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dirtybackroad · 2 months

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possess me

read on ao3 / tag list meg masters (demon) / risa (endverse) word count: 1.7k | rating: E

summary:

written for day 13 of @spntoxicfemslashevent: meg/risa

Risa sneaks away from camp to summon Meg. Meg shows her who she belongs to.

Meg was never a real threat, not in Risa’s eyes. This was the same amount of stupidity as Castiel’s pills or Dean’s reckless supply runs to support that habit. Meg was just a demon. Camp was warded. Risa was warded. They’d all gotten their matching tattoos at initiation, and regular ol’ possessions were rare these days. So, at the end of the day at the end of the world, Meg was no more dangerous than any other beating heart around here, and way more fun.

Plus, it is the end of the goddamned world anyway. Risa thinks she should be allowed something of her own. And so, on the nights Dean leaves her to her bunk at camp, Risa sneaks away into the night and scratches a summoning sigil into the ground in the woods outside of their compound.

A quick slice sends shockwaves of pain familiar as it is, across her palm. She opens up the scar and lets her blood spill on the ground, just a few drops into the dirt carving. There is silence humming in its absence like a vacuum for a moment, then -

Risa swears her ears popped once.

“What do you have for me tonight, baby?” Meg’s voice is like honey, carried the edge of a knife. Risa thinks back to camp, to the others, to Dean, to logistics and plans and the End of all Things.

“Our last real lead was over a month ago, you know that.” Risa is distracted, words coming out on a stutter, her eyes following Meg’s movements as she stalks closer.

“Hm, can’t a girl make conversation anymore? Maybe I wanna play house. ‘Honey, how was work today?’ And you say ‘Oh, fine, still haven’t killed your daddy yet, but we’re trying our hardest,’ and I’ll laugh and serve you meatloaf like a good little housewife.”

Meg crowds in close to where Risa kneels in the dirt, straddles her lap, and puts both hands in her hair.

Risa lets herself be moved and rests her hands easily on Meg’s hips. She tries and fails not to think of the woman whose body Meg stole for this.

“Is that the script you want me to follow?” Risa speaks as her eyes slide shut, Meg’s thumbs digging into her scalp.

“I’m just saying, it’d be fun to switch it up a little. Y’know, the tingly-feeling starts to wear off after the dozenth summoning.”

Have they really been doing this that long? Risa doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. She just keeps her eyes shut and leans her head back.

She doesn’t fight the groan that Meg pulls from her lips, the demon giving up on the head massage and moving straight to Risa’s weak spot. Meg latches her lips onto the soft skin right below her ear, stolen hands sliding down Risa’s back to thumb at her hip, absently tracing the anti-possession sigil there.

Meg said once it burns to the touch. Risa’s not sure if she believes her or not.

She’s shoved up against the trunk of some tree, caught between the rough bark and the searing heat of the woman-demon who Risa thinks might bring about her end, and all she can do is moan.

Meg seems hell-bent on leaving a mark; Risa does not want to have to explain that to Dean and so she grabs a handful of hair and yanks, hard, just like Meg likes it. It’s over from there, with Risa opening her eyes just in time to see Meg’s flash desire-black, a predatory open-mouthed growl rumbling through the air.

Meg shoves a hand between them, shifting her weight to one of Risa’s thighs. Her movements are furiously graceful, rough with the want-need that they’ve both come to expect from these encounters. Love bites were one thing, a red flag that carried Risa too close to being caught, but the way Meg fucked left behind marks more similar to a sparring match.

Easily explained were torn clothes and handprint bruises, less acceptable were flushed and swollen lips, teenage-hickeys and scratches-down-the back.

Risa’s thighs fall apart, the worn denim covering her legs stretching tight and uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter though. Meg doesn’t pay mind to her protestations, just hikes a leg further up and back; her other hand still greedily tearing at the closures of Risa’s jeans.

She gets the zipper down and lets out a victory cry, quickly muffling the sound in Risa’s chest, pulling back on the resistance the other woman’s hand in her hair provided.

