#whatever I'm not sure how I feel about it but give me critiques

[morose-melodies]

to live comfortably | yandere! pantalone x reader

summary: you should give up on your failing business while you're still ahead, pantalone promises to help you recover!!

content warning: I dont think there's any

money couldn't buy everything it seemed.

not love, not happiness but most importantly, not your love.

at least, not the sort of love he wanted. "(y/n)," pantalone stepped towards you, "be honest with yourself - your business is going nowhere. you'd be better off allowing me to take care of it for you."

"no."

"you still refuse?" pantalone blinked, straightening his back, his hands pocketed in his coat, "well, aren't you stubborn," he mused.

"i don't care-- hey! get outta the doorway, you're blocking people from entering."

who would dare enter this building, pantalone stepped to the side, a small grin on his face, it's on the verge of collapse.

"can't you see I care for you? I'd hate for you to lose everything trying to sustain this-" dead-end, pantalone bit his tongue, "-business. you'd be better off in my manor, giving me company. you'd live comfortably, compared to how you're living now."

"I don't need your help. I really, really don't. actually, get away from the window; people won't want to enter if they see you here."

how headstrong you were. pantalone chuckled and stepped away from the window, walking into an aisle, "honestly, I've seen higher quality flowers-- in better shape and condition. you're not cut out for this business, (y/n)."

for the first time, pantalone saw a change in your expression-- your eyes narrowed and jaw tightened, "i didn't ask for your critiques."

"oh well, forgive me then. whenever your business comes crashing down, come to me. ill help you," Peeking out of the aisle at you, he grinned. then, exited the building.

honestly, he was a bit on edge in there, afraid of the roof collapsing on him.

...

not even a week later, pantalone was back.

"if you're not here to shop, get outta here-"

"that's no way to treat a customer," pantalone tuts, his eyebrows knit together in mock sadness, "I'm here to support your," doomed to fail, "business. give me your finest flowers."

you were doubting him, pantalone could tell that much from your narrowed gaze. "I'm being genuine, now, don't keep me waiting."

so, you grabbed the prettiest flowers of yours and made a bouquet out of them. "here ya go," you held the bouquet out for him to take.

pantalone couldn't stifle the smile that grew on his face as he took the flowers - it was beautiful, that much he could admit. "thank you, (y/n)."

and he paid you generously.

"do stay safe until next time," he would say just before exiting the shop, holding the bouquet to his chest as he walked down the snow-paved streets.

...

it's been two weeks.

the flower petals are dropping - the flower had since then died.

pantalone needs a new fix right about now. a new bouquet would do him well, he reasoned but he couldn't bring himself to rid himself of the old flowers.

they were still beautiful to him. whatever you graced with your touch should be cherished, no?

pantalone had spent those two weeks sitting by the window, staring at the bouquet in a vase. he watched those flowers deteriorate and die - and even then, he still admired them.

pantalone stood, dusted off his pants, and prepared to visit you once more.

it was always so rewarding.

so, he made his way to your flower shop to find that it was closed.

permanently closed.

the flowers were gone and so were you.

pantalone never knew you as well as he intended to. he had no idea where you stayed, he hardly knew anything about you - all he was sure of was that visiting your shop gave him a positive feeling.

he got addicted to that positive feeling.

without that feeling, what would he do?

well, he thought he'd have to figure it out, but from the corner of his eyes, he saw you. holding a bag of presumed trash, you were walking out from around the building.

he wasted not a moment approaching you, on his eagerness, his shoulder bumped yours, to which he muttered an apology before asking, "I'm sure you're wishing you had taken my advice now?"

"i guess..."

"it's never too late, (y/n). I'm not one to hold grudges," except that wasn't true, "entrust all your problems to me. I'll make it worth your while."

you sighed and pantalone expected you to reject his offer but instead, you said, "fine."

you don't seem to understand how much you make his day. you do as little as spare him a glace as you speak to him and he's head over heels for you.

taking your hand into his, he said, "oh, you won't regret this."

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part One

Part Two

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Reader's parents work late on Friday nights, which she spends alone. Except Reader hasn't been alone in a long time, not that she knows of at least. Rafe has watched you for years, he's very good at it. He has no plans of formally meeting you, as he's satisfied with the current arrangement. He likes it better when Reader doesn't know he's watching. But his idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when reader catches him in her bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the entire plot. He's pretty pervy in this, I guess. Masturbation (Rafe) in front of unconscious reader, strong/vulgar language, somnophilia (I guess?), death threat(?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: My sneak peek got a few likes, so thank you if you liked it, y'all are the reason I'm finally posting this part! I'm not sure how I feel about this fic so far, I definitely have a habit of overly critiquing my own work and never being fully satisfied with it, but I'm trying to get over that. I don't have plans for this fic, it's just going in whatever direction I can think of as I write, so if you have any suggestions, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE let me know, I'll write pretty much anything. This is my first work published on tumblr and the first thing I've written in years, so I hope it's at least readable, and maybe even a little enjoyable. If just one person enjoys this, then my mission is accomplished. Thank you, I hope you enjoy! And do NOT be shy to share feedback or give suggestions/requests. Again, thank you!

For those of you that DID read the sneak peek, a large portion of this part was included in the sneak peek, but I highly suggest reading it over in it's entirety. This draft has undergone several additional rounds of editing and I believe it is better than the version I published as a sneak peek.

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

One thing about humans is that we always want what we can’t have, especially when everyone else wants that same thing. It’s just something all humans do; but what happens when you already have more than you need and everything you could ever want? Well, almost everything. Rafe Cameron has more money than he could spend in his own lifetime, he can practically buy anything he wants. Except one thing, you.

At first he just thought you were pretty, but the more he saw you out in public the more and more he liked you. The way you’d talk or laugh when you were out with your friends…god, he could tell just how sweet you are. Too delicate for him to touch, like the wings of a butterfly or the petals of a flower. This is when he went from wanting you to needing you. 

See, another thing about humans is that we admire things. And, admiration can easily turn into obsession. Everyone has been obsessed with something or someone at some point in life, it’s normal. Obsessions will come and go, like a cycle. You get obsessed with something, you get over it, and you let it go until a new obsession marks the beginning of the new cycle. But things are a bit different for Rafe, he has never gotten over anything like, ever. Not once has Rafe Cameron ever let anything in his life go. When Rafe wants something, when he needs something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. And oh, how he needs you.

Rafe’s fascination, his obsession with you has been going on for years. He won’t ever admit it, but his perfectly curated collection of your personal items in his closet proves just how bad he’s been obsessing over you. The first thing he had ever stolen from you was your drink, you had been at the same party and you left your red solo cup about three-quarters full. Nobody noticed anything when he casually picked up the cup and finished the rest of your beer, purposely lining his lips with where yours had touched the cup, which was perfectly marked by the lipstick you had been wearing. After you’d leave a restaurant, he’d take the straws from your drinks. Rafe eventually worked himself up to breaking into your house and stealing your things when nobody was home. And Rafe made sure to explore every single inch of your room. All of your favorite panties? Gone. He’d take everything, your shirts, bras, whatever he liked really. You had noticed things kept disappearing from your room, but you’d just think you misplaced it–whatever it may be, or left it in a bag somewhere. Rafe had a good system. He knows exactly how much and how often he can take from you. 

Rafe knows he’s sick. He knows that it’s wrong to watch you from outside your bedroom window, that it’s wrong to follow you around in public, to purposely bump into you so you have to mutter a ‘sorry’ as you move around him. He just really, really needs you. And in Rafe’s twisted, dark, mess of a mind he believes this is the best way–the only way. He couldn’t treat you like every other girl, no, you were special. You were his and you just didn’t know it yet. Starting early on in his life, Rafe has always been neglected, always pushed into the shadow of his younger sister, Sarah. He’s been told he ruins everything, that everything he touches turns to ash. And you’re way too perfect to ruin. So, he follows you around like a creep, lurking from a distance. Of course you didn't know he’s been following you everywhere…he liked it better that way.

Rafe knew the line had already been crossed. Hell, the line had been crossed a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t care anymore, he needs you. Heaven is smelling like you; and not because you had left your scent on him, but because he had bought the same perfume as you. He needed to know what you smell like, how sweet you are…how sweet you taste. Heaven is watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Heaven is you.

What Rafe has been doing to you for years could be defined as worship. Rafe was worshiping you. He’s your good boy; your loyal man and he was going to take care of you; protect you, even if you don’t know it yet. You’re what he lives for; you’re all that keeps him going, the only thing he cares about. 

Since he’s been watching you for years, of course he knew your schedule. Of course he knew that on Fridays your parents work late at the local bar & grill that they own. This means you slept in your house by yourself practically every Friday night. So every Friday night, Rafe would sneak in through the back door that you always forget to lock. He just wants to check on you, he wants to see his pretty girl sleeping beautifully, he wants to know that his baby is okay. This is not a crime, it’s not a crime to care; he’s not insane, he’s just in love–if you could even call it that. How can it be wrong to protect what’s his? Oh, and god forbid anyone ever get in the way of his stalking routine, if anyone were to take you away from the inevitable path of meeting him…oh, the things he would do; whatever it takes.

One unforgettable Friday night, you fall asleep on your couch watching a rerun of one of your favorite shows. You enjoy being alone. If only you knew you haven’t been alone for a very long time. You’re woken up by sudden, loud noises coming from your bedroom, but you think maybe it’s just the cat, or maybe you didn’t shut your window. You get up from the couch and in several slow, cautious steps you tiptoe over to your room. When you enter your doorway, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of a tall and broad man standing in the center of your bedroom holding the last shirt you wore to his nose, breathing in your scent. The sight of all this makes you immediately freeze and stand motionless in your bedroom doorway, staring at him blankly. 

Rafe doesn’t startle when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Instead, quite the opposite actually. He’s actually a bit amused, relieved even; if you hadn’t caught him just now, he never would’ve been able to work up the nerve to finally talk to you. He didn’t want to have to be creepy about things between you two, but he couldn’t talk to you like a normal person. It’d be too unpredictable, too unknown. Meeting you like this…he has all of the control. 

“There you are,” he grinned. “How beautiful…” The strangely offputting man gloated in your fear and it was obvious.

You take a step back from where you had been frozen. He takes a step forward. This cannot be happening, you think. Your brows furrow in hopelessness and defeat. Again, you freeze where you are standing, even more afraid to move now. 

You feel like you’ve seen the man before, which you have, plenty of times; but he was careful to never have too big of an interaction, so that you couldn’t recognize his face. You have no clue that you’ve been and always will be his.

 “W-wha…who are you? W-why are you in my house?” You try to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the way your words shake with trepidation betrays you. 

