#this was curated SPECIFICALLY for me wtf

[baldpeoplehater]

new smosh games episode so good i might invent time travel just to watch the next one right now

[shannonsketches]

Okay I'm back to talk about headcanons that this ask made me think about because like I said yesterday I think we have very similar but adjacent thoughts and I wanna blabber

So the tl;dr of it is that I fully agree that Bulma terrifies Vegeta and that's part of her charm but our reasons for why differ a bit.

My headcanons are very heavily based on the manga, so in my mind he really didn't see much of her on Namek to compare with her Earth behavior. She and Krillin were both the correct amount of afraid of him, and then the Ginyu force showed up.

I do definitely agree that he's very impressed with the dragon radar -- but Vegeta's grown up in a super high-tech empire full of Freeza's personally curated collection of brilliant minds. While it is crazy that Bulma essentially reinvented scouter tech as a teenager, and hyper-specified it to pick up only the energy that the Dragon Balls were putting out, I think it's also important to recognize that Dragon Balls are a myth at best to almost every non-deity being in the universe, and a closely guarded secret for Namekians.

Bulma invented the radar because she found real ones in her attic (which, why do we never talk about why Dr B and his lovely wife just. Had two dragon balls? Chillin in the attic? This whole time?) and decided to see if the legends were true. Freeza had never seen one, and didn't know anyone who had ever seen one, and wouldn't have had any reason to invest R&D into a device that could detect them.

Don't get me wrong it's still CRAZY impressive that she did that, and something I fully agree Vegeta acknowledges as crazy impressive, especially having done it at sixteen because she was Bored, but for me I think that detection and tracking tech is kind of standard where he comes from (if others didn't already have proof that they work and weren't always in a race to make their wish, which kills their energy signature, they might too take the time to study them for the same result) -- so the time machine would be a much wilder truth to learn for him imo

But I feel Dr B impressed him first because, outside of Capsules, in terms of technology, Earth is VERY primitive to Vegeta. Even for as rock-carved as a lot of the low-ranked neighborhoods on planet Vegeta were, they still had space-faring ships (and potentially also the rearing pods) before they were taken over by King Cold. Bulma and her father -- and even Gero, who is collectively acknowledged as the most superior scientific mind on Earth -- didn't have access to the kind of tech and fuel that can do that effectively. In the Saiyan saga Bulma even talks about how the fastest engine her father ever built would take over four thousand years to go where Vegeta can in a matter of months (in an autopiloted pod, no less).

Bulma and Dr B can, however, utilize alien tech to create things that suit their needs, which is its own brand of impressive. In the manga, there is no second ship. Vegeta asks Dr Brief to build him a gravity room, so I personally hc it's him Vegeta's impressed with initially. I enjoy the thought that Bulma's capacity is one he learns more about just spending time with them developing the room to suit Vegeta's needs and standards, which are almost certainly annoyingly high (as it's established in the manga that Freeza's bases had training rooms too, and it may be safe to assume there is gravity tech in use, considering those fighters have to be prepared for battle on various planets of various sizes and atmospheres).

But again, that this earthling is able to replicate that technology without access to the base alien tech is crazy impressive.

I like to think that Vegeta's mind impressed both of them too, having spent so much time around fighters who are not scientific or tech-savvy at all, and suddenly an alien who knows wtf he's talking about and specifically what he's looking for and can troubleshoot and do minor QA on tech and explain in great detail how how something works (he can report in real time what's happening to him physiologically while it's happening to him, even if it's happening to him for the very first time, which is insane). One of my favorite long-time inside jokes with friends is that Capsule Corp didn't have hover cars until Vegeta moved in. I also just love that Dr B calls him Vegeta-kun in the JPN.

With Bulma though, especially in the manga, she's very much like everyone else -- she's brilliant, but imperfect, and still learning from her mentor (her dad). The bit in Daima where she works so hard on the ship just to have the launch fail feels very much like a callback to this joke where she VERY confidently tries to call Nappa's pod and self-destructs it because she mixed up the buttons, for example:

"Krillin, who's the genius here?" [fails immediately] "Dammit." my love for this fictional woman cannot be overstated why do we even have that lever

So like, while I VERY MUCH AGREE that Vegeta finds her intellect deeply impressive and hot and dangerous, in my personal opinion that is a part of her that intrigues him but it's not the part of her that terrifies him.

To me, it's that despite the fact that she is so smart, and so clever, and so quick-witted -- she is so brazenly authentic.

When Vegeta gets to Namek, he's at the tail end of a poker game he's been playing for years inside the Freeza force. Everyone's running a clever game, everyone's got an ace up their sleeve, everyone's bluffing, everyone is looking for a tell, and everyone's got a loaded gun under the table pointed at someone else.

Freeza notes that their confrontation was inevitable, but is surprised Vegeta's rebellion happened so soon. The thing is that Vegeta is also surprised that it happened so soon -- he was planning to go back to Earth when Cui told him Freeza had already left for Namek. The table got flipped and a 30-Year game turned into a standoff overnight. Vegeta's living on earth fresh from this lifelong cultural experience of "Loyalty is a strategy, everyone is playing to win, and no one is ever really on your team. The only way to save your neck is to keep your head low and your mouth shut."

Then there's Bulma, who -- despite her housing every ability (and reason, as the most wealthy heiress on her planet) to be extremely cut-throat and manipulative and shady and mysterious -- is not only extremely open about her flaws, her feelings, and her insecurities, but extremely LOUD about them.

Bulma will just cry. Bulma will just scream. Bulma will just be passively peer pressured into changing her clothes and then announce that what other people are wearing made her feel stupid.

Bulma is not just vulgar, she's transparent about all of her weaknesses. She plays damn near nothing close to the chest. She announces her suspicions. She announces her plans. She announces her observations, as if they can't be used against her. She's messy and unpleasant, out loud, where people can see her being messy and unpleasant. That's horrifying when you're used to everyone posturing and cooing and kissing ass to get what they want.

She's openly afraid, and also openly curious, and also openly lacking a sole singular fuck about what you think, and also loudly giving a fuck about what other people think. She's both deeply predictable and impossible to track. She thinks we should just kill that guy before he becomes a problem, she also thinks that even though everyone saw how dangerous this guy is he seems uncomfortable so we should leave him alone.

For lack of a better word, from where Vegeta's standing -- Bulma's fucking insane. This woman is crazy. She's got whims like the goddamn weather, but in the exact opposite way that Freeza did. Freeza would smile at you and wish you the sweetest condolences while running a knife through your chest, Bulma will wish you dead at the top of her lungs and then ask what you want for dinner because it's punishment enough being stupid you don't need to be hungry too.

Bulma has all of the same ingredients he's used to being around, but hers combine into something so radically The Opposite of that, and I think that's destabilizing in a way that was very very good for him (likewise, I think Vegeta's absolute lack of GiveAShit about being exactly who he is and dressing however the fuck he's dressed and doing exactly what the fuck he's gonna do no matter who's got opinions about it or what those opinions are (bless Toriyama for describing his personality as 'aloof superiority') was destabilizing in a way that was very very good for her).

I also definitely agree that seeing so much of Bulma's personality in Trunks as he grew up was not only endearing but kind of reassuring. Although I personally think Trunks is terrifying in his own special way. The combined parentage made the boy too confident. Now he's an unbridled weirdo (absolute joy, overwhelming praise).

tl;dr Part 2: I really really enjoy Bulma as a genius in terms of maths and metallurgy and machinery, but I like to think that Vegeta's got a better head for biological and social sciences and strategic operations (when his pride is not in the way), just as a matter of that being where his primary work experience lies.

I love the idea that Dr Brief was a bridge for them, and is a wildly fluctuating polymath who can kind of do all of it with exceptional comprehension, and would be a much bigger problem for everyone if he didn't have the personality of a career stoner.

Bonus: Dr B being awed and happy that there are people out there in the universe doing things better than he can while his daughter reminds them they're on a deadline.

