#this wasn't proof read

[devildomditzy]

"Are we going to talk about this?"

You watch as 'your demon' strides across his room, sitting down roughly on his couch and staring straight ahead, unable to look in your direction.

'Your demon". Did you even have the right to call him that? After you've been away for so long?

It's been a week since you and Solomon returned unannounced from your journey to the past, much to the shock and surprise of everyone. That night was filled with joy and tears and laughter from everyone. Everyone, except the second born. The person you absolutely missed the most for months and months, the person you thought of during sleepless nights and difficult times. The person you cried over more than anyone else was standing right there, just a few feet away -

And absolutely giving you the cold shoulder.

He's silent for a moment, before his voice comes out like vitriol, scalding and snide, yet somehow so hollow, like his words had no real emphasis behind them. Like he felt almost nothing.

"What's there left to talk about?"

"Mammon-", you try to get a word in before he cuts you off with the same version of the monologue you've heard from him even since you made your way back to this timeline.

Your timeline.

"Ya left me here. Ya left us here. You didn't leave a note or a sign or even shoot me a text that you were goin'. Nothin'. Nada."

"You know I didn't exactly choose to get taken to the past against my will, Mammon."

He stands to face you now, tone filled with pain but his face looking so, so emotionless.

It could scare you, when he gets like this. The second born should never look that serious.

"And how would I know that? Huh? How would I know where you went? How the hell would I know what ya'd gotten up to, huh? How would I know if you were runnin' off with Solomon? How would I know that ya didn't just get sick of us?"

His voice raises his voice as he walks towards you.

"How would I know if ya were alive, or dead, or somewhere in between, huh!?"

You're jostled as the second born grabs your shoulders and shoves you, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to have you cornered between the surface and himself.

"I never stopped trying, okay? Not a day went by that Solomon and I didn't look for a way home, a way out, a way to you, anything!" you exclaim, defending yourself from his tirade.

"How would I know that you were gonna come back!? How would- H-how could ya, I couldn't...I-I-I- can't...."

His voice shakes as he balls up his fists into the fabric of your shirt, his true emotions finally shining through after a week of trying to get through to him.

How quickly his indifference turns to fear.

Tears begin silently falling from his lash line, streaking his cheeks.

"Oh, Mammon...", you wrap your arms around him, following his lead as his body begins to crumple, both of you sitting on the floor.

"I thought you were gone. I-I didn't know if ya were still breathin', or just vanished, but I thought-"

He gulps down a few tears and lets out a shaky breath before finishing.

"I thought you were never coming back."

You respond to him in kind, holding him tighter as he increases his grasp on you.

You can't help but let out a small giggle as you wipe away his tears (and a few of your own).

"Babe, it's me we're talking about. I came back to the Devildom how many times now?"

"Yeah," he sighs, looking off to the side, remembering all the times you somehow managed to extend your stays within the exchange program with Diavolo's blessing.

"I can't believe you gave up on me that fast", you tease, poking his cheek.

"Never did", he mumbles. "Looked for ya every day until I realized.. ya just weren't here. And not like here like in the Devildom, okay? I mean like here here."

He's quiet for a moment before he grumbles again, "Didn't stop lookin' until Lucifer made me, that bastard."

You bust out laughing, "I missed you, and your cute little complaints"

"Hey! My complaints ain't little! I'd burn down all three realms if it meant I coulda found you again!"

You place a quick kiss to his cheek, giggling at the way he goes rigid.

"Well, you don't have to worry. I'll always find my way back to you."

[momentomori24]

I haven't seen anyone talk about it in detail if at all, so I'll just throw this out there: Is it just me, or are Ashley's feelings for Andrew very not romantic?

Just to be very clear-- this isn't me trying to sanitize the incest present in their relationship or twist it into pure unproblematic platonicness despite everything in the game being a hellish, dystopiant, grotesque, unapologetic mess (in a good way), just an observation that's been on my mind for a while.

We know Andrew is absolutely, 100% romantically attracted to his sister especially through both his inner monologues, relationship with Julia and of course, The Scene. But I never really got that same attraction from Ashley. She loves to degree where it can't be considered platonic, but there's a blunt edge to her affection I wouldn't call romantic either.

She's obviously been obsessed with him from a young age as he's the only person she had to cling to without worrying that he'd leave her. She doesn't treat him like a person, she treats him like a coveted toy that only she can play with. Between borderline neglegent parents, untreated apathy issues, a major abandonment complex and a parentified brother/psuedo-dad, unhealthy attachments and toxic tendencies can go real bad real quick. Go figure. It's possessive, referring to her brother as hers and something that's considered stolen the moment someone else has an interest in it, but it feels a lot more "innocent" than Andrew's possessiveness of her. Andrew is hers to have because he's her brother, just like how a plaything would be hers because it was bought for her-- there doesn't seem to be anything more to it than that.

I think the best example of that is their reaction to the Vision in the Burrial route:

Unlike Andrew, who is disturbingly flustered rather than reasonably revolted, she just... doesn't have a reaction to it. They've already trapped themselves in a box with each other and commited some of the worst atrocities imaginable, so she just chalks it up to another thing to add to their crimes list. Her causual playfulness and indifference to the situation is such a strong contrast to Andrew's desperate denial and really shows her feelings about the whole thing. Or lack of, as she isn't at all fazed about it. You'd think that she'd be thrilled, or excited or equally as flustered as Andrew at the thought of their relationship taking the next big step, but there isn't any of that here. Despite her jealousy, obsession, possessiveness and extreme closeness, it doesn't seem that there was ever any romantic intent involved on her end (or at least none that she knows of). Heck, she even voices her confusion when Andrew confesses he read her actions that way:

There is something funny about going through the story thinking ''ok i get it she's the obsessed yandere sister with a brother complex i see you game'' only to be hit with the revelation that it's the complete opposite way around. Basically just Ashley hitting both Andrew AND the players with the "wait you really saw me like that what did i even do to make you think that??" at the very end and it is baffling. The fact that she seems genuinely oblivious to how she comes off is both a little cute and unexpectedly innocent, but also cements just how little she grew up from when she was a kid.