The man takes a quick step forward, slowing to a stop and putting his hands up in mock surrender as you jump back. “Woah, woah, hey…calm down, alright?”, he chuckles when he sees the utter horror and complete fright in your eyes. His tone switches into one of a little more seriousness, “I'm not here to hurt you, you don't need to be so scared...”.  If you didn’t feel like your only choice was to look him in the eyes, you might even believe him. But, you had no other option but to witness the animalistic spark in his eyes that lit up with each word he spoke. With each step he took, you took one further back—your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of his cocky, twisted smile and the way he looked at you…like you’re a zebra grazing in your natural habitat and he’s the lion waiting to pounce and attack you in your own home. 

“I just wanted to see you," he leaned up against your dresser, taking in the look on your face. His face almost instantly drops the predatory look and adopts one of mock concern, almost convincing enough to hide his amusement. “Hey, it's okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Please,” you beg. “If you leave I won’t call the cops. I won’t tell.”

Rafe cocks his head and lets out a slow breath, as if he’s disappointed in your reaction; you aren’t supposed to want him to leave. “Hey, hey…I’m not gonna hurt you. Just listen to me…you don’t wanna have to call the cops at three in the morning,” he elaborated. He’s trying to be as convincing as he can because he cannot screw this up. Even so, he still can’t help his smile that only grows at the sight of your terrified face. He shakes the smirk off, adopting a serious expression once more. “Especially when the cops won't be able to do a damn thing.” 

He continues to step closer to you with each word. He stops once his figure is looming over you, looking at you like a lion about to pounce on its prey. “You should really be more careful, sweetheart, leaving the back door open like that at this time of night, when you’re all alone…you never know who might be out there.” His voice is cold as he warns you about the dangers of the world; the dangers of himself. 

“Who are you?” You repeated. The man looks so familiar but you just couldn’t quite place his face anywhere. You just need to know what he wants; who he is. 

“That’s not important right now baby…we’re focused on you, yeah?” The man’s eyes widen, taking in every detail of your face; the only other times he’s seen you this close is when he watches you sleep. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. The look in his eyes tells you to take another step back, but when your back collides with the wall you jump; there’s nowhere left for you to go and that was exactly how he wanted it. He wanted you like this alone, afraid, and cornered. He loved your fear. The man stares at you with a predatory look although aside from the darkness and lust in his eyes, you can see something else, but…what is it?  

“W-what do you want?” You ask, keeping as calm as you can. Even though with every passing second the air gets thinner and thinner. Your stomach is in knots and your throat starts to close up. Not to mention the stinging tears in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Me?” he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body as he blew out a huff. “I just wanna have a little chat, that's all...” The unknown man takes another step towards you, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you as his bottom lip finds a home between his teeth. Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No need to be so scared, baby...”

“T-talk about what?” You have no idea what this man who you don’t know, could possibly want to talk about with you. Why is he acting like he knows you when you’re sure you’ve never even seen him before? Why is he…admiring you? No, that couldn’t be right. The mystery man is so confusing, all his twists and turns giving you whiplash. 

“Ah, you see...” he responds, pausing to place his other hand on the wall behind you, almost trapping you in. You feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your face, burning you like hot steam. His breath was slow and steady. He was completely calm. He liked this. He gave you a genuine smirk, bringing his face closer to your ear. “It’s more of a proposition really…”

“What is it…?” You ask. Not out of curiosity because honestly, you’re too afraid to know. But because you figure things might, just might go better for you if you play along. He stayed silent for a moment—enjoying the look in your eyes and your erratic breathing.

“All this fear…all this trembling...” he trails off as he brings his hand up to your chin, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of your lower lip. “It's nice to finally meet you...” He chuckles and leans in so that his lips nearly touch your ear. “Will you stop shaking like that if I tell you what I want?” His thumb moves from your bottom lip and he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear; he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of your pretty face.“Hmmm?” he challenged. “Or will you still be shaking like a scared little puppy?”

“I-I don’t…” You stutter, not being able to speak or even think clearly with the way he’s glaring at you. 

“Shhhh… ” he tutted, bringing his other hand from the wall to your lower back and drawing you even closer to him—until your body was almost flush against his, his touch surprisingly warm. “You're not answering my question,” he whispers your name as he runs his fingers through your hair, it’s softer than he’d imagined. 

“Please just…” The tears were no longer threatening as they began to fall down your cheeks. “Please…” Hearing this man who you do not know, say your name, was probably the most frightening thing to happen to you yet. 

“Shhh, stop that...” he calmly commanded when he saw the tears falling from your pretty eyes. Rafe's voice was soft but stern—he hated seeing you so distressed. His hand moved from your lower back to your chin, making you look up at him. “Hey it’s okay…it’s okay baby, no need for tears. I just wanna talk to you is all." You almost believe him for a moment with how sincere the glint in his eyes appeared. But you’ve picked up on his manipulative expressions. 

“My parents will be home soon…” You vaguely remember your parents mentioning something about something and blah blah blah…they’re closing early tonight. You really hope it’s true and isn’t just a figment of your imagination; something your mind is making up so you don’t completely give up. 

A cocky smile returned to his face as he let a small huff of amusement slip past his lips. He knew your parents were working late, just like every other Friday night. "Bullshit,” he chuckled. His hand moved back to your lower back, holding you against him. “It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” He grabs your waist and within the next second, you’re on your bed and he’s hovering over you. You can feel his hot breath in your ear, you can smell him, feel the excessive heat radiating from his body. He speaks quietly now, more serious than he’s been this entire time, “Don’t ever fuckin’ lie to me again. Got it?”

His words provoke a small whimper from you. How long has he been watching you? What’s he gonna do? What does he want to talk about? Your mind is filled with questions you’re too afraid to ask. “I-I’m not lying.” He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. Rafe’s eyes are looking straight into yours, admiring the complete and utter fear your eyes possess. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him. But fuck, does he love it.

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles as he presses his face into your hair, taking in your scent. He can’t believe he’s finally this close to you. He didn’t think it’d ever happen, and if you didn’t catch him tonight, it probably wouldn’t have. It’s meant to be, he thinks. “What did I tell you about lying, hm baby? I know you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me, so you wanna try that again?”

Before your brain could muster up some bullshit response, the sound of the front door unlocking echoes through the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe holds his breath and puts his hand over your mouth, causing your eyes to widen as he leans to the side to glance down the hallway at the front door. “Shh…”, he whispers. You weren’t lying. Your parents came home from work early and they’re about to turn the doorknob and come inside the house. Rafe looks at you, the look in his eyes beyond unsettling. “Tell the cops…tell anyone, and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you, okay? This is our secret. Don’t make me come back and hurt you babe, I really, really don’t wanna have to do that, alright?” 

He has to be bluffing, right? But, when you look up to meet his gaze, you can tell; you can tell he meant every single syllable that he spoke. It’s not like the cops would believe you if you said you had a stalker anyways, you’re a pogue. And cops never believe a pogue. Rafe doesn’t need a response from you, the fear in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

 Just before you hear the front door open, Rafe smirks at you. “We’re gonna have so much fun together baby.” Reluctantly, the disturbed man leans back and takes his hands away from you. Without another word, he walks over to your bedroom window and pushes it open. Before ducking to climb out, the large man looks back at you. Your breath hitches even further if that’s even possible.

 “Goodnight puppy.” The outline of his smug grin is visible even in the darkness of your room. Just as you hear the quiet voices of your parents enter your house, the dark figure turns and exits your window. When the man is outside you sit up and rush over to shut and lock the window behind him. 

With caution, Rafe watches as your mother comes to peek her head in your bedroom. She only lingers in your doorway long enough to see your dark shape laying in bed. Covered in blankets, you pretend to sleep, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold a casual conversation with your mother at the moment. And the last thing you want to do is raise any alarm. Not while he’s out there–whoever he is. Hot, salty tears fall from your eyes, wetting the soft skin of your cheeks. When she shuts the door, you let out a shaky breath, finally being able to breathe.But, you keep your eyes sealed shut. At least then you can’t see if the man is still watching you from outside your window. You lie awake for hours, how are you meant to go back to sleep after whatever the hell just happened? All you can do now is wait. Is he coming back? When will he come back? Who is he? Why does he want you? There’s a million different questions and worst scenarios circling around in your head. So, you just wait, it’s all you can do. 

As you wait, the hours turn into days, days turning into a week as the next Friday approaches you; you spend your time worrying about having to be home alone again. There still had been no sign of him since your encounter last week, but you decide to stay the night at a friend’s house, not wanting to take the risk. The second Friday after you came face-to-face with your stalker, you get a friend to spend the night with you. And now, after four weeks of waiting there’s still no sign of the deranged man. Although, if you had no knowledge of him stalking you for years he clearly is good at staying hidden. As the fourth Friday approaches, you think over your options. You can go to a friend’s house or have a friend stay over, as you’ve been doing. But, you’re tired of waiting for something to happen. You’re sick of not feeling safe in your own home and of having to look over your shoulder at all times. You used to love being alone, and now it’s been weeks since you’ve spent any time to yourself. You’ve had enough. This Friday you’re not hiding, you’re done being a coward. You will not allow this creep to keep taking away everything you love; you won’t allow yourself to waste any more time worrying about that psycho. So, you stay at home by yourself. He’s not gonna show, right? He was just bluffing or on drugs or something, that’s what you convince yourself.

You pull back the fluffy comforter on your bed and climb in. You pull the covers up and completely over yourself, you used to do this as a little girl when you’d have a nightmare or you’re scared of the thunder or the monster in your closet. If the blanket could protect you when you were little it should work now…right? Well, maybe it’d still work if you had a nightmare, but logically, what is it gonna do against your stalker? But no matter how much you force yourself to believe that he’s not coming back, you still find yourself praying. You’ve never been very religious, but recently you pray to whoever will listen. 

You had bought some sleeping pills from the store a few days after you discovered your secret stalker. They helped you sleep, since your brain hasn’t once stopped thinking about him since the whole fiasco. Reaching over, you pull out the drawer of your nightstand. You grab the bottle of pills, you swallow a couple dry and set the rest on your nightstand. The pills start to kick in quite sooner than usual, must be because you took double the amount…you’re gonna need them to fall asleep tonight. Your first night alone in weeks. In just a few short minutes, you’re out cold, buried underneath an absurd amount of pillows and blankets.

Rafe spent the past few weeks feeling overwrought after what he did. He feels wrong–a feeling he’s not used to experiencing. But it’s because he knows he’s ruined any chance he might’ve had with you. Before you caught him in your bedroom, he had a chance that you could meet him regularly and think he was just a normal guy. But now, all hopes of you ever thinking he’s ‘normal’ have been abandoned. He actually feels shame and…regret for his actions? He’s been seeing less and less of you, and it’s making him angry, so fucking angry. Your schedule has been relatively the same for the past years and now you’re switching it up? You’re hiding from him; running from him just like everyone else in his life. Maybe the things his family has been saying about him for most of his life is true; maybe everything he touches does turn to ash. God, why does he ruin everything? 

