#which is not a problem I’m tired of my god complex

[inphierno]

Finished s1 of the sopranos and basically tony is going thru my twenties it’s like my life is flashing before my eyes minus the mafia shit

[dumpywrites]

Cat-astrophe - Min Yoongi / Suga

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem. 

Genre/tags: Fluff-ish, strangers to ???, minor mention of anxiety.

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

a/n: cus we're all soft for long haired Yoongi, right? hehe

It had been officially a month since you had moved to a new apartment place. You loved the new place honestly. It was cozy and the neighborhood looked nice. There were many convenience store nearby and the street was always still busy until late at night, making you feel a little bit of secure when coming home late.

While the place was nice it had one tiny downside. It was rather on the far side from your workplace. It took you an hour of bus ride just to get home from the office, so some days could be more tiring than others. And today was one of those tiring days. 

It was around nine at night on a Monday. Having to work overtime for the deadline and missed the bus, really dreaded you out. You were both tired and hungry, arriving home only to find that your pet cat was missing. It really just was not your day.

To say you were panicking would be a bit of an understatement. Cookie was barely a four month-old cat and had a very tiny body. All the negative possibilities start filling your head and you were horrified by all of them. Not to mention how it was basically forbidden to bring pets in the apartment complex. It was one of the policies but you couldn't help it since Cookie was a rescue.

When you arrived at your apartment lobby with a cat snack on your hand, there wasn’t that many people there. You walked past a guy by the front desk, who had medium-length black locks and fair skin, with headphones dangling on his neck. You began to call your pet’s name as soon as you were outside the lobby, but suddenly you felt a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Are you looking for a small black Bombay cat?” It was the same guy who just walked past you.

“Oh my god, I am! Have you seen him???” You said, your voice was a little bit shaky. 

“He’s in my place, I’m on the seventh.” 

“Oh, me too!”

“I know.”

“Oh.” You said, surprised at how stoic he sounded saying that, but didn’t further question him on it. “I’m so sorry for bothering you, can I go get him now?”

“Sure, I was just gonna go up as well.”

When you both entered the elevator, you made a mental note to ask his name or at least introduce yourself. He was a neighbor after all. It was pretty silent inside the lift and you just hoped he didn’t hear your stomach rumbling ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, bearing the hunger for a little while. 

When the elevator door opened you followed him from behind as he led you to his door. When he stopped at his front door, your eyes were widened in shock. 

“You live next to me?!” 

“Yeah.” He said casually and unlocked the door. "I've seen you multiple times."

You chose to not further question and followed him but stopped when you had only took two steps in, because technically, the homeowner had not really officially permit you to come in. The guy seemed to notice how you just stood awkwardly and looked back. 

“You can sit down for a sec, I’ll go get him.” 

“Oh, right… yeah. Thank you.” You said awkwardly and walked to sit on his couch. 

A few seconds later the man came back with your cat in his embrace. Cookie was clinging on his tshirt before he tugged him and gave him onto your lap. 

“Cookie!” You called, almost teary. 

“I think he jumped from your balcony to mine. Make sure to close your balcony door next time.”

“Thank you so much, I owe you… uh…”

“Yoongi.” 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You repeated and introduced yourself in return. “I’m Y/N, and if you ever need anything please let me now.” You said as you stood up, already making your way out. 

“Also, thank you for not reporting it…”

“No problem.” Was all the guy said and by this point you figured he was not much of a talker. 

You bid your goodbye to your neighbor, which only gained a small nod before he closed the door on you. You walked to your door and let Cookie down as soon as you got inside. Sighing deeply, you began to feel your stomach rumble again, this time it rumbled quite loudly. Your feet were aching from standing on the bus and now your body finally got on how tired you were. 

Cookie meowed and immediately went to his cat bed and laid down. You sighed and smiled at the small creature. 

“You little rascal… you’re lucky I love you.” 

You then went to your kitchen to cook yourself some instant ramen. 

The next day you went to work and had to take another overtime. Unfortunately you had to for the rest of the week until your current project was done. It was exhausting but you had to make it and mostly thinking about the bonus pay from it helped quite a bit. You spent the next few days the same, repeating the schedules, and the tiring work. 

It was almost ten at night that you arrived home and found out Cookie had gone missing again. For some reason your first instinct was to knock on your next door, in hope the neighbor who once helped you, could lend you a hand again, and hoping maybe Cookie just ran to his place again instead of being gone somewhere where it wasn't safe for him.

You knocked on the door and didn’t get immediate answer. You waited for what felt like five minutes, before the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of your neighbor with wet hair. He had a small white towel around his neck and the hoop earring that you saw him with before was absent. His skin looked glowing, you probably needed to ask about his skin care routine later.

“So sorry to interrupt you, I was wondering if Cookie might have gone to your place again?” 

“He’s right there on the couch.” He casually pointed. His expression was straight and had you wondering if he did not mind it, bothered, or simply didn’t care. 

You slowly walked to approach your cat and bent down to its level. “Cookie, you need to stop this…” You tapped the cat's nose, as if scolding the poor cat would do anything. 

“He jumped to my balcony again, did you forget to close the door?” 

“But I made sure to close it this morning…” You looked at your neighbor, who walked closer to inspect the cat. 

“I think he knows how to turn door knobs, since he’s quite a jumper. You need to lock the door.” 

“I can’t believe this little demon…” You sighed, fingers still stroking the purring cat. 

“He’s… alright.” 

You were slightly taken aback by the response and looked up to him, but much to your disappointment, his expression still looked the same. You were about to get up and excuse yourself, but you notice a small steel bowl under his dining table, half full with what you assumed to be cat milk (I mean, it would be weird if it was his, duh!). 

“You also have a cat?”

His eyes followed yours. “Oh, that. I got it the first time Cookie came here, I figured he must be thirsty since he came in around noon time.” 

“That’s… that’s very nice of you.” You looked at him and smiled. Somehow him addressing your cat by his name sounded lovely. 

“You can have the rest of the milk if you want, since you’ve figured out how he escaped and all…” 

“It’s okay, you can keep it! Just in case he ran into you again…” You chuckled but then stopped after realizing how that just sounded like you did not mind troubling him with your cat continuously. “I mean… I’m sorry, I’ll make sure he’ll never escape again.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll keep the milk for now.” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just in case.”

You looked at your neighbor and couldn’t help but to feel all warm inside. He seemed like a nice person and from the looks of it he also liked your cat. 

“Thank you so much, Yoongi. I’ll be taking this little guy here then...” You smiled at him and stood up with Cookie in your arms. 

“I got some dim sum…” 

You looked at the guy questioningly. 

“Do you maybe want some?” 

“That’d be too much, it’s okay, you go ahead and eat.” You politely declined. Although you were hungry, you could bring yourself to bother your neighbor any more than what you had done. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“Y-yeah?” You asked, afraid you heard it wrong. 

“Have you eaten?” He repeated. “If not, then I insist you take some.”

“I…” You wanted to lie, but at this point it would come off as rude if you refuse him again. “I actually haven’t. Thank you very much though, I feel so bad that you’re being this nice to me.”

“You can just eat them here.” 

“I don’t wanna disturb—“ You were awkwardly cut by the sound of your stomach rumbling. 

“You’re not disturbing me.” He cleared his throat and looked away. 

That was embarrassing. 

And that was how you ended up sitting down on your neighbor’s dining table, eating dim sums. 

In silence. 

This Yoongi guy really did not like conversation it seemed. He was sitting down on his couch and had turned the TV on. The volume was on but not quite loudly, and Cookie was on his lap, sleeping as he occasionally stroked the cat’s head softly. Funny that somehow you could see some resemblance of Yoongi with your cat.

“So… how long have you lived here?” You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his answer. You kind of regretted asking as soon as the words came out from your mouth, afraid it would be awkward. 

“Around ten months or so.” He paused. “No, I think it’s been almost a year cause I spent two months overseas.”

“Really? What were you doing overseas?” You regretted asking again. Looking at how quiet Yoongi was, you didn’t want to ask too much or indulge into too much conversation, afraid it would be too much for him. 

But much to your surprise, he answered. “I’m a producer. I was working for this artist and all the work had to be done in America.” 

“Wow, that sounds amazing!” You said. At this point you no longer were sitting facing the table, but to him. “Who was the artist?”

“Uh… Halsey.” He replied while looking at the TV screen, seemingly to avoid your stare.

“Oh my god???” You gasped. “That’s incredible! So you’re like crazy talented?!”

“I’m alright…” 

“You should show me some of your work someday!” You said enthusiastically. When Yoongi did not reply to it and stayed silent, you cursed yourself internally. “I mean compared to what I do that’s like really amazing.” You chuckled nervously. 

“I’m sure you’re great at what you do.” He looked at you, a small smile was on his lips. 

You realized it was the first time you saw him smile and it made your heart raced rather faster than usual. It was the first time you saw him with facial expression other than his usual poker face. 

“I’m just a normal product designer at a very normal company.” You shrugged. 

“Don’t downplay yourself like that. You work very hard.” 

“Thanks…” You replied shyly. 

After finishing your food, you got up and went to wash the dishes, which immediately got stopped by the homeowner. He politely told you to go back home and rest. Which again, you could not thank him more for. 

You took your pet in your arms and said your goodbyes to your neighbor. Right when you arrived back in your place you came to realize something. Yoongi did not eat with you and there was only one portion of the food. While it could just meant he had already eaten beforehand, you felt giddy, thinking about another possibility. Was this a crush you sense forming? Frankly speaking, you could not care less. You were welcoming the possibility with open arms.

— 

Friday finally came and you were ready to take it in. The days of working with your company project was going to an end, which meant you no longer need to work overtime after this. The thought of it put you in a very good mood. 

This time right after arriving home, you walked to a nearby chicken restaurant and grab some not only for you, but also for your neighbor. You wanted to repay his kindness the past few days. After changing into some comfortable clothes, not to mention the multiple times you had to re-check the outfit in the mirror for some reason, you took your cat in your left hand and the food in the other. You knocked on your neighbor’s door hoping he was home. 

And he was. You were greeted with his silence but he opened the door wider as soon as he saw your face without question. One thing that caught your eyes though was how he was dressed up like he was ready for a night out. He wasn’t in his usual sweatpants and baggy t-shirt, but instead in a ripped wide legged jeans and a light blue shirt, unbuttoned, with a plain white tee underneath. He looked handsome. And here you were, in your so-called comfy outfit that you were starting to regret.

“Before you ask, no, Cookie’s right here.” You smiled awkwardly as you raised the small cat in your hand for him to see. “I’m just here to drop by some chicken I got for you… as a thanks for your help these past few days.” You handed the plastic of food to him. “Alright, that’s all…”

He took the food from you hesitantly. “You don’t wanna come in?” 

“Aren’t you going out or something?”

“I was… but you are here.” He said, sounding unsure. 

“That’s ridiculous, why would I stop you from going out?”

“I was gonna go to your place…” 

Your mouth formed a small O shape, unable to form a word. He was going to your place? But what for??? The butterflies in your stomach were having a blast. 

“But you’re all dressed up…”

“I was gonna change back.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, which made you gulped at the sight. “I knew this was a bad idea I shouldn't have listened to Hoseok—”

You stopped his rambling. “What do you mean?”

“I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go eat together at that one Chicken restaurant nearby…”

“Oh.” You widened your eyes.

“Yeah.” He looked at you, biting his cheek in annoyance. 

“This is awkward.” You chuckled. 

“Whatever, just… just come in first.”

You saw Yoongi putting the plastic of food on his table. You offered help after putting down your cat on his couch and walked to his direction. Both of you plated the food in comfortable silence, it felt oddly domestic and you liked it. At this point you were used to him being not talkative and see it as his charm. 

After you took the plates to the living room, Yoongi suddenly came back with cans of beers and soju in his hands. 

“We’re drinking?” You said with an amused grin. 

“You can drink, right?” 

“Sure, but can you?” You playfully eyed him. 

“Don’t challenge me.” 

You could see how he was trying to hide his smile, and it brought colors to your cheeks. 

—

You did not know how you got in this situation. Five episodes in randomly rewatching Avatar The Last Airbender and you both were drunk. You were resting your head on his shoulder as you watch the screen. It seemed like the booze gave you confidence, or made you shameless, or both, but the guy didn’t complain so it could be a sign of a good thing. While you could see Yoongi holding his alcohol better than you, he was not completely sober either. 

It was at this very moment where you saw things through a pink tinted lense. Had Yoongi’s hair always looked that soft? Had he always looked this handsome? You began to question things you should not be questioning.

“Why didn’t you change your clothes?” You randomly asked. 