But I think this line from her really encapsulates their relationship perfectly:

One way to keep him around. She won't sleep with him because of some repressed sexual tension or genuine (messed up) affection, but because she views it as transactional. She loves Andy, that version of her brother who went along with whatever she wanted and cared about her despite all her issues when no one else did. She always acts uncaring towards other people, but it's so obvious that she's lonely. That the people she cares about not caring about her has an effect on her. We see it with their mom, the way she continued to call her despite the abuse and neglect she put her through and immediately assumes she wouldn't have wanted them to find her because she feels that unwanted. We see it with her ''friends'', the way she felt so betrayed by how they basically left her for dead in that apartment without bothering to try throwing some food up their balcony. She didn't even care if they would've succeeded or not-- she just wanted someone to try. She clings so viciously to her brother because he's all she has left. She's been labelled unlovable by everyone else in her life, and the moment he leaves her for someone more stable, she's alone for good. Andy needed her the same way she needed him, but now he's gone, and Andrew is more unpredictable than ever. His nightmares have gotten better, so he doesn't need her to sleep easier at night (not that he did in the first place). He's better at having a social life too, so surrounding himself with others and getting his life together shouldn't be too hard. He doesn't need her the way she needs him anymore, but she knows that Andrew wants her, so she'll give herself to him before anyone else can if it means that he'll stay. Which, by the way, is such a good parallel to her mom's own mindset when it comes to relationships (like mother like daughter ammirite). It's so far from love; it's just blatant codependancy she doesn't acknowledge on her end, something we see Andrew both enable and take advantage of whether he realises or not. And I think that's a more nuanced, fascinating trait of her character rather than just the ''yandere sister in love with her brother'' trope.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading this messy, hopefully coherent analysis of our gravecest couple, mostly focused on Ashley. And who knows, maybe she IS in love with Andrew and I completely misinterpreted her feelings for him, but until proven otherwise I'll keep clinging to this theory. This GAME THE-- [GUNSHOTS].

[cosmic-cogs]

I have ideas yet no motivation to write but hear me out

Bot/con of your choise x reader

There is a bot/con stranded on Earth, alone and injured, they barely have the strength to pull themselves the safety of a cave not too far from where they crashed, animals evacuating the are as quickly as they could. They loose consiousness, thinking this'd be the last thing they see but one day, after the years have taken their toll on the bot/con, their optics finally flicker back on, light so dim the creature infront of them could barely tell the difference, and the same as them, the large alien couldn't tell what was infront of them.

The human did what they could, using whatever they had to connect or seal the cut wiring, mend the torn metal, doing what they could to stop the bleeding, cleaning away the rust, caring for this stranger the best they knew how to. It wouldn't heal the bot/con, but it'd keep them alive, that was enough for both of them

Till one day, they are found. The bot/con carried away to safety by allies who wonder how they could still live, what has been caring for their injured friend, and the human has to come back to an empty cave with no sign of their injured friend.

They couldn't move on their own, not far anyway.

So, had another human found them?

Judging by the size of the foot steps on the ground, no.

They were alone, their friend taken away to who knows where, who knows if they'd ever see one another again, who knows if they were even on the same planet.

All they had was the hope that whoever had found them could heal what the couldn't

[jihyocentric]

I hope this is okay I feel like my writer brain can't do good prompts cause I might go into too much detail but imma try ngjgjgjh

Lawyers mihyo who're maybe working on a case together? Mina has this habit of going full hot girl sharon to mess with Hyo at random ass moment cause they're close enough that she doesn't feel as shy most of the times and she doesn't know that Jihyo is constantly one wrong (right) move from begging to be ruined. Ione day Mina does something that has Jihyo forgetting all her professionalism and downright pleading to get fucked. This makes Mina realise she loves making Jihyo beg which leads to maybe some edging and some teary Jihyo and some soft aftercare? Also since they're lawyers maybe all this happens somewhere at the law firm before an important briefing they're supposed to have with a client?

hi bestie! i could've done something much better with your request but ykw i was dying to post jihyo bottoming again... she was made for this... and i miss her

cw: mina has stiletto nails. and she still tops. power move. good for her. not so good for jihyo.

mina knows what she’s doing.

she knows exactly what she’s trying to achieve by the way she acts around her sweetest coworker, jihyo, being especially fueled with the reactions she gets.

that jihyo was adorable when pink was all over her face and she didn’t know where to look, mina knew. she was the reason for that, meticulously provoked that out of her, making her usually focused, serious coworker, shy and exceptionally flustered.

to mina’s surprise, when they were alone, their roles seemed to be reversed — jihyo, instead of being the cool extrovert she was most definitely proud to be, became no more than a timid mess, sometimes incapable of looking at mina in the eye when speaking to her.

the situation didn’t make their work any harder whatsoever, as they rarely worked on the same case along each other, with jihyo being a corporate lawyer and mina being inclined towards the criminal field. that time, they were working together due to one of jihyo’s clients, who happened to need assistance from mina’s field.

“miss myoui…” jihyo calls, using the honorific, as mina had never told her not to. every other coworker, except for the interns, called mina by her name — never ‘miss’. but something about having jihyo calling her ‘miss’ left mina too satisfied, unable to tell jihyo to drop the display of respect.

a small smile prods at her lips when jihyo calls her for the nth time, in a hesitant voice, unlike the way she spoke to others. with confidence, that is. when speaking to mina, jihyo often forgot that she wasn’t on a lower position than mina at the firm. if anything, it was mina who was supposed to treat her with such respect, as jihyo had been there for longer.

mina was supposed to be working. she didn’t tell jihyo she’d already looked though the files they were studying and found her ways to convince the judge that jihyo’s client was innocent — if he was, that didn’t matter. he could be if mina could prove that he was. mina had planned ahead, knowing she wouldn’t have time alone with jihyo again soon, deciding to make the best out of it.

and so, because mina already knew what to do and what to expect from the meeting they’d have with their client later that same day, instead of working, she observed jihyo — and distracted her when she felt like it. what starts with sitting next to jihyo with a leg over the other, intentionally exposing her thighs, escalates to suddenly praising jihyo at random times. (she does it for jihyo’s excellent work, and because jihyo looked pretty.)

mina takes her sweet time to make jihyo lose her focus entirely, having fun as jihyo slowly forgets how to use her words properly. jihyo doesn’t stutter, but she struggles to sound professional when miss myoui is touching her hair and telling her that it looked pretty when it was loose, that she should wear dresses more often, and everything she could possibly say to make jihyo red from her cheeks to the ears hidden under her hair.

jihyo doesn’t understand mina, the way she acts towards her. not at first, not on that occasion. mina has always been like that around her: charming, alluring. she was simply flirty by nature, and jihyo would never think mina was truly trying to flirt with her, but soon mina is massaging her shoulders, having the freedom to do so as they were alone in a conference room, and jihyo is no longer reading through the case’s files.

jihyo doesn’t know how or when mina gets there, behind her, with both hands on her shoulders, whispering questions about the case close to her ear, as if jihyo could possibly answer them. jihyo tries to — she does her best to muster up words to properly answer mina, frustrated when all that comes out from her mouth is a whimper and a stuttered ‘miss myoui’.