[menlove]

Honestly so confused of Paul's silly love songs. Apparently Paul was sending a message to John and telling him 'i love you' but he also says 'she gave me more she gave me all to me' and then again Linda says 'he gave me more he gave me all to me'. Like, wtf really??? Is he trying to tell John he loves him but Linda gave him more?

well my thing is I Don't think his message to john with "silly love songs" was telling him he loves him honestly! the song Is a message to john, and his other critics, as said by paul himself, but honestly it's a LOT bitchier to john than any of us give him credit for lol

here's what he said about it:

"There were accusations in the mid-1970s – including one from John – that I was just writing ‘silly love songs’. I suppose the idea was that I should be a bit tougher, a bit more worldly. But then I suddenly realised, that’s exactly what love is – it’s worldly. ‘Some people want to fill the world/With silly love songs’. I’d been given that reputation, and I had to stand up for it. Instead of abandoning songs about love, just get on with it, get into it and don’t be embarrassed, because even thought you might say this is a soppy subject, it’s actually the opposite: this thing people can feel for each other that makes life better. I think that’s the crux of it, and if you want to be cynical, it’s easy, you can. ‘Love doesn’t come in a minute/Sometimes it doesn’t come at all’. I think a lot of people who are cynical about love haven’t been lucky enough to feel it."

which 💀 so not only was john the one to call his music "silly love songs" which makes this veeeery directed to him, but paul is uh. also saying he hasn't been "lucky enough" to even feel love 😭

and his ire towards this comment from john can also be seen in his commentary on "I will", funnily enough, which is just one of the reasons I do think that song is about john:

"It’s a declaration of love, yes, but not always to someone specific. Unless it’s to a person out there who’s listening to the song. And they have to be ready for it. It’s almost definitely not going to be a person who’s said, ‘There he goes again, writing another of those silly love songs.’ So, this is me in my troubadour more."

but uuuh yeah essentially My Interpretation is that john mocked his music by calling it "silly love songs" (& paul has mentioned this being a comment from him more than once but since it's not recorded anywhere I'm pretty sure it must've been in a private convo which is 💀) which Especially struck a chord considering paul wrote plenty of love songs For john like "I will" (imo) and paul wrote a very tongue in cheek Overly Soppy Optimistic Song about it.

like he's just saying "so, john, you think all I do is write silly love songs? well first of all my wife loves me more than you ever could have and also love makes everything go round and we all need more love songs, something your bitter and lonely self wouldn't understand 🫶"

I think yk. paul himself has sort of curated this image that john was the main instigator of their shit flinging in the 70s, but the thing is john is NOT a subtle person. he was slagging paul off by name in interviews and writing "how do you sleep?" and not hiding how much he resented him for a bit. paul, on the other hand, is waaaay more vague and sneaky about it lmao. he's even Said him and john wrote way more songs to/about each other in the 70s than they've admitted to. so I think there were a Lot more jabs that he KNEW only john would get were about him. I mean, john knew him better than anyone and they had their own inside language so what better way to get back at him than making him look batshit insane when he would claim some song was about him 😭 and I do genuinely think "silly love songs" is another one of paul's Cunty John Songs

[lexosaurus]

idk if this is a contreversial take or not but i think that the ideal internet experience is being able to remove specific things (triggers, nsfw, gore) if you truly dont want to see them but overall being also shown things you aren’t interested in. i think one of my fave things about tumblr is seeing like 50% of my dash be about fandoms im not in, bands i dont like and quotes from books i dont want to read rather than this endless feedback loop of tiktok showing me ‘exactly what i want to see’ in a trap to keep me online as long as possible and blind to communities outside of my own. i want a mix of curating my own experience and a healthy dose of content i don’t already know i want to see, yknow?

No I think this is a pretty safe take here on Tumblr. I think stuff like this is why most of us are still here on Tumblr instead of moving to other sites like Twitter (rip) or Tiktok, you know? Because we like that this is the last social media with no algorithm, and we want to keep it that way.

To be clear, this site DOES have an "optional" algorithm that everyone is automatically opted in on, and you have to go to your settings and turn it off manually (recently found out, you have to opt out on your desktop and on your mobile. They're treated as separate settings). But the fact that you can opt out at all is HUGE.

Like, I can just go ahead and turn this thing off, and then that's it! It's off!

I was thinking yesterday about how before Instagram and Facebook had an algorithm, people genuinely just used them to stay in touch with all the happenings from their friends and family. Like, I remember going on Facebook every single day to see what my friends and family that didn't live nearby were up to. It was so fun! And then once the algorithm hit, suddenly I was bombarded with all this stupid bullshit that I didn't care about but Facebook/Instagram thought I cared about. And then only people who I "interacted" with most would be shown to me, aka people that didn't post as often or I didn't message as much wouldn't be shown to me, and it was such a sly, sinister change that I didn't even realize how many of my friends/people I followed weren't being shown to me till I slowly stopped using the app as much because wtf why am I only being shown the same 10 people? Why can't I join a fb group without it invading my entire feed? Where is everyone else? Why does this app feel So Empty?

There's a noticeable decrease of people on this site now compared to the 2010s, but weirdly enough, this is like the only social media for me that still feels like people are on it. That I can genuinely interact with mutuals without some robot deciding, "Oh, you interacted with this one person once? You browsed their blog for 5 minutes? NOW I WILL ONLY SHOW YOU THIS SINGLE PERSON'S CONTENT IN EVERY OTHER POST IN YOUR FEED FOR THE NEXT MONTH."

This has turned into a big long rant from me but like shit, dude, it's so sad how much of our online experience is controlled by algorithms now.

[indelicateink]

(eta: went ahead and made this request with a vampires-are-known universe hays-code-esque porn violations)

okay so Anne Rice’s son Christopher had responded to a tweet at some point in which it was jokingly concluded that lestat would’ve been in porn and lol, that Armand would’ve reported the filming for code violations

which is fucking hilarious, and I, of course, desperately needed to beg for a crack 5+1 of this on the iwtv kink meme, and went over to type that up, but—

BUT GOOGLE WILL NOT TELL ME WHAT CODE VIOLATIONS ON AN ADULT FILM SET ARE. and I get CR was making a joke, but gdi I’d love to read this! we need this for science

the big ones on a film set of that nature are (1) you have to be of age (o b v i o u s l y; doesn’t even need to be in the fic); and (2) at least in Cali as far as I can tell, you have to glove up. (and then state by state, city by city, at least in the US, there are codes about where you can locate your sexually oriented business, what it’s allowed to be, etc). (edit: getting tested is also important, but not the kind of thing that can be visually flagged by armand after a viewing)

that’s it. my google skill may be weak.

beyond that i’m sure there are codes to be followed on any film set, but I can’t find them. (and lbr, it would be more hilarious to have specific porn codes to break.)

I guess he could be breaking the very specific rules a production company privately likes to go by, and somehow armand knows those? or the TOS on the site he cams on?

I throw myself on the mercy of my fellow iwtv tumblees, all in good fun: lestat is out there violating codes in porn and armand is dutifully calling those in one at a time. please help: wtf is the man doing? (that is not super DARK, but IS hilarious.) [ETA: okay, possible solution added at top of post]

(fwiw, imho lestat’s husband louis is fine with the career, is aware armand is gonna armand, and is honestly too busy with his art curation/brokering/etc career to give more than a passing interest to these shenanigans, and is happy to watch the final products of an evening with his boo)

if I have to make this alternate universe/scifi/fantasy I will, but irl is possibly funnier. please help me perv. for science. and the reading pleasure of the greater community.

[rannie-moon]

Rannie I have a question how do you find urself writing because I’ve been trying to start my own bling and I struggle with writing and finding a theme for my blog and I was wondering if you had any tips

best piece of advice I can give you for writing (that's worked for me) is just do it. literally just open an empty doc, put on some music, if you have a scene in mind just write it, even if the dialogue looks weird, you can't find the right adjectives or don't know wtf you're doing. the first step is just to get it down in all it's mess and randomness.

writing takes time, finding your writing style specifically is something you grow into because everyone is different. but it's important to just have fun with it, write the little drabbles and the scenes you have in mind no matter how short. writing isn't rigid, nor is it linear so just have fun!

there are so many resources you can use, personally pinterest is like my writing bible. not just for inspo, but the writing tips on there? life changing.

and as for the blog theme it actually takes a lot of effort omw 😭 you can browse other blogs to get an idea of what you want, once again, pinterest pinterest pinterest!! It's tiring but it's sooooo fun

starting the blog, curating the "perfect" first post takes time too, so don't rush yourself 🫶🏼 as long as your writing makes you smile or giggle a bit, then that's a start and the best part!

[mittensmorgul]

okay but why is my following tab (literally the only tab i have on tumblr because fuck algorithms)... why is it suddenly showing me i apparently have more than 99 new posts in this tab? this is... less than useful data for while i’m actively scrolling? what is the value add here?

literally what use is this? it’s just giving me “you have unchecked messages” panic vibes but apparently it’s just a “there are more than 99 new posts to see since you refreshed the page and started at the top of your dash? because as you can see from the timestamp i am currently 9 hours back on my dash! because i actually have been scrolling for a while! I guess long enough for 99+ new posts to post! idgaf! i guess for folks with multiple tabs enabled it shows how many new posts are in those feeds too?  how overwhelming! it was bad enough when it showed up on the lil house at the top of the page, but this is just... stressful lol i mean i don’t even want a tab there at all and yet here we are >.>

(i mean if you let me have curated tabs of MY choosing like adding a list function like on twitter i guess that could be useful for not missing specific stuff but like... wtf...)

[fragilecapric0rnn]

2, 19, and 23 for the music ask game my darling senford 🎤🎶💜

kk!!! thank you for the ask my friend <33

2. what is your go-to karaoke song?

EASY!

19. what do you think is the greatest love song of all time?