You are the one thing, the only thing that Rafe did not want to ruin. You’re the one thing in his life that’s too perfect to ruin…too innocent. But, the damage has been done. He doesn't have many options left. He could leave you alone, but then he’d be weak for not sticking to his word and he can’t have you thinking he’s weak and that you have the power. He could go back, but then what would he do? There was absolutely no way in hell you’d seriously talk to him, and he didn’t want to force himself onto you. He really wanted you to need him back, you have to want it. But everything you do or say now will be out of fear, it’ll be you trying to stay alive. He wanted you to be desperate for him, not desperate to get rid of him. Either way, you’re never gonna forgive him; you’ll always hate him now. Since you’ll feel the same no matter what he does now, he decides that he just needs to see you, he needs to talk to you again. It’s been far too long since he’s been close to you. He can’t take another goddamn second without seeing his reason to live.

He hurries over to your house, parking an entire block away as usual. He makes sure no eyes are on him as he sneaks around to your backyard. Rafe tries peeking through the curtains that block your window to see if you were in bed or not, but he can’t get a good view. He needs to know if you’re home. He needs to see you. 

Rafe sneaks around to the side of your house, checking all windows and doors in the process, but he has no such luck. But he doesn’t give up yet, he’ll get in, he’ll find a way. He tries the side door that leads into your garage. He lets out a giant breath of relief when the door clicks open. Once he’s inside the garage, he takes a quick glance around to analyze his surroundings and burn every inch of your house into his memory. When he finally enters your house, he takes his time to look around. Obviously Rafe knew you were a pogue–he knew everything about you, but you never really looked or acted like one. However, the inside of your home puts your life on display, making it very clear you’re a pogue. 

You sleep soundly, only being interrupted by the occasional dream; completely unaware that your stalker is making his way down the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe opens the door quietly. Your room is dark like the rest of your house, but the moonlight shining through your thin curtains provides just enough light that he can see the outline of your sleeping body. Now that your presence has been confirmed, he feels like he can finally breathe and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Before he became totally obsessed with you and he’d see you occasionally in public, you used to just make him horny. He’d catch a glimpse of your smile or hear the softness in the way you spoke, or the innocence in your sweet laugh and his dick would be hard within seconds. And when his obsession grew and he’d watch you more frequently, sex with other girls started not doing anything for him. He needed you…he needs you. When he actually started paying attention to the way you spoke, the way you acted, he fell in love–what he thinks is love anyways. Rafe realized you’re the sweetest, most pure person he’s ever known. He didn’t think people like you really existed. His discovery led him to watch you more closely, he started taking more risks just because he needed to find your flaw. There’s no way you’re actually this perfect, it has to be an act. Now, after years of watching you he can confidently say that you really are just that perfect. Rafe needs you for more than just getting off now, he needs your comfort, he needs the kindness that radiates off of you. Which is why he’s always trying to find a way to get closer to you, he needs to absorb your sweetness. But hes really done it now; he’s fucked up big time. You hate him.

He hadn’t realized that the hate he brought upon you would tint the kindness that radiates for your being. He has to get you to let go of the hate he’s caused you, he needs you to be yourself again. He just doesn't know how, if it’s even possible.

 As you sleep soundly, his large frame towers over you as he stares down at you through the darkness. You look so peaceful, so innocent. It physically pains him to know that he’s taken away parts of your innocence. All he can do is stare at you as he mentally curses himself. He can’t wake you up and ruin your small moment of peace. It’s better if you don’t know he’s there. 

Your stalker slowly raises his hand and uses his thumb and pointer finger to pull your blanket down to your knees. Even with the blankets pulled down most of your body was hidden from him. Almost everything is left to the imagination in the loose, patterned pj pants and the oversized, long sleeve shirt that you’re wearing. He can only see a small portion of your lower stomach due to your shirt slightly riding up. And that small bit of skin is enough to trigger his memories of you. Because of course he’s seen you countless times; he’s got your body memorized.

He’s practically panting as he takes in the sight of you, imagining that you’re unclothed beneath him; his memory is sharp enough to almost see it. His cock grows to press against his jeans and his eyes trail up to your beautiful face. The ache in his needy cock starts to become unbearable. Your name slips past his lips in the form of a mumble when he starts to palm himself through his newly tightened jeans. 

Okay, Rafe has definitely jerked off to the thought of you, your smell…everything about you makes him lose whatever control he ever even had to begin with. Something he hasn’t gotten to do yet is jerk off with you right in front of him as a live viewing source, fresh for his eyes. He’s gonna be able to cross that off the bucket list soon enough; he can’t wait any longer. His hand stops its ministrations over his jeans as his head turns and he moves over to your closet, grabbing a pair of delicate, worn panties from the top of your laundry hamper. He brings the treasure up to his nose to smell you. God, he could cream his fucking pants right now. He quietly walks back over to you, taking a look at the pill bottle on your nightstand. He picks it up with his free hand, eyes quickly scanning over the label. He smirks as he sets it back down. Rafe turns his head to look back at you. His smirk grows even wider as he leans back, cocking his head as he observes you. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be out for a while.

With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he stands over you. Your panties between his hand and his cock as his fist slowly pumps up and down his length. His other hand meticulously pulls your shirt up to reveal your chest.

“Fuckkk…” he whispers under his breath as his bottom lip is held captive between his teeth. Your perfect tits are spilling out of your bra as you lie asleep on your back. He lightly fiddles with the ends of your hair as his hand pumps over his dick repeatedly and without rhythm. He takes his time, Rafe never likes to rush this. Especially not with you.

Your subconscious mind reacts to his light touch and sounds, pulling you into a wet dream; seeing as a main side effect of the medication you took was vivid dreams. You’ve also been unusually horny lately, probably because you’d been too afraid to touch yourself when you thought you were being watched twenty-four/seven. His fingers trail up your stomach and into the valley of your breasts with feather light touch.

You stir a bit, not because you felt him, but because the dream you’ve been thrown into by your subconscious is starting to get your body all worked up. You’ve been extra horny recently and keep having sex dreams since you haven’t been able to touch yourself the past few weeks, having a stalker and all. As he leans down to lightly kiss the skin in between your boobs, a moan slips past his lips, vibrating off of your skin and interrupting the mostly silent room. The only other sound that can be heard in the quiet room is that caused by Rafe’s hand quickly moving up and down his cock; the friction caused by the soft fabric of your panties generates a quiet noise. Pre-cum leaks from his slit and seeps into the fabric of your recently worn panties. He leans back down to create a hickey on your chest and hopes that you won’t wake up from the sudden feeling, although if you did that might be even better. Shaking the selfish thought out of his head, he sucks strongly at the smooth skin between your beautiful tits. He pulls his mouth off with a pop! Leaning back to see the mark he left, he smirks knowing you’ll see it too eventually. The already rhythmless movements of his hand gets even more erratic the closer he gets to reaching his orgasm. 

The man standing above you runs his hand back down your chest and abdomen as you sleep. Completely unaware of what's happening to your physical body right now, you begin to get all wrapped up in your dream. You only ever get sex dreams when you’re so overly horny, which you’ve been the past few weeks. That combined with the sleeping medication you took, made this particular dream feel different; it felt so…real. The only dream-like part about it was that you couldn’t see the man's face for whatever reason. 

While you’re in a deep sleep, you involuntarily let out a needy whine as your active mind plays games with you. When Rafe hears you he thinks he imagined it, until he hears you do it again. He wonders if you could feel him, except he’s not even touching you right now. Realizing that's clearly not the reason, he furrows his brows in confusion. He pulls the duvet cover completely off of you to reveal the way you keep periodically squirming as your body searches for the same feeling your mind is experiencing; and the way your toes tighten up and curl as you’re tricked into thinking you feel pleasure. 

He can’t take it, not when you look like this. The man hovering over your unconscious figure lets out a lewd moan that corrupts the silence as hot strings of his cum spurt out of the pink, glistening tip of his cock and onto the pair of your panties that he's got clenched in his fist, immediately soaking into the fabric. Surprisingly, when he gets through his orgasm, he adoringly covers you back up with your blankets and leaves your house, locking the door he entered through to be sure you were safe. He got enough to satisfy him for now as he works on a plan to change the way you think of him.  He’ll be back for more of you soon enough. He has to fix this; the biggest mistake he’s ever made and the only regret he’ll ever carry. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable and not a waste of time. I spent a lot of time on this part, especially with the editing since I never really feel done with anything. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them, there's not much I won't write!

I'd like to thank @faiszt for inspiring me to write this fic!

[olderthannetfic]

I have a fandom friend who isn't shy about sending me her fics in the DMs and asking me to read them (not as in beta reading but as in link to AO3).

The thing is, they're really not up my alley because I'm really finnicky about style and story construction and the like: her fics have a lot of telling and not a lot of showing, there's rarely significant tension or change (which might not bother some but it does bother ME personally as a reader), so there's nothing pushing me to read on, and she usually writes detached scenes from the AUs she has in her head, which feels a bit like someone grabbing me by the pussy with no foreplay. I'm not that familiar with the version of the characters/story from the AU so I'm not attached to those storylines the way she is (again, no buildup of tension that makes the emotional scene hit right).

Basically, I really enjoy talking about The Blorbos with her but every time I have to read something of hers it feels like a chore and I either get bored in two paragraphs or my hand starts itching for a red pen. Sometimes I just put it off and hope she forgets but I feel awful and guilty about it because she clearly cares about her fic (it's just too self-indulgent for me to enjoy it from the outside).

She never asks for feedback, so I think it would be incredibly rude to give unsolicited critique or, like, suggest that I could be a beta reader (with how forward she is she'd have asked already if she wanted it).

How do I address this? I want to keep being on friendly terms with her and I'd be open to reading more from her if she fixed some of the consistent issues with her writing (I think the CONCEPTS she entertains are interesting and cool), but also for me the joy of having a hobby is being able to engage with it on my own terms without having "required reading" and what's going on right now ain't it.

(I'm aware that this will make so many people feel really insecure and paranoid about their own writing/readership and I'm sorry for that :/ I'm sure there are people who do enjoy my friend's fic as is, but I can't help my own preferences or attention span)

--

Does she press you for a reaction? If a friend sends me a link, I often thank them for it but don't actually read. Or maybe I skim it or something but don't actually say much to them about it.

I think it's fine to go "I posted a thing!" with the link and expect a "Wow, you finished that so fast!" or "Congrats on finally finishing that longfic!" or whatever. I think it's unwise to expect one's friends to read all of one's work, to like one's work, and to give praise. That way lies disappointment and awkward feelings on both sides.