“no need to be this tense, jihyo. i’m sure our client will be fine. you’re the best after all,” mina coos, pretending to not notice that what had gotten jihyo troubled wasn’t their case, but her hands pressing her shoulders and nails close to sinking into her bare arms.

“m-miss… please…” jihyo mutters, desperate, still trying to figure how did mina get so close. she feels like she’s embarrassing herself then, calling mina so respectfully, feeling almost like she wasn’t a fellow lawyer, but an intern instead — someone mina could easily boss around, having all the power to do so as a result of being in a higher position.

“so nervous, park.” mina laughs, the sultry sound reaching jihyo’s ear quickly due to how close mina was. she pulls away, turning jihyo’s chair around so that she could see her face, not surprised to find jihyo utterly flushed, but curious as she sees jihyo’s cheeks adorned with tears that she’d hardly noticed falling from her eyes. “are these perhaps because of me?”

jihyo shivers, flinching when mina’s manicured hands are suddenly on her knees, raising her dress up to her thighs, sharp nails purposefully leaving their mark on the lawyer’s smooth skin.

“m-miss!” jihyo lets out then, more tears following her words. though mina had already expected jihyo to be just like that — amusingly shy and submissive, she wasn’t entirely prepared to hear jihyo begging. shameful words slip out of jihyo next, while mina is still admiring jihyo’s pretty face, relishing in the way such a respectable, honored lawyer like jihyo became but a precious prey that she’d love to ruin with just the slightest teasing. “i-inside… please… please!”

jihyo whines softly, holding one of mina’s hands with both of hers, spreading her legs slightly apart, both offering herself and pleading for mina to take her.

mina knows jihyo is aware she could get hurt — the same hands jihyo was politely begging to have inside herself carried the stiletto nails that left her arms and thighs reddened from negligible pressure. still, jihyo held mina’s hand like a cat with it’s owner, not wanting to let go, looking as if she’d cry if mina didn’t do what she so desperately asked for.

“interesting,” mina coos, resisting the urge to wipe jihyo’s tears away, finding her even prettier with her face all wet, enjoying to make her embarrassed, finding jihyo the cutest when she was ashamed. “are you sure, miss park?” mina taunts, raising the dress even more, to the point she could see how wet jihyo was. 

jihyo nods quickly, guiding mina’s hand to her center. “i-i n-need this, miss!” she insists, whimpering when mina’s index finger gets hooked under her panties.

mina stretches it far enough she can see jihyo’s pussy, licking her lips at the thought of having her face between jihyo’s thighs, forcing her to take more than she’d ever be able to handle. though she’d love to ruin jihyo right there and then, amazed by how easy that would really be, they didn’t have a lot more time to spend alone.

“so you like it risky, park?” mina laughs softly. “not that i’m opposed to hurting you,” she lets her fingers sink inside the soaked panties, teasing jihyo’s clit with the tip of her fingers, careful not to harm jihyo. “because you’d love that. i just don’t think you really want these inside of you.”

“but i want them! your fingers,” jihyo mumbles, pouting as she does so, moaning when mina applies more pressure over her clit, circling the sensitive nub slowly. “…inside me. want them inside.”

jihyo would cry harder if mina truly said no, mina realizes, amused to get to know that part of her. jihyo could handle her, even if having mina inside her that way meant that mina wouldn’t be able to fuck her properly — jihyo didn’t care.

“begging already, huh…” mina offers her a gentle smile, though what she says next doesn’t come out as soft. “convince me.”

jihyo becomes even more frustrated then, bucking her hips to feel more of mina’s fingers, earning a click of mina’s tongue.

“’m s-sorry!” jihyo quickly makes up for her mistake. “i c-can take it!” she insists, pouting slightly as she looks up at mina, cheeks burning when she notices just how close mina really was, towering over her, with her eyes so dark that part of jihyo became scared. “y-you don’t have to… t-to move them, miss… i just wan’ them there.”

“keep going.” mina encourages her to beg, her free hand finding the table behind jihyo for support, the other still inside her coworker’s panties, spreading jihyo’s wetness, wanting to know if she could grant jihyo’s wish.

jihyo was wet enough by the time mina lowered her hand further, still rubbing mina’s ego with her pitiful pleading. mina attempts to sink in and jihyo whines, clenching around the tip of mina’s fingers, prepared for the discomfort she’d feel until mina stopped, knuckles deep into her.

it doesn’t hurt — mina is careful and her fingers happen to slip in easily, but if she were to move, then jihyo would certainly be left with unwanted bruises.

perhaps it felt almost as good as having mina really fucking her, thrusting her fingers in and out without an obstacle, as knowing mina could easily tear her apart made her stomach clench, aroused by the idea of it but knowing she wouldn’t want that.

“it’s like you were made for this.” mina praises, lowering herself until her knees were touching the floor, knowing she couldn’t do much with the fingers she had stuffed inside jihyo. she pulls jihyo’s panties down to her ankles, looking up at the already disheveled girl, wondering how jihyo would look if she could really take her time to ruin her. “now, i don’t kneel. but since you’re such a good girl, miss park, i think you deserve this.”

it takes jihyo a lot of effort to not come undone the moment mina’s tongue meets her clit.

everything is hot. despite the cold air in the room, jihyo sweats, her skin burning as mina works her tongue against her sensitive nub, thighs locking mina there, letting out pitiful ‘miss myoui’s, not trying to fight against the urge to have mina destroying her. not in the slightest. it was far too late for that, and jihyo was too weak to pretend that that wasn’t exactly what she’d been craving for.

it’s all too much for her. the way mina sinks her nails on her thigh and moves the fingers inside her just barely, merely pressing her fingers against the slick walls carefully, velvety tongue making jihyo melt on the chair. whimpery moans reach mina’s ears sweetly, making mina moan against jihyo’s pussy, fighting back the urge to lay jihyo on that table and forget about their meeting.

“miss… can i-i…” jihyo hardly finishes her sentence, and mina sends her into a wave of bliss.

her fists become white as she holds the arms of the chair, crying as she gets ready to come for mina, impatient hips moving for more friction of mina’s fingers — but mina stops. what should’ve been an orgasm doesn’t happen, making jihyo open her watery eyes and search for mina’s, wanting to ask why she’d stopped, desperate for her release.

but nothing comes out from her mouth.