“Do I look bad?” He replied, eyes still on the screen, hands stroking the sleeping cat on his lap. 

"Of course not, I just feel severely underdressed now..." You chuckled.

He eyed you from top to bottom, which made you nervous, but he shrugged, seemingly to not have any problem with your clothes.

“You look… handsome.”

“You think I look handsome?” He suddenly moved to face you, making you move to look at him as well. The tone of his voice sounded like he was teasing more than asking a question.

You nodded and bit your lips. “And you kinda look like Cookie.” You giggled. 

He raised one of his eyebrows, clearly not satisfied with your answer. 

“Your eyes…” You began to ramble. “They look just like Cookie’s, and when you look annoyed, or just your plain expression… you look like a cute cat.” 

“Really…” Yoongi hummed. 

“Yup!” You giggled like an idiot. 

You failed to notice how at this point, Yoongi has put Cookie down from his lap to the floor. His face only inches away from you as you kept rambling. 

“Your hair look so soft… like a cat’s fur.” You reached your hands closer to his hair, but stopped mid-way, scared he’d get uncomfortable. 

Yoongi surprised you again by grabbing both of your wrist and putting your hands on his hair, letting you stroke his head slowly. You saw his expression softened and as you kept playing with his hair, he closed his eyes. You swore you heard him purr. 

“Pretty.” You said with a drunk smile. 

“Hmm. Pretty.” He mirrored. 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

—

To be frank, you could not recall what happened after. You recalled some bits of karakoe-ing? Singing random PSY songs in your broken Korean using a bottle of whiskey as your mic. That was probably all? You couldn’t think while the throbbing headache was present in the room with you.

So why were you now in a bed that was not yours, wearing a t-shirt that was too big for you and was clearly not yours, also for heaven’s sake, WHY IS YOONGI SLEEPING NEXT TO ME??? 

You froze. Did you??? There was no way. Sure you found him attractive and all, and you definitely had this huge crush on him, but you couldn’t just sleep with a guy you barely knew. Besides your headache, your body didn’t feel any pain, so that was probably a good sign. What if he was just that gentle? Okay, you need to stop thinking at once before you started a whole fiction about you and Yoongi in your head.

When you turned your back, you felt the other side of the bed shifted as well. 

“You’re up?” He asked with a raspy voice. 

“Yeah.” You said, still back-facing him. “We didn’t… you know…”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Oh, okay good.”

Yoongi did not answered to that, but instead you felt him scooting closer. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t probably how you’d wanna spend your weekend.” You chuckled. 

Your breath hitched when you felt a hand over your waist. “Is this okay?” He suddenly stopped when your body tensed at his touch. 

You nodded, heart beating too loudly for you to form any sentence. 

“This is nice.” He said, resting his forehead on your back. 

When you stayed silent, he took your hand and turned you over to face him. Heat immediately took over your body as soon as your eyes meet. You noticed he was back in his usual home attire, oversized tee and sweatpants. His hair was messy, but it seemed like universe had its favorite cause he still looked good. 

“You know, I haven’t had good sleep in… weeks.”

You were surprised by his sudden confession.

“It’s half past eleven now, and it’s not even ten minutes after I woke up…” He tittered. “My anxiety has been getting worse the past month and out of nowhere a black cat suddenly jumped to my balcony, meowing non-stop while I was working.”

You looked at him, letting him finish his talk. This was the most words you had ever heard coming out of Yoongi’s mouth and it made your heart flutter. 

“I haven’t been caring. I’ve stopped caring, for a while now. Seeing you care so much for such a small creature… I don’t know, it feels good. It makes me wanna care.”

“Yoongi…” You cooed, caressing his cheek. "It's not true, all you have been since I first met you until this moment, was caring."

"I'm sorry if it feels like it came out of nowhere but I feel at home with you and I don’t know why...” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yet, at least.”

“I… like this too. A lot actually.” You said shyly. 

“I would like to get to know you more if you’d like.” He was being honest and exactly to the point, no flirty bullshit to spice his sentences.

“I’d love that...” 

Suddenly you heard a low meow from under the bed and Cookie jumped into the bed, joining you two. Apparently his bedroom door was left opened and none of you noticed how Cookie had entered. You giggled and he smiled as well, the widest smile and the most genuine you had ever seen from him, as he took the cat and cuddled both of you close.

"I think it's about time you give me your number..." You squinted at him playfully. "You know, so we don't repeat the whole chicken restaurant accident again?"

“Okay, but promise me first you won’t apologize again after kissing me.” He chuckled. 

“EXCUSE ME WHAT???”

— 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi laughed. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

“I can be crazier if you open that whiskey.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

Yoongi just shook his head, smiling at your silliness. He stood up and went to grab his Hibiki anyway, which earned a shout of celebration from you. 

Things escalated quickly after opening the bottle. Somehow you were starting a drunk karaoke session which followed by many dance breaks. You ended up crying when a sad song randomly came up in the playlist and when Yoongi asked why, you replied. You replied with your lips on his.

In your head it just made sense. It was his lips’ fault for looking so juicy. Yeah, totally his fault for looking so hot that it was driving you insane.

None of you moved and it only lasted seconds before your mood turned sour again. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean…” You pushed him gently. “Oh my god, you’re so gonna hate me!!!”

“Hey, calm down…“ 

You started to panic, tears now forming in your eyes again. “Please don’t hate me, I just wanted to kiss you…” You cried. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough drinking—“

And you puked. 

Yes, Yoongi did see your lilac colored bra when he helped you change into his t-shirt. But that’s a secret between him and little Cookie. 

Thank you for reading! 💎

part 2 is here!

[kissitbttr]

exhale

summary: miguel’s trauma doesn’t stop you from loving him

a/n: fluff and bit of angsty? enjoy!

-

the first time you met miguel, you learned that he’s indeed a complicated man. haunted by a trauma that he can’t seem to let go nor move past from and you were okay with that.

you learn to live with his anger and grief that he has to carry everyday. he warned you beforehand that he is a complex being, how you won’t be able to take the amount of ‘burden’ he has weighing on his shoulders because it won’t be fair to you.

but your stubborn self refuses to go. your arms crossed, face forming an annoyed expression as he gave you a long speech about how he doesn’t deserve you. and he hates the fact you had an answer to everything. why were you so keen to loving him despite the flaws he has.

through that, you told him that you were willing to wait until he’s healed. no matter how long it takes.

from that moment, his soul burns for you. his love grows each day because you were indeed patient. luck had been in his favor ever since.

even that one night, where you watched him sit on his chair. watching clips of him and his late daughter ‘gabriella’ being replayed over and over. his expression soured each seconds with tears forming from the corner of his eyes.

who could blame him? grief is one hell of a feeling.

as you stand by the doorway, already in your nightgown getting ready for bed, you softly knock on the door.

“my love, are you coming to bed?”

hearing your soft voice speaks, miguel regains his composure. head craning towards you and you watch how his frown forms into a small smile,

you look like angel. how is it even possible?

“in a second, mi amor. just need to revise a few technical problems that keep happening back at the HQ, i’m sending the reports to Lyla right now” he confirms, eyes looking directly to you.

with a nod, you stride yourself closer to him. taking one good look of his state. and he looks exhausted.

“how are you, baby?” you sound concerned, kneeling down in front of him as you observe the details of his gorgeous features. “you look tired. what is it?”

as your knuckle reach out to thread lightly against his cheekbone, he sighs in contentment. eyes closing momentarily and feel your soft touch.

“nothing” he lies with a smile, grasping your wrist before giving it a kiss,

one thing you hate. you don’t like being lied to. especially by him.

“don’t lie to me, miggy” your tone sounds stern yet still soft. “what is it?”

he contemplates for a while, only finding himself get lost in your beautiful eyes. heart soaring at the sound of your concerns, which makes him feel like the only person he belongs to is you. and he loves the fact that his heart only beats for him and yours for his.

but, there are times where he wonders is it worth it? to drag you into his mess and makes you wait for him to finally break free from the grief that has kept him cages for a long period of time.

is he a good person to you? are you actually meant for him? he doesn’t want to let you go. you’ve become a part of his life and he sees a future with you,

“how could you always tell, cariño?” he breathes a small chuckle. he tends to feel amazed at how well you could read his mind

“you’re my person, miguel… of course i could always tell” you give him a smile, fingers softly running through his hair, earning a sigh from his mouth.

you watch how his eyes move down, gaze empty as he lightly shakes his head. a sob breaks from him and the way he hides himself from you makes your heart torn. because you know what has been occupying his mind,

‘dear god please let me heal him’ you think to yourself

“i just—I miss her— very much” his voice begins to crack, chest heaving as the tears now start to freely roll down his cheeks. “and fuck—lo siento mi amor—this is not…It’s been done too many times now and i—“

“hey no, stop” you hate how he has to say sorry for something he can’t control of. you move your body closer to him, palming his cheek. “you don’t have to apologize. never, miguel. do you hear me?”

“but it isn’t fair to you” he speaks, jumping his eyes back to yours. “it isn’t fair because—“

“what, because we’re married?” your eyebrows raised, seeing him nod with confirmation. “no. that is nonsense. you don’t have to put up this Mr.Tough guy with me. you get that? you can be vulnerable around me. I’m allowing you to be vulnerable around me.”

and it is true. you don’t find him crying is a sign of weakness nor is being tough is some sort of act like manliness. you want him to be comfortable around you because you love him.

“we made a vow to each other, remember?” your hands are cupping his face now, thumb grazing under his eyes. “ ‘through good shit and bad shit—

“ ‘i’ll pick you up when it gets too heavy’ “ he finishes the sentence before you do, remembering the vow you both took the night at your wedding.

his lips pulls into a smile. he remembers how the crowd erupted in laughter at your both silly antics, and how miguel had his hands around your waist and dipped you for a kiss before the revenant could even finish the ‘you may kiss the bride’ speech,

he couldn’t wait to make you his, that’s why he had to do it.

you let out a small laugh, nodding as you find the tears starting to build in the corner of your eyes as well. “that’s right baby.”

both of you gaze into each other’s eyes. millions thoughts of love comes into your minds and hearts, it feels like an eternity watching each other like this but none of you care.

it’s home.

“and i am telling you once again… that you get to exhale now. you get to breathe with me, and i will be there by your side and allow you to express you feelings and be whatever you want to be because you are my husband and i love you.”

he adores how you speak to him. a true poet that you are who manage to give him warmth and closure. things that he has been longing for and he had no idea he would be this lucky.

“i love you most, mi alma” he mirrors your expression before leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips,

lust, happiness, adoration… he’s pouring it all into that kiss.

for the longest time miguel had prayed for an angel, instead he received something better.

he received you.

and nothing could ever compare to that feeling.

-

a/n: fun fact that vow? it was one that my parents took at their wedding night hehe, I’ve consulted with my mom about that. anyways hope u guys love that😚🫶🏻

[boltdrake]

Ok about moral greyness in elden ring fandom

I feel like it’s mostly treated as either some kind of badass cosmetics for a GoodGuy (like “my blorbo is cool and good and kind but you know they kill people - bad people, so it’s not bad but it’s not also your Jesus guy which is normal bc who would give their second cheek”) or some kind of euphemism used by bad/problematic/pseudo intellectual people to erase morality

I’m bad problematic pseudo intellectual person so take my opinion with grain of salt, but I think it’s a great misunderstanding or what a morally grey character is in ER especially

It’s usually based on the that understanding of goodness that to be good you just need to do good things and don’t do bad things (which is of course extremely vague and not defined but anyways). It’s seems pretty straightforward and because of that brings a lot of confusion

It’s quite easy for a character to be GoodGood (even with murders but I digress), you can see it in many fix-it fanworks where often every trouble finds its own, well, fixing, and there’s always a way to set things right, maybe just with some sad deaths along the way, but characters often will find this correct way because in these universes there’s always at least one

(It’s not a rant on fanfiction I like it and I like fix-its very VERY much)

And when same logic is applied to the game itself, often arises treatment of characters as GoodGood, MisleadedGood and BadBad ones

But in the stories we see in Elden Ring context is usually such that when a character wants to get something, even something good, like for example make people live forever or cure their own sister, there’s sometimes no way of resolving their trouble without facing some kind of moral choice, even if you’re a literal half-god. You either get what you want with a price, or don’t get it… also with a price. Because fromsoftware stories are build on conflict, tragedy and irony

That’s what makes character grey, the fact there’s no third option or that you don’t have third option just because world is that way and you’re unlucky. And not choosing to get what you want can be as bad as choosing opposite. And that’s what usually makes situation complex and twisted and inherently grey

I don’t want to say that like every person in fandom should treat all the characters as mostly good ones without making some way less sympathetic than others. Making characters twisted and horrible is fun! I’m just tired of the way how people 1) don’t realise there’s often HUGE room for interpretation and make it problem of others 2) hate characters with such a passion as they were real humans who live in your neighbourhood on planet earth 2024 3) sanitise characters into strictly Good and Bad ones etc etc etc

My whole vent on Miquella’s hatebase is in fact divided into two parts, one being me thinking many people just lack understanding of the DLC/base game ideas and plot, but that’s ok we all have different opinions (I’m just the only one who is correct. LIVE WITH THAT.), and second being that vague ??rudeness?? and hatred which accompanies division on Morally Good and Morally Bad, because there’s this subtle idea like. Oh if you like Godrick/Rykard/Post-DLC Miquella / Seluvis then you’re moral pervert/ lover of Dark. Which is rarely true and really annoys me

I also have no trouble with GoodGood characters being GoodGood because, well. it’s comforting and cozy stuff. But often it turns into token of moral superiority, like look I love GoodGood guy because I’m good too and also not stupid. This is also annoying and I wish we had less of this in fandom.