She always moved this quick; Risa figured it was a demon thing but Meg fucked like it was a competition, clawing and fighting to the finish line with hell on her heels.

Meg got both hands on Risa’s jeans, fingers scrabbling at the waist to get a grip tight enough to pull her back and away from the tree, uncaring as Risa’s head bounced back against the earth below them with a thud as she let Meg lay her out.

A brief struggle later, and Risa’s jeans are down around her ankles, the roots of the tree digging into her back and dead leaves crunch-itching under her thighs. Meg wastes no time in shoving her fingers into Risa’s underwear, a glint in her eye when she finds the wet gathered there.

“Fucking filthy, Ris.” Meg’s praise cuts through the silence.

Risa is glad that her shame died with the rest of society because the way she throws her weight into the roll of her hips would be embarrassingly needy in another life. But here? Flat on her back in the dirt at the end of the world, Risa lets herself go.

Flattening her feet on the ground gives some leverage, and Risa’s hips rise off the ground. Meg moves a touch too fast, taking the angle change as permission that Risa never granted. She presses two fingers inside, curling them just right and watching with rapt fascination as Risa chokes out a long moan.

Meg laughs, low and throaty, and she thumbs open the button on those filthy fucking cargo pants she always wears. Risa looks up at her, and with the moon through the trees and the rising pleasure, she thinks insane things like maybe she could have Meg forever, like they could hole up in camp and share a bunk, just Risa and her demon girlfriend.

Meg bears down over her, wild eyes and a mean sneer that has Risa think she did something stupid like speak those wishes out loud.

“Sometimes I think you like this a little too much, sweetheart. What would Dean think if he saw you like this?” Meg grabs at Risa’s breast, hands rough, smearing dirt and debris on the front of her shirt. “Do you ever think about putting a knife in me the same way you think about my fingers inside you? Ever hear his voice in your ear, tellin’ you to gut the bitch?”

Risa leans up, searching for Meg’s lips, knowing if she can just shut her up she could end this, get a thigh up between Meg’s and let the demon whore rub off on her. It's Dean’s voice in her ear, and Risa’s angry, angry that Meg is right, angry that Dean has got himself inside her head like that. Her hands grasp for purchase on the ground, on Meg, on anything she can touch.

Meg just laughs, pulls just out of reach, fucks into her harder, rougher, moving on from her assault on Risa’s chest to instead claw at the small of her back. She tugs her up and into the air, eyes flashing black as Risa’s legs fall further apart. “I’d let you, if you wanted to try it. You could take me apart right here, slice your pocketknife right through me. I’d ask for more, beg for it even.”

Risa tries to block her voice out, squeezes her eyes shut, and tries to press her thighs together. She’s suddenly too aware of the moment. Risa swears she feels something crawl across her bare thigh; she looks down at her own wetness coating Meg’s wrist, sees where she’s inside her, feels that damned tree branch where it presses against her neck, wedged between her and the forest floor.

Meg doesn’t let it go. “Or do you want more?” She drops Risa’s hips down, slides a third finger inside her, digs her nails into the sigil on her hip. “You want me inside you, want me to see you,” Meg’s hissing now, the voice she speaks with coming from somewhere deeper than the woman’s chest she lives in.

Risa can barely think, her brain clouded with sulfur and mud and heat and her approaching climax. “I-“

“You what, sweetheart? You’ve never thought about it? About me n’ you?” Meg’s thumbnail presses deeper into Risa’s hip.

She’s so fucking close, needs just a bit more, needs Meg to just shut the fuck up, needs some sort of grip back on the situation here.

“No, I-“

“No?” Meg taunts her, matching her tone and whining the word out. God - did Risa sound that pathetic? “No, please? You want me to stop?” Her nail pokes deeper, teasing at the edge of breaking the skin. All it would take is one sharp movement, and Risa’s tattoo would be nothing but useless, broken lines.

“Didn’t think so.”

Risa can only whimper out her response.

Meg’s got the palm of her hand pressed up against Risa’s clit now, lets her rub up against it, doesn’t even call her a slut for how fucking needy she is for it. Risa’s hurtling towards the edge, and Meg watches with her eyes pitch black. Risa opens hers in time to lock in, her mouth falling open in a gasp for air as she reaches her climax.