GAHHH i am such on Oldies/soul/motown lover honestly truly. I think some of the most romantic songs I've ever heard are oldies - here's one that I would classify as one of the most romantic song i've ever heard:

(the other greatest love song i choose lol)

23. Do you create your own playlists? If so, how many do you have?

UUUUUUHHHH. one might say i dabble in playlist making with my 149 playlists. (HOLY FUCK DID NOT EXPECT IT TO BE THAT HIGH WTF)

what can i say! i feel any sort of specific emotion, think a gaggle of random songs belong together, i will absolutely be making a playlist! recently, i've been making playlists for my writing and one work can have like 5 playlists dedicated to it??? (which is how many AIAOF playlists i have jfc)

So yeah. Love me a little playlist curation lol.

Music Ask Game!!

[gnomadmusic]

Beauty in Everything

I want to tell a story about Shooby Taylor, the Human Horn. When I was in college, I had an iTunes playlist that I called my 'WTF Playlist.' This was made up of the strangest, funniest, most unexpected music I could find by scouring all corners of the internet.

I had all kinds of stuff in there; Florence Foster Jenkins, horribly distorted comedy rap songs from youtube channels with 6 subscribers, and lots of examples of what they call 'outsider music,' though I had never heard that term at the time. I loved this playlist. I loved searching for this type of music, I loved playing it for people, explaining what it was, telling people about how or where I found it.

This recording of 'Stout-hearted Men' by Shooby Taylor was one of the crown jewels of my collection. I played it for someone new every chance I got. If you've never heard Shooby, he is a scat singer, and his style is incredibly singular and enthusiastic. Nothing in this world sounds like Shooby.

The truth is, his music is often funny because of how unexpected it is, and I and my friends would often laugh as we listened, but I remember coming to a very specific realization over time: I wasn't cataloguing this music to make fun of it.

There was something about it that I loved. I was curating this list because this type of thing was special to me, for whatever reason. I realized that, even though it made perfect sense to me to laugh while listening to Shooby's music, it did not make sense at all to laugh at Shooby.

Occasionally someone would, and it was odd and revelatory to me how different the experience was to share something with somebody and then have that feeling of 'no, you don't understand, it's not funny because he sucks, he's awesome, and it's funny in the same way watching your cat do a backflip is funny!'

Over the years, I've seen several of the tracks from the playlist pop up in YouTube videos, sometimes with the attitude of 'hey check out these weirdos,' and that made me feel another thing: I started to feel protective. I started to lament that in our attention-obsessed world, it seemed like every little thing had to be strip-mined for "content," that nothing could escape being the 'entertaining-for-a-few-minutes' flavor of the week, rather than being preserved, cared for, curated, appreciated.

I think I'm kind of an idealistic person. That doesn't make me right about everything, or even anything. But as I've gotten older, I've often received the advice that 'you shouldn't hold yourself responsible for that.' I have sometimes reflected that it is a little delusions-of-grandeur-ish and self-centering to think of yourself as the only person who can save something, and that is quite true! But, letting go of your ego about it doesn't change the fact that the thing is still worth saving.

So, please enjoy Shooby Taylor's rendition of Stout-Hearted Men. It is utterly unique and overall joyful. I think it's okay if you laugh while you listen, but don't forget to enjoy the true beauty of it as well.

[mental-illness-bingo]

CW venting about the porn bots; swearing and non-detailed mentions of specific types (but not incidents) of trauma:

I am so fucking sick of seeing these porn bots everywhere. Wtf happened that made these start springing up again overnight?! Is it because I use the communities thing?! Can I not enjoy cute plushies & go into more curated mental health spaces because people are fucking disgusting and post uncensored, unwanted porn into a goddamn community about stuffed animals?! Fuck!

I have so much fucking sex trauma I. Do. Not. Need. More. It’s getting so much where I feel dread even opening tumblr - something that until the last like 1-2 months was a serious comfort for me so much so that I mostly used it when I was really needing that comfort. Going on tumblr was a coping mechanism that kept me from going off the deep end. Now it’s sending me into panic attacks - sometimes with only 1-2 posts inbetween them.

I also can’t open tumblr around anyone anymore lest their eyes get unconsensually assaulted like mine are.

Once upon a time the only pornbots I saw posted sketchy links with nsfw titles and also sent those same things to you in DMs.

Now it’s full on explicit images shown in those links.

It’s gross. It’s not fair. AND it’s not tagged so I can’t do anything about it. Just fucking have panic attacks or give up a major coping mechanism.

[bisluthq]

This is a weird but very personal crossover for me lol. So you know how we talk about Taylor having help to run her home, cleaners, assistants, etc. and for ages people would argue and there are a lot of fans who think Taylor handles everything herself. Right well I think she’s done an amazing job at curating that image and honestly, idk if she’s aware so many people think she does all domestic duties along with her career stuff, or if she’d care enough to correct that notion because I think a lot of people just assume rich people have helpers?

Anyway, she and bon jovi, or more specifically Jon bon jovi have both done the same thing with having a very tight ship, and their own companies handling their affairs so everyone is 100% on their side and not splitting time between clients and priorities. They also have their regular tabloids that they share info with for puff pieces or for an “anonymous source” to speak on their behalf and put out the narrative they want. Jon has really tried hard to paint himself as an average guy. He would talk about how he was a strict dad and even though his 4 kids will grow up with money, he and his wife didn’t want to spoil them and wanted the kids to know they were lucky and not everyone has the same opportunities etc etc. he said many times how they try to not go huge on Christmas and birthdays, kids had to do chores for their allowance… and he fucking loved mentioning how he takes out the trash and brings the trashcan to the curb lmao.

Anyway one of his sons, Jake, married Millie bobby brown and she was on call her daddy recently and said how she and Jake balance each other out in a few ways and one example is that she grew up poor and he grew up rich and gave the example of she said she needed new socks and he was like ‘cool let’s go to prada’ and she was like ‘wtf no we go to Walmart or target for socks 😳’ but said she thinks it’s cute that he is used to going to Prada for socks!

There is a very active online bon jovi fandom, and twitter is where the most cupcakes are. And it was such a swiftie-like meltdown because so many cupcakes were like “oh MBB is just playing it up! Jake wouldn’t have been raised going to prada for socks! 😂 Jon wouldn’t have that! She’s exaggerating for effect! Haven’t you heard of hyperbole? 🙄’ and the fandom is aged mid 20s to 60s, so there are people who were there in real time saying they remember some bit of trivia from 1987 or whatever that makes them think Jon and his family would hate luxury brands like Prada…. And it’s so fucking funny to watch! And look I don’t know or care where these people get their socks from, if Prada makes socks, I guess there are enough people wanting to buy Prada socks! And that family is FUCKING RICH and have always done a lot of charity (they probably wouldn’t notice their donation being absent in their bank, like Taylor, but they’re still always donated and been active like that). But I’m in a small pocket of the fandom where we talk the same way as us bisluts 🩷 and the revelation of Prada socks to us was “lol Jon is gonna hate this so much” and we moved on. A week later the cupcakes are still talking about it, debating it, trying to debunk it…. And I’ve realised, cupcakes never grow out of cupcaking! And this is probably going to be forever for Taylor, unless she turns into a complete ghost and doesn’t write or release under her name. And some of the cupcakes are feeling betrayed because they thought he was a normal guy and HE LIED! But they’re middle aged with teenagers and kids who have moved out!

I’m imagining Taylor makes a new friend and the friend says she turned the oven on and started a fire because it still had plastic in it because Taylor hadn’t used the oven even though she moved in 6 months ago. Plenty of fans would be arguing ‘she hadn’t used THAT oven, she probably has 4!’ It’s just soooo…. Silly? But taken so very seriously.

I thought it was funny lol

that is objectively very funny. Also like lmfao I didn’t even know Prada makes socks because I’m not fucking rich but I’m not shocked that… fucking rich people know that lol. Like I can believe these cupcakes are shocked that their idols don’t go to Walmart lmfao.

[hazynbabyblue]

this literally murdered my entire family and i still need it injected over and over wtf. every line was curated to hurt me so deliciously and so specifically i swear.

BAD REVIEWS (a Bad Reviews by Sabrina Carpenter inspired fic)

you've heard more than your fair share of bad reviews about theo nott. that doesn't stop you from becoming the newest addition (theo nott x reader) [best viewed in dark mode]

a/n - i did NOT realise this fic was turning out this long which I think speaks to how much fun I was having writing it, planning it out carefully and setting the slow burn justtt right ahh I truly think this is one of my best pieces of writing ever? at least I rlly like it hahah so enjoy :))

tropes/warnings - tw toxic r/ship descriptions, lovebombing, unhealthy possessiveness, angst

word count - 6k! whoo!

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

Little Miss Formerly Delusional ★★★★☆ He’s charming. Too charming. He will reel you in just so he can ruin your life. I gave him my time, my life, my youth, and where do I end up? Crying in his shower - NEVER. AGAIN. He's so good at making you feel special. Scratch that - he's so good at getting what he wants.

It started at a picnic.

The kind that got cobbled together last minute with leftover snacks and a secondhand deck of cards, bodies strewn across the grass in lazy clusters, all chatter and sunshine and no plans beyond the hour.