It’s often also a lie to oneself, because even if we approach elden ring from I Can Simp Only Morally Pure ones (which is very boring and butchers the whole thing in my opinion) then we would probably be left with only Boc, Hewg and maybe Roderika. What do you mean you want to simp LITERAL murderers?? What do you mean you want to simp those assholes demigods who think that people are just dolls for their games, who turned the land into land of the dead because they just couldn’t stop war after war after war to decide who will make new order? What do you mean you want to simp the demigod who quit the war to do literally nothing to stop it???? CRINGE

Also GoodGood character headcanon making without self-awareness often results in very weird moral twists of its own, because in this logic character is allowed to make only GoodGood decisions, therefore all the stuff character made in canon MUST be good and morally justified. This leads to something like Marika fans writing essays on the topic You Can In Fact Deserve Genocide

Enough for today have a good day fellow dlc lovers 💪

Upd posted this on main by accident got jumpscared it’s so hard to copy past on mobile for some reason. No edgy on main I promised!!

[oswildin]

Not Just A Passenger (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Summary: You and The Mandalorian have a complex relationship. He got under your skin, and you felt he didn’t trust you. However, slowly you begin to realise and understand it wasn’t that at all… It was quite the opposite.

Warnings: Violence/Injury, Confessions, Fluff, Angst, Takes place around season one

A/N: My first Mandalorian fic! It’s a bit rough round the edges, I just wanted to write something fluffy and cliche lol. Enjoy!

You had a love/hate relationship with The Mandalorian. You loved how he cared for the kid and how he was protective of him. You loved how his humour was dry and sarcastic. You loved his general broody personality. However, you hated that he seemingly didn’t trust you completely. You hated how he treated you like a passenger, not an equal. You hated how he would order you around and not listen to what you had to say. Sure, it was his ship, his mission… But you were apart of it. You were there to help.

The two of you often butted heads, causing arguments and dramatics which often made the kid watch you both with sad eyes. You never meant to upset the kid, but sometimes Mando just… He got under your skin. Peli witnessed one of your many arguments once whilst she was doing some maintenance on the Crest.

“I’m here too you know!” You exclaimed, looking up at Mando’s helmet. “I can help! Why won’t you let me?”

“It’s dangerous.” Mando simply stated, his voice still calm but with a hint of irritation.

“Duh!” You shook your head. “Do you think I think this is all for fun?” You gestured around you in a dramatic fashion, seeing Peli holding the kid off to the side who was making disgruntled little gurgles. “What are you so worried about? Have I not proven myself?” Mando went silent, letting out a sigh as he hung his head for a second.

“Can we do this later?” He dismissed himself, walking off as he gave a glance at Peli, before walking away.

“Ugh.” You grumbled, refraining from kicking a nearby scrap of metal in frustration. Peli glanced down at the kid before walking towards you.

“Yikes.” She raised her brows. “Trouble in paradise?” You scoffed, turning to look at her. “Don’t think this little one enjoys seeing Mummy and Daddy fight.” She bounced him up and down as you frowned, shaking your head quickly.

“No. We’re not-“ You almost laughed. “I’m not exactly mother material.” You landed on, as the kids ears lowered slightly, causing your heart to ache. “Look kid, nothing against you, it’s just-“ You paused. “God, he is so annoying.” You went back to Mando, shaking your head. Peli smirked.

“Seems like he really gets under your skin.”

“Yes! That’s exactly it.” You let out a breath. “He doesn’t trust me. And it’s obvious.” You slumped down, sitting on a nearby crate. Peli joined you, with the kid still watching intently.

“I don’t think our friend trusts many people.” She offered. “But, do you really think that’s the problem here?” You frowned, giving her a confused stare.

“Well, what else would it be?”

“Maybe…” She paused. “Maybe he’s just protective of you.” You took in her words, before raising a brow.

“Protective of me?” You almost scoffed. “The kid? Sure. Anyone can see that. But me?” You shook your head. “He treats me like I’m… I’m his subordinate. I want to be his equal.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

“Not outright.” You lowered your voice. The kid reached out for you, causing you to take him from Peli’s grip, as you held him on your lap, looking down as he stared up at you. “Besides, once this little one gets to where he needs to be, I don’t think there will be much reason for me to stay.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Mando returned after an hour or so, thanking and paying Peli for the work as he silently entered the ship, leaving you and the kid to follow. Great. He was still sulking. Sighing to yourself, you followed, going to put the kid down to rest as he was clearly getting tired. Once you’d put him down, you reluctantly headed to the front of the ship, joining Mando as he sat in the pilots seat, getting the ship ready for take off.

“So, are we going to talk about earlier or?” You asked, arms folded over your chest as you stood leant against the doorway. Mando stayed silent for a second, before speaking.

“There isn’t anything to talk about.”

“Yes there is.” You took a step towards him, wanting him to turn to face you. “I’m tired of being treated like… Well, like the kid.” You pursed your lips. “I’m not helpless, I can defend myself, I can help you, so use me.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Except, that’s exactly what ended up happening.

You were ambushed. Thankfully the kid was safe, hiding away in the Crest, but as soon as you both stepped off the ship, bounty hunters had you surrounded. Mando quickly sprung into action, firing at the hunters and using hand on hand combat to fight them off. You grabbed your own blaster, shooting at anyone who came near you. Looking up from your position, you looked over to see a Hunter coming up behind Mando whilst he was distracted by two other hunters. Your eyes widened, as the hunter behind Mando raised his dagger. Before you could react quick enough, the dagger caught Mando’s un-armoured neck, creating a slash. You blasted the hunter before approaching, stepping over the dead bodies before you as you shot the other two he had been fighting. Rage and fear consumed you. He was still standing, but you could see he was running on adrenaline. Satisfied you were safe, well as safe as you could be, you approached him.

“Mando…” You looked at him wearily, as he turned. You could hear his ragged breaths through his helmet. “Get inside.” You ordered him, to which he hesitated. “Mando!” You exclaimed, getting him moving. You could see his body becoming weaker in front of you, as you ushered him inside the ship once again, closing the door behind you.

“I’m… Fine.” He tried to wave you off, to which you ignored, immediately grabbing a med kit. As you turned, you watched as he stumbled into the wall, slowly falling down as he sat, leant against the cold metal of the ship. You rushed to him, gently tilting his head to see blood staining his under garments material. Unhooking his cape from around his neck and shoulders, you gently rolled down the neck of his shirt to reveal the wound. Whilst the wound was bleeding a lot, it didn’t seem to have got any main arteries.

“Maker-“ You breathed out, quickly opening the med kit. You grabbed some cloths as you pressed on the wound, muttering an apology as he hissed at the contact. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but it’s pretty nasty.” You told him softly.

“It’s fine.” He huffed out, trying to move, which led to you pushing him back.

“Mando, please… Let me do this.” You almost pleaded, your eyes trying to find his own behind the helmet. He hesitated before giving in, staying out. “It needs tending to.” You told him quietly. Grabbing the bacta bandage, gently placing it over the wound, smoothing it down as Mando let out a breath. “How do you feel?” You asked.

“Fine.” He tried as you stared at him in a stern manner. “No fever, just a bit worse for wear.” He landed on.

“Good.” You sighed, leaning back. “You lost a bit of blood, so you’ll probably need to rest. Whether you’ll listen to me or not…” You peered down, tidying up the med kit. You could feel his stare on you.

“Thank you.” He told you softly. You didn’t say anything as you moved to put away the kit. Mando took a second before slowly getting up, still leaning on the wall for support. You grabbed a nearby cloth as you wiped your hands, seeing specks of dried blood on your fingers. That was too close. He could’ve died. He was lucky the hunter had shit aim. Even with a dagger and such close proximity. What would you have done? If anything happened…

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

Mando’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You turned to him, furrowing your brows.

“Or that I don’t think you’re capable.” He continued, sighing.

“Then why?” You stepped towards him. “What is it that makes you treat me the way you do?” A moment passed.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” He admitted, causing your heart to stop for a second. You stared at him with slightly widened eyes, your mouth slightly open. “You and the kid…” He paused. “You’re my responsibility.” Your features softened at his words, as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Mando-“

“Din.” He said. “My name is Din.” You couldn’t help the small smile that graced your lips.

“Din…” You let his name roll off your tongue. “You’re my responsibility too.” You said gently. “I worry about you. I want to help. As I keep saying…” You let out a breath. “You don’t need to feel like you’re the only one who has to look out for us all.”

“But it’s my job.” At his words you walked to him. He watched you closely. You pursed your lips before biting the bullet, deciding to wrap your arms around his armour, holding him in a hug. He tended for a second, clearly not used to the affection. However, after his tense stature dissolved, he relaxed, putting a loose arm around your back, accepting the comfort you were offering.

“No.”

Din tapped the kids hand gently, waving him away from your bowl of soup. For such a small thing, he didn’t half eat a lot. Laughing, you moved your soup slightly away from the kid.

“You can have the meat.” You told him as Din tilted his head at you as if to say ‘you’re too soft on him’. Picking out some of the meat from your bowl, you placed it in the kids hands as he gurgled happily before scoffing it down. Shaking your head at his antics, you took your own spoonful of soup to your mouth.

“We’ll set off soon.” Din told you, eyes behind the helmet roaming the room. You could see he was on high alert. His shoulders were tense, his hand resting on his blaster. “Can’t risk staying here too long.”

“Do you ever just… relax?” You asked, placing another piece of meat in the kids hands. Din turned to look at you.

“When I’m not a target, yes.” He breathed out, causing you to raise a brow.

“Hmmm…” You hummed in disbelief. “Why don’t I believe you?” He ignored your question. “Your vibe doesn’t quite give off ‘I’m capable of relaxing’.”

“My vibe?” He frowned behind his helmet.

“Yeah… You know… Your energy.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda uptight.” A hint of teasing was in your tone, causing him to shake his head at you. Before he could reply, commotion erupted outside, causing you to quickly grab the kid, and draw him to you. Din instantly got to his feet, hearing shouting.

“Out the back.” He ordered, as you did what he said, knowing the priority was getting the kid safe. He ushered you through the bar, a gentle hand on your back as he kept looking over his shoulder, seeing figures beginning to enter. “I counted three.” He told you as you finally made it outside behind the bar, standing in an alley. “Go, take the kid to the ship.” He turned back to you. “Go round the outskirts.” You paused, looking at him for a second, ready to argue, but he quickly jumped in. “I’ll be fine.” Sighing, you did as he said, pulling out your blaster as you quietly shifted through the alley, checking around you.

Thankfully, you’d made it out of the city without seeing anyone. Relief filled you as you spotted the Crest a few metres away. Peering down at the big dark eyes of the kid, he made a little sound as you reassured him Din would be ok. Running towards the Crest, you held the kid tightly. However, as you finally got close to the ship, a figure appeared from round the side of it, a blaster sound causing you to look round. Gasping, you aimed your blaster up at him, shooting him in the chest as he fell to the ground. Opening the door to the Crest, you quickly made your way inside, ensuring the kid was safe as you placed him in his mobile cot. Looking down at him, you furrowed your brows as you saw his ears lowered, and his eyes looking worried. His gaze fell, head tilting as your own gaze followed his, looking down to see blood seeping through your shirt.

Suddenly, it was like it hit you all at once. The pain hit you. What happened hit you. The damn Hunter had got you with his shot. Pressing your hand to your side, you swore under your breath, gritting your teeth.

“I’m fine.” You told the kid, letting out a breath as you moved to grab the med kit. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly, causing you to fall forwards, catching yourself before face planting the metal floor. Rolling to your back, you could feel your skin begin to sweat.