[al-the-remix]

TikTok Chef!Buck AU: several sentences sunday (or something like that)

I'm close to finishing the fic I've been working on so I finally felt like I could write a little something based off this headcannon without feeling too guilty about it, lol. 2k of mostly crack, please enjoy.

It all starts when Tommy’s stuck on his couch for a week with a sprained knee. He wishes he could claim it happened doing something heroic–or at the very least badass–but in truth it was the result of letting his ego get the best of him at the squat rack. 

Lucy stops by a few times to keep him company, which really means letting herself in unannounced with her spare key, eating all the leftovers in his fridge, and offering an unsolicited running critique of whatever show he’s watching. Today it was Below Deck reruns. 

“If I ever decide to take a vacation on a boat, tackle me, this shit does not look worth it.”

“You really don’t have to be here you know,” Tommy says, leaning over to grab some chips from the near-empty bag she was cradling before they were all gone. He’d been looking forward to eating those for dinner and feeling sorry for himself. 

Lucy just snorts. “Please, if I wasn’t here you’d already be up to something ill advised. I caught you looking up deck chair patterns earlier, power tools don’t go well with injuries, Tommy, even if it’s only carpentry.”

Well, she had him there. 

At least she had the decency to order them Chinese take out for dinner so he wouldn’t have to Instacart a can of soup or something equally pathetic. 

Before she left she made a grabby hand at him. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Tommy asks, already suspicious. 

She met his suspicion with boredom. “Don’t ask stupid questions, just do it.”

Rolling his eyes, he hands it over, giving into her whim, and maybe he should find it a little more unsettling that she already seems to know his password off by heart. 

She clicks around for long enough that Tommy starts getting nervous: what was the last text message he sent? Was it embarrassing? Were all his nudes still in that locked folder? Did she know the password for that too? Just when he was going to start asking questions she tosses his phone back. “Here, this should keep you entertained for a while,” she explains as he scrambles to catch it. “My niece wastes hours of her life on this crap.”

“Such ringing endorsement,” Tomy grumbles, she’s downloaded some kind of video app onto his phone. TikTok. Perfect. He’d heard of that one, apparently it was single handedly ruining a whole generation’s attention span and the Chinese government was using it to spy on the inner lives of teenagers with stupid haircuts and a critical lack of social skills. 

“Are you sure you didn’t just give me some kind of virus?” Tommy asks, clicking around the home page arbitrarily, the UI didn’t make a lick of sense. 

“Har, har. You were always good at picking up new skills, I’m sure you’ll figure this out in no time. I have faith in you,” she says, clapping him hard enough on the shoulder to make him wince. 

He finds his profile page by total mistake. His username reads: benchedcockwrangler.

“How do I change this?” he asks, waving his phone at her as she makes for the door. 

“You don’t,” she says, without looking back. “Don’t stay up on that thing all night, it will ruin your sleep schedule!”

Tommy winces as the front door slams and sighs. He’ll figure out how to change it later. After all, beggars can’t be choosers and three days into his mandatory medical leave he’s already so bored he’s ready to stab his eyes out with hot pokers just to mix it up a bit. 

He scrolls through the app, and based on most of what he sees he finds himself unable to justify its existence in the first place. It feels like every video he watches drags him into a deeper alternate universe where everyone’s wholeheartedly competing for the top of the podium at the Darwin Awards. 

There’s a woman digging tunnels under her apartment that Tommy is positive are not up to code (that’s a call just waiting to happen); and two young ladies mixing cocktails of a concerning hue and variety at random local establishments (not necessarily anything that would warrant a trip to the ER but potentially a health code violation); and what seems like an ungodly number of men hosting podcasts (Tommy is pretty sure that even during his darkest days rotting in the closet he had a better batting average picking up women than any of these bozos.)

Tommy’s eyes start to glaze over as he scrolls past comedians, and political commentators, and people reviewing romance novels, and–how has it already been forty minutes?

He’s about ready to give up and throw his phone across the room and leave it there until Lucy shows up tomorrow and he can make her delete it off his phone, when catchy music, an arm roped with muscle, and a criminally tight shirt sleeve catches his attention. 

It’s some kind of cooking video and his first impression is: how is anyone supposed to understand what’s going on with edits that fast? His second impression is: hot man. Man hot.

Soon his brain is catching up with his eyes, kickstarting like a toddler being exposed to sugar for the first time. 

Cooking might be a generous description for what’s going on here. The man is obviously skilled, but the main focus of the video seems to be how hot he looks in an apron (very) and whether it’s possible to bring half a peach to completion by finger blasting the pit out of it (not like, whether or not you should pre-bake your tart crust to achieve an ideal texture). 

Tommy has to watch it twice just to fully absorb everything that’s going on. He’s making some kind of deconstructed peach crumble topped with an obscene amount of whipped cream and steak with fries that looks fancier than anything Tommy’s ever eaten at a restaurant. 

Half way through the video the man wipes down the worktop shirtless with a cloth sudsy enough to make Tommy’s mouth go instantly dry then suddenly wet enough he’s forced to swallow. 

He clicks through to ChefFirehose’s profile just to, you know, get a better sample size. Tommy’s not above letting himself be manipulated by a man with biceps like melons and a cute smile. 

His profile description reads: LA resident, self-taught, putting out fires and saving lives in my spare time. Just here to give the food the appreciation it deserves. Let me show off for you 😉.

Tommy thinks this guy must be new to town, because living nearly a decade even in a city as sprawling and overcrowded as LA, he doesn’t know how he could miss running into this guy on the job. There was no way he wouldn’t remember a guy this hot even through turnouts, a helmet, and smeared in a thick layer of soot.

He starts working his way back through ChefFirehose’s videos, and some are admittedly a little less chaotic than the rest, but all of them are just tongue-and-cheek enough that Tommy feels confident he’s just one in close to a million people in on a joke and not enabling someone’s very real personality disorder. 

He’s stuck somewhere between disbelief and admiration. He definitely wouldn't have the balls to post this on the internet for everyone to see and so obviously thirst over. He braves the comment section on a few of the videos and it’s just a litany of horned-up men and women trying their best to make ChefFirehose laugh, or get in his pants, or both. He replies to almost all of his comments with either a smirking emoji or acting deliberately oblivious when someone tries to bait him into giving up the bit. Tommy finds him funny and maybe a little more endearing than he should after ten videos. 

Tommy can’t really blame them for trying to shoot their shot so shamelessly. ChefFirehose’s wardrobe consists of polos plastered so tight to his skin that Tommy was mildly concerned about restricted blood circulation, dress shirts buttoned dangerously low, and slacks that wrap snugly around miles of long, toned leg. 

Those weren’t Tommy’s favorite looks though. No, every so often a video would start and he’s be dressed down in soft looking sweatpants, a baseball cap pushed on backwards plastering his auburn curls to his forehead, and a white tank top–or if Tommy was really lucky, no shirt at all (sometimes not even the apron which Tommy had mixed feelings about...), his muscled arms and shoulders on full display. He’s got tattoos decorating his forearms that Tommy can’t quite make out, a collection of fine lines on pale skin like thin ribbons of chocolate drizzled over a crape. 

Those videos are most often breakfast related and ChefFirehose is barefoot in his kitchen, the warm sunlight casting his face in gold. He paints such an enticing tableau it’s all too easy for Tommy’s brain to plop himself right down in that scene, imagination running wild. He can so easily picture what it would be like: in that kitchen, feeling the warm cast of sun on his face and getting to watch built, handsome man make him breakfast with that flirty confidence of his. 

Tommy bookmarks a video of him making an omelet, the way he handles the eggs making Tommy blush like he’s a schoolgirl and not a man pushing forty. He feels less guilty about getting hard over it on the sofa surrounded by takeout containers than he probably should.  

The screen goes suddenly black and Tommy’s faced with his own reflection in the finger smudged screen, chin rolls and all. Fuck. He reaches for his charger. God, his life was depressing at the moment, and apparently he really needs to get laid.

So yeah, by the time his two weeks of recovery are up he’s feeling a little stir crazy in an entirely different way than before. He’s never been more glad to get back to work, put some of this weirdness behind him and get some much needed distance from his phone.

That’s only part of the reason why he doesn’t even think twice when Howie calls him for a favor. A big favor. And that was only the first of many surprises the universe had in store for him, apparently.

Even fully clothed in his LFD uniform Tommy recognises him. Evan. Evan, Evan, Evan, (Tommy repeats over and over in his head until it drowns out every other name Tommy’s assigned him the past few weeks: slutty egg guy, ChefBigDick, totally off limits boyfriend material–just to name a few).

“So you’re the guy who’s gonna fly us into a hurricane.” Evan sounds a little breathless, like maybe he jogged all the way here, and Tommy chalks it up to the high that accompanies stealing government property. “Chim said you were the best pilot he knows and good in a pinch, but I still thought there was no way anyone that good would agree to something this crazy.”

Tommy’s definitely starting to feel a little crazy. Evan’s still shaking his hand. His grip is solid, his fingers long and nimble, surprisingly soft against this palm (he must really lather on the hand lotion) and Tommy can’t stop thinking about all the talented things he knows they can do. 

 “That’s me. Though I’m pretty sure I’m just the only pilot Howie knows who's in town at the moment.” 

“You look good to me–capable, I mean.” Evan gives him a solid smack on the shoulder with his free hand. His mouth does something funny like he's trying to hold back the sheer force of his excitement by his teeth. “Solid.”

His eyes are even bigger and brighter in person, smile softer, even taller than Tommy presumed. Howie’s giving them a weird look from over Evan’s shoulder. The other man with them, Eddie, isn’t paying them any attention, checking out the other helicopters parked on the apron instead, and Tommy forces himself to pull his hand out of Evan’s warm grip. 

Tommy clears his throat. “Good to know. I’ll show you guys the bird we’ll be taking. I've got her all gassed up and ready to go.”

He just met his (internet) celebrity crush and the man of his dreams, and now Tommy was going to get him killed in one of the most spectacular ways imaginable. It seems like they’re all headed for the Darwin Awards this time.