You hadn’t planned to stay long. You almost left twice. But then someone pulled out a pack of cards, and everyone had gotten paired up for a game - you with Theo Nott, of all people - so you stayed.

You were seated opposite each other, cross-legged on some thin picnic blanket, knees knocking every so often every time one of you leaned over the card deck between you. Some slap-happy mess of a game that had rules no one followed properly but left everyone’s hands red and stinging from all the shouting and reflexes gone wrong.

Theodore Nott - teasing, long-limbed, annoyingly pretty - watched you with his sleeves rolled at the elbow, tie loosened. His eyes locked on yours with a lazy kind of intent. You'd seen him around plenty, and heard about him even more, but this was the first time you'd actually talked to him. Up close, he was worse. His vacant grin too self-assured with a rich, arrogant voice that promised all sorts of unscrupulous things.

Theo flirted, of course, in the way boys like him always did - bold, rehearsed, shameless. Fixing you with unabashed, unrelenting eye contact. Leaning over to you closer than what was strictly necessary. Playing the role of injured loverboy for every round he lost.

You rolled your eyes through most of it.

You'd heard the stories. Everyone knew the way he moved from girl to girl, leaving miserable shells in his wake like it was nothing. That boy didn’t even have a heart to break.

Three rounds in, he spoke up when you won. Again.

“You’ve got quick hands.”

You shrugged, sweeping up the cards.

“You’ve got a slow reaction time.”

His grin widened. “So modest.”

You finally deigned to return his gaze, your face as impassive as ever. “I don’t usually play nice.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I like girls who make me work for it.”

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Was that supposed to flatter you? Impress you?

"Do you?" you mumbled instead, dealing the cards out once again. When Theo didn't move to pick up his, still intent on watching you, you gave him a look and sighed.

“Look. You don’t even know me.”

“I’m trying.”

You looked bored.

“And why is that?”

“Because you look like you’ve already decided I'm not worth your time.” He rested his chin on his hand, unbothered. “Now I need to know if you’re right.”

You hesitated. That was...unexpected.

But you recovered almost immediately.

“Well,” you said, eyes flicking to the deck, speaking quickly, “I'll have to warn you. I’m not the kind of girl who gets affected easily.”

“‘Affected,’” he echoed, amused. “That's adorable.”

It wasn’t what you actually wanted to say. What you meant was: I’ve heard what you do to girls. I’ve seen the aftermath. And I’m not anywhere near stupid enough to be next.

But you didn’t say any of that. You just kept her expression level and glanced at the cards, seeing what Theo had missed. You slapped your hands on his.

“4 - 2,” you said, with a thinly veiled smugness.

Theo looked at your hands, then up at you, and smiled slow.

“You like this, don't you?"

“I like winning.”

He didn’t let you win the next round. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

Later, when everybody was cooling off with some iced butterbeer, peeling grass off their sleeves, Theo glanced your way with a look that gave you a bad feeling in your gut.

He raked a hand through his hair with a careful air of nonchalance that was fooling no one, and said offhandedly, "You know, I let her win one of the early rounds, by the way.”

For a moment, you gaped at him and his slimy audacity. Then you sat up, affronted, nearly upsetting your butterbeer. “You what?”

He gave you a lazy blink. On another day, you might have considered him somewhat endearing. Today, he was getting on your last nerves.

“Thought it might soften you up.”

“You did not let me win," you said hotly, a strand of hair stuck to your uncomfortably sticky cheek. "You just couldn’t keep up.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t good. Just not as good as me.”

Oh, you could punch him. “The score was six to three - ”

“Yeah, and that third one? That was a gift.”

You turned to the others, scandalised. “He’s l - liar. Liar. He’s lying, I sw-.”

Theo just sipped his drink effortlessly. “I thought you didn’t get affected easily?”

That shut you up immediately. You turned away, face hot with something dangerously close to flustered. You'd walked into that one. Hard.

They'd only formally met a couple of hours ago and he somehow managed to already get under your skin. Just a little.

And he knew it.

When he leaned in a little closer to murmur something to someone beside him, you swore he was still smirking.

You weren't supposed to be caught off guard. Not by him. You knew boys like Theo Nott. Knew their tricks and charms and the revolving door of names on their lips.

Unfortunately, knowing didn’t make you any less curious.

Little Miss Territorial by Proxy ★★★☆☆ He’ll be possessive. And you'll like it. It feels flattering at first. I mean, why wouldn't it? Who doesn't luvvv being loved? It's always nice to feel wanted.

That's not what this is, though. Theodore Nott, erm, 'wants' in the way a hunter 'wants' a deer head stuffed and mounted on the wall.

The courtyard had that lazy kind of energy that lingered on warm afternoons - bodies stretched out, butterbeer bottles dusty and half-empty, faint music straining through the thick, heavy afternoon air from someone’s wireless. It was easy. Drowsy. Like no one wanted to be anywhere else.

Theo was already there when you arrived.

You noticed him from across the throng, lounging in one of the stone archways, a little separate from everyone else. He met your gaze. You looked away. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Eventually, someone pulled out a deck of cards again. Out of the few of you who could tolerate the smacking and getting smacked on such a hot day, you partnered up with a Ravenclaw named Liam - broad-shouldered, painfully chatty, cursed with the unfortunate affliction of not being as funny as he thought he was.

When you beat him - again - he let out an exaggerated groan and slumped back dramatically.

“Alright, alright. Clearly I’m no match,” he said., as he poorly reshuffled the cards. Over the deck, he shot you a smarmy look that left you feeling icky all over. “Maybe you could teach me sometime.”

The line was lame. And obvious. You picked up the cards he dealt, not bothering to look up.

“Sorry. I don’t usually train the hopeless.”

Liam winced. “That’s cold.”

You shrugged. “It's true.”

Laughter buzzed through the few who were listlessly paying attention. Theo didn’t laugh. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Only stared.

His eyes had sharpened the moment Liam started talking. He hadn’t said anything yet, but you could feel the heat of it - the weight of his stare digging between her ribs.

You shifted slightly. You took a sip of your butterbeer to cool off and calm down. The saccharine drink had begun to sour in the relentless heat.

Liam nudged your foot with his own - light, playful. Theo straightened and sat up.

“Careful, mate,” he said, voice steady and too smooth. “You’re one bad joke away from a nosebleed.”

A few chuckles sputtered. Nervous ones. It didn’t sound like a joke. No one knew whether to laugh or move on.

Liam blinked, uncomfortable now.

“Relax, yeah? Just playing.”

Theo tipping his bottle at him languidly. “Just warning.”

Before it could stretch into something uglier, he abruptly shifted focus.

“I’m in,” he said suddenly, "the mood to play now.”

There was a shuffle as the group moved up a little to make room for Theo where they were all scattered across the floor.

You didn’t hesitate. You switched your partner to Theo before anyone else could move. Your knees bumped. His smirk twitched higher.

The game began. Slaps. Feints. Barely restrained grins. She won the first round. He won the next. By the third, she was half a beat faster. Or maybe he was just a beat slower.

He let her win. Or maybe she let him.

When he looked at you afterwards, head tilted, lashes low, he gave you a look of some quiet approval. Like you’d passed a test you hadn't even known you were taking.

You looked away first. Unexpectedly, you felt a flicker of pride. From there sparked an obsession with this most cursed type of validation, one that you had never known to be greedy for.

You took another sip of you drink, relishing the way your face warmed in the heat of the day under the intensity of his stare. Still, you should have known what you knew now - those days in the sun would only last so long. Not even a week later, the fights began.

Little Miss Made Excuses For His Anger Issues ★★☆☆☆ He plays dirty, so it's only fair you do too. When the fights begin - god, they'll never stop. He'll never listen to you, you'll go blue in the face trying to get him to change, he'll whine about you never getting off his back, you'll snap at him for breathing too loud, it's nuts.

Okay, fine, the last one wasn't exactly provoked. He was just in too good of a mood that day and it was pissing me off. But honestly? I was so valid for that. He needed to learn to shut the fuck up once in a while.

It wasn’t even about the cigarettes.

At least, not just about them.

You were poring over your books in the deserted Slytherin common room, trying not to think about Ivy had been telling you about a girl Theo had been getting pretty close to - some Romilda Vane. He lit one the second he walked in - like it was a reflex, like he was doing it on purpose. You could feel the now-familiar irritation bloom in your chest the moment the smoke hit the air, bitter and acrid and reeking of bad memories.

“Really?” you muttered, not bothering to look up from your notes. “In here?”

Theo exhaled slowly, deliberately.

“I'll open a window.”

“That’s not the point.”

He leaned against the window frame, posture relaxed, jaw tight.

“Then what is?”

You huffed irritatedly and slammed your book shut.

“The point is, you said you’d stop. Five days ago. In the hallway. After that disaster of a duel. Or did you forget that too?”

He had the audacity to sigh like you were being difficult for even bringing that up.