Din made his way into the ship, frowning as he saw the kid in his cot, looking concerned. His head finally snapped over to your direction, seeing you playing on the floor, unconscious. His heart stopped in his chest as he feet immediately took him to your form.

“(Y/N)…” He called out to you, kneeling beside you as he spotted the blood on your side. He looked over your face, seeing your skin looking more dull than usual, and beads of sweat on your forehead. Grabbing the med kit that was beside you on the floor, he hurried to open it. He didn’t hesitate as he gently lifted your shirt just above your wound, seeing a clear blaster shot. He felt rage and fear consume him. “You’re gonna be ok.” He was telling himself more than your unconscious self.

Gasping out a breath, you felt a shot of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You reached out, grabbing onto the nearest thing… Din. He was knelt beside you, fear consuming his features as he looked down at you.

Wait…

“Din…” You let out a breath, throat dry. He furrowed his brows, gently reaching for your hand as he took it in his own.

“You’re ok.” He said softly, eyes searching your own.

His eyes.

Not a helmet.

“Din- Your… Your helmet.” You uttered out in shock, turning your gaze away quickly as you processed what was happening.

Din had removed his helmet. You saw his face. You had seen his eyes. His features…

“It’s ok.” He reassured you. “I-I removed it.” He clarified, causing you to frown.

���Why?” You still didn’t look, out of respect.

“You’re hurt.” He squeezed your hand. “I thought-“ He cleared his throat, lowering his head for a moment.

“Damn Hunter… Came out of nowhere.” You grunted. “I should’ve checked-“

“Don’t do that.” He almost scolded. “Don’t- Just, focus on healing. Don’t think about it. The kids fine.” He paused. “You can look you know.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, slowly turning your gaze back to his own.

He was… Handsome. To say the least.

“But your creed…” You whispered.

“I thought I’d lost you.” He admitted, causing your heart to skip a beat. “That’s more important to me.”

“So…” You let out a breath. “I’m not just a passenger?” You raised a brow, causing him to shake his head, tightening his grip on your hand.

“Not just a passenger.”

It was safe to say, it was no longer and love/hate feeling you had towards Din.

[soft-persephone]

Not a Accident

Nick Miller x Black!Female!Reader

WC: 2.2k // Mature: MDNI // Warning: Smut, Light cockwarming, // Slight angst, sad relationship talks // a lil cringy dialog (but we move!) // masterlist

I wrote this with black women in mind, but everyone is welcome to read it!!!

AN: And remember what Amine’ said IN CAROLINE for his tiny desk concert! Look it up if you don’t know what I’m talking about! You’ll love it! ☺️

And no, I didn’t focus on my new girl fic because Doug Renetti broke my heart in Minx….

Nick walked in the door and sighed

He was beyond tired.

He worked three back to back shifts and all he wanted to do was get back to you before—

“In what world do you get a girl like that?”

“I’m not doing this today, Schmidt.” Nick wants to scream. He wants to yell, or at least do something loudly in some frustrated manner. . But he was too tired.

So he’ll have to settle on just showing his displeasure with his face.

“I worked too hard for too long. I just want to have one simple moment with my girlfriend before she has to leave for the day with her friends.”

“That!” Schmidt dramatically pointed, “is precisely the problem Nick. You just go around working and doing whatever else, when you should be with her.

Schmidt’s voice shifted and his eyes got watery in a way Nick did not feel comfortable with.

“I’m just so proud of you man. You’ve been taking moderately good care of yourself and putting your best foot forward and somehow she’s still here . . . But also, YOU DONT DESERVE HER!”

Nick frowned and pushed past Schmidt to get to his room.

“Have a nice day at work.” He grumbled.

Asshole.

Opening the door of his room, he smiled.

Every ounce of frustration and anger he had rumbling around in him no longer mattered.

You were face down in his bed, sheets crumpled in various directions, half covering your body. You had one hand dangling over the edge while one was tucked underneath the pillow you had your face buried in. A cute purple bonnet covered your hair while you only wore one of his shirts.

He grabbed a few things and cleaned him self up before climbing in alongside you.

He gently grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into his chest so you could both lay side by side. You sleeply cried out but adjusted into the position easily, letting him move you every which way until you were both comfortable against each other.

God, did he really love you.

He inwardly sighed in relief when you didn’t wake up.

He wanted, no he needed, this moment with you.

All he thought about was you being here when he got back from work. How he wanted to hold you tight and bask in your presence, your touch, and your smell, just before you were ripped apart again, and he’d have to wait hours upon hours again before you could both spend some quality time together.

He was being a little dramatic, and he kind of hated it. . . . But maybe he has a right to be. You live on the other side of the country! He has to wait for you to come to LA before you can both act like the distance doesn’t bother either of you!

Truth be told it was killing him.

But you don’t talk about it. He doesn’t talk about it. It was an unspoken rule he was sure you both appreciated.

However, whenever you were together, he forgets about all the problems between you two, and he thinks for you it’s quite the same. Being together was just so, easy.

He moved his face to settle on to yours so you were both cheek to cheek. Your perfume radiated off of you in waves. You always smelled of something sweet.

It was sweet but complex and sophisticated and amazing and beautiful. It smelled like you.

You were always so pretty, but when you were sleeping it was something special.

He didn’t have to worry about what other people might think in moments like these or how he looked so stupid or how stupid his thoughts were.

It was only you and him, and that was all that mattered.

But he was also a man.

A very simple one at that.

And he had a very long and tired shift at work. He had done his job with you on his mind during every hour that crawled by, and now you were in front of him.

Every dip and curve of your body was pressed against him, he could run his hand along your soft skin, caress the very warm brown thighs that held the power of his image destruction.

He couldn’t help the furling desire that grew inside of him. The thought of you leaving at some point made him even more desperate.

He looked at the clock and watched as 7:00am crawled closer and closer.

He needed to do something now before you were gone.

You asked him to wake you up at that time, so you’d be able to get ready for an early brunch with your friends. You all flew in together and split a hotel room, but here you were now, in his bed.

There was something about the way you looked in your sleep.

Cuddled on your side, covers pulled up over your nose and the pillows fanned around your face, protecting you against everything in the day had in store for you. Your eyelashes soft and feathery didn’t move an inch as you slept. The sun was starting to cast a warm new throughout the room, dawning you in a dazzling glow.

Nick’s chest swelled with emotion.

Fuck!

He wanted to be close to you. He wanted to spend the rest of the day with you. It’s not like you were here everyday. You fly halfway across the country when you can just to be here, and he can’t help but to accept whatever time you spare to be with him. Hell if this trip wasn’t so sudden he might have taken off work just to be with you.

You just smelled so good.

No matter what type of scent you wore, it was always a sweet one. But your favorite, which was also becoming his favorite, was vanilla. It somehow wedged its way into everything you wore. If was flowery or sexy or spicy or whatever the fuck it was, vanilla was always there.

“Mmh.” Nicks face was pressed against yours. His body was now covering yours too. His knees folded under yours, legs interlocking together, his arms holding you as if you were an oversized teddy bear.

“You smell good.”

“You too.” You hummed back. “…..hate it.”

Nick’s chuckle vibrated in his chest, tickling at your back. “Why? If anything I thought you’d appreciate me taking a shower before I get into bed.”

“Like it better when you smell like cheep beer and whiskey.”

Nick laughed again, his breath tickled your ear.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He moved your leg over his, not even saying anything slick or suggestive or smooth. Just a sudden movement, no start of sweet nothings or jokes or conversation of any kind.

He grinded his hips against yours in a slow stroke.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan. You were still a bit sleepy, but that didn’t stop the throb between your legs.

“Later.” You softly moaned into the pillow. “I gotta get ready.”

“No,” he moved your sleep shorts to the side and sucked at your throat in the way you liked, “now.” He gruffly pouted.

He pulled his sweatpants down and groaned as his cock bobbed out of his sweats. The head already leaking.

Fuck. You brought your hand to your mouth and bit your finger hard.

Nick was always thick, but fuck was he stretching you out. Barely past his head was inside of you but it was already too much.

“No one in New York been fuckin’ you.”

“Mhmm.” You slurred. “Just you…only here.”

“That’s a long time with no dick.”

“S’allright before ah metyou , i'll b’ sallright after.” You horsesed softly. Your voice was still raspy with sleep, but breathy from the way he was slowly stretching you out. Inch by excruciatingly pleasant inch

When Nick was all the way inside of you he craned his neck past your face to give you a kiss. It was firm, but littered with a sleepy edge. As all consuming and desperate as one could manage in such a state. He eventually brought his hand up your chest. Dragging his knuckles from under your shirt to your neck, grabbing firm but softly at your neck to keep you in place.

Your chest burned.

You grew equally desperate for a breath of air as you were for his mouth to stay on yours. From the way he was taking your breath away, to the way he felt so full inside of you, it was too much.

You moaned in his mouth.

Nick wanted to tease you, but fuck… he could only take so much. The feeling of you moaning in his mouth made him twitch inside of you, and you responded with a gush.

You were so warm and wet, and he felt so comfortable.

He didn’t want to move.

“Nick I need to go.” You whined after he finally broke the kiss.

He ignored you, mouthing at your neck, biting down as hard as he could on your collar before nipping at your jaw.

“No.” He mumbled into your skin.

“Niiiick.”

-

“You fucked him.”

“Leave me alone.” You deadpanned.

“Your really did fuck him,” Natalie squealed!”

“Yayyy! You fucked him!” Reesha clapped and giggled.

“You two play, too fucking much.” You muttered. But you still held a smile on your face.

“So what’s the plan on this whole, long distance thing?”

“How come your always flying to him and he never flys to see you?”

“Is he really that broke?”

“Oh my god girl! You ain’t tell me you were fucking a broke nigga!”

“Will you two quit it out already!” You rolled your eyes. Besides, you added with a pout, “I thought we were doing a fun brunch thing!”

“Your fun brunch privileges get revoked when you have them in the same city as the guy you're willing to fly out to for sex.” Natalie gave you a pointed look.

Natalie was your Best friend throughout undergrad, and Reesha was a friend through her husband which you worked with at a Law Firm.

“Well, better him than my husband. You two were getting a little too chummy.”

“Reesha, you know good and well nobody wants your man! They’ve been friends since law school! That’s old news!”

“By the way, Xavier misses you.” Caresia raised an eyebrow at you before taking a sip of her mimosa.

“We’ve all been missing you.” Natalie added.

“I know I know.”

We’re you really spending that much time in LA?

“I want to say I’ve been trying to make it work?”

Your friends sighed over exaggeratedly.

“Girl, you mean you’ve been hopping on all these flights without thinking about it?”

“Oh you must love this guy for real for real…”

“I don’t really like the way you said that, Reesha.” You scoffed half jokingly.

“You shouldnt! We came here not only to have a good time, but to have a real talk with you.”

“Does this guy have a real job?” If you two are serious enough to be long-distance this long, it’s time you start thinking about the facts.”

“He’s a bartender.” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek to keep a neutral expression.

“Like a regular one or one that’s actually making some money.”

“She ain’t tell you?” Reesha scoffed before chuckling and sipping her mimosa.

“Tell me what?” Natalie turned to look at you.

You didn’t respond, opting to look into your glass and take a long sip through the little straw.

Nick’s made you a better one. And annoyingly won’t tell you how he made it, so you'll suffer through mediocre mimosa’s for the rest of your life if he’s not there.

“Don’t you make that face. What were you supposed to tell me.”

“He has three roommates.”

“Three?!?”

“Told you!”

“Is the dick really that good?” Natalie shook her head and sighed.

“Look, I’m a big girl and I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want another guy like Derik.”

“But Derik might have been an asshole, but at least he was on your level? If you kept setting him straight and puting him in his place each time he stepped out of line, you could have trained yourself up the perfect man! He can actually provide you the life you want. You two could have built a future together!” Reesha pleaded.

“Derik is a grown ass man!” You huffed, “I’m not tryna be a second mother to some nigga! I want to be happy, and Nick makes me happy!” You sighed, but gave them a real look, doing your best to make sure your friends could at least see how you felt if your words weren’t enough.

“I don’t know how or if this is going to end, but I know that right now this is what I want. This is it for me.”

“If you say so,” Natalie relented.

“We just want you to know we’re here for you no matter how this turns out.” Reesha added.

“I know,” you sighed, “I know.”

