and pray at various junctures...them... there is a strong sense that the rest -- just as, i suspect, they believed in 'the nameless god' more than the sages actually did -- accepted everything that happened as divine providence. If they thought about Iru's personal suffering at all (and that's quite a big if) they may have regarded it as her preordained role, the reason she was sent to them...

...I really want to know what Pakkoyan thought about this. She's the most demonstrably 'faithful' out of the named characters -- in the anime she's notably the one who assigns a spiritual meaning (absolution and the forgiveness of sin) to the village. That seems pretty clear confirmation to me that she's inclined to buy into the mindset described above. BUT. She is also close to Vueko and must know how Vue was taking it. Does this strike her as contradictory? Does it disturb her that the person she loved was disgusted by what she and the rest of the Ganja saw as holy salvation?

...now that i wrote "she must know how Vue was taking it", i'm wondering if she actually did or not lmao. given that i often picture Pakko having an idealized view of Vueko (the continuity with Vueko's idealized view of Belaf and Belaf's of Wazukyan pleases me) she may not have realized how horribly Vue was doing lol.

Anyway I got a little lost at the end there in Pakkospeculation (listen it's the narrative's fault for barely characterizing her ok) but. Yeah. This is my general view on the in-story deification of Iru and how the sages versus everyone else may have felt on it