“For fuck's sake, Y/N, it’s one cigarette.”

“It’s your third.”

Now he looked at you properly, something dry and tired in his gaze.

“You're keeping count now? Are you keeping tabs on me?”

Maybe I should, the angry thought flashed in your mind. Who the hell was Romilda Vane anyway? You gritted your teeth. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t go through them like water.”

“It’s not a crime,” he muttered, but he stubbed it out anyway - carelessly, more like a challenge than a concession. “There. Better?”

“Sure. Until the next one.”

He laughed humorlessly.

“Sorry, Mother.”

That did it.

You stood suddenly, the legs of your chair scraping piercingly across the floor.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Turn me into some controlling shrew just because I care about your health - ”

"Oh, so now I'm supposed to thank you for breathing down my neck all the time?"

You seethed. “Is that supposed to be funny? Because it isn't. It's not. It's really not.”

“I’m not the one making a scene over a cigarette.”

“Forget the bloody cigarettes. That's not the point.”

“No,” he said, standing now, tone flat. “I think I get the point just fine. You’ve had a shit week, and I’m the easiest thing to pick on.”

The corners of your mouth tightened.

“You think I like picking fights?”

“Sure seems like it.”

You could hardly hear or think coherently over the sound of blood roaring in your ears. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re relentless,” he shot back. “It’s always something with you. First it’s me leaving my notes in the common room, then it’s how I ‘don’t take things seriously,’ and now it’s - ”

“Oh, I’m sorry - am I not supposed to care when you act like nothing is worth your attention?”

He scoffed and looked away, as if dismissing you, as if you weren't worth any more of his Wednesday night. You gathered up your books with more aggression than was strictly necessary, feeling embarrassingly close to tears with how crazy Theo drove you.

"I don't know why I bother with a degenerate like you. You always do this. I bring something up, and you turn it against me, or you twist it into me being dramatic, or overbearing - ”

He exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Well, if the shoe fits...” he muttered.

“God, fuck you.”

He never seemed more unattractive you than he did in that moment - caustically insensitive, sarcastic and selfish. You spun on your heel, grabbing your bag off the floor before storming out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

Theo didn’t follow. He just stood there for a beat, unmoving in the silence of the night. Then he leaned against the windowsill and lit another cigarette.

Little Miss "He Knows I Can Take It" ★☆☆☆☆ He'll Make You Feel Special Enough To Tune Everyone Else Out The man's arrogant enough to act like he's God's gift on Earth and he's shameless enough to act like the yelling and the screaming and the shit he gives you is a blessing. But after a while, if you're not careful, you'll go right on believing him. Twisting his abuse into some fucked up declaration of love because man does he sell the pipe dream of being his favourite punching bag well.

And the thing is - you're not his favourite. You never will be. That won't stop you from making an arse out of yourself trying anyway. The things I did? Ugh, embarrassinggg. Skipping parties, for what? Giving him all my time, for what? Cutting out the friends he didn't like, for what? A guy who needed a training broom till he was ten?? Be soooo fucking for real right now.

You didn't notice the glance Ivy and Melissa exchanged when you walked into your dorm. Your bag slid off your shoulder with a dull thump onto the floor, your shoulders aching.

“Hey.” Melissa said from her spot near the desk. “You missed lunch.”

You distractedly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “I was revising,” you muttered, toeing off your shoes. “Didn’t realise the time.”

Ivy wrinkled her nose from where she was sprawled on her bed. “Merlin, you’re one of those. Don’t go all Ravenclaw on us now.”

You gave a faint smile. You hadn't realised how little you had seen of your friends over the past week. You missed them. “Too late.”

There was a pause. Melissa twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. You stilled, recognising that nervous tic of hers.

“Were you with him?” she asked casually. “Theo?”

You hesitated. So what if you were? “Yeah. So?”

“Right,” Ivy said, not unkindly. “He wouldn't have anything to do with you disappearing every other day now, would he?”

You were at a loss of words.

“...I’ve just been busy.”

They didn’t say anything.

You glanced up, feeling the air shift into something more worried, anxious.

“I don’t want to do this right now,” you muttered.

“We’re just talking,” Melissa said gently.

You shot her a look. You weren't dumb. Ivy sat up a little straighter. You could feel the both of them closing in on you.

“Look,” she said carefully, “I know you don’t want to talk about him. But Melissa and I think we should. You’ve changed. And it's...not good.”

“I’m fine,” you said tightly.

“You say that a lot lately,” Melissa said sadly. You scoffed. “It’s getting harder to believe.”

You exhaled sharply, massaging your temples.

“Can we not do this now?”

“You never let us do this,” Ivy said, brows drawing together.

Your stomach twisted.

“Because it’s none of your business,” you snapped. Your friends looked taken aback.

“I just - ” Ivy blinked. “We're not trying to - ”

“I know what you meant,” you cut in, voice rising. “You don’t like him. You think he’s bad for me. You think I’m stupid for being with him.”

“No one said that,” Melissa said slowly, frowning. “No one's saying that. We’ve just never seen you like this. We're not the enemy, Y/N.”

It sure felt like it. Melissa reached out, and in that moment of blind rage, you couldn't tell if it was to hug you or hurt you. You flinched out of her reach. You didn't miss the brief flicker of hurt that passed over her face. Even Ivy looked mystified.

“Y/N," Ivy said, getting up now. "Enough of this. We’re worried about you. He’s getting to your head, and you're so wrapped up in him that you can't even see it.”

You crossed your arms.

“I'm not a child, for Merlin's sake. I know he’s complicated. I’m not blind.”

“Then why are you defending him like he’s perfect?”

“Because you’re making it sound like he’s evil,” you snapped. “Like I’m too dumb to realise I’m being treated badly.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but no words came. Just heat. Frustration. Guilt twisting into something bitter.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Ivy said quietly. “Not over anyone.”

Looking at your friends, their hostile postures and mutinous faces, you felt terribly alone. “Well,” you said, “maybe I’ve changed.”

Melissa stared at you, looking angrier than you had ever seen her. “Yeah. You have.”

You sighed.

“I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“And we’re not trying to give you one,” Ivy said. “But you’re making it really hard to not say something when you’re hurting yourself like this.”

“I’m not - ” you started, but stopped short.

Because you were hurting. You knew it. You’d known it for a while now. But hearing it sfrom someone else's lips made it feel like an accusation.

“We’re just trying to help you,” Ivy said, quieter now.

“I don’t need help," you said, chest tight. "I need you to back off.”

A listless kind of quiet descended in the room. Melissa’s jaw tensed. Ivy uselessly smoothed down her sheets.

“Well,” Ivy said, voice flat now, “I guess that's we’ll do then.”

Melissa wasn't as forgiving. “Whatever. It's your life to ruin, L/N.”

She drew her hair up into a ponytail. "Dinner, Ivy?"

The silence they left behind was deafening. You refused to dwell on the fight. You refused to acknowledge how damning their condemnations felt.

And still - when the dust settled, like a woman possessed, your thoughts drifted back to Theo. To that lopsided grin. That lazy smirk. Pulling you in, and in, and in, and in.

Little Miss Fool Me Twice, Shame on Me ★★★★★ He always knows when he's about to lose you And that's when he's the sweetest. He'd have to be - it's his last ditch attempt to distract you. He'll have you wondering how you could ever think of him as selfish or mean-spirited or anything other than the world's most-loving, most-devoted boyfriend. Boyfriend? HA!

It started the way most things with Theo did - loud, dramatic, and entirely unnecessary.

You stepped out of the Transfiguration exam room, clutching your wand, still mentally arguing with yourself over you shaky answer to question seven, when someone near the doors let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

“What the hell - ?”

Students were crowding toward the entrance of the castle, whispering, staring. You followed the noise, shielding her eyes from the sudden sunlight. And then you saw it.

A car. A bright red, shiny Muggle convertible, parked just off the stone steps, looking entirely out of place in front of Hogwart's gothic architecture. And leaning against it like he'd walked straight off the poster of some pretentiously obscure, too-slick indie film was Theodore Nott - sunglasses perched cockily in his curls, sleeves rougishly pushed up, charm turned on.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered under your breath, walking faster now, heat creeping up the back of her neck.

He caught sight of you and grinned. Not a smirk, not his usual self-satisfied half-smile. A grin.

Like he hadn't been a complete dick to you just two nights ago.

“What's all this?” you asked as you stepped up to him.

Theo straightened with a practiced laziness. “It’s a getaway car.”

You blinked at him.

“Weekend trip,” he clarified. “We need a break. You need a break.”

“I have two exams left.”

He shrugged. “Two is practically nothing.”

“Theo.”

Before you could continue your protests, he took your hand and kissed your knuckles in full view of half of your year, completely unbothered.

“Your stuff’s in the boot. Packed it this morning.”

Your mouth dropped open. How did he manage to get into the girls' dormitories?

“You what—?”