[mariailoveyou-guerin]

People still making Mariana out to be the devil is so funny to me because they love white woman who do worse let’s say Georgia from G&G the same people who love her and think she’s badass amazing mother for doing everything children also love and watch Bridgerton but are call marina most vile cruel things all bc she too wanted to do what was best for her and her child everyone and their mothers how much I love and will die for Penelope but even she’s done unspeakable things to Colin Eloise and his family but they still ship her with him but Marian tries to trap him and she’s the demon span or the devil himself it’s so hilarious to me because it’s not them looking out or caring about Colin it’s them being flat out racist and they act like we don’t see it and pretending to hide their hatred for marina by saying she’s not a good person like ma’am neither is pen when she’s writting most cruel things about the guy she loves and his family and Mariana just say y’all racist and hate Mariana bc of misogynior and go stop hiding behind wanting best for Colin cuz my perfect baby still wanted to marry her and liked her even when pen told him about Mariana plans he understood her and acted like the perfect gentleman he is so don’t even pretend to be doing all that hatred and cruelty and name calling in Colin honour bc he would spit on your face if he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman!

It’s not shocking that a yt show has so many old hag yt woman hating on the one and only black character in a world they think black people don’t belong or shouldn’t be in because it’s not historic accuracy or whatever or don’t think black people don’t exist I haven’t seen polin stans hate Kate but I think they would’ve if she was somehow in the way or was an interesting enough character that was getting attention just because it’s taking away from their self insert yt girl they identify with (bc men probably never looked at them and they feel like Penelope book version at least with how she looks down on herself in comparison to other girls and the men thank god tv pen is amazing badass queen who has her own flaws but bigger better complexities) being centre of the story thankfully was so bland and boring she couldn’t take attention away from anything or anyone which is shame for an actress like Simone!

I don’t even know or like marina or if her name even is marinina because I’ve only seen s2 and I’m pen polin Edwina and Benedict person do not care about anyone else but them and ofc the queen the OG queen ofc! I just think it’s tired seeing so many polin editors making marina out to be devil all bc she lied like my best beautiful hiro Penelope ain’t been lying to her men and bestie for years the hypocrisy the double standards and the obvious racism and misogynior of it all makes me sick to my stomach y’all don’t like her and you are getting your polin season and she ain’t even there nor has she been a problem so why y’all still on her ass it’s weird and it’s showing y’all loser insecurities over a character that’s no longer there who was never ever a thread because show keeps sticking to the books ending so let the girl go and leave in leave and stop this very obvious racism as pen fan y’all make me sick!!

What gets me the most is they like Anthony of all men Anthony the most horrible vile character on that whole show but wanna speak on marina please it’s plain and simple racism anti black and misogynior the end stop lying to yourself making excuses shes mean cruel nah it’s not that it’s bc she’s black and dared to get with ur yt boy fav Colin and tried taking something y’all think belongs to ur yt girl self insert fav Penelope simple af!

[queensqewed0722]

Till The End of The Moon

Currently watching this CDrama starring Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu and I must say I have found my latest crack drama.

I don’t really know what makes this different from other CDrama/wuxias I’ve attempted to watch in the past. All I know is that I’ve been watching at least 3 episodes everyday since I started it.

Briefly, Luo Yunxi is the Devil God who intends to destroy all immortals in all the three realms (which I would presume refers to the immortals, the demons and the mortal humans) and four continents and become the most powerful being in the universe. The immortal sects try to stop him but are unable to. Their last hope is to send Li SuSu (played by Bai Lu), the daughter of one of the sect leaders, 500 years back in time to confront the Devil God when he was just a mortal prince named Tantai Jin, whose “demon bone” (at least that’s what they call it) has not yet awakened, and stop him from turning evil.

Yet it turns out to be more complex than that, as Li SuSu finds herself confronting the Devil God across time and space, in all their different incarnations. Only by going through their previous lives and encounters can she understand and find the way to defeat him.

The drama’s plot is as complex and convoluted as CDramas go, and there are so many minor characters that pop out seemingly without any purpose, only for you to find their characters reappear within another sub-arc, which eventually ties them to the main arc. It’s a bit of a challenge to keep up with all of them. And then there are those illogical or contradictory scenes and plot devices that make you scratch your head and ask yourself how that would work out. A good example would be those instances that Li SuSu, in her mortal guise as Ye Xiwu, is able to summon the power of the Chongyu Harp that she wielded as an immortal, when she clearly stated early on after she went back in time that she can’t use its power as a mortal woman. And then there are many times that, as Ye Xiwu, she travels on foot alone for long distances and she doesn’t seem to get tired at all, even though she has no provisions. There was that scene too when she was trying to treat the poison that Tantai Jin had been shot with in his eye. They were running from his brother’s soldiers and hiding in the forest, with only the clothes they’re wearing. Tantai Jin passes out and Ye Xiwu decides to treat him with some herbs. When he regains consciousness, he sees Ye Xiwu pounding on herb leaves using a mortar and pestle which, for the life of me, I don’t know how she managed to obtain in the middle of a forest. And don’t get me started on how she forced a female demon named Pianran to lead her to the Barren Abyss and how she managed to travel great distances with a demon to get there, and then going down into it as a mortal without getting killed.

Dramas like these require a lot of patience and suspended disbelief. One has to go into it expecting to just sit back and enjoy, and not to apply critical thinking. It’s not a mathematical problem to be solved anyway.

In any case, I’m enjoying it so far and look forward to each episode. I’ve become very curious as to why Tantai Jin had the demon bone when he was born and the ultimate reason why he and Li SuSu seem destined to meet in all their different lifetimes. I also love the lavish costumes and the intricate details that go into each attire.

Bai Lu is so beautiful dressed in her flowing diaphanous silks, with all those hair ornaments on top of her head, and her dark hair made to look really long and falling down past her waist. (To be honest, I didn’t quite find her pretty when I first saw her in ep 1. I even thought she looked a bit mature, but as the drama progressed she became very beautiful in my eyes.) She has an impish and childlike quality about her, yet you can sense her earnestness and grim determination as Li SuSu.

Luo Yunxi seems a tad thin, which makes his face look long and his cheeks hollow. But this was probably required of the role, since the Devil God is supposed to have a cold, cunning and ruthless look to him. And as the mortal prince Tantai Jin, he was supposed to look undernourished and unhealthy and suspicious, as he was a hostage of the Crown and treated little better than a slave. But his eyes are compelling when they look at you and as you look at him longer, you start to see a haunting sort of beauty in his features.

I’m already on Episode 12 and I think this drama has 40 episodes. It’s getting more interesting as the story progresses so I’ll just enjoy it. Doesn’t hurt that Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu have great chemistry together. 🙂

[conduitandconjurer]

Hi! Sorry I took so long to share. This is the picture from season 4:

https://www.instagram.com/p/C2zsCNAr8tT/?igsh=MTNrajRhM3R3aXM4dg==

I’m not sure if links work through asks but the official account (umbrellaacad) posted it on instagram. I don’t think having an account is necessary to be able to see it.

It worked, thanks, friend!!!

Hm. Hmmm. Yeah that...is a thing that they posted. Huh. lol.

I mean. This will seem shallow, but Klaus's appearance has always seemed intentionally tied to his inner emotional and psychological (and yes, spiritual) journey--his tattoos alone attest to that--so I think I'm particularly critical of what doesn't seem aligned to his character development visually. That said, I can see how he'd maybe revert to a point in his life when he chopped off and straightened his BEAUTIFUL CURLY hair ( =_=;;;; lol) since the excruciating journey he just embarked upon in order to START seeing himself as worth more than the mastery of his powers ...has kind of been...nullified lol by losing them (I get it, it's a Gerard Way esque thing to be totally nihilistic). Klaus may feel as if he can go back to his younger years (the tennish years preceding the start of Season One) and relive them totally detoxed, harm to his brain and organs also reset, sober. And that's valid, plus I know Klaus has a penchant for going through phases to distract himself from his real problems.

Which is why I'm So Tired™ when I see the nitrile gloves. They have to be in a "still-no-powers" timeline in this shot because Luther is still not fused with ape DNA. I am guessing this is going to be some kind of dumbass ableist gag (lbr, TUA has never cared about stepping right in it when it comes to ableist tropes) a la Adrian Monk and "hoho haha, compounded, severe and complex trauma gave him germaphobic OCD!" (in Klaus's case, because he now has remembered all the murder-experiments Reg did on him in the crypt, and he's no longer immortal, so that makes him hyper-aware of anything that could kill him without his safety net). On the one hand, if this is true I'm happy he has something to lose and therefore cares about how to spend his limited remaining days. On the other hand, no, I don't want Klaus to die, I want him to still have his powers but also CHOOSE to do the work of slowly recognizing he doesn't need them to be worthy of unconditional love.

Is the potential germaphobia good writing? Probably, in many respects.

Is it what I want, because I'm a soft-touch who just wants to see her favs heal because it gives her comfort? Nah.

Is reducing Klaus and his character development to a punchline what I want? God no. I'm so tired of it. I don't care how satirical the show is. Pick on someone else, lmao. I know he's the fandom fav which translates somehow into making him the target for the worst disastrous twists, but LET THE DUMB GAY DANDELION REST.

I saw someone write an alternate theory which I now have forgotten but I KNOW I reblogged it so please feel free to go digging in my reblogs.

Other thoughts: You can tell by the way he's the only one looking a different direction, Five is still the real leader, and I'm glad Luther gave up on that, bc he's Ferdinand the Bull and it doesn't suit him to be all stressed out and bossy. He picks up siblings and throws them down stairs or strangles them when he's overwhelmed, haha DDDDD: Anyway, poor Fivey never wears civilian clothes, except that One Time when he and Klaus went looking for Klaus's birthmother (they are good for each other and need to just like...get in a fucking car and leave again. LOL).

Ben and Viktor look hot but also confused which, fair, especially in Ben's case since he's a Sparrow and a moody Edgelord who needs hugs, lol. And possibly a more dangerous enemy than Reginald, which I frankly hope brings out Klaus's "I'm a big harmless sweetheart who finally snapped a la Katara bloodbending in Avatar" moment. I Need It. Literally every other sibling has had the chance at a minor nervous breakdown, come on. Let Klaus not be okay and acknowldge it to anyone who'll listen! And yeah I know his siblings all love him, I've never disputed that once. Sometimes love ain't enough, and needs to pair up with respect. Sad but realistic truth.

Finally, I wanna know if Allison has reconciled with the family and if so, how. She is fascinating and I think her villain era in s3 was 100 percent in alignment with her character development and her lifelong issues with consent (also Reginald's fault!)

This all came out spicier than I meant LOL. Im not snarking at you, anon, I swear. Thanks for sharing <3 I just expect VERY little out of Season 4. Hopefully I'll be wrong! I was similarly wrong with the Loki series, which gsve me a perfect final-arc scenario for my favorite character of all time.

[mallowstep]

Hii! Previous shipping discourse anon here after doing some Thinking(tm). I think the problem that people see in proshippers is not that it *is* dark or deals with sensitive topics, but that's its weirdly...fetish-y? Like, there's a specific breed of anti that I don't like that's that's kaeluc antis(basically, sworn bros v adopted bros)(because their entire argument is a bit sinophobic) but there are ppl who will go out of their way to make them adopted bros anyway so. You can Tell it's a fetish

Oh man I vaguely remember when we were talking about kaeluc on here. Still know Nothing about it but I remember it (for some reason) came up.

…or I read about it on another blog?

Whatever. More to the point.

I’m a strong defender of “it’s cool to like dark fiction just because you enjoy it.” I don’t think anyone needs a justification. We don’t demand people explain why they like watching action movies with blood and death, do we?

But also I know exactly what you mean. Like. Eurgh. I am way too tired to explain my very complex thoughts about human sexuality. But for one thing, adopted siblings falling in love is like. A really old trope. Do I like it? No. Is it a thing? For some reason! (S/o to Cassandra Claire for letting me accidentally read her weird incest fantasy books.) But okay, I think I can say…

There are people who write things purely for porn purposes. I try not to judge those too much, with a few exceptions, mostly what I referenced earlier.

Then there are people exploring themes etc. Which is like. That’s what I do. Actually it’s funny that you used that example because one of my fic ideas includes the line “Why do I want to call you my brother when we’re having sex?” (It’s a joke in context, but explaining that context is beyond the point.) So like yeah they are generally speaking fine in my book.

And then there’s the middle ground where things get murky. It’s clearly not someone just writing something for the purposes of getting off, but it’s also not a sincere exploration. It’s…yeah, it’s something else.

I’m too tired to really wrap this up. Lemme try anyway.

I think a lot of people…okay, this goes back in part to media literacy, but there’s also some current cultural factors here, but a lot of people struggle to separate their intrinsic disgust from actual risk. It’s like — there was a spider living in my bathroom for a while. It kind of terrified me at first but the spider is just chilling. The spider is not an actual harm to me.