“i’m afraid our client must be arriving, miss park. you should probably get yourself clean. we wouldn’t want our client to make... vulgar assumptions, would we?” mina laughs, stuffing jihyo’s mouth with the two slender fingers that had been inside of her. she pulls them back before jihyo gets to fully clean them. “i’ll be waiting for you.”

during the meeting, jihyo gets to be the professional she was. mina doesn’t try anything while they’re discussing important matters with their client, and jihyo is allowed to prove mina she’s still a great professional after having her pride previously hurt. (not that jihyo cared if mina knew about her tendencies to submission, but part of her wanted mina to know she was more than that.)

when their client leaves, it’s already night. jihyo then finds herself trapped against mina and the table again, but this time, all mina wants is to let her know that they’re going home together — to mina’s. all mina says is that they weren’t yet done, and jihyo had no choice other than follow mina.

when the sun is rising, jihyo is still at mina’s mercy. mina is impressed with how far she was able to go with jihyo, only allowing her to come when she knows jihyo is about to break and beg her to stop rather than letting her come.

she learns then that she’s especially fond of the way jihyo sobs into the pillow when she is finally allowed to come, ass up for mina (barely able to stay like that, because her knees falter and her legs start trembling as she comes), body completely ruined by mina’s teeth, the palm of mina's hands and her sharp nails.

“you cry a lot, jihyo.” mina mumbles, pulling out of jihyo, slowly taking the harness around her waist off. jihyo turns her head to the other side when mina leaves the strap on the bed, next to her face, her body finally falling against the bed, still inevitably crying as mina kissed her back. “did i push it too far?”

jihyo shakes her head, incapable of looking at mina in the eye as she comes back to her full senses.

“talk to me, hyo. i need to know you’re feeling well,” mina’s voice softens, entirely different from the way she’d been speaking to jihyo all day long. she makes jihyo turn around and face her, thumb brushing jihyo’s cheek tenderly as she inches down for a short kiss. “do i have to make you speak?” mina taunts then, making jihyo’s eyes widen.

“n-no, i’m o-okay!” jihyo manages to say, tears falling as she blinks, her body still trying to recover from being used, abruptly forced to not come several times. “i’m just… i-i… you make me nervous!”

“i didn’t even notice.” mina smiles and jihyo pouts, losing her breath when mina presses her lips to her forehead. “you’re cute, miss park.”

jihyo huffs, the reaction more instinctive than intentional. “i’m not.”

“sure,” mina coos. she pulls away, intending to take jihyo in her arms and take care of her.

for a moment mina stops, admiring her well-done work ruining jihyo’s body, licking her lips when she runs her eyes down and catches a glimpse of jihyo’s reddened, soaked core, thoroughly ruined from being played with for far too long. mina’s stomach tightens at the realization that jihyo was still leaking with her own wetness, getting mina’s bed soaked under her.

jihyo sits up on the bed, face close to mina’s, wanting to get her attention away from her body, feeling shy again. “miss myoui.”

“it’s mina. no need to call me miss all the time,” mina passes her arm around jihyo’s waist. “though i liked to hear it when you were begging for me.” she finishes, and jihyo’s head fall to her shoulder. “mind to join me on a bath, miss park?”

“i like hyo better.” jihyo mutters softly. “can you give me a minute?”

“mhm.” mina agrees, but she pulls jihyo closer, making jihyo sit on her lap while jihyo finds the courage to get up and let herself be taken care of by mina. “just don’t sleep yet.”

“i won’t…” jihyo yawns, drowsy, closing her eyes and slowly forgetting her own words.

[claireclaymore]

"Katniss did so little for Peeta"

What the hell!!!

She wanted die for him! Kill for him! Accepted be the Mockingjay to save him!

When he came back brainwashed and hating her, the girl was literally suicidal! And when he got better, a single conversation with him made her get out of her depressive state and start living again!

How this is little?!!!

[evilkaeya]

people forget that oda was 23 not 34

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Still wild to me that the Avatar team saw a guy write a love story between a stick and a monkey and were like "This is the guy who we need to write Rangshi and Yangvik" and then he ended up making two of the best couples in all of the Avatar-verse TT0TT

[bridaltrain]

part one

The carpet up the steps leading to the second floor is stained with  shoe prints and whatever else. Annabeth watches her own sneakers, caked in wet dirt, add onto the collection as she follows Luke. He’s let go of her, but it barely makes a difference. Half-way up the stairs, he quickens his pace and so does she. He pauses at the top and she stills herself at his heels. 

The party isn’t so intimidating from up here. 

Behind her, Luke knocks on what she assumes is either a bedroom or bathroom door. No response.  It creaks as he opens it, though she doesn’t hear his footsteps so she knows he’s watching her, watching the party. 

“You’ll get used to it,” he says. 

“I don’t like being a spectacle, Luke.” 

“You’re not really the kind of girl who can go unnoticed. And that’s even when you’re not dressed like this.” 

She sees Ethan drop onto the couch in the living room, cheeks red and expression wanting. Another boy stands between his knees, feeding him more beer. The girl from earlier has taken off her Bride of Frankenstein wig, dancing between the friends she’d come here with, blending in with the pool of bodies and college Halloween is so different from scary movie night with Percy and Sally. She’d thought the costume was her trick to fitting it. Evidently not. 

No one watches her anymore, but she can’t peel her eyes off them. Girls in tiny dresses and ripped tights and fake blood dripping between their thighs. Bows in their hair and schoolgirl outfits that look nothing like her private school uniform, actually. She spots a Little Bo Peep and Red Riding Hood in the crowd, sporting gingham bloomers and lace and Annabeth is certain her costume plays its part well. It only feels childish on her because she’s a child, and everyone can tell, apparently. 

She steps away. Her top is riding up again, but she doesn’t adjust it. 

In the bedroom, she slips out of her Converses, bare feet making their way to Luke, who stands in front of the TV, frowning as he tries to bring the vintage junkbox to life. Luke’s room, she notes. He’d moved in just last month, and it's about as decorated as his room in his mom’s apartment. 

She shuffles between him and the screen, wrapping her arms around his waist. Immediately, he holds her to him, too, and she feels the remote in his hand brush her shoulder blade. His arms constrict, tighter and tighter, and she wants to take his clothes off him now, if only to feel his skin on hers. 

“Missed you,” she mumbles, nuzzling her face into him, probably ruining her makeup. 

He presses a kiss to her head. “I didn’t go anywhere.” 

This is her cue to do—something. Apologize for breaking things off. Tell him she wants him back, that she regrets it. What else had she spent hours scouring for a costume and even more getting ready tonight for? 