“There’s snacks,” he continued, unrepentant. “I even charmed the glove compartment to keep your disgusting fizzy drinks cold." Traces of the Theo you knew started resurfacing. He sounded pretty damn proud of himself. "You’re welcome.”

“You’re mental.”

“And you’re exhausted.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Come on, Y/N. You can revise in bed with me and a view of the sea. There’s a fireplace. I booked the biggest suite they had.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your palm. Your face burned.

"Please? For me?"

You should’ve walked away. You meant to walk away.

But he had that look again - the one he used to reel you in after every fight. The one you couldn't bear to tell off. That soft-eyed, unwittingly innocent look like he wasn't even capable of doing anything wrong, let alone on purpose. Behind him, the sunlight hit the car just right, glinting off the chrome like some surreal, too-good-to-be-true movie scene.

It was stupid. And ridiculous. And maybe that was the point.

So you went.

On the drive down, Theo's hand casually resting on your thigh, wind whipping through your hair, you told yourself you weren't impressed.

But then you saw the room - two floors, a balcony, a charmed bath bigger than her dorm - and you maybe slightly let it go to your head.

He ordered room service like you were royalty, feeding you chocolate-covered strawberries by the tray, worshipfully kissing the tips of your fingers like he’d never once raised his voice or made you feel small.

He lit candles. Bought you a new jumper at one of the quaint, homey shops by the pier when you'd offhandedly mentioned feeling a little chilly. Got up to make you tea in the mornings and made it right - not the way he liked it, but the way you always complained about no one ever remembering it.

He let you pick the station on the wireless. Spoilt you relentlessly. Had the nerve to call you pretty in the midst of you lounging in the utter bliss of what was turning into the most indulgent heaven.

Maybe it was the wine. Or the way the fire flickered inches from you where you laid tangled up on the rug, breathing slow and even and in sync, like the world where you were constantly at each other's throats never existed.

Or maybe it was just the way he was looking at you again. Like you mattered. Like you were special. Like he was choosing to be good. Like he was choosing to be good for you.

You caught yourself smiling at nothing. You let him pull you into his lap. Let him press kisses down your neck, murmuring all the right things.

On the last night, your head was resting on his chest, his fingers tracing slow, thoughtless circles into your back. You should've been long asleep, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how different he felt like this. Like this version of him had always existed, but you were only just now being allowed to see it.

“I don’t get you,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Theo glanced down at you.

“What’s there to get?”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down on what little you could see of his face not obscured by the dark or his soft curls. You tilted your head, considering.

“You’re just…different, sometimes.”

His hand paused.

Then he shifted, rolling you both over gently, lips brushing against your jaw, collarbone, shoulder.

“Maybe you just make me better,” he murmured.

You almost laughed.

Because it was such a good line. But that's exactly what it was - a line.

You drew Theo closer to you almost anxiously. He obliged, hands wandering to your hips. Distantly, you wondered if you carved open his heart, would you find anything remotely genuine inside?

It was late. You were tired. It made your head hurt to think of such depressing things.

So your eyes fluttered shut, and you let yourself succumb to Theo's ministrations. Let yourself believe it.

For one more night.

Little Miss Egg on My Face ★★☆☆☆ It Never Lasts It's almost a slap in the face, really - he could do it all for you, and more. He just doesn't want to. He doesn't care enough to even be halfway decent, especially once the glow wears off. So a week later, he goes back to his old ways, drinking and philandering, and you - well, you stayed, didn't you? Now who's the idiot?

For a few days, it almost felt like things truly had changed.

Theo had stayed soft, sweet, attentive. He sat with you during meals without you asking. Laced your fingers together under the table in study hall. Let you sleep in his bed, no questions asked, when you showed up exhausted after a double-length Potions exam. He even gave you his last chocolate frog during a study break and shrugged, saying you needed it more than he did.

And you started to believe it. That maybe the trip really had saved their relationship from ruin. Maybe this time, he meant every kiss, every touch.

But, like all good things, it didn’t last.

By midweek, you started noticing it again, despite your best efforts.

The way he brushed you off in the corridors with a distracted nod, not even slowing his pace. The way he left your group hangouts without saying goodbye. The way he started treating you like an accessory he wanted only sometimes.

It was subtle. Like he was slipping out of a persona.

One night, you watched him lean towards another girl a few tables over, heavily wrapped up in whatever riveting conversation they were sharing, all low laughs and half-lidded glances, his mouth tugged up at one side. The same smirk he’d used on you—only now it felt recycled. Contaminated. Revolting.

He didn’t even glance your way as you left the Hall.

You waited until you were alone. You found him near the back stairwell, the one they used to use to sneak up to the Astronomy Tower. He was lighting a cigarette. Of course. Something about this was beginning to feel destructively futile.

Your voice was quiet at first.

“Hey.”

Theo glanced over, eyes unreadable in the gloom of the night. “Hey.”

You hesitated.

“Can we talk?”

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, then shrugged. “Sure. Talk.”

There was a beat of silence. Then she said, softly, almost apologetically, “You’ve been different. Since we got back.”

Theo looked away.

“Have I?”

You could feel him beginning to shut you out. You panicked. “I’m not trying to start anything," you said, hurriedly. "I just…noticed.”

“You always do,” he muttered, flicking ash onto the stone floor.

You frowned. “I’m not accusing you.”

“Not yet, you're not.”

Something about the way he said it - flat, unaffected - made you feel ridiculous. A laughingstock. Overly emotional. Wholly irrational.

Still, you pushed on. “You were great this weekend, Theo. Really. Till now, I didn’t want to say anything because I liked that. I liked you. And now - ” You swallowed. “Now I don't."

He raised a brow.

“Because I sat at a different table?”

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what is it?”

You worried your bottom lip.

“You’re pulling away again.”

Theo laughed condescendingly.

“Well, forgive me if I don’t feel like being your emotional support boyfriend every minute of every day.”

You stared at him.

“Is that what you think I want?”

“Sure seems like it.”

You stepped back, your frustration mounting.

“God, you’re unbelievable. I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re acting like I’m some clingy, nagging -”

“Well, aren’t you?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious that this, is getting old,” he said, not even bothering to look at her now. “The whining. The melodrama.”

You hated the way your voice was beginning to shake.

“You always do this, Theo. Every time we get close, you run the other way. You pretend none of it ever happened.”

He turned to you now, finally meeting your eyes with that cold, dead gaze of his.

"We had a nice weekend. We had one nice weekend. Newsflash, princess - it's not that deep."

Your chest tightened, your breath catching in your throat.

He didn’t stop there. “You act like I’m supposed to worship you like some lovesick puppy all day every day. Don't you get exhausted by how much you want all the time? Do you really need to be wanted that badly?”

There was a long pause.

Then you exhaled, sharp and cold.

“Fuck you.”

He didn’t blink. “That’s more like it.”

All this while he'd been trying to buy your infatuation. Meanwhile, you couldn't pay him to offer you a shred of respect.

You shoved past him, your nails digging crescent moons into her palms as you walked far, far away from him. The echo of your footsteps hit the walls too loud, too fast, like you couldn’t get away from him quickly enough.

He didn’t follow. Not that you expected him to. But the worst part was that it hurt exactly the way she knew it would that afternoon you first laid eyes on him. Because he didn't care - not really. Not enough for it to actually mean anything.

Still, some sick part of your heart pulsed with the worry that you'd go back. That you weren't strong enough to truly stay away from him. That you'd go crawling back to him on some cold, miserable night.

When your hands stopped shaking. When your voice stopped cracking. When you convinced yourself again that maybe he half-meant it that one time. That maybe he could change. That maybe he already had.

But for now, all that you could do was walk, and walk, and walk, until the halls swallowed you whole. Until he was little more than smoke curling in the wind.

The only thing heavier than your silence was the weight of still wanting him.

It’s always worse at night.

When the castle halls are quiet. When your bed’s too big. When there’s no fight left in you to battle the waves of want.

It was late—so late that even the stars seemed like a distant memory, hanging somewhere far beyond reach. It was a stupid hour, one where you should have been asleep, or at least pretending to be. But you weren't. You never could sleep the same without him anymore. Not when he’d been the one to fill the void inside you, even if it was with something corrosive. You hated it. And yet, there was no escaping it.

You missed him. How could you not? Despite everything, despite his flaws, his temper, his habits you loathed, you missed him. Even when he was the last person you wanted to think about, your mind wandered back to the way his lips felt against your neck, the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren't looking.

That stupid half-smile. The ominous smell of smoke clinging to his collar. The way his voice softened when he said your name like it was something precious meant only for him.

It was exhausting. This back and forth. The way he could make you feel like the most important thing in the world one minute, and a burden the next. Every time you thought you had him figured out, he flipped it. Changed the rules. Changed the game.

And still - still, you chose to love him.

You were too tired to care about what was “right” anymore. You'd been walking around in this fog of longing and resentment, trying to convince yourself that you deserved more, that you needed more. You needed to be more.

But you weren't. Not without him.