[hyenafu]

I know this might seem like a bit of a random question, but what are some criticisms of Slightly Damned you can't stand, and what are some you think are at least somewhat valid? I only ask because I do have a few problems with the comic (not really gonna go into here because I don't want to come off as too critical obviously) but I feel like some of the more noteworthy ones have been too long established to just change it altogether, and the best one can do is make something better from its foundation (which I must say, you've done a really good job at ^^)

The complaints that I think are the most unfair are by bigots who think my comic is only getting more inclusive because I'm pandering to wokeness or whatever. These people are also the most likely to misgender me and have no idea what they're talking about. They just can't stand the bare minimum of gay and are often hypocritical, using fallacies as the basis of their arguments. It's tempting to want to argue back, but when has that ever worked on the internet? I think the most valid complaint is that the pacing of the comic is too slow. Sure. Not much I can do about that one. My comic alone doesn't pay all my bills. If I focus exclusively on work, I get depressed, so I have to goof off sometimes. I'm just one person. I don't have a team. I'm doing the best I can already. Another valid complaint is that people don't like my blend of humor and drama. Sometimes readers find it inappropriate or jarring. It's valid because I recognize it as a difference of opinion and understand why they feel that way. But I don't care. I like my weird mix of goofy faces and drama. I sometimes make jokes during periods of great stress in real life. I love all the wacky faces and over-the-top cartoon action among dire circumstances in comics like One Piece and Usagi Yojimbo. Like, it's just my style, man I don't seek out unsolicited advice about my comic. Some people may think that's snobbish of me, but the truth is, very little of what you find that way is actually valuable.

"And as to those critics, she said that she’s managed to do something that might make us all better off- she doesn’t read the comment sections. In perhaps the most roundabout poignant part of the talk, she likened receiving feedback about her work as being like consuming food. She would take a pie from someone she knew and trusted but compared taking unsolicited barbs from strangers as “licking a handle on the subway.” She used to pay very close attention to that kind of critique because she felt that it somehow would make her a better creator but ultimately decided that it was only toxic." - I HAVE SEEN OLIVIA JAIMES, THE CARTOONIST BEHIND THE NEW NANCY, by Rocko Jerome (2018)

Besides the outright hateful sentiments, a lot of unsolicited criticism can be categorized as "I don't like this story because it didn't do what I wanted it to do." Which is fine. I do the same thing when I try to process stories and talk to my friends about them.

But I don't get in the author's face to tell them I think they did a bad job. At the end of the day, no matter how crap I think someone's story might be, I'm not psychic. I don't really know if they did exactly what they set out to do. For example, people have never stopped giving me crap about the death of certain characters. But their whining has only made my convictions stronger. I don't like when other stories don't take deaths seriously, with a real sense of permanence and grief that is not easily solved. To someone else, seeing that character be alive might have solved all sorts of problems they had-- but that's not my story. I've had someone tell me that the focus on Buwaro and Kieri's mushy romance is too distracting to the main story. I don't think that person knew that a large part of why I started making this comic in the first place was as a vehicle for my OTP. I also want to make said vehicle entertaining and worthwhile. If I didn't succeed for that person, that's fine. But don't tell me that half the reason I made the comic is distracting from it. What do they know about what I want? What do you really know about what the author wanted to achieve? That isn't to say that my comic is immune to scrutiny. Of course it has problems; every story has problems, depending on your perspective and the basis by which it's getting judged. I've solicited and received thoughtful criticism and helpful advice from teachers, my advisor, my friends, and from reading/watching tutorials. Some I agreed with, others I chose to ignore. Sometimes it just took a while for me to come around. I hope I never stop learning and improving. Like you said, I have to keep working with the foundation I already set. But I don't feel trapped by it; my creativity is being challenged in new ways. I have a lot of playing pieces and now I get to see what kinds of connections I can make between them with my older, more experienced (both good and bad) mind. Since Slightly Damned is a story serialized over a long period of time, a certain amount of it is made up as I go along. I do have plans and goals, of course, but I'm also discovering this world alongside my readers.

[nastyburger]

Please say more about the awful Asian designs in Danny Phantom. I'm not Asian but I'd love to have a rundown on the elements that make them offensive so I can avoid and critique those elements in other works. And also you deserve to speak your mind about it

im gonna mostly talk about southeast asian designs since thats what i am and the most familiar with and also what i feel are the show's worst transgression with their casual depictions. tw for racist imagery im gonna link pictures.

there's not much to say about the designs aside from, you know, everything but things to note are the unnatural yellow tone for the skin and closed slanted eyes. veggie burger (fan name for the bg character in the middle) also suffers from the huge nose that sometimes shows up in racist depictions. the straight edge/cut hair as well is somewhat stereotypical. this one isn't as bad but in conjunction with everything else its not ideal. i will give the smallest molecule of credit that at the very least dp never gave any of these bg characters buck teeth.

some depictions are better than others, but theres still missteps happening in one aspect or another. kwan's eyes in a lot of shots/episodes can be too skinny and even too slanted, the girl in the middle is almost perfect but her skin is too yellow (she looks kinda okay on my computer screen but i remember when watching dp on my tv she looked real brightly yellow), and principle ishiyama (who was weirdly forgotten about pretty early on in the show and was replaced by lancer doing most of the school stuff despite not being principle?? which is a whole other issue with how dp treats its poc characters) the same usual notes about the slanted eyes but also the upturned nose is pretty reminiscent of racist japanese art during ww2. again it is not the worst way to draw a nose but combined with everything else in this show's depiction of asian characters its not great, they are on thin ice man.

not to mention, principle ishiyama is the only character here with brown eyes. this is a problem that extends to all poc characters in dp and to my knowledge i think ishiyama might be the only one with them tbh. this is, again, a whole other issue though.

i think the thing that bothers me most about these designs though is that dp is very clearly aware that these depictions are bad. the only difference between the first set of characters and the second is one singular thing: they have a clear speaking role.

suddenly when theyre not stock background characters, dp knows how to act when drawing them. i cannot for the life of me find the image of it, but the last jock guy in the first set gets a speaking role in reign storm (he's cosplaying phantom) and he is drawn with proper open eyes! (theyre also blue but whatever) it just makes me sad that this was a clear choice they made.

the show also went in a different direction in the final product, but early development stuff was really drawing from a lot of japanese/asian influences like danny was originally gonna have a motorcycle (pulling from ghost in the shell) and was even referenced in the show via the akira motorcycle reference (which i once again, for the life of me, cannot find. danny took johnny 13's motorcycle and did the classic akira slide i think it was in million dollar ghost?? idk whichever one where the giw are trying to blow up the ghost zone). danny's name was originally gonna be jackie, named after jackie chan, this i assume was given to jack fenton afterwards. and i think the show having a more martial arts direction with the action was also gonna be a thing? that one could be wrong dont quote me on that, there was an episode where danny and vlad have like a weird ninja fight though im pretty sure.

either way my point here is that they wanted to pull from all these influences and it was prominent enough during development that they sprinkle references to it throughout the show and yet their portrayal and treatment of asian characters in the show is so abysmal it just feels Bad™, you know? i cant really put it more eloquently than that, like its very take and no give with it.

it overall just puts a bad taste in my mouth, and its sad that it still affects people years later. like i mentioned in the tags of the post that started this discussion with that whole old trend of putting yourself into the bg of dp screenshots, i felt alienated by that. and its not the people who participated's fault obviously but most of the people i saw participating were white fans (going off of how they drew themselves) and it made me a bit mad that they were able to enjoy the style of the show in a more carefree manner than i ever could. i didnt want to ruin anyone's fun obviously, but a small part of me wanted to bring to light how i wasnt on equal ground with them in that situation.

[flightfoot]

The thing about the London special not outright accepting or condemning Marinette's actions itself, to me, feels like giving her more sympathy and grace than she deserves for her actions. There is no moral ambiguity here. Marinette is 100% in the wrong. And the London special goes out of its way to try and frame this as some "no right answer" type of situation and takes away every opportunity it can to have someone meaningfully confront Marinette about the impact her actions could have on Adrien.

They deny her the chance to even consider it beyond "is lying wrong?" She's almost gaslighting her boyfriend into thinking his abuser was a good person, and now she doesn't even have the excuse of not knowing how bad it was. The whole special focused on how awful Marinette felt for doing something so despicable. And I apologize for my harsh words, but that's really just how bad it is. There's no way around it, and it's honestly quite disheartening to see all the posts about Marinette being under a lot of stress and being 14 or whatever. Like sure, but I don't see nearly the same number of posts sympathizing with Adrien, who is by all means Marinette's own victim now. And anytime someone points out the very reasonable critique that Marinette is doing an incredibly bad thing, they get swamped with these excuses.

Hm... okay. So I agree that Marinette's actions in the London Special were wrong, and that she should have told Adrien the truth, even if it hurt, instead of lying to him. I disagree about there being no moral ambiguity, since "wanting Adrien not to be hurt worse than he already is and wanting to honor the last wish of a dead man, even if he was awful" are reasonable things to value, they just don't override Adrien's right to know about things that concern him, and the way she's done it is likely just as, if not more upsetting than just telling Adrien the truth.

So with the focus on Marinette during the special (and in a bunch of the fanfics that were made based off of the special, though there haven't been all that many) being mostly around Marinette's feelings about the lie, being sympathetic towards her... yeah I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I think showing her perspective is valuable to understand why she did what she did, and to show that she was conflicted about it and honestly believed that she was doing the right thing, or trying to do the right thing at least.

On the other hand, it did sometimes feel like the London Special went beyond "these are the reasons Marinette did this, and this is the effect this decision has had on her, please empathize with her reasoning even if you disagree with her choices (even she isn't sure her choices were correct)" to "Poor Marinette, struggling under the burden of the choices she made, but she will bravely shoulder them for Adrien's happiness." I thought it mostly did okay with balancing it except for the last part, with Ladybug and Chat Noir talking about secrets and them both hugging each other over the burden of what they can't tell their partner. Because Ladybug COULD tell Chat Noir, and the person she's hiding all this stuff from IS him, so it felt icky to me to have him help in comforting her for it, when he didn't even understand what he was comforting her over.

I have the same problem with most of the fanfics about the London Special which have cropped up. I'm okay with there being some sympathy towards Marinette in the narrative for being conflicted and feeling like she should lie to Adrien "for his own good", given that she has good intentions, but a lot of it traipses into "poor Marinette is struggling heroically with having to sacrifice her commitment to the truth for the sake of Adrien's happiness." I especially don't like when Adrien feels guilty about Marinette feeling bad over that. While that's not totally out of character for him, I feel like his feelings over his own horrific situation should be centered more, rather than Marinette's guilt over feeling like she should lie to him in an effort to make his situation seem better.

Marinette IS only 14 and I can see why she honestly thinks that lying to Adrien about his father being a better person than he is would be better for him, she hasn't exactly had a lot of classes on the effects of child abuse and the different forms it could take. But there is the angle that Adrien is ALSO 14 and doesn't even have the luxury of any amount of control over the horrible situation he's in with his father.