She thinks back to two weeks ago, when she had thought—hoped—she had ended this. Closing the door on him as he stood at her doorstep and Annabeth rushed up to her bedroom and watched him walk away through her window. It was daytime. Sunny, especially for October, and the orange leaves crinkled under his shoes like the breaking bones of summer. It was good, she swears. It was good enough right up until it wasn’t anymore. 

He’d been so angry with her. 

“You pushed me away,” she says, surprising herself when it doesn’t come out like an accusation. 

Luke pinches the skin at the dip of her waist. “I wish I didn’t. You’re all I’ve got.” 

She rests her chin on his chest, watching his Adam's apple. “Not a lot, then?” 

“Enough for me.” He taps her ass with the remote. “Look.” 

The TV is blue static when she turns, straining her neck. “What?” 

He pulls her down onto the floor, crossing his legs and pulling her into the center, carpet scratching her skin. She wonders why they didn’t sit on the bed. And then she sees the DVD collection. 

“You wanna pick this one, bug?” 

She skims over the stack, snug between the carpet and the underside of the old TV stand’s first shelf. Scream and its sequels. Halloween, Carrie, The Exorcist. The Titanic DVD box. 

Frowning, she leans back against his stomach, slumped in horrible posture. “I don’t feel like a movie.” 

His fingers drag up her arms, down her chest and the polyester of her top. Treading to the itchy, lacy hem of her skirt, teasing. “What do you feel like?” he asks, raw and quiet. 

He flicks the little bow that sits at the center of her panties—underwear, really. She’s not sure panties is a word that can be applied to what she wears from a value pack labeled ages nine through twelve. Annabeth breathes with conscious effort and her heart is exhausted. She’d come here for this and worse. That’s what she’d felt like, when she stepped into her clothes and onto the doorstep, missing what it had felt like to be numb beneath him. Exhausted, unburdened, loved. Even if it killed her, she wanted to lose time with him. 

Especially if it killed her. 

She’s caught playing a fruitless game because that isn’t exactly the kind of thing you admit to your ex boyfriend, even if he can see the truth plain as day. She only holds her breath and keeps her thighs firmly together, pointing lazily at a movie with her toe.  “That one.” 

Luke folds forward to reach it and she finds herself sandwiched in him as he makes use of the DVD player. He smells like her old lotion, the one she’d left at his mom’s house, never bothering to return and claim it. Lemon and earthy, and it upsets her because he’s supposed to smell like him— not her.

“I’ve tried to show you this one before,” he comments, fast-forwarding through the beginning commercials until the menu screen animates into bloody graphics. Friday the 13th.  

Annabeth shrugs, immediately tugged back down from the tightness of her sleeve and she wants it off . “I don’t remember.” 

“Yeah, it was a long time ago,” he says.  “We got in a fight during the commercials and you stormed out of the theater before it even started.”

A halo glows around the word play. Luke’s finger hovers over the remote button. Extending her own, she presses down on his nail and the screen gives way to the opening scene. 

She wiggles back into him, trying to find some comfort. “What did we fight about?”

“Me being drunk. You feeling ignored.” 

“Sounds right,” she mumbles, the cool press of his flask against her hip and if she’s more tolerant of it now than she was then, it’s because she’s less of the girl she used to be. That Annabeth would certainly never desecrate something as sacred as Strawberry Shortcake. 

“How do you feel?” His voice is a whisper as the movie crackles through the dodgy speakers. “Now?” 

Annabeth doesn’t say anything, eyes glued on the movie. She always likes the opening kills the best. 

“Your heart’s going crazy,” he muses, hand flat over her top, palm dragging the itchy fabric over her nipples. She shivers, but doesn’t squirm. Luke keeps his hand there, soaking up her pulse. “Still scared?” 

“I wasn’t scared.” 

“So shaking on the kitchen floor was…what?” 

“I just hate being judged.” 

“Because you’re scared of what they’ll think of you.” 

She doesn’t respond to that. Eventually, his hand drops and he leans back on the carpet, holding her up with just his abdomen. On screen, two counselors are sneaking off to have sex while the kids sleep. 

“Annabeth?” 

She slumps down further. “Hm.” 

“You’re never gonna see them again,” he says, like it should make her feel better. 

His fingers crawl up from her heart, tracing the protrusion of her chest bones above the neckline of her top, tracing up her neck. He holds the side of her face, rubbing his thumb behind her jaw, and she remembers he’d held her just like this when they met in the alley. Five fingers and a pulse that beat next to her ear and Annabeth couldn’t stop crying for the life of her, even though she was no longer afraid. Looking back, she thinks she might’ve kept crying so he wouldn’t let go of her. 

“They’re not my friends. You’re my whole life, you know that?” He’s not watching the movie at all. “I don’t give a shit what they think, and neither should you.” 

“Ethan’s your friend.”

“Ethan’s my roommate. That’s not the same.” 

She wants to say she misses when he lived with his mom. That she misses sitting on his front steps, a book splayed on her lap while she waited for him to come home from work. The way the world slowed in his bedroom, the bugs that begged to get in through the window screen, the whir of his old ceiling fan he had to fix every other week. When he was hers and hers alone. 

She doesn’t think he’d appreciate any mention of his mom right now. 

“He was looking at me weird.” 

“There are worse ways for men to look at you.” 

The boy counselor gets stabbed first. Knife to the chest, sputtering blood, and Annabeth imagines the blood pumping under her skin when Luke finds the tender spot of her neck and grazes his teeth. 

“You’re not any better,” she whispers, voice thick. 

He makes sure she’s looking when he grins, teeth sharp and begging to bite. He shuffles her on his lap, shoulder to his, their legs perpendicular. The girl in the movie is crawling back, uselessly fighting for her life and Annabeth’s always heard people liken sex to death, in books and the locker rooms before gym class. An arousal of its own right. 

“No,” he agrees mournfully. “I’m the worst.” 

His kiss, however brief, is hot and consuming, and Annabeth is fast to give it back. A year’s worth of muscle memory, nerves coming to life like this is what she’s meant to do, leaning into him, neck craning back as his height crowds her, and she can’t ever explain how much she’d missed this. His form, over her, overpowering her, dancing under him like a puppet on a string. Her head hits the bed frame and Luke hisses like it hurts him, too. He cups the back of her head, pads of his fingers soothing the spot. 

He pulls away, lips slick in her saliva, and Annabeth watches him work his jaw as he looks away from her. Searching for his alcohol. 

She gets on her feet before he can push her off.

[palettepainter]

I don't want anybody to panic but...the next chapter of Fever might be posted as early as tomorrow

[vampiiu]

Depressed JTK x Reader

TW // CW: Depressive episode, poor hygiene, food refusal (from Jeff), next to no clothing

What to expect: Gender neutral reader, reader gives Jeff a bath when he can't care for himself.