You'd told yourself you wouldn’t do this again. Had said it out loud, even. Had whispered it like a promise into your pillow the night you walked away. But the resolve didn't hold under the weight of your chest caving in from the loneliness.

You tried everything - busy days. Cold showers. Long walks. None of it worked. You couldn't help slipping.

And tonight, you're slipping fast.

Your bare feet carry you down the corridor before you can think. You don't react to the chill of the floor. Your head is vacant of any plans, any rational thought - just the sharp pulse of want, of need, of him.

You hesitate outside his dorm. But it's too little, too late. The time to turn back was months ago, when he was little more than a stranger on a picnic blanket you had enough sense to not get involved with.

The door creaks open.

He’s awake. He doesn’t say anything. You don't leave. He doesn’t ask you to.

He lifts the covers. Makes room for you without question.

You climb in.

His arms wrap around you like muscle memory. Like forgiveness he didn’t earn.

And you let him.

Because the thing about loving someone like Theodore Nott is, it’s never a fair fight. It's an affliction of the worst kind. It's a habit you can't quite quit. It’s knowing better. And choosing him anyway.

You closes your eyes and shift closer, pretending you don't know how this ends.

Little Miss Disillusioned ★★★☆☆ Would Not Recommend But Merlin...I always come back.

[nekoprankster218]

my Youtube algorithm is acting weird all of a sudden?

I know that if you watch anything political - even if it's the most far left thing possible - YouTube will try pushing right-wing stuff 'cause it doesn't sub-categorize politics like it should. But my YouTube for years has been good at not doing that. Like, for a long time, it'd be rare to see conservative videos in my sidebar. The only exception was ads (even tho I specifically curated my Google ads and marked "politics" as a topic I DID NOT wanna see). I would binge a new commentary channel and the only other channel recommendations I'd get were people actually like them, not the opposite end of the political aisle.

All of a sudden, the last few days, I'm seeing some channels popping up in my recommended that are just... I have no idea why YouTube is bringing them up with me. A majority have been conservative to conservative-leaning, although a few for some reason have been kids content/kids educational and one in a language I don't speak and have never watched YouTube videos in that language?

I have scrolled my YouTube history to see wtf could have triggered all this and getting nothing obvious. I've gone quite awhile not watching any political video essays (got into other things + needed to take a mental break) and recently watched a few, which may have been misinterpreted by the algorithm? Like maybe before it never went outta whack 'cause I was consistent in what specifically I was watching, but suddenly accidentally "detoxing" the algorithm and going back might've made it forget what my politics are? Doesn't explain the non-political anomalies tho.

The only significant change to my account's habits is that I've been letting my mom watch paranormal channels through it (since sometimes videos get restricted meaning you can't watch without an account). That's caused my recommended to get flooded with the channels she's watched and stuff similar, but I don't particularly mind that. I've watched paranormal content myself (Wendigoon, Buzzfeed Unsolved, Night Mind) but my mom's going for a completely different genre (the ghost hunters with the all-caps titles and shocked faces in the thumbnails); I wouldn't watch it myself but I wouldn't kick her off over it. But combing through my history, she hasn't touched anything but the paranormal stuff, so she shouldn't be the cause for the anomalies. Can't be a third party who's gotten into my account either, otherwise it would show up - and if they tried deleting their marks on the history to cover their tracks, well that would also delete that data for the algorithm to use.

So like I'm left wondering wtf is going on all of a sudden? I guess it's still not completely out of the question that somehow the paranormal content is making YouTube think "ah then these conservative commentary / right-wing memers will also be of interest!". I'm also wondering if maybe there's some quiet changes being made that this is a symptom of, which is why I'm putting this out there to see if anyone else is noticing anything unusual suddenly happening to their algorithm with no clear trigger for it. I've tried googling, but I get stuff from a few years ago, and answers that don't seem to fit the situation.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Not pro/anti ship but a secret third thing (side eyeing ppl with ships i dont like and block them/the tag if it makes me uncomfortable)

[joinmeinjoy]

Ok, but a Dreamling fic where either:

A) Dream is courting Hob, but Hob doesn't know

Or

B) Hob is courting Dream, but Dream doesn't know

I mean, it literally works either way, and yes I will be promptly expanding on that right now.

Let's take fic A: Give me Dream courting Hob but in an obscure way, like taking him to Fiddlers Green (aka the heart of the Dreaming) and showing him one of his most beloved creations; give me Dream conjuring specific foods from Hob's past, meals and desserts that he knows Hob still idly daydreams about but can't find anymore, or don't taste quite right. Yet the ones Dream gift him taste exactly like how he remembers.

Dream shows his favour for Hob by steering clear his nightmares, sometimes even personally curating a dream when he can't visit him himself. And visit him Dream does - both in The Dreaming and in The Waking. When Hob enters his realm, most nights Morpheus can be found within his dreams, allowing Hob to shape the world around them as he sees fit unless Morpheus wants to show him something in particular.

And when Dream does show him around... think of Hob complimenting stuff in the Dreaming, slightly flustering Morpheus because he is unrelenting is his curiosity and awe at Dreams realm, at his creations-

Dream thinking to himself that Hob is such a FLIRT, because The Dreaming and everything in it is Morpheus, so of course he takes pride in it...but here's Hob praising it all left right and centre. Hob's obvious wonder and verbal appreciation of anywhere they go or anything Dream does (because there are no limits in the dreaming and oh my god is there a dragon on that castle...YOUR CASTLE??...i didn't even have a castle wtf) just makes Dreams feelings all the more tender and...its worth the surprised look Lucienne gives him when he only smiles fondly at Hob while the immortal praises the magnificence of the library and the quality of the printing.

In The Waking (and they do meet frequently in the waking because Hob will be damned if he ever waits 100 years to see Dream again), Hob is surprised by how warm Dream is towards him; he no longer sits rigid and regal but instead relaxes into his seat, sometimes tapping Hob's shoe under the table with his own when he sits down, though Hob's sure it's an accident (the first time, it was). He smiles more often, though no more freely- its the same small knowing smile he's always had, and it melts Hob as much as it surprises him. He doesn't know why Dream seems more...fond, but he's not going to be the one to point it out lest Dream stop or leave him again. The attentions nice anyway, from His Dream.

Just give me Dream doing stuff that to HIM is romantic but to Hob its mildly confusing yet very pleasant. And again, Hob will gladly take all of this without question because even though he feels just a little bit like there's something he's not getting, he won't risk upsetting Dream again. He knows it wasn't Dreams fault for missing their 1989 meeting, but he still did storm out of their 1889 meeting and all hell broke loose for him in the years that followed. Hob figures its better to accept all the welcome changes and gifts, rather than put his foot in his mouth again by bringing it up and risking Dream leaving, risking not know where his friend is or if he's safe.

AND FIC B. Give me Hob deciding to court Dream, to go old school and work his way up to asking him out because he needs to gauge his reactions first before he dives all in. Hob learnt a lesson in 1889, and so while he might be taking some of the courage he had back then to start courting Dream, he wouldn't put himself out there like that again and have it backfire even more monumentally. No, he'll work his way up to it.

Give me Hob asking Dream to meet him at places outside the Inn, simply taking walks together and enjoying good conversation. He lays a hand on Dreams shoulder when they part, the other balled up in his jacket pocket from nerves, and the smile on his face from Dream allowing it, from Dream looking at his hand on his shoulder and then smiling at Hob in that small knowing way he always does... Hob doesn't stop grinning for the rest of the night.

Give me Hob tapping his shoe against Dreams under the table sometimes, to emphasise a point, to touch him without being obvious. Give me Hob, in the dreaming, shaping the world around them to be a beautiful flowering meadow where the colour of the blossoms match that of Dreams eyes. Have him conjure wine - wine with no name for all he thinks when creating it in his dream is that it simply must be the finest - and watch Dream, for perhaps the first time ever, drink something with him.

Give me Hob complimenting the Dreaming, yes again, because truly it is astounding in its beauty and complexity, but also because he thinks its cute how Morpheus smiles and looks from under his eyelashes at him. Give me Hob buying a pair of earrings for Dream because they glistened like stars when he walked past them, and now he's panicking because what the fuck was he thinking and they're dainty but feel like they're burning a hole through his pocket as he waits for Dream and he probably has time to run upstairs above the Inn and put them down in his flat but-

Dream walks in the door, so he's stuck. And maybe he picks up on Hob's nervous energy, because shortly after sitting down his face becomes serious and he asks Hob what's wrong. And Hob is sweating bullets but he just looks at him for a moment and pulls the earrings out of his jacket pocket, setting them gently on the table between them.

And Dreams confused, but when Hob manages to get out a "For you. They're uh, for you." He relaxes and gives Hob a pleased but surprised "For me?". Give me Hob explaining that he saw them and thought of Dream, trying to pass it off as casual because he doesn't know if he's being too hasty and if it'll scare him off, but also trying to say just enough that if Dream were interested, he'd pick up on it.