The main sympathy I've seen given to Marinette is that well, what would YOU do if you were thrown into the situation of having to tell your crush that his father was a supervillain, he was gonna die anyway, and decided to do the one good thing of sacrificing what remained of his life to save your substitute mom? Which... yeah I definitely wouldn't feel comfortable having that conversation, but I wouldn't lie to Adrien either, I'd foist it off on Nathalie. (I do agree with the criticism that Nathalie ought to have been responsible for telling Adrien all these uncomfortable truths, given how deeply she was involved in both Gabriel's supervillainy and in Adrien's creation, but the show has decided to give Marinette all the power and all the responsibility of deciding what to tell Adrien, so here we are).

I would like there to be more attention paid to how Adrien must be feeling after all of this, with finding out his father died and being led to believe that he was actually trying to protect him the whole time, and dealing with that knowledge, than just sympathy for Marinette's position. Marinette had a choice in what to do. Adrien did not.

[marygillisapologist]

Longing for closure | Charles x F!Reader

Pairing: Charles Smith x F!Reader

WC: 1142, aprox. 5 minute read

Teaser: “For the best, I know, but. I just-” He looked remain before stepping closer, looking into your eyes. His presence was overwhelming, and your need for his company was immense. “Charles, I-” You protested, avoiding his gaze. “Please.” He pleaded, stroking his hand against your cheek, keeping it there.

Warnings: Fluff, very little mention of sexual interactions | Secret Relationship | Pining

A/N: This is my first time writing anything so I'm open to critique and will appreciate any form of interaction. ALSO- If you find any grammar mistakes please feel free to tell me, since English isn't my first language. Anyways, hope you enjoy <3

Even though these last few months had been miserable and full of loss, a blooming love had grown in the dying fields. Two strong individuals in need of comfort, finding it in each other at an all time low. While the remaining members of the gang were scrambling to find safety in Lakay, a heated exchange had taken place between you and Charles Smith. After months of pining and longing for each other, you’d finally confronted your feelings. His burly arms had held you close, as his lips were pressed against yours in need of love, in need of you.

Ever since then, you both had realized that you were each other's pillar, the ones who held each other up when the other was falling apart. You agreed that whatever happened, you’d stick together no matter what. However, for the both of yours safety, you agreed to keep it under wraps, not wanting your love to be used against you as it had with John and Abigail. The only few people who actually knew, were the ones paying close attention. Someone like Ms. Grimshaw, most of the women and even Arthur caught on pretty quickly, while the rest never really did. You were happy in his presence, happy to have a safe haven to return when all hell broke loose.

As the days went by and more tragedy occurred. All this death and misery had been piling for months, and for what? For no reason, at least in the eyes of Charles. He was losing hope, and also a close friend of his. Arthur was dying, and with him so was the gang. He was the right hand man, the one with the most common sense out of all of these people- besides you of course. This made Dutch question his ability to advise him, instead seeking the advice of Micah. The Van Der Linde gang had turned a new leaf, one that had fallen and withered.

Charles was on thin ice. 

Charles hated every moment of suppressing his feelings for you regardless of it being for the best. Even though the both of you had agreed to it, he still couldn’t help but feel guilt for not giving you the love and solace you craved. As he and Arthur rode back to camp from a visit at the Wapiti Tribe, noise of quarreling and accusing got louder and louder. He couldn’t help the pit in his stomach form, as he saw you walk back from the river with fresh laundry, your face carrying a slight frown and furrowed brows. 

“You alright there Charles?” Arthur asked with a cough as the horses went from trotting to walking. 

“Yeah, I’m good. How about you?” Charles asked concerned, while his gaze stayed on you. 

“I reckon I don’t matter too much no more.” Arthur chuckled.

“But you sure you’re doin’ alright? You seem a bit distraught.” He questioned as they arrived at the hitching posts.

“Yeah, I’m sure… I’ll see you around” Before Arthur knew it, Charles had already hitched his horse and headed your direction before Arthur had even left the saddle.

You stood to the side hanging the laundry you’d just washed down by the river, trying to mute the sound of Dutch’ preaching. Tension had been at an all time high, causing you to overwork yourself with chores to distract yourself from your misery. This had ultimately also caused multiple people to leave, making you wonder what was making you stay. Was it loyalty, company or fear of a civil life, when this was the one you’d grown used to for the last couple of years? 

For the first time since joining the gang, you were exhausted, an overwhelming nausea at the thought of things coming to an end. Dutch wasn’t the same heroic individual who’d saved you from a group of greedy men. No he was much different. So different, that if it had happened on this day, then it more than likely would’ve been your last.

Lost in your train of thoughts, you heard your name. Quickly you laid down whatever article of clothing you had and turned around towards the noise.

“Charles. You're back.” You said as your eyes brightened and your smile widening, about to go in for a greeting kiss. He smiled back softly before looking down into the ground about to give in before the sound of arguing in the back reminded you of where you were. 

“Right, my bad.” You smiled softly, eyes filled with disappointment as you stepped back. “You um… Is everything alright, are you alright?” You asked, wanting to make sure he was doing as good as one could in the current state of things. 

He stood there looking into your eyes for a little before answering.

“Yeah I’m-” He stopped himself, fiddling with fingers as he thought of what he was gonna say next.

He took a deep breath before continuing, saying your name lowly.

“I’m not sure I can handle this much longer.”

You looked at him, your brows furrowing as you bit the inside of your cheek. You know exactly what he meant, as you felt the same.

“I know, but it’s-” You responded, trying to stay logical for the both of you.

“For the best, I know, but. I just-” He looked remain before stepping closer, looking into your eyes.

His presence was overwhelming, and your need for his company was immense.

“Charles, I-” You protested, avoiding his gaze.

“Please.” He pleaded, stroking his hand against your cheek, keeping it there.

A few moments went by, no words said out loud, yet his and your needs were heard and finally acted upon. You place your hand on his cheek, stroking it before leaning in to kiss him. You directed his hand to your other cheek before letting go, pulling him closer by his collar. Your face in his hand and your arms wrapping around his neck, you hadn’t gotten this close in a while, too busy working.

His lips stayed on yours for what seemed like forever, before he broke it, placing his forehead on yours as the both of you were quietly panting. He smiled at you, and you smiled at him. His eyes were filled with admiration, as was yours, it was a beautiful moment.

“I love you.” He smiled, pecking the corner of your lips. You looked up at him, your eyes watering at the sound of his confession. One that none of them had made before, but had always known to be true.

“I love you too, Charles.” You grinned in response before leaning into another deep kiss.

Maybe hiding from each other wasn't for the best, and maybe closure had been this whole time. Regardless, your hope for the future had been restored. You both knew it would be with each other.

BONUS - Arthurs Journal Entry

Charles and I went to talk to Rains Falls about Dutch and his unhinged decision making. It ain’t looking too good, but we promised to keep a good eye on him.

Anyway, Charles seemed distracted when we went out. I didn’t know exactly why, but I had an idea. He seemed in a hurry when we got back and finally kissed her. He’s been head over heels for that girl ever since he joined us back up in the Grizzlies last year, pretty sure it went both ways. 

They remind me of Mary and I, how we kept it secret too before she left me. I was too stubborn to change my ways, I guess. I wonder if things would’ve changed if I’d ran away with her back in Saint Denis or Valentine. It’s too late now, she mailed me the ring I gave her all those years ago. What a couple of fools in love we were. 

I’m just happy that they aren’t fools like us, and that Charles won’t cower away because of some code that turns out to be irrelevant by the likes of Dutch. I’m also happy that I finally stopped hiding. They seemed real happy when they stopped worrying so much about the rest. I saw Susan and a couple others smile too, they probably noticed the lingering before too. Not everyone had though, Dutch looked quite surprised, almost threatened. I wonder what he and Micah are up to now.

Hope you liked it! BTW pls feel free to give requests, I love writing from given prompts <33

[elliespuns]

It’s definitely not a hate comment towards the actresses; it’s just a critique of the makeup staff or whoever’s responsible for that. But what I’m getting at is that both Bella and Isabela look way too young; they could pass for 10-year-old girls, and the worst part is they’re trying to sell us on Isabela carrying a child all empowered and Bella taking care of the baby like Dina’s partner??? Bella will end up looking like JJ’s slightly older sister. And can you believe both women, barely 5’1, are going to be taking down every guy in their path??? Good Lord, I’m so frustrated.

And I’m sure as hell we’ll just settle for whatever they give us and eventually accept it, but it’s not what we deserve as fans.

I agree with everything you say. Not here to dis either. I loved season 1 even though there were so many things that made me roll my eyes or mad for actually not happening at all (like all those Ellie and Joel moments they screw us over with by not delivering them and making their bond less impacful). But this is too much. I get it. They can't make the actresses meet the original Ellie's height, but with what the make-up artists can do nowadays, I was at least expecting Bella to age for the show. 

We can't have two (19 and 20) year old girls slaying everyone throughout their way of Seattle if they look like 12 year olds. Not to mention one of them is supposed to be pregnant; how's that going to look? Also, the cast for Jesse? Young Mazino definitely looks like Jesse's real age, so we're now having Dina, who is 12, date Jesse, who's over 20?

I love this duo for how capable they both are as a team. I don't mind that they won't look exactly the same, but the age, chemistry, and dynamics should fit. If I'm not getting this, I don't want anything else. 

I am not the one to point out flaws, and I usually look for the better parts in everything because I can appreciate effort, but I feel no effort really has been put into anything I've seen leaked. It feels like everyone's just pissed that Pedro won't be there on set to light up everyone's day, so they just kind of gave up on trying, or idk. It's just sad.

I can't even start thinking about certain scenes because they get even more hilarious when I imagine them based on what I've seen so far. Can you imagine the weed den scene? I don't want to watch two 12 year olds make out. Or the shamblers encounters? (if there will be any). Not even talking about the farm era, where Ellie and Dina live as a couple with a kid. If they don't make the girls age, nobody will take the whole show seriously. There are already so many people disliking S01 (most of them are game fans), and the creators just keep adding to the pile of dislikes. People are gonna be so angry and upset. 

Look, these are just leaked photos, I get it. Maybe the girls were just testing/practicing. Who knows. Maybe they'll even surprise us. But until then, I know I won't be expecting much because I'd rather expect the worst than expect a lot and then get a slap in the face.