（　♡　）

You knew something was wrong. Something or some feeling has been eating at him all week. All he would say when asked about it is “nothing, i’m fine” or “i’m okay.”

Now, you’re especially worried because he won’t even get out of bed.

“Jeff, please let me at least turn the lights on.”

“No”

“You want water? Some snacks?”

“Not hungry.”

“You know… You could sit in here and rot forever or-”

He shoots up, looking you dead in your eyes.

“And that’s what I’ll do.-”

“No. No, I’ll help you out of bed and we can make this right, okay? You can love me again.”

His heart shatters just from the thought that you don’t see how much he misses you. Tears spill from his eyes and his shoulders shake. Suddenly he’s caught in your embrace. You can smell the stench of dried blood on his clothing and the grime buildup on his body. You can feel his arms clenched around you holding on for dear love, and the tears soaking your shirt. It pains you to see the man you love like this.

“Help. Please help me.” He pleads.

“It’s alright, Jeff. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

You pull away smiling and hoping it’ll cheer him up a bit.

“Come on, bud, I’ll run a bath.”

He hesitantly nods and tries to stand up, immediately collapsing in your arms.

“Hey- Hey, deep breaths.” You set an example for him and he breathes in pursuit.

“Good boy.”

He melts at that. You know he does.

“Alright, now, can you walk?”

Your boyfriend looks ashamed, so you reassure him and guide him to your shared bathroom.

He sits on the toilet with his head hanging back, so you get a pillow for his head to rest on. Poor guy looks exhausted. The running water comes to a halt when the tub is about full, so you help your muse get undressed. He then crawls into the tank and sinks into the warm water. You notice a look of relief on his face when he pushes his greasy hair from his eyes.

You let him soak for a bit, and soon, you’re only left in your underwear. You step into the bath and sit behind Jeff. Love is all you feel when you pull his (now wet) hair behind his ears and press a kiss to his shoulder. A comfortable silence fills the air, the only sound being the water dripping from the faucet. Shampoo fills your palm and you rub your hands together, carefully raking his scalp as not to hurt him. He’s fragile. The washbasin scoops through the water and with your free hand, you cup Jeff’s forehead to assure no water gets in his eyes. It’s majestic how the water flows from his hair to the shared bath water to be recycled for other things. You grab a washrag and pour his favorite honey and cinnamon scented body wash into it. It’s warm and brown in contrast to his cold, pale skin. It drags along his body wiping the dirt from his pores. It almost feels like cleansing him of sin; assuring no thing can steal his soul from this very moment. The room is filled with comfortable intimacy as his back presses to your chest and your fingers dance abreast his torso. Somehow it feels like something is nagging the air.

“Y’know…” He starts. “I really do love you.” His head turns halfway towards you.

“I know.” You plant a long kiss on his lips. “I love you too.”

（　♡　）

i hope you enjoyed :)

[chenziee]

I wrote so much for the @/truffyfest Twine and I want to show some all of it off because I crave validation xD but like. Even if I was allowed to post it to AO3 and/or Tumblr, it would make no sense out of context rip

so anyway. if you play the Twine and happen upon my scenes (very likely, I over did it) please let me know what you thought! 👀🤍

[happyminyards]

Titanic Myths and Misconceptions, pt2.

[part 1, feat.  "not enough lifeboats", "untrained crew", "no lifeboat drills" and "speeding & ignoring ice warnings", here]

"The Titanic lowered lifeboats half filled"

Now this is true! Here's a breakdown of which lifeboats went down when and with how many people in them (approximately, since we’re not sure on some and the last two literally washed off the deck). However, this is often framed in two ways: Titanic's officers were inexperienced and thus couldn't load the boats fully in time (we already covered this) or Titanic's officers were stopping men and third class passengers from entering.

Reality is once again more complicated than that. To make one thing clear, yes, Officer Lightoller was specifically not allowing men in via the boat deck, apart from crew members who were needed to work the boats. 

This stems from him interpreting Smith's "put the women and children in and lower away" order as "women and children only", while Murdoch interpreted it as "women and children first". Since the Birkenhead Drill was not a law but rather chivalric code that got implemented in different ways (or sometimes not at all), no interpretation can really be deemed as "wrong".

Now, Lightoller also indicated that he didn't consider loading the boats full before they were in the water as safe, mainly worrying about the strain on the construction. While Titanic's lifeboats were actually tested completely filled during her drills and Lightoller was aware of them, he was basically pulling on his years of experience at sea where lowering fully loaded lifeboats often resulted in tragedy. We don't know if Murdoch, who was in charge of the lifeboats on the other side of the ship, had the same reservations since he (probably, it's debated whether it was him or Wilde) shot himself before the ship went down.

And before people start vilifying Lightoller, he and the rest of the crew were actually planning on loading the lifeboats from the gangways down below. Besides seemingly being safer, this would avoid crowding on the boat deck and give folks who were down below a fighting chance. The crew thought the boat was going down in about an hour, that would not be enough time for all the 2nd and 3rd class passengers who largely occupied the lower decks to find their way up. Lightoller specifically sent down crew men to open the doors (which did happen almost everywhere, though the crew probably drowned or got trapped while doing so). We also have Boxhall saying that Smith was ordering boats to come back and load from the gangways during the sinking, which is also backed up by survivors. Now, this didn't happen. Why? Some boats were scared of being swamped (even after the ship went down), some thought they needed to get away quickly to avoid being sucked under water when the Titanic actually went down or being damaged by another boat. This actually almost happened, lifeboat 13 almost had lifeboat 15 lowered on their head when they had to row to the side to avoid water being released by a condenser exhaust.

But the crew were always planning on filling the boats up fully to their best ability, and as safely as possibly.

There's also the issue that especially at the start of the sinking no one wanted to get into the goddamn boats. Titanic's impact wasn't super dramatic, the damage she received was actually ridiculously small, only around 12-13 square feet/1.1-1.2 square meters. It took them awhile to figure out whether Titanic was actually sinking, since they needed to go down and see exactly where the damage was located (see the green lines here). 

The only reason she sank is that the damage was spread over six watertight compartments. Freak bad luck.

But this also meant that Titanic sank very evenly and calmly for almost two hours. People frankly just did not think she was going down, and were understandably reluctant to get into tiny boats to be lowered into the ice cold, pitch black ocean when the big liner seemed so much safer. Some even went up to the boat deck, saw the boats, and decided to go back down to their cabins. 