And as an author, sometimes I just want to make people feel revulsed and disgusted. God knows I’m familiar enough with the feeling.

Okay I am literally falling asleep as I type. Hopefully this makes sense? I am so exhausted, it’s been a Rough Ass Week in ya boy.

Maybe like. In reference to my previous comment on Lolita, I want people to understand the disgust they feel in response is part of the stories. Stories are meant to be felt. Sometimes horror is part of the feeling.

Oh my god I cannot keep my eyes open why did I think this was a good idea.

I really don’t have a label in the discourse. I don’t care what I am labeled as, so as long as it doesn’t involve misinformation.

K that’s all for tonight but I’ll check my inbox for you in the morning nonnie

[cavalierious-whim]

She Hit Me With Words, Not Punches, But I Punched Back

CW: Content Warning: Mentions of alcoholism, health, and death

This can also be found posted on my blog, here.

I was born to a brilliant woman who found the end of her life in a bottle, and a family who did nothing to stop it.

She was an artist from the womb, I’m pretty sure. My grandmother would tell stories about her drawing pictures in her food which I know are nonsense, but enjoyed nonetheless. My mother was a creator, an artist with both her hands and mind, be it fingers curled around paint-stained brushes, or on the keyboard of a personal computer, laptop, phone—the devices changed over the decades, but the words always flowed.

My mother never became the artist that she wanted, she had children instead, conditioned by purity culture that this is what Good Wives(™) are to do. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want kids—she did—but she didn’t expect a child the first year of her marriage, or to find herself having to pick between Homemaker and Artmaker quite so immediately. 

The choice in the end is obvious. Instead of painting canvases and word documents with her thoughts, she collected them for others in a frame shop instead, working until her fingers were cracked and bleeding, living vicariously through those who did find the will to pen their dreams.

I was born seven years after my brother, and she was tired of many things. I didn’t know this, of course, not until she passed when I found an old half-empty journal that she started and lost the will to keep. It was a neat glimpse into her head and only confirmed the many things that I already knew about her.

(One of my Mother's paintings, circa earliy 1980's.)

By this time, the arthritis set in and she no longer painted pictures, but stories instead. She wrote—she always did, one of those pioneer women in the gilded Star Trek age that paved the way for fandom as we know it. But she had The Book, a testament to this grand story that she wanted to share which tackled God, the secrets of the universe, woven together in an epic fantasy.

She never finished The Book. 

I’ve only seen bits and pieces over the years, short blurbs and hastily scribbled notes. I couldn’t tell you the plot, only very specific things that she used to share with me. It was a fantasy, an allegory for the complexity of God, and how he mingles (or doesn’t) with those whom he created. 

There is an irony to her religiosity; she did not fear God, but rather met him face-to-face, demanding answers to the universe. Science-led and read, she’d often wonder why God made ‘such terrible decisions’ but still maintained that faith until she died. 

My sister came three years after me, and then one more, unexpected, when my mother was forty-two, and now we were a brood of four that constantly reminded her of her failures.

My mother used to tell me that she both wanted and did not want children. She wanted to have her tubes tied after me but in Standard American Faire she was immediately denied because as women we are expected to be broodmares. It’s a strange thought. I love my sisters but I wonder what would be different if my mother hadn’t been denied because having four children in total is what caused that deep, deep spiral toward the bottom, not the top.

It is strangely easy to overlook a problem if you are not looking for it. It is stranger yet, to know there is a problem, yet feel normal about doing nothing to mitigate it. 

When I was young, I never questioned the slurred words, or the bad driving and car accidents, or the agitated behavior slung in our direction. It was normal to be two hours late to things, or for my mother to forget to pick us up from school functions. 

I was sixteen when reality slapped me. It was before school. I was sitting in our Ford Excursion and my mother placed her coffee in the holder and said, “Wait I forgot something”. Not unusual. What was unusual was that her coffee wasn’t coffee, but whiskey. I’d taken a sip only to be rudely awakened by fire burning down my throat. 

And yet, I didn’t ask. I didn’t push. I said nothing even though it was not yet eight in the morning, and my mother already had a sideways gait about her.

My father tried. He worked hard and traveled a lot, and suddenly, that hallowed-out and sad expression he’d have at home made a lot more sense. Our family knew and no one spoke. I didn’t either, even though it got worse. 

She would hit me with words, not fists, but I always punched back, conditioned to defend myself even though I was often a problem. I was a good kid, but not great. I had many faults, and both my best and worst qualities come straight from my mother. 

Creativity and passionate drive; an argumentative nature. A desire to explore and study; the need to prove myself right. 

I was a senior in highschool when my oldest younger sister was a freshman. We called our mother to pick us up after an event and she said she’d be there, only to pass out in her armchair in a booze-induced haze instead. Our teacher stood there with us and waited. She knew us and knew our mother well, and was not surprised. She waited for two hours before she filed us into her car and drove us to our house. 

That night, I was given this teacher’s self phone number, and yet—

Nothing was said. 

Now, I love my mother. Deeply. I have never hated her, but anger and bitterness still bleed through my veins, and likely always will. My mother was good and bad to us, but the good days are the ones that I cling to because they are just that bright. Years of anime conventions and cosplay, of paying for my weird hobbies, of talking shop about writing and books, of binging tv shows and laughing hard enough that my father would come out of the bedroom to give us The Look.

Friends would think the stories exaggerated—even my best friend, until she saw my mother one night scream that I was ‘selfish and inhuman’. After that, sleepovers were at her house, and she had no trouble finding excuses to have daytrips hours away, at her expense of gas.  

Even my husband—when we were still fresh-faced and dating, and we visited my family for the first Christmas after I moved out, I warned him. “My mother and I fight,” I had said, “and I don’t mean silly arguments, I mean with teeth bared.” He laughed it off until my mother and I duked it out over a breakfast casserole in the kitchen on Christmas morning, as the rest of the family sat near the fire in the next room.

My crime? Doing what she’d asked me to do but her drunk-addled brain didn’t remember the request, which made it my fault. And my husband sat there on the couch, wide-eyed and reconsidering a future with me as the rest of the family just ignored it, going on about their chatter with everyone else. 

The thing that we all had learned was there is no fixing an alcoholic. You can ask them to stop but you cannot make them, nor expect them to start that change, especially when addiction is a disease that rewires your entire being. And so, we all said nothing, we just went with the flow, and we all took those punches because we thought we couldn’t do anything else.

Those punches were blaming us kids for ruining her career, her life, whatever semblance of happiness she could have possibly had. These were the things she’d say to us. I’d roll my eyes and yell back because I knew that it was only one-part true, most-parts the booze, and I’d rather love my mother than hate her, even if I was constantly getting stuck on her thorns. And, of course, the good bits were good, you know?

My mother quit drinking after an emergent trip to the hospital when they drained two liters of fluid from her body and diagnosed her with acute liver failure. I didn’t live back home at the time, I was off with my husband and making a name for myself (I wish). 

She, astoundingly, quit cold turkey, and I’m fairly certain that she never had a drink again. For all the things she did wrong, she did right by doing her biweekly bloodwork at the labs, and she never clocked in with alcohol in her veins that I’m aware of. 

My mother did not go to AA—she found it depressing. She did go to her liver clinic meetings, and her blood work, and she learned to cope with a shopping addiction, candy, and of course— The Book. The years of her recovery were still embittered, a battle of wills, both her and the family as everyone tried to adjust to a cantankerous, sober woman.

We learned that her personality was just that—her personality. As it turns out, she was always the way she was, combative and snarky, prone to argumentation. This is both warm in remembrance, but hot with annoyance. It’s harder to excuse this sort of behavior when there is nothing to blame.

She was sick, fevers and chills, other bodily issues that aren’t worth mentioning. “It’s just part of it,” she’d say, and it’d make sense because she was down a liver, and staring at the end of a transplant list because her rare blood type was fucking her in the end. 

My mother did not die of COVID, she went into septic shock after a preventable infection spread. My sister found her on the floor of their home, unresponsive. My father told me I didn’t need to come down because he is, in the best and worst way, an eternal optimist. My mother was moved to hospice that night and died while I was in the air, flying down at the last minute. 

He will always blame himself for not getting me there sooner. My brother was the one who called me on my layover in Colorado, and I remember sitting in the Denver airport crying the ugliest tears I’ve ever had while I listened to him say, “I’m glad you weren’t here. Of all the people in this family, you were the one who shouldn’t have been.”

And he’s right; my mother beat on everyone, but I was the largest target because looking at me was like looking into the mirror. I was good at my craft, I was a successful cosplayer, I had no children and a loving partner; I had the sort of happiness my mother strove for and never quite got. Even before all that, when I was a teenager, her bitterness was shaped by the fact that we were just too damn alike, and that’s where my anger came from too. Arguing with my mother was always like arguing with myself, and even now, I fear every day that I will become her.

If I’d been there in that room I’d have only yelled at her, terrible, nasty things that I never got to get off my chest, and she wouldn’t have been able to even speak for them. So yes, it’s a good thing I wasn’t there. My father doesn’t know this, but making me wait was a blessing. 

There was a nice lady at that airport who hugged me and bought me dinner, and we didn’t even exchange names which she didn’t question. She sat in that airport and held my hand, and on my flight too, because we were on the same leg, it seemed. 

It took a month to get things sorted out—just the basic things like cremation and stuff. With COVID in full swing, dealing with death was an absolute nightmare. 

My mother was a hoarder—the clean type, everything in plastic boxes, tucked away into spare bedrooms. I looked at grief in the face with anger, becoming very agitated. My brother was quiet; my sisters just cried. My father decided to go through all of my mother’s shit and toss most of it because he’s always been an out-of-sight, out-of-mind kind of man. 

This was the worst thing, going through it all. Forty years of random crap piled together. Boxes of papers, bills, old presents, things we’d thought gone missing. One box where the ashes of our family dogs had been tossed into and forgotten about. Another box full of dirty dishes because my mother was too tired to do them and told herself she would later. 

Hospital notices and letters from the liver clinic begging for her to come in—which we didn’t know. You see, my mother told us that they weren’t taking appointments, that they’d paused everything during the Pandemic. Instead, she’d willfully ignored them. She did her blood work but nothing else. 

Discharge notices saying to immediately go in if she spiked a fever. I sat there with these papers and thought back to the last few years, every utterance from her mouth that Fevers were just part of it. Prescription bottles filled but never taken, other medications she’d chosen to forgo.

I do not know what my mother wanted in the last few years of her life but it became clear as day that she was exhausted. It wasn’t forgetfulness, she just began to approach life with the mindset that she’d be gone anyway, so why bother? This is why I was angry—why I’m still angry, while I will always be angry because I was robbed of the satisfaction of patching our holes because she chose to not live.

I have since calmed down. I think of my mother with mostly fond memories and when I think of the worse ones, I hold them close to my breast because they remind me of that which I do not want to be like.

It was never a question of whether or not she was proud of us, of me; she was too proud of us, hopelessly supportive in our endeavors. I think she saw her own missed opportunities in us and even though jealous, instilled the importance of doing what you’re passionate about.

She used to buy the fanzines that I was in. She loved that I wrote fanfiction, and it didn’t matter the media, or the ship, smut or not, monsterfucking—she read it all with glee. After she died, I drowned myself in writing because it was a reprieve that both connected me to her, but also distracted me from that pain.

Now, I find comfort as my fingers fly over the keyboard. There is peace when I finish a story, and fondness when I read through something to edit.

There is a box that we found when going through her things. At first, it was just piles of papers and binders, but as I dug through and sifted, it turned out to be The Book. Every note, ever half-written chapter, every good and bad idea that she never quite penned down. It was piled into this box and shoved into the computer room closet. 

She never finished The Book, but writing brought her a joy that she didn’t find anywhere else. It was just her and her thoughts, her words, sharing her dreams and passions in fancy words and phrases. She might have lacked joy in other places, but at least when writing, she found happiness that kept her moving forward. 

When I quit writing in my early twenties it was because I was burned out and unhappy with my work, pressured by an illusion that maybe this can be a job. It brought me no joy, I would just stare at the computer screen and feel empty inside, and I would try to argue with my mother about it. She’d just shake her head and said I’d get it one day, and it was a rare fight we would have that she would never give into. 

I couldn’t bring the box with me, but I did bring The Book home, a massive D-Ring Binder full of barely legible nonsense, a parody of a book that I still haven’t been able to make sense of. But, reading through her words, you can feel the solace she found when weaving together this story. 

I am now in my thirties and I’m angry that she was right, that one day I would understand. I am not unhappy; I love my life, my friends, my husband, but I have found a joy in spinning tales that I cannot find anywhere else. There is something to be said about writing romance, or old people in love, or the gratuitous smut that might make others blush; these are the things that I write for myself to make myself feel better. 