Suffice to say Hob's brain stops working the next time he sees Dream, wearing the earrings he bought. He's out of it for a solid 15 minutes, eyes mostly focused on the shine of the gems and holy shit he's actually wearing them oh my god he put them on is he interested is he accepting my courtship holy shit oh wait fuck he's looking at me what did he say what did I say-

Give me Hob picking a flower for him on one of their walks, handing it over with a simple "For you". Hob brushing their fingers together on the table at the inn, resting his foot against Dreams. Hob tugging Dreams sleeve to get him to lay down in the grass beside him in Fiddlers Green, occasionally tapping his foot with his or pressing his arm against him as he talks.

Hob actually flirting with Morpheus, emboldened by the earrings his soon to be lover continues to wear. Dream amassing a small shrine of tokens and gifts Hob brings him, ones he's always pleased though still confused to get. He did not think humans partook in gift giving this often, but perhaps he was mistaken.

The most important part of either fic is that the one doing the courting thinks its going great. And by all means...it is. Both parties are happy, though one is slightly confused. And I don't imagine they would get far physically without this misunderstanding coming to light; Hob would def ask to kiss Dream and Dream would go "...what?" because while the idea is pleasing, for him it's coming out of nowhere while for Hob, they've been working towards it for months and thats fine bc hes got all the time in the world and he would never rush Dream.

Cue Hob losing the confidence he had two seconds ago (Hob's had centuries to become well acquainted with himself in every aspect, he's confident in most things about himself but when it comes to Dream...hes always flipping between confidence and foolishness). Hob just being like "wdym what 🤠" and slowly they both realise they've been living two different realities these past few months.

Alternatively, Dream I think would also ask to kiss Hob...to which, you guessed it, Hob responds with "...what?". There's still a smile on his face, though it's more in confusion now and his eyebrows are drawn. And I def think Dream would just look at him for a moment before repeating "I asked if I may kiss you, Hob Gadling. Our courtship has gone so well, I should like to take it further, if you are willing."

"...courtship? Dream, what...what courtship?"

And of course, this would be the point where slowly they both realise they've been living two different realities these past few months. And, because Dream is Dream, this conversation would absolutely end with him on the verge of tears, whisking himself away back to the dreaming or simply "This dream is over" ing Hob if they were in The Dreaming to begin with. Hob would reach for him with a "No, wait-" but it's useless because Dreams gone either way.

Has to have a happy ending though, Hob's stubborn enough that he just calls for Dream when he goes to sleep again (says a mix of things- pleads for Dream to come talk to him, says he's honoured to be courted, threatens to bang pots and pans together outside his castle cause fuck it he'll find a way to get there, Lucienne will let him in or Matthew would show him the way if he asked he's sure, he even apologises at some point because it's beginning to feel like 1889 all over again).

It probably just ends up with Hob loudly confessing his own love in a multitude of ways, because what has he got to lose if Dreams left him already. Except Dream hasn't left, and he comes back, soothed by Hob's declaration of affection and perhaps slightly chastised by Lucienne for assuming Hob would understand the meaning of his odd courting rituals (I like to think he threw himself into a room all dramatic like and Lucienne just ends up standing outside the door going "...Did we ask Hob if he would accept being courted? No?...Did we research human courting customs and try to incorporate some of those, my lord? No?....*insert knowing silence*..." bc I KNOW Lucienne out here using the royal "we" while dealing with Dream).

Anyway. Big thoughts. Feel free to have at this if anyone wants to write anything, I just need a "We're courting" "...We are?" friends to lovers happy ending angst hurt/comfort fic.

(This post is long enough but also there's a secret 3rd option where one of them THINKS they're being courted by the other, so they respond in kind with gifts of their own and genuinely think the other person is trying to court them so they accept and go along with it bc...theyre idiots in love, your honour. But, as is the theme, there's a fundamental miscommunication where they're not actually being courted, the other just feels more secure in their 'friendship' and therefore brings gifts and touches bc they're friends now right and friends do that...not for any other reason...)

[mugreen]

@yaybatman DUDE I WHOLEHEARTEDLY AGREE. I recently read the three jokers cuz it was such an interesting premise for funsies and then at the end they did this twist (spoilers up ahead) where it ends up being that jokers family wanted to get away from him and they faked their deaths?.??. And batman knew his name week one after joker became joker. Wtf is that. Sorry it just felt like such a weak twist. Like oh, actually 🤓🤓 joker was a bad person even still!! Teehee another twist to his backstory!! Bro idgaf, do something interesting with who joker is currently!

What makes him tick?? What would happen if actually hes on the brink, whats he do when hes genuinely cornered, when his mask is off?? Whats his perspective on things, what are his thought processes??? Interpersonal relationships?,?,Does he get his suits tailored bro?? does bro have chronic pain issues??? does joker loathe not having powers or does he take that in stride? (Look i havent read all the comics so im unsure if these r answered sorry :0)

I dont like this reliance on tkj if that even makes sense. I dont even like the whole thing of his life revolving around ONLY batman. Im sure yes he finds batman interesting as hell (hehe) but RAHH IM SORRY IM JUST SICK OF “batman created the joker heh >:0)! The joker ONLY cares about batman!! without batman! Crime has no punchline 😈” i feel like there can be more to it than that. i like to think he was doing crime way before batman, before gotham, but he just showed up one day as if he always existed there!

In then end, it rlly does just feel so.. wrong in a way to give this queercoded man a wife, i wouldnt mind if jokers bi or pan fr, but the thing that irks me is this sense of full erasure, like purposefully making it so joker is in a heterosexual relationship and has a kid on the way. Like to “prove” to ppl that yeah hes straight, and even with his makeup, now its not makeup, its from the vat of chemicals actually, staining his lips red and bleaching his skin ☝️ further erasing that originally queer subtext where he would put on makeup. It feels so weird. I dont necessarily need joker to be gay (although i absolutely think hes gay or queer in some way), but they cannot deny the queer subtext (that i acknowledge definitely was put in for negative reasons, making this queer coded character an outcast who is bad and a villain etc etc. very clear motives there.)

Its so weird that theyd erase those specific parts of him. Not even weird just.. downright angering. Bcuz ur erasing jokers queerness… why? Its weirder to erase these traits that this character consistently has had. I know its prolly to better appease to an audience, but think about like…. Why does erasing his traits do that.

Like own up to it at this point, jokers traits were put there for a reason but now you can use that in a different way, rather than completely erasing those traits that ppl do relate to. Or even his clown theme, or the way he curates his appearance. He tends to look not well put together or trashed when jokers whole personality is putting on a show. He puts on fancy suits bro, and does his hair and makeup. Let him do just that. And the thing is, it would be far more interesting if they did decide to recognize that joker is a queer man. So many ways to explore that, so many things to analyze and nope. Joker just likes being edgy and stuff lol 🤓‼️ thats it. BRO LIKE I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT HIM!!! FUCKKKK. WITH THIS BACKSTORY ITS LIKE THEY R OBSESSED NOT WITH JOKERS CHARACTER, BUT ABOUT HIS BACKSTORY ONLY. JUST LIKE OVER AND OVER WITH REDHOOD AND JASON TODD!! (Which btw other than that being a poll i dont think joker would dare kill a robin not out of being nice but out of not wanting to break this precarious thing with batman. his life doesnt revolve around batman, but he definitely starts to find comfort and routine in their “dance”)

Im gunna be real I prefer jokers backstory to not be known. I personally dont see the ace chemicals backstory as canon, nor do i see joker killing jason todd as canon (since.. people literally voted to kill a child instead of a literal murderer 😭 joker himself would find this ironic like what)

Idk i dont like how DC keeps trying to de-mystify joker, or make him rlly gritty and edgy (same with batman, bats is meant to be compassionate, not an asshole!!!) like wtf happened to jokers clown schtick, hes ripping his face off and its like. Why is that actually boring? The writers keep trying to one up each other in who can make joker do the “darkest” shit and its so predictable and boring. Where is the funny clown. The funny idiot smart genius clown weirdo villain. The guy who curates his appearance and crimes?

The creators themselves say there isn’t a definitive backstory, which i much rather prefer. idk why but the vat of chemicals story being seen as his origin story just doesnt sit right with me. I like a joker who deadass has to put on his makeup, or fuck it id rather not know why he has pale skin. I like the idea that hes as human as batman (i always thought it cool that they both dont use powers! Especially since batman is so adamant on preferring not to have powers anyway). Ppl say “oh but hes scarier if hes kinda inhuman or just a killer” or somn and its like, isnt it scarier that he is human? killers in the real world are human, and so is joker. U cant change that. even if joker himself loathes the idea that hes fallible. Isnt it scarier to think wow. That rlly hes as human as any of us and yet he does the things he does? That the range of humanity extends to cruelty?

“They've given many origins of the Joker, how he came to be. That doesn't seem to matter—just how he is now. I never intended to give a reason for his appearance. We discussed that and Bill [Finger] and I never wanted to change it at that time. I thought—and he agreed—that it takes away some of the essential mystery."

– Jerry Robinson, the Joker's creator