[00127am]

signed with love and forever yours, jeno

postage. lee jeno & gn! reader cost to ship. 815 words

i've come to love the summer more so than any other time of year. because you in the summer, the season which you hold closest to your heart--the one in which you are nothing but wholly yourself in every sense of the sentiment--is the you which made me realize just exactly what i feel for you. a conclusion i may not have reached if not for that summer.

the summer when i met you for around the hundredth time, in that muggy july heatwave that had haechan dragging us all down to the beach. a car ride we took with a begrudging reluctance and all four of the windows down. he said he was bringing along another friend, you, the pretty one i'd met always in passing. always in fleeting conversations that were always interrupted or your attention diverted by one of our other friends who you were always closer too. i didn't give your company too much thought then and i didn't think i would come to give it any further thought at all. but i did. do. i've never believed in love at first sight. but it seems that i must agree in some sense with those i previously critiqued, because there simply isn't any other expression to describe what it felt like to see you for the hundredth time.

i know it wasn't the same for you, wedged in the backseat between two men you had barely ever spoken to before (much too close with haechan and renjun to pay us any mind, though, i wish that you would pay me more mind). and i'm sure you had no positive feelings for me, not with the way jaemin was wedged into your side--forcing your skin to stick uncomfortably to the surface of my own. it was hot. so hot that i'm sure i was sweating, that i smelled, and that i looked no where near as breathtaking as you (though i doubt i ever do, heat or not). but you still made every effort to talk to me, to apologize for the way your knee was digging into my own. i didn't mind. i don't mind anything if you're the one who's doing it.

i think it happened there in the car. falling in love with you, i mean. because the rest of the day, i was consumed with nothing but thoughts of you. and how i wish i was haechan. haechan who had you throwing back your head in laughter and haechan who had his arms wrapped around your waist. haechan who pouted when you won whatever nonsense competition was being fought out between the two of you. and the same haechan who complained, loudly, when you refused to let him change the rules for the umpteenth time. if i were in his place, playing the role of the one closest to you--of haechan--i would never complain. though i guess i can't complain now either. not as jeno. because lee jeno has had the privilege of seeing you over and over again, even if not in the same capacity as lee donghyuck (something that drives me far past the brink of jealousy).

this summer, one far removed from that summer, i find myself to still be in love with you. and the season. but more so you. always you, it seems. because despite any and all efforts to move on from my schoolboy-esque crush--i can't. or maybe i'm not truly trying all that hard. or maybe (and most likely) all it takes from you is a single glance in my direction before my heart is beating five times too fast and my stomach has dropped to my knees. i'm easy when it comes to you.

i don't seem to mind.

about jeno's love letters.

jeno's handwriting is composed of all caps. strong, sharp ends to letters with soft undersides when it comes to the curvature of their penmanship. like him, his handwriting is strong and rooted--deceptively harsh looking, only for that misinterpretation to be quelled with the sweet nothings they compose.

he writes pages upon pages about you, inspired by you, thinking of you. a diary that's only his to keep, perfect pages filled with endless sentiments and endearments. he's fairly positive that he would die if you ever saw it (and he's one hundred percent positive that he would if any of your mutual friends did). he'd much rather verbally tell you everything which he has scrawled down on the lined pages of his notebook, words only ever meant for you.

jeno hasn't confessed yet (jaemin, the only one to know about his gut wrenching crush says that he might never confess) but he's working up to it (he isn't). he has every hope that this summer, he'll finally chalk up the nerve. then again, he said the same thing last summer. and the summer before that. but this summer will be different, right?

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @firstdonutllamafarm @starjunjun @ikozen @lovesuhng @sour-chaos @jenaisnte thank you for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

[sapphic-agent]

I think one of my main annoyances in Hori writing is him trying to redeem every villain and hero that some of them just doesn’t deserve that redemption.

Like; it’s reminds me too much of Naruto. But the difference is Naruto isn’t being held by modern standards since it set in a fictional world with ninjas while bnha is set in 200+ years in the future in modern japan.

I absolutely despise Endeavor and how he abused his family as a whole; in modern society he would have been put in jail, and yet he still gets a redemption arc. It’s feels like it’s cheapen all of the todorokis trauma.

And shoto being bakugo friend is another thing, since bakugo is so much like endeavor… like, if I had a classmate that act so much like my abusive parent that I absolutely despise I wouldn’t be close to them at all.

It’s gave me bad feeling how Hori just brushes all of the trauma the characters have from the actions of other characters selfish acts.

When I started reading the manga in 2015 I thought the concept is really good and having a main character with anxiety and socialization problems (in the start) made me hooked, because I had those things too. But looking at it now 8 years later I just feel so much dissatisfaction and disappointments..

You have a great point about Naruto. I mean, I'm not a fan of Naruto because of reasons, but it's the same concept as to why I like Vegeta better than Bakugou despite Vegeta technically being a worse person. Because MHA and DBZ are two very different shows. One is about becoming stronger and being able to face any threat to the world no matter what, the other is trying to push a narrative about morality and being a "true hero." The Z Fighters do have their own moral compasses, but it varies between every character. So there's no overarching theme that's beating us over the head.

Someone described this problem with MHA perfectly; it's constantly preaching about morality while willfully being tone deaf about its own overlaying issues. And that wouldn't even be so bad if so many of these issues weren't set up in the beginning to be addressed later.

I talk a lot about Bakugou, but I think we should focus on Endeavor like you mentioned. Not only are they similar in nature (temperamental, overzealous, dangerously ambitious), they're also two characters who benefit the most from the system in MHA.

...And it's barely ever acknowledged.

I mean sure, Dabi calls Endeavor out and it leads to the public losing faith in heroes. But not only does the family he abused and/or neglected choose to help him (I can't get over Fuyumi and Natsu taking blame for Touya when they were LITERAL CHILDREN wtf, not to mention Rei), why he was allowed to do this is never addressed. People knew he wasn't the kind hero All Might was, and it was something his fans admired along with his strength. Because as long as you have a strong quirk, you're admired in the MHA world and allowed to get away with whatever you want. Yet this is overlooked so easily.

(I like Hawks (because of Zeno Robinson mainly), but him dismissing this is so weird?? Why on Earth would Horikoshi go out of his way to introduce a character with an abusive father and make him an Endeavor fan? With no moment of clarity either?? There's something really off about that)

Bakugou's apology (one day I'll make a post critiquing this scene) is a little better in this regard as he does acknowledge that he was enabled because of his quirk. But again, it's really just skimmed over and only referenced to give Bakugou an excuse.

And the people who do question society and its system are either villains who are use it as an excuse to cause destruction and hurt people (the LOV and Overhaul) or bloodthirsty murderers (Stain). I would have loved for Horikoshi to introduce a group of vigilantes or anti-heroes who work outside of the HPSC and call out how discriminatory their system is.

Someone's talked about this before, but the Todoroki and Bakugou "friendship" was so forced and unnecessary. Bakugou has, at every turn, been completely unsympathetic towards the fact that Todoroki was abused and yelled at his sister for talking about it in her own home (but sure, let's call Bakugou an abuse victim I guess). Todoroki should have at the very least remained indifferent towards Bakugou like he was in the beginning.

Izuku deserves so much better than how Horikoshi treats him. He's either used as a tool to make Bakugou better or he's shoved into the background of his own show. He was so relatable in the beginning of the series only for the plot to suck his character dry.

[tornadotree]

Whether done intentionally or not, I like how the ways of Rida and Jodie trying to help Cam just allowed him to push them away whereas Siobhans allowed him to feel safe talking to her so much so he went towards her rather than pushed her away.

Jodie and Rida are worried about him, but they comment on his state in a way that I feel makes him defensive. Jodie sarcastically asks if he has a busy day ahead. Rida comments on it not being normal to watch so much daytime telly.

Jodie states "Look at the state of you," she says that he's "wallowing," that "it's been weeks since baby Chloe died" and questions whether something else is wrong after telling him they've all lost patients and they've never acted in such a way.

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

He's unable to tell them there is something else and he feels worse for this because his friends seem burdened by his behaviour. He's not acting his usual self and this is brought up as a nuisance for Jodie and Rida from Cam's perspective rather than a concern.

"You should come to the Schwartz later." It's what he should do. Not what he wants, but what he should do to stop being so burdensome.

Siobhan, however, validates his struggles, telling him it's okay to feel that way. She offers a way for him to open up, reassuring him that "whatever it is, it's okay."

When he pushes back, she doesn't try and pull it out of him. She takes his word and tells him that they can talk about the babys death again-no "it was weeks ago" or "we've all lost patients." She doesn't try to make him feel worse for feeling this way. She tells him that everyone is in the same boat, reinforcing the fact he is not wrong for feeling this way and he is not alone.

She asks him if he'll attend the Schwartz later, telling him he doesn't have to do it for himself, but he can do it for the team. He hates everything about himself right now but this gives him something outside of himself to focus on. She confirms with him that Schwartz have helped him in the past, so maybe this may help him feel better too.

It's not to stop being so burdensome on those around him, it's for him.

When he's approached in the pub by Teddy, Jodie and Rida, they question whether drowning his sorrows is a good idea, another critique that he'll no doubt hate himself for. They tell him "We'll put you in a taxi-" they don't allow him a choice in the matter. Jodie tells him its a problem to drink when he is "the way he is at the moment"- again something he will take as a jab due to his fragile state.

And then he breaks.

He's been crowded by people with good intentions but who are allowing him the room to push them further and further away. And he takes that room and shoves them completely out of it.

But then Siobhan arrives.

She reassures him. "This isn't like you Cam." She wants to understand and she allows him that space to reflect. She knows he's not himself, and he needs to get out of the mindset that this is just how he is.

"Something else?" She's careful not to make any assumptions. She wants him to be able to get to a point where he can open up. She allows him that space to tell her.

"Tell me if I'm wide off the mark" again allowing him that agency he was denied with Jodie and Rida to talk about his feelings. She asks if he believes Bobby. He doesn't respond and she doesn't press him to. She tells him she can see he's hurting-again validating how he's feeling.

He says, "I trusted him."

She responds, "Of course you did."

She's relieving that blame on himself ever so slightly, she's soft and gentle in her approach, and she shows him the warmth and validation that he's needed all these years.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

genuine question, where did the monthly romance novel thing come from? because you don’t seem to enjoy most of them 😭

okay, so, last February I had a hair-brained scheme to read, like, six romance novels in February so that I could "review" (strong word for my usual reading roundups but whatever) like a booktuber. to be clear I wasn't under the impression that anyone would really enjoy this but me and my beloved @dykerory, but I do a lot of things to entertain an extremely small audience and it's never stopped me before.