Because I get both my best and worst qualities from her, I am conditioned to be admittedly argumentative and annoying in my need to be correct. But, in the same vein, I’ve also learned to hit people with words, not fists as I’ve grown older, an invaluable lesson forged in the flames of an alcoholic mother and a love for writing. 

People are complex. Diseases are complex. Alcoholism is this sort of beast that you cannot fight back against. You can beat at it but you will not win, and even when you think you have, it still looms over your back with lurking presence. Even when sober, my mother struggled. When going through her things, we found bottle after bottle tucked away—never opened, still sealed, but there nonetheless.

I will always love my mother and be forever angry with her, and I still maintain that punching back through the years was the right thing to do. It instilled a stubbornness within me that fuels my every fiber. I burn with that same passion for the hobby that I love.

My mother did not love herself, and it was born from this societal pressure of being a good, godly wife, making babies, and submitting to your husband. We miffed because I subverted all of those tropes, and as I got older, the bitterness eased into supportive respect because if she couldn’t be happy, at least her kids could.

I often stare at The Book. It sits in a cardboard box underneath my desk, and when I look at it, I remind myself to do better. I feel the joy of her work and the effort put into it, despite likely knowing that none others would ever see. It is not easy to love myself but if there’s one thing her death has taught me, it’s that I should, unapologetically do so, whilst being self-indulgent in my wants and needs.T

Nowadays, the punches that I now pull are put into words, and I like to think that if my Mom were still here, she’d hold The Book and find pride in the fact I have the happiness that she never got.

[homestuck-word-counter]

And I, like an insane person, decided to do all of this.

the dynamic between heinz doofenschmirtz and perry the platypus would probably come off as v romantic and gay if they were two people in a similar age range rather than a dude and a platypus. no i dont ship them but think about it. villainous monologues are already a very romantic and gay thing in itself (don’t question me on this you know im right). listening to somebody ramble excitedly about something they’re proud of is even more romantic and cute af. also doofensmirtz is already gay anyway. the only thing preventing this from becoming Peak Gay is the fact that perry is strictly professional and also a platypus. thanks for coming to my ted talk

“Perry is strictly professional and also a platypus”

I love the fact that “professional” is the first reason and “platypus” is the second, because this is extremely plausible for Perry.

“Yeah no I can’t fuck I’m on duty”.

Did you know that…?

1.Doofenshmirtz isn’t evil anymore,allowing Perry to date him

2.Romance betweet animal/human isn’t frowned upon in the Dwampyverse

we even got humans falling in love with inanimate objects, albeit played for laughs

one of Doofenshmirtz’ dates ditched him for a whale

we are talking about a universe where this is canon

for god’s sake

Look, I’m not that knowledgeable about Phineas and Ferb lore (although I’m very glad that my post resonated with the Gay Scientists Dating Tired Platypuses fandom) but what, pray tell, the fuck is going on? am i having a stroke? im willing to accept the teacher falling in love with her desk because language teachers just are like that but is this nerd about to bang an ice cone?? hello?????

It’s the ice cream machine,and her name is Carla

Let us also pop bottles for the time Doofenshmirtz had to help his ex-thwarty call’s current nemesis become desirable for punching again. 

I thought Perry was with the Panda?

That’s a funny history actually.Peter the Panda is also dating his respective nemesis,he even got to met his parents

‘‘our boy is all grown up’‘ ‘‘why is he a panda bear’‘

had me crying

I think there was a scene where Peter and Perry were having dinner together at a fancy restaurant. But that was before Doofenshmirtz stopped being evil.

what the fuck is going on in Phineas and Ferb

#wait doof isnt evil anymore what

@deenalloh you have to watch milo murphy’s law season 2 to know what’s going on with Doofenshmirtz life.He stopped being evil to commit to his future self: ‘’Professor Time’’ inventor of time-travel and a public figure.

and he is trying to be a good guy now

also there’s 2 more time lines where he ends up good

1.Science teacher

2. O.W.C.A agent (The OWCA Files)

this universe is big and vast and doesn’t end at Phineas and Ferb

Okay but saying that just because some people in that universe are in love with animals/inanimate objects doesn’t mean it’s normal.

I mean, in our universe, someone wanted to marry the Eiffel Tower.

yeah..but you see..there’s this wonderful thing in cartoons that real life doesn’t have and its animals being actual sentient/anthropomorphic. So,you can’t compare our life with a cartoon ship in this case

Also Perry is arguably one of the smartest characters on both shows when it comes to deductive reasoning, common sense, and social intelligence. He could tell just by looking at a room exactly what happened there a few hours ago. He can problem-solve on the fly, and does so very often. He has basic engineering skills (or at least, “basic” for this universe, which is kinda masterful for our universe), and can communicate complex thoughts to others despite being physically incapable of speaking English (he even knows ASL!) To claim that Perry the Platypus is incapable of providing consent simply because he isn’t human is a disservice to his character. And honestly, if we’re going by the anthropological definition of “human” (bipedal, opposable thumbs, ability to communicate complex thought), then he is by all means “human.” He’s just… A Human Platypus. …?

What the fuck became of my post

sorry im really passionate about my phineas and ferb lore

Also Doof is legally an Ocelot

Logan that only raises more questions on an already strange post

It’s canon. In the OWCA Files. Him legally being an ocelot is what allows him to be an agent.

What the FUCK

Yeah, in one part of his long, tragic backstory, he was abandon and raised by ocelots

I was wondering when someone was gonna bring up the ocelot thing

Okay, was anybody going to tell me that dr doof became a time traveller?

or was I just supposed to read that in a post about the possibility of doof and perry dating

@/looney-mooney I agree with this vit there’s one thing, even if Perry has amazing deductive reasoning he has to at least fall to one trap. That’s just the law of nature.

@/oceanic-panic-panic bold of you to assume that Perry doesn’t let himself get trapped on purpose at least 2/3 of the time. Perry always escapes the traps. And he always waits for Doofenshmirtz to finish monologuing before escaping from them. It’s part of their routine, something they both expect: Perry bursts in, gets trapped, patiently listens to doof’s rant of the day, escapes the trap, fights his nemesis, and blows up the Inator. Whenever this routine is broken, they work to maintain it anyway - I can think of at least like 3 instances where Perry purposefully, politely traps himself, and several more where Doofenshmirtz gets impatient and sets Perry free from the trap himself so they can fight.

Perry getting trapped isn’t a sign of some intellectual folley - it’s a sign of his incredible problem-solving skills that he can escape them so easily, and a sign of his social intelligence that he knows to politely wait until his nemesis is ready to stop venting and start fighting.

But why does Perry need to be trapped for his nemesis to vent? Easy. Doofenshmirtz is a victim of severe child abuse, and needs to feel as though he’s somewhat in control of the situation before allowing himself to be vulnerable. Perry being trapped makes him feel safe, and Perry catches on to this. It’s an intricate social dance that none of his coworkers have mastered, the ability to communicate with and accomidate for a villain with special needs. And though it takes the whole summer, they eventually don’t even need the traps, because Perry makes Heinz feel safe.

You know, having you around just makes me feel, you know, safer.

I mean, back on the Peter the Panda line, being a nemesis was always supposed to be analogous to being in a relationship anyway. I think of this way more as an “arranged relationship turns to true love” story than an “enemies to lovers” one.

‘’You probably look at Perry the Platypus and me and think it’s a match made in heaven. But it wasn’t always this way. Back in the day, O.W.C.A. assigned agents willy-nilly, with no regard for personality conflicts or basic compatibility issues … like a bad blind date!

Why, when I first met Perry the Platypus, I didn’t even know what kind of an animal he was. Who’s ever heard of a teal platypus?! And I gotta tell you, he got on my last nerve … always staring at me, judging me. You know how he is.

Well, I was ready to call it quits. I even called Major Monogram to see if I could get another nemesis assigned. Something a little less semiaquatic. But thank goodness, Francis said to give it a little more time to see if things could work themselves out. And you know what? They did!

Now I wouldn’t trade my nemesis for anyone in the world. Oh, sure, he still infuriates me and I try to eliminate him on a daily basis, but that’s just what I do.

So, if your first encounter with your mortal foe isn’t perfect, don’t despair! It gets better … usually.’’

I’d say both are correct

Me knowing almost nothing about Phineas and Ferb but reading this entire post anyway

#doof and perrys routine thing is just foreplay

Foeplay*

where’s that post about the OWCA agents just being emotional support animals for the “evil” scientists

HERE

I’m surprised at how nobody mentioned how much the show ships them itself. It’s not just the fans’ whim

Oh, Perry the Platapus, look at us. We're fighting over the remote like an old married couple.

You never meant to work with me, did you, Perry the heartbreaker? Yes, go. Go back to your agency with their... Their uncool acronyms! Just remember, we once had something special!

WELL, THERE'S A PANDA IN MY CLOSET

AND A PANDA PAW PRINT ON MY CHEEK.

BUT IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK

dress sort of suits if you know you just accentuate the positives as they say

Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc.

He gets that from you you know.

SLAP YOURSELF

I'd just built an inator. I called it the Babe-inator!

No, it's not what you think

(Not pictured: the whole Peter the Panda’s arc)

In conclusion: The show wants you to ship them

EVERYBODY WAKE UP. It’s canon now. (one sided at least) Checkmate. The post is over

Doof loves his enemy

I FINALLY SAW THIS IN PERSON AND IT’S GOTTEN EVEN BETTER!!!

IT JUST KEEPS GOING???

Do you like the colors of Perryshmirtz?

phineas and ferb heritage post

����One thousand five-hundred and four of these words are in Homestuck!🏠

the dynamic between heinz doofenschmirtz and perry the platypus would probably come off as v romantic and gay if they were two people in a similar age range rather than a dude and a platypus. no i dont ship them but think about it. villainous monologues are already a very romantic and gay thing in itself (don’t question me on this you know im right). listening to somebody ramble excitedly about something they’re proud of is even more romantic and cute af. also doofensmirtz is already gay anyway. the only thing preventing this from becoming Peak Gay is the fact that perry is strictly professional and also a platypus. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[mrthoughtbubbles]

I don’t know if Yeet is referring to me or to her new guy… I’m doubting things again... I’ve been reflecting on it for some time now and I’m trying to be happy for her, since I feel that she’ll be happy with him, knowing that the other guy can be there for her any time and I can’t… I can only do so much with what I can do from here and I can’t be there when she wants/needs me… I also feel that writing messages to her is getting stale and I feel that she’s getting tired of it, so from the looks of things, so she looked and found herself a man to meet her needs… In the end, I’m the one lacking and I can’t be there for her…

Thinking about it some more, maybe another reason is that I told her that I follow other ladies’ posts… I follow people I deem cool and I want to be updated on the things they’re doing, like a new film, a new song, a new series, etc… I just want to know and be updated with the new things they’re doing… It’s not like I’m messaging them every day, like what I did for Yeet, and going out with them…  I have problems going out by myself, due to childhood trauma/the fear of getting lost somewhere…

Maybe there are more reasons why Yeet left, like when she said to not be arrogant… I wish she’d say the reason/s why she left so that I won’t jump to conclusions... Either way, I’ll try to be happy for her… I feel that she’s happy with her new boyfriend… I’ll try to be happy that I tried shower her with love almost every day when she was with me, even for just a little while… I just want her to have an eye for things to appreciate with everything that surrounds her, to love and care for everyone around her, to tell her that she’s beautiful despite having flaws/insecurities, to pray/talk to God about everything and to remember  that I love her… If she’ll remember those reminders I told her almost every night, I’ll be happy for her…

Just like what I said before, love hurts and I understand that this is one good example… It hurts to know that someone can just choose somebody else and throw you away like trash when you have no use anymore… maybe there's something wrong with me and my approach... i feel that this will just keep happening to me... I want to cry, but I mostly feel numb and I only shed a tear or two when I found out… It’s triggering my inferiority complex and I feel that no matter how much I try, I’ll never be good enough… I understand that I’m hard to be with, with my doubts, my inferiority complex, my constant need of reassurance, my mental illness, etc…, but finding out that the person you show love to chose another person over you again for the second time in a row, is just hard to swallow and I’m reliving the same situation again… something is wrong with me and I feel that I'm lacking something, that I'm not good enough, that other men have something that I don' t have, which is the root cause of other ladies choosing other men over me...

Someday, I hope that I’ll be able to recover again… I don't know when, but I hope that my nonexistebt confidence, at this point, will come back to me...