Additionally, people were reluctant to be separated from their families, which is understandable enough. The officers however, as I said, thought she was going down in about an hour and would probably capsize violently (that was Thomas Andrews', the chief designer's, estimate), so lowering the boats quickly was their priority, even if they were not filled. 

Better to lower two boats quickly than to spend half an hour convincing people to get into one, because boats in the water could at least pick people up or load them from the gangways or water, while boats still chained on deck would go down with the ship (and they really had no time to spare, they didn’t even manage to launch the last two boats).

"Titanic's third class passengers were locked down below"

Now the third class passengers being locked down below is a combination of issues. For one, there were waist-high gates that locked off third class. These were there due to US immigration regulations. We also know that a lot of them were opened once the ship started going down (see testimonies linked below), though of course there is the possibility that they didn't get to all of them in time. 

The testimony most often cited (and probably also used by Cameron as inspiration) is that of Daniel Buckley. He woke up due to "a terrible noise", immediately stepped into water, and decided that this was Not Good (which not everyone did, so good for him). His cabin is in the bow, so one of the first to be flooded. 

He goes outside, encounters two sailors that shout "All up on deck! Unless you want to get drowned!". He also testifies that he went up on deck, then back down, and back up again before being given a lifejacket by a first class passenger.

When further asked, he does say that guys he thinks were sailors "tried to keep us down at first on our steerage deck. They did not want us to go up to the first class place at all". When asked whether there "was any effort made on part of the officers or crew to hold the steerage passengers in the steerage?" he says that "[he does] not think so".

Little bit of a contradiction at first glance.

However, there's a pretty logical explanation: the stewards and sailors wanted them to go up, but they wanted them to go up quickly and safely. Having passengers stream into the first class areas would not be beneficial, they did not know their way around and would most likely get lost, Titanic was a maze. We have examples like Minnie Coutts stating that she got lost and couldn’t find her way until a sailor guided her up. 

The stewards were most likely trying to get the third class passengers to their own deck space, from where they could just walk up to the boat deck. This would also have the added benefit of having them go towards the stern, away from the flooding. 

However, there's panic and confusion around (more in Third Class then elsewhere, since their compartments actually started to flood early) and a lot of the third class doesn't speak English. There were also only around 50 third class stewards for hundreds of passengers, and a handful of them were ordered to help out on the boat deck to launch the lifeboats early on. 

So it's understandable that some situations may have arisen where Third Class passengers were held back from going through the first class spaces, not out of malicious intent, but actually in an attempt to get them up safely. 

Not a lot of the third class stewards survived, so we obviously can't be sure, but we know that John Edward Hart took "his" passengers up personally for exactly those reasons, as did Albert Pearcy. They also both testify that the Chief Steward of the Third Class, James Kieran, ordered them to collect passengers and take them up. 

We also have other third class passengers stating that to their knowledge, no passengers in steerage were prevented from going on (Berck Pickard, Olaus Abelseth). 

There’s also often the idea that the rich passengers on board were given priority at the lifeboats. That is not the case, pretty much the sole factor up there was gender. It’s all over the inquiries, they’ll always mention how a crew men told them to get in, or how there were no women around at all. Dickinson H Bishop, Henry Blank and others were accused of dressing up as women to get into the boats or otherwise bribing their way in. If you were a man and had the audacity to survive, you better have a damn good reason for it. 

We also have multiple very, very rich people dying. John Jacob Astor (at that point one of the richest men in the world with a net worth of over 2 billion), Isidore and Ida Straus (she refused to leave the ship without him), Benjamin Guggenheim, Archibald Butt (who was a close friend to president Taft) and his supposed boyfriend/partner/”[his] artist friend who lives with [him]” Francis Davis Millet. If there was priority given to the First Class/rich passengers, they were doing a bad job. 

"They didn't see the ice berg because of the missing binoculars"

The famous missing binoculars. Remember officer David Blair, who was assigned elsewhere last minute since Wilde was pulled over from the Olympic? The story is that in his haste to leave Titanic, he accidentally took the keys for the locker that housed the binoculars intended for the lookouts with him. Fleet and Lee, the lookouts at the time of the collision, thus were unable to see the iceberg in time.

Now, there's actually quite a few oddities in this story. The whole idea that Blair took the key with him mostly originates from the testimony of another lookout, George Hogg, who said that "Mr. Blair was in the crow's-nest and gave me his glasses, and told me to lock them up in his cabin and to return him the keys." and that then there were "none [in the crow's nest] when we left Southampton.". 

We then have George Symons, yet another lookout (Titanic had six who covered shifts in pairs), testifying that after they left Southampton, he went and asked Lightoller for binoculars, who told him that "there are none", which Lightoller backs up here.

Blair was supposed to be the second officer, replaced by Lightoller (who got bumped down from first). However, we know that Lightoller had access to binoculars. Meaning that even if Blair took his keys with him, Lightoller either had his own key or managed to procure a replacement. 

We also know that there were multiple pairs on board, "A pair for each Senior Officer and the Commander, and one pair for the Bridge, commonly termed pilot glasses". Meaning if the lookouts seriously needed some, they could have been loaned some, especially since there'd only be one senior officer "on watch" at any given time. 

This also makes it clear that there were no dedicated binoculars for the lookouts, a fact that is backed up by both the Marine Superintendent of the White Star line here when describing the contents of the box in the crow's nests. We also have multiple captains testifying on whether they consider binoculars essential, which might explain why they weren't usually supplied:

No, I do not. - Captain Richard Jones I never heard of it until I read it in the paper the other day. We have never had them - I never have. - Captain Frederick Passow My Lord, I do not believe in any look-out man having glasses at all. I only believe in the Officer using them, and then only when something has been reported in a certain quarter or certain place on the bow. - Sir Ernest Shackelton, Artic Explorer

Now, why is that the case? Binoculars were considered to be useful in identifying an object once they were spotted, and as Lightoller puts it: "[The lookout] might be able to identify it, but we do not wish him to identify it. All we want him to do is to strike the bells.” 

It seems like binoculars were sometimes issued on White Star Line ships (Hogg testified that he had used them on the White Star Line’s Adriatic, but no other ship), but that it "[was] a matter of opinion for the officer on watch."

We also have multiple lookouts testifying that binoculars would, by their best judgment, not have helped Fleet and Lee spot it earlier since binoculars were not used for that:

Not much of a help to pick anything up; but to make it out afterwards, they were. - Thomas Jones "Do you mean you believe in your own eyesight better than you do in the glasses? Yes - George Hogg Yes. You use your own eyes as regards the picking up anything, but you want the glasses then to make certain of that object. - George Symons

"A fire weakend Titanic's hulls, which caused it to fail"

This old chestnut. I say old, but it's a "theory" originating in the 1990s. The idea is that there was a raging coal fire that heavily damaged the Titanic, proven by black smudges on a handful of pictures. 