I was also genuinely interested in tackling a low-stakes project like that. I've never been a romance reader but I wanted to make sure I wasn't missing anything, which is why I initially planned to check out some big names and well-reviewed titles to get a sense of what the genre was all about. trust me, I wouldn't have put Red, White and Royal Blue on the list if I wasn't trying to do as thorough a study as possible in such an abridged amount of time.

anyway, I decided to get an early start and read the first book I'd picked out, a buzzy wlw romance that was getting a lot of positive buzz - Mistakes Were Made, by Meryl Wilsner, and boy howdy that mistake WAS made! the thing I realized immediately was that reading six romance novels back to back to back was definitely possible, since they're generally extremely short and not particularly rigorous, but in terms of content? oh, man, ingesting that much romance novel in a short period of time would make my brain stat dribbling out my nose.

so I amended the terms of my own completely non-binding contract so that I'd have to read twice as many romance novels over the course of an entire year, giving myself WAY more time to really explore what was big in the genre and try to really figure out the appeal.

and uuuh I really like it! they're quick and they're fun and they make for a really nice break in between the other kinds of books I rea. I like a lot of hefty nonfiction and dense-ass speculative fiction and moderately harrowing literary fiction. a romance novel makes for a nice little palate cleanse, like going for a little walk in the middle of a workday to break up the monotony. and even when I don't enjoy the story itself, the experience makes me better at recognizing and critiquing what I do and don't like in a romance novel and in a story generally. I genuinely do feel like I'm succeeding in my goal of learning a lot about the genre and its conventions, and understanding the appeal it holds for so many readers. I learn as much reading a romance novel as I do any other work of fiction.

also, I don't know how else to put this, but I'm a recreational hater and I loooooove poking the shit I don't like to figure out what makes it tick. I watched all 4.5 seasons of Gotham out of pure bile fascination, come on. this IS positive enrichment for me and I wouldn't do it otherwise.

[diadianne]

Post-war Levi ramble + just thoughts in general

I've never posted on Tumblr, so forgive me if this looks weirdly formatted. These are just my thoughts after seeing the little interview Isayama did.

This was mostly sparked by the answer that the Ackermans lost their power, which is somewhat of a bummer to me, but I understand why it happened. I just dislike it when characters lose their powers at the end. Let me clarify: This is not a critique of the show because this show has literally been my obsession for the past year, lol.

Anyway, I got inspired to write this because I saw some people saying that the Ackermans were free from their powers and could be normal humans and therefore happier. I disagree with this because of my opinions on AOT post-war/rumbling.

I do not think Levi lived a happy life post-war/rumbling.

Mental Health

I've had a huge interest in mental health (for whatever reason) since I was younger and, with my past obsession (Modern Warfare II), I got really into learning about veterans, PTSD, etc. I've given presentations and done a lot of research on the topic. But, even without that knowledge, it's very easy to see that Levi has lived a very difficult life, to put it nicely.

I struggle to think that any of the remaining scouts (+ Annie) lived a decent life after. I can hardly imagine the guilt everyone felt after the rumbling. Billions of people died. Not hundreds, not thousands, not millions, billions! Innocent people, children...

Genuinely, how could someone live with that?

Of course, they didn't do it themselves, but there still are some difficult feelings alongside Eren's actions. Someone who was once a comrade/friend.

Levi has completed his purpose. Everyone who fought for the Scouts, who gave their life for the cause, made it possible for this. For Eren to destroy 80% of humanity. Just kidding, but there has to be the question of "Was it worth it? Was all the death worth it?"

"I've saved Eren's life over and over. Many of my comrades died each time. And, this is where that belief has gotten me. It's like some awful joke. Just what was that hope did we look forward to? All that hardship leads to this farce?"

Levi is questioning it all after having his hand forced to kill more of his comrades who had been turned into Titans. Even without Eren being their "hope" anymore, there was a purpose to stop Eren, a purpose to get revenge for Erwin, a purpose to protect his friends/comrades, etc.

I suppose I'm just genuinely wondering how someone could live with that level of guilt and loss. He lost everyone that really knew him. I think it is nice he stays (or at least is not alone) with Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon, but that will never be the same as Erwin or Hange.

He went from having such a hard, busy, and difficult life to that all being done with. I think as wonderful as it sounds, it is probably hard to cope with that change. There are no more distractions.

Loss of Powers

I think Levi prides himself on being useful and strong because he had to be his whole life. He was "taken care of" by Kenny for a bit. Kenny, as seen, was very power-hungry and I am certain he definitely pushed those ideas onto Levi. Not saying that Levi is power-hungry, but maybe it pushed him to value his strength a lot. He had to be strong.

"Stay in bed? If I lie down any longer, you shits are gonna forget all about me."

I am sure more scenes would give examples of this, but I am going to stick with this one. In short, I believe that Levi, who has always been valued for his strength, would have a difficult time living with his new "weakness," especially with his leg damaged, lack of eye, and two missing fingers.

Post-war Climate

Yeah, sure. "Peace." The ending shows that there were still tensions, therefore war, and then death. A repeating cycle of hate. I mean, killing 80% of humanity? It was 1000000% easier to call the Eldians devils. Now, those devils have no power or "threats" to keep others away. The tensions inside of Paradis must have been insane as well.

Even if the destruction of Paradis happened 80-100 years after the rumbling (I'm not sure of the actual time), I doubt with every fiber of my being that things were just "chill" after the rumbling.

So... no, I doubt he lived a peaceful life. A peaceful life where tensions are high with the remaining bits of humanity, the world, and many of its resources, culture, and history are destroyed, and he is unable to do anything about it.

As an American, I relate it to the experience of being a citizen. It genuinely feels like watching something go horribly wrong but you cannot do anything about it because you're too exhausted trying to keep yourself alive and well. But, this is a rant about post-war AOT so I'm not going to go into American politics/issues lol.

I shortened my thoughts a bit because I get way too into topics. I hope this doesn't come out jumbled and makes some sense. I definitely need to rewatch season 4 (I just keep stopping after three because it makes me sad lol).

I want Levi to live a peaceful and happy life, but, in my personal opinion, I do not believe he did or could. If he did, he definitely has the title of "Humanity's Strongest" for a reason.

[blackjackkent]

I accidentally clicked on Jaheira and discovered she has follow-up dialogue about the Minsc reveal! How did I never think to check this with Hector?

This is actually a delightful (and feelsy) little conversation.

"The Counting House. More bastion than bank, I'm afraid. Minsc must have a way in, but he's never had much use for coin beyond whatever sharp steel it could buy."

(Rakha reflects that this seems to be yet another similarity between this Minsc and herself.)

"There must be something in the vaults the great Chosen are after," Jaheira continues thoughtfully. "All the more reason to get there - swiftly."

Perhaps a slightly pointed comment given that Rakha just got sidetracked in order to blow up a building full of Absolutists.

"So you do believe he's working for the cult?" Rakha asks.

"I have no reason to doubt the guildmaster's information," Jaheira says ruefully. "Only her conclusions. The Stone Lord she describes sounds nothing like Minsc. As for the name, well..." She frowns. "A bad joke, perhaps."

She snorts, seeing Rakha's evident puzzlement. "The Time of Troubles ended almost a century and a half ago. I weathered the years between with all the elven grace you have no doubt come to expect. But do you know how Minsc, a human, passed those years? I'll give you a hint - they named him the 'Beloved Ranger.'"

There's an expectant pause while Rakha searches her rotted-out memory for any record of these words. But there is nothing - beyond, of course, the beast's low-level grumbling of disgust and rage at the mention of Minsc's name.

Jaheira quirks an eyebrow. "No? It was a statue, dedicated to one of the city's lost heroes - only it *was* that hero. Minsc, frozen in stone for a century. And freed, the story goes, in the city's hour of need."

Rakha makes a thoughtful noise, digesting this. Curiosity takes over, subsuming the rage-instinct for a moment. "How could he have been stuck that way for a century?" she asks.

Jaheira grins sardonically. "Because who would question a statue to our friend, thinking Minsc of Rashemen had returned to a hero's welcome *in* Rashemen?"

The smile fades rapidly, replaced by a troubled expression that is tinged with guilt. "I don't even know how he was freed. Harper work would take me from the city - sometimes for years at a time. The few occasions I visited his monument, well... I took it as a moment for reflection. To think of old friends, and the fight I had to continue in their name." She clicks her tongue, waving a hand in frustration. "And during all my self-serious brooding, that big, dumb, *insufferable* buffoon was staring me in the face!"

Rakha nods slowly, following the story. "And you stared right back," she says pensively, "without even realizing it was him."

Jaheira laughs again, too sharply. "I did. On occasion, I even found myself critiquing the stonework. 'Surely his head was not so large as this?'"

She sighs, rubs at the bridge of her nose, and shakes her head. "I am not a particularly good friend," she mutters. "But I am his friend. And I cannot let Nine-Fingers have him."

Rakha watches as she turns away, and feels a flash of puzzlement.

Jaheira has known this Minsc for many years. She has fought battles with him. She describes him as someone like Rakha - capable of berserk rage and mad charges, addled and strange - but nevertheless she traveled with him, and no doubt gave him the same guidance she gives Rakha. She now drops everything to find him, to save him.

What reason can she possibly have to call herself a poor friend? What more could there possibly be than this?

[villy-apolly]

After watching the most recent episode of TADC around a week ago, I've been mulling it over.

I don't think it's a bad show, it's well animated, the concepts/setting are interesting, and I like stories that take cute character design and use it to tell a story with horror elements. I'm working on a story like this myself! (...very slowly...)

But the pacing of TADC is really awkward in my opinion. Specifically, I notice characters tell a joke, or say something that's meant to get a laugh, and just a little too much silence passes afterwards. It's hard for me to explain, it's just awkward.

I'm not sure if it was intended, but the atmosphere feels incredibly empty and bland. There are ways to use this to their advantage, but at the moment it doesn't feel congruent with the vibe of the show. The style of horror/existential dread that they're trying to portray doesn't mix well with the emptiness of the atmosphere. I noticed this emptiness in the main area the characters hang out in, which is a mass of colorful blocks and striped tent walls, but there's little personality outside of that.

ALSO! THIS IS JUST A PET PEEVE: Jax is insufferable, even past the intended amount of insufferableness they put into him.

Now that I think about it, I kind of don't like how these characters bounce off one another. There's not much balance/harmony between them. They aren't fun to watch interact.

I also feel like they're using up the gimmicks of their story setting a little bit too fast. Clipping out of the world was cool in ep 2, but in 3 the therapy session with Caine and Zooble felt kind of in your face, trying to point out Caine's interesting character flaws WAYYY too early in the show, which makes these revelations feel weightless. I think hes an interesting character but now like, most of the interesting parts of him have been laid bare, and i dont rlly care abt him as much except for who made him. But I guess we'll see if that actually ends up working we'll with the overarching story.

This is also not rlly a critique because everyone's humor is different, so this is just an opinion, but I can't help feeling like the humor is outdated. It feels slightly past its time, like I can see the connection it has to more recent memes/jokes, but it's lagging behind. But that's whatever.

I feel like this show gets a ton of praise because it's a big project made by an indie studio, with an unorthodox mixture of art/animation style, premise, and genre. Its also popular, so that creates an echo chamber of praise, but I never see anyone point out stuff that might be detrimental to its storytelling. I think the dialogue/overall story pacing is the most standout part to me, but I want to know if there's anything else people have noticed?

I'm giving the show a hard time, I mean, it's only got three episodes! So guess Ill just have to hope my problems with it go away with time.