[pwblogarchive]

April 2002

April 2, 2002

“it’s an amazing relief”

the morning you wake up and realize you are just as shitty of a person as they all thought.

i laughed out loud.

April 2, 2002

“bat those suicide eyes that make me so crazy.”

there’s a part of me that secretly hoped my plane would crash, killing me instantly on impact- the drama proves irresistable. i need some kind of hook to drag me out of it- some hook to drag me straight to hell. do not pass go. do not collect 200 dollars.

i have the same dream every night.

please wait up for me tonight.

April 9, 2002

“and i don’t have the right stuff”

you threw away something perfect, now watch me do the same- i’ll show you just what a vindictive asshole i can be. someday this will all be funny.

i think all this is driving me insane. and the funny thing about my mom making me go talk to this doctor is i find myself lying to him so he doesn’t think i’m too wierd. on top of that everytime he suggests that something might be a problem in my life, i make it one i magnify it- just so he doesn’t feel dumb. i want to grab him and say don’t waste my time just give me pills that make me feel not so alone.

i’m sorry. my wrists are sore from being thought about too much. and maybe i’m not so trustworthy.

April 15, 2002

“i want to fall in love tonight”

lots of stuff to report- we are actually practicing on tuesday. we have a show at rubes may 10 with Figure Four. we will do a full u.s. tour this summer. i have been writing for a new e.p. simply titled “Girls” which we will hopefully record this fall, on it at least: death to the last romantic, (farewell to)a switchblade love affair, and the don juan complex. the new stuff is way different, better in my mind. check back for more info.

a lyrical sampling to get you in the mood:

the don juan complex- my heart is fast and broken in the back of vans, our limbs are tired and clumsy between these sheets. i choked on “please save me” just before i tasted her lips- she never heard a sound. i’ll die in the corners of this kitchen at every party. oh god, this is such a drag and my wrists are sore from being thought of too much. one thousand friday nights- no love is safe. you can’t imagine what you’d wish for if you remembered every single wasted moment twenty-two times. one thousand friday nights- no love is safe. i’ll begin my last note: “i’m sorry mom, i tried, but noone should ever feel this way. and i’m sorry girls but i’m still an awkward boy and you can’t make me not alone.” and end it: “p.s. i hate you”.

see you soon.

pete

April 24, 2002

“did i mention that i’m real?”

i’m confused. i am 22 and i have no masterplan. sleeping in the bedroom that i grew up in is wearing thin but i have no urge to move on. i keep making the same mistakes with the same people and they keep letting me start over. you would think they’d know better by now. i think sometimes people forget there is real person here. i know i do.

i think i’m gonna make friends with my friends enemies. it seems like maybe we hate the same people.

trouble loves me- why don’t you?

pete

April 29, 2002

“‘most people go through life in a kind of quiet desparation’ voltaire”

ash grey clouds block the sky, ensuring that God won’t see my thoughts.

the ultimate peeping tom.

the calls of vultures are cloaked as sparrows and mockingbirds.

i can tell the difference.

she takes a drag off of a lonely cigarette. and this reminds me of how i sometimes feel like if she makes it there i will storm the gates and torch the place.

this is how i spend my first night in hell.

the rest of the week will be spent filling out online personality tests.

i cheat. i take them until i get the personality i like.

monday is for self-sabotage.

i have the cure’s “pornography” on repeat in my head constantly to remind me that this is okay.

the pillbox resembles the barrel of a gun.

MTWTHFSSU

i imagine that these bullets i am swallowing are you- one for everyday of the week i feel alone.

tuesday is for not living up to my potential.

tragedy and turbulence are beautiful.

wednesday is for avoiding friends phone calls.

well maybe not beautiful but at least inevitable.

thursday is for staying up all night and regretting the past three days.

do you ever miss the sun at night or only despise it for abandoning you.

it’s so fucking fickle.

imagine a corpse that is bored with it’s own funeral.

this is me.

friday is spent sleeping off thursday.

i know you don’t read this.

but a part of me still hopes you do.

saturday night is spent alone by the phone- god i wish it was wednesday.

at this point i switch from the cure to bjork’s “hyper ballad”- this is the soundtrack to who cares?

sunday is spent wishing i will wake up someone different on monday.

her perfume is a mix of cigarettes and post-coital sweat.

but somehow it only reminds me of how the people at the crucifixion must have felt.

satisfied but desperate and somehow unaware of what they had just created.

[30306-home]

i got these rolls of 8mm film from j.robinson… the second time in ‘21 that, so i typically, i ran into him- no way out… it was okay though bc he was a lot nicer than the first time (which i’m having trouble getting to- and involved news of awful thing hope had done (when i do get there, and i guess thing is kind of a backwards segway, the biggest thing is that i… this really wouldn’t be important unless i had a really good reason to get it out, and embarrassing her or anything like that is the very very very last thing i thing i want to happen- maybe it’s even beyond the point of her name being attached anyway, and more about the repercussions in that have been so massive for me. it’s not something to just adapt to it and time has been everything but helpful. it’s not even a “healing” type thing. it’s like a broken thing that i am left all the little pieces everywhere i look and it’s not a thing i can let get the best of me, like it has- but is positively not sustainable, i’m out of patience, i can’t get too tired or angry or scared or intimidated to give in . i don’t have another plan (in general, it’s not a “plan” bc that implies that “changing” an option. there’s tons and tons of room to move around and have nothing predictable, as a “plan” would). there’s no way i’d let anything so trivial force my life in any direction that takes away that kind of choice, and it never had any business here in the first place.

i was saying, the film strips… i didn’t finish that part, but i started talking for whatever it’s worth.

back to finish that thought:

the, i retrieved 8mm film, i do not have tons of them that are already on reels and at j. rs’s house- he’s not keeping me from them- i’m not keeping him from his baby book, we just never did that part, and, i’m sorta glad bc there’s even been time to really talk about anything, what’s up (no i honestly don’t think either of us can answer that and or are settle with its lingering, complexity of such a multifaceted relationship- one that’s never faced interference like this, others up in it’s business, being taken advantage of- in every way but the best interest of either of us. more later, but it was a success and yes, hope involved herself…as far as she knows and needs to know it was a success. problem is, besides slighting is both (accidentally/unknowingly j.ro, aimed (why?) at me), by the time that was put together, the tributaries have traveled far.

please consider this a very special writing circumstance that isn’t meant to confuse, but will hit a lot of that, move backwards, forwards, skip chapters for the sake of accomplishing what comes up holds promise at it’s own chosen time. it’s the most doable strategy i can come up with, and right now the only thing missing is “doable”. won’t allow details to take over… can quickly turn “undoable”. this is an excessive amount of prefacing- spanning months/years? i will probably repeat myself by you can accept that, too, bad engrish, hopping, etc- okay. and if you can’t that’s okay, too! i’m just getting a bit out of my head and any bit sound reason is all i hope for… anything really, at all, i’ll take teensy teensy. current state- not okay, no reason, nothing more expected. a comfortable believable area that’s life me in the dust. (and i’m SO nervous to sound “oh poor me”- it just is on me or no body. i should never even know of this experience in life, and it was easy breezy for most of my life (the other part that doesn’t seem to fit). good god, the films. short version, this is all my sweet precious GEM of a dad (j’ro and hope can back that, they were both moved by him… best part- my dad is so innocently oblivious to it all). so i’ve surprised him by digitizing (oh the death of me) these here, will be editing for life- like 70 or something, but only a fraction compared to the rest on reels - which he is aware exist. i don’t think he’s ever seen any, but major things like the worlds fair are missing (possibly even some of his dad who died when he was 7). i’m the sole one that somehow wrangled that house of 4 generations, notebooks and book and films (extreme patience things) being the bulk. he’s hesitantly asked me about the others and i’ve hesitantly said in a shaky voice under my breath that “they are safe and sound………… and ummmmmmmmm at j.ro’s house” and “to not worry, i’ll figure it out, i promise, i’ll just figure it out and they’ll be right here”. my dad asks for NOTHING- he needs nothing, he’s happy and healthy and generous to death. he WILL have those films, projector and all. but not not tomorrow- and not until things are like HE, who ADORE’S j. ro, are back to life. we’re not looking at million years beyond tomorrow either. this is on me- and i’m less than harmless, so and junk, shouldn’t be mine to clean up- but i’m happy to for the love of them both. how? i’m trying to get there, it’s just not going to be an easy ride.

i’m sure i’m repeating that there is/always will be a place in my heart and priceless memories with hope- it a situation, and she’s just in it, and although it’s not accessible to me, it didn’t just walk of, you know it in there, too.

there’s anger here, and i feel extremely guilty and conflicted about expressing anything like that about someone with far too much already… and criticism? with love? i’ve had some major blows, that were deliberate decisions. i’ve really tried to find a way for them to make sense… just a little off the rails in traumatic times and a not acceptable normalcy. it’s like i’ve made some 100% unavoidable life altering “mistakes”(?), so i can’t not worry about everything now- how can i know if this won’t result in that? it’s not to cause anyone any harm, just to untangle some damage done on my end- only so i can be just okay… that= okay=amazing in my world now….. oh good lord the world. i will not stop trying to practice-DEETS LATER, BULLET POINTS NOW. i said i will not stop trying… since it can be jumpy maybe i will do scary parts just fast and quickly take and a special occasion ambien night to celebrate. you’re so going to be, what?? after all this i was expecting something GOOD!!!!

[vulpiximisa]

Salaryman's Club long anime review that I typed up a few nights ago but forgot to post. I was going to review it but I didn't go through it after typing up the Futsal Boys review so whatever

So after starting the first three episodes at a not so ideal time and then crawling back to it when I actually was in the mood for sports, marathoning a good chunk and then going back to rewatch the first few eps with my sister and finally completing the series, Salaryman’s Club is actually really good.

Not that I tire of high school sports anime because I know most of the teams will be focused on character growth of the youth but Rymans Club taking place not in school, not even college, but straight to the work force, is so refreshing for a jaded adult like me. They balanced the work life and the sports life so well, I didn’t groan when they switched it up because it just felt so natural if they didn’t have a game because they had a presentation to do. 

I gave it a pretty high rating on MAL (8, pretty solid in my ratings) because it was concise and showed what it needed to, though I personally would have liked a little more from the side characters. Not that Mikoto and Tatsuru are bad, but they were never the guys I had a soft spot for, almost blaming them for the reason I dropped the series early before. Maybe I just don’t like when a show is telling me which two characters are fated to be together forever, best duo partners buddies bffls. 

I was so disappointed when Usuyama finally got to compete for real and we didn’t get to see his game against (Ayu’s character). And when he was matched up against Ibuki, I knew he was going to lose. He still put up a great fight but I guess I would have liked to see a triumphant full match victory from him. His story is still my favorite of the show. 

I also became invested in the Kirishima brothers a little too late because we only get exposition in the near end. It spoke enough and you get the general idea of their relationship but I guess I’m greedy because there probably could have been more build up if they wanted.

I liked that the Kirishimas both had unspoken problems with each other. Most of the time, the brother complex are in the perspective of the younger brother, usually they feel left behind or betrayed by the older. Usually the older won’t get as much focus aside from obvious visible guilt. (Or they’re fuckkng twins. God I hate anime twins in sports anime. But I guess it’s so they can have them in the same year or whatever.) 

Anyway, about the Kirishimas, I just really love that Hayato is put in that position, to be outdone by his younger bro and resented Takuma for it. Takuma looked up to his big bro as a younger bro would, working hard so he could play with him. Worked too hard that it even scared his idol away. (Playing doubles because maybe he still really just wanted to play with his niichan?) 

In hindsight, making the Saekis a duo was probably to also build up and juxtapose the Kirishimas. I liked Souta’s deal, about why should he try so hard when it was impossible. I guess maybe I was a little disappointed that the solution to that was being a big bro, that his motivation came from seeing his younger bro try and not wanting to disappoint Touya. I liked their little duo play, using Souta as a camouflage, but maybe found it a little hard to believe that they could beat the powerful Unisics Duo. Maybe it just meant that Souta was never really good at singles and his true potential was in doubles to support Touya. 

I was originally going to say that 3 extra teams not including home team was fine for the 12 episodes, given you only need to care about 1-2 charas from the other teams anyway. But thinking about it, was Unisics really necessary aside from having the Kirishimas in 2 different powerful teams? Or merge Tomari and Unisics together? I mean I like Tomari’s vibe and Unisics is different but I guess it is what is is. (Tomari being the friendly rival group, Unisics because the team they couldn’t beat, Mitsuhoshi being the “supreme team”)

Anyway, the animation is great and the music is BANGING. Also NovelBright finally makes a good song for sports anime (the Yowpeda ones were all kinda mid) Great show, highly recommend!