Now, it is true that there was a coal fire on the Titanic. This was fairly common in ocean liners at the time, due to the ridiculous amount of coal on board occasionally spontaneously combusting (fun) and there were procedures in place to deal with it.

The coal was stored in bunkers within the boiler rooms, see here, specifically to separate them out a bit. The boiler rooms (and other parts of the ships) were separated into watertight compartments divided by watertight bulkheads and doors. 

The bulkheads were made of fairly thick steel and able to hold hundreds of tons of water. The coal bunkers themselves were made out of thinner steel, since they only needed to hold the coal itself, not water.

The fire on the Titanic happened in bunker Y in boiler room 6, presumably right when she left port. We know this because men were shoveling out coal both out of bunker Y and bunker W, the adjoining bunker on the other side of the watertight bulkhead in boiler room 5. 

Ironically enough, that specific bunker was the last one that just got nicked by the iceberg, dooming the ship (if it had stayed intact Titanic probably would have floated along). The bunkers, as I said, were not made watertight. So when bunker W was flooded, the steel eventually failed and flooded boiler room 6 completely.  

We can glean this both from recreations of the damage and the testimony of chief fireman Frederick Barrett, who was actually in boiler room 6 when it started flooding.

The "fire theory" states that the fire warped the bulkheads, which caused them to fail. To warp the bulkheads seriously, the fire would have had to burn at over 1000 degrees Fahrenheit/537 degrees celsius, probably hotter, which would then cause the rivets used to fasten the steel together to fail. 

Directly above the fire was the First Class Swimming Pool, which would have heated up considerably if it sat above a raging inferno. One might find it hard to believe that a boiling pool would have been described as "heated to a refreshing temperature" and that "in no swimming bath had [he] ever enjoyed such a pleasure before" by Archibald Gracie. 

Now we do know that there was a small "ding" in the bulkhead, according to Barrett, but that was small enough to just be painted over and investigated by the chief engineer, who deemed it to be no issue. And as previously stated, we can be pretty certain that the coal bunker burst, not the watertight bulkhead. 

There's also the very simple fact that the smudge in the photograph is actually located above a bunch of third class cabins and a good fifty feet away from the coal bunkers & boilers, but oh well.

[pippuns]

yu chang first meeting

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Someone insisting we don't learn language intuitively unless homeschooled...Did...did your parents put in you in school at 18 months of age? Did a teacher go around a room of toddlers with a dictionary saying, "This is what 'mama' means"? Because if the answer to that is no--and it is definitely no--you learned language intuitively, like everyone else. The finer points you learn in school, and later on your own, but even as you're doing that, you're still picking up words and phrases just by talking to people and reading.

[apocalypticdemon]

finally did my goddamn dishes. and that wasn't all i managed to do today. fuck yeah.

had a meeting for thesis prep. bmv trip. rough plan for friday's discussion lecture. cooked dinner for the first time in like 3 weeks. read ~50 pages of academic text for 2 classes and a paper revision.

feels like i didn't do enough but. considering that yesterday i managed... going to classes and nothing else! and monday i was only capable of doing the required meetings i had, this is a pretty good day!

[tenrose]

I gave up, the website is too shitty, literally nothing functions. Idk if the payment really failed or if those suckers are just not able to properly write 'it's sold out'

Now that I'm slightly annoyed...

I'm gonna rant.

First of all theaters can go fuck themselves if they are not able to provide proper services. The cinema I'm talking about in particular is not indie by the way, it's one of the biggest chains here (fuck you UGC) so the bare minimum they could do is provide with actual functional website so people can actually use it and make reservations. Don't even get me started on the price. 11,60€ for me to fucking go out and see people???? And we know seats aren't as good as they used to be in the past. Don't know about the snack prices, I bet it costs two kidneys.

That being said...

FUCK STREAMING PLATFORMS TOO OR EVEN ESPECIALLY

obviously I ain't paying for any. I won't pay for 10 different platforms, and especially not Amazon they can literally rot in hell. Don't even get me started on netflix. I used to pay sometimes back then. Honestly they had something. They used to do an actual effort and trying to show different stuff. They let creative direction to their writers. We wouldn't never have sense8 with today mentality tbh. Everything is just a reboot, a book adaptation emptied from its substance, a reboot, and book adaptation a reboot, a book a- you see the thing. I mean I shouldn't be bitching as pretty much never watch anything new for years so what do I know? I mean I would like to, but every time I watch a trailer, I'm tired just by watching it. Latest exemple I'm thinking about is the three body problem... Like having read the book just watching the trailer you could see the Americanism all over it... For a chinese book. And it's the problem with everything. I mean American TV shows have always be like this, maybe being younger I wasn't aware back then idk. But it feels so empty, so soulless? They can give me all the diversity they want, that doesn't change that it's still empty. And for TV shows (actually I'm talking more specifically about TV shows cause I'm not a big cinephile so I don't have the legitimacy to criticise) I know it's because of that stupid ass 8 episodes format. I've already talked about it. But it's literally draining the whole industry imo. Also writers clearly having little creative freedom since they have to make stuff that sells. But yeah, TV shows lasted physically and in memories because we were watching them slowly instead of this boulimie stuff we have now. Everything is like consume, forget, consume forget and pay shit ton of money.

And I'm thinking I am actually not built for this shit. I felt so burn out not being able to enjoy anything. So now I don't even try. I don't try new shows cause it's not worth it even when there's an actual good one. Because it's gonna be cancelled anyway. Who wants to emotionally invest in shows that get cancelled (I did so many time).

But when I do.

Be sure I will pirate the shit out of it. None of these industries deserve our money.

To finish on a positive note, if there's one thing I'm really happy for in the end. It's books. Sure the book industry is oversaturated too and there's ton of shit to criticise too (but I won't here). But it's so vast there are books everywhere for everyone, and even if tomorrow not a single book would be published (which I don't believe in), there are enough books for my entire life anyway. But yes books, even if formatted too (looking at us french snobs with our novel format), are like the only place writers can still let go of their creativity. Plus you can have cheap books (I'm starting to get there) and obviously free books thanks to libraries, and also you can pirate books too. Yes I pirate books too but tbh it doesn't even compensate how much I spend buying books so I'm not feeling guilty and I either pirate popular books or old books (if they are really old it's free anyway). But yes if you go out unlike me go buy books if you have money, to your local bookstore, or if you can't library is your way.

Reading is my anchor ⚓