Meg finally leans in and kisses Risa, hot and heady, taking more than she can give and leaving no room for the woman to catch her breath. She bites at Risa’s lip as she pulls away, but she doesn’t stop, she just keeps leaving till she’s standing over the bed of leaves they’d just consecrated.

Desecrated. Whatever.

“Stay?” Risa’s voice rings up at Meg from the forest floor. Meg just laughs. She leans down and presses a kiss to Risa’s forehead and leaves her there, lying in the mud.

“Clean yourself up and get back to Dean, sweetheart.”

Risa waits until she’s gone before she pulls up her jeans and gets herself together.

#spntoxicfemslash #endverse #spn fic #spn fanfic #i'm obsessed with this. sorry.#um. read the warnings in the tags ig #it's not. that bad it's a little dubcon if you're worried bout it but like. they're into it i promise. she likes it

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little-diable · 2 years

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The Devil lures in the Dark - Priest!Jamie Campbell Bower (smut)

You guys know that I love writing priest fics, by now its my trademark, so, I had to pull Jamie into this world. Perfectly matching with his new video. Please reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She is set on teasing the young priest, wanting to see him fumble and tremble. But a game with the devil will never end in victory, at least not for her.

Warnings: 18+, blowjob, smut taking place in a church, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Jamie x fem!reader (1.6k words)

Header by @hidingsikki

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The devil may lure in the brightest specs of life and in the darkest shadows of darkness, but she wouldn’t give into his calling - (y/n) was sure of it. No matter how much she’d tease the sins formerly screaming her name, no matter how much she’d test fate, she wouldn’t give in. Not without good reasons that is.

And one of those reasons was currently standing in front of her, speaking to his community as his eyes found hers every now and then. (Y/n) couldn’t bite down her smirk as she picked up on his stammers, clearly distracted by something. Something that drew his gaze to her thighs, exposing more and more of the thin fabric of her panties.

It was somewhat of a game to her, always had been - ever since crossing paths with the priest. Priest Bower was still relatively young, and handsome, more handsome than any verse of the holy script could ever express. Yet, (y/n) couldn’t help but give into her teasing, no matter how heavenly the man may be. She was blemishing his once pure soul, tainted by the touch of darkness.

“God’s voice is strong. He will lead you out of the darkness, you shall call his name, and he will answer.” The priest bit down on his lip, eyes forced away from her frame. She didn’t need to stand close to hear the racing beat of his heart, threatening to jump out of his chest like an exorcised demon. She didn’t need to speak to him to pick up on his confusion, torn between the pleasure thumping through his veins and the path he was supposed to follow. A path the priest was now straying from.

“Please step forward now.” For a moment he turned away from the community, reaching for a golden cup filled with wine and a bowl filled with eucharistic bread. One by one they made their way to him, not noticing how his gaze tried to find hers at any given chance, hoping to keep her from stepping closer.

But (y/n) wasn’t one to obey any rules, always up for some teasing.

Because that’s what she was doing. It was just a bit of teasing. Nothing more, nothing less. At least that’s what she told herself whenever she thought of the dresses she wore around him, the colour of her lipstick or the words she’d speak. All to see him fumble and tremble.

“Amen.” She spoke the word as she parted her lips, tongue exposed to his bright eyes. He placed the hostice down on the muscle, eyes fluttering close as an almost pornographic - though quiet - moan rumbled through her; putting on a show for the struggling man. And with another smirk tugging on her lips, (y/n) turned away from him with her smirk glued to her lips.

She had him right where she wanted him.

It was dark out by the time (y/n) entered the church, listening to the sound of her shoes pounding against the ground echo through the holy halls. The church appeared to be empty, nobody was around, neither the priest nor any of the nuns helping him around here.

A relieved sigh rumbled through (y/n) as she walked towards the confessionary, set on spending a few moments inside of there. And even though nobody would actually listen and take her confession, she seemed to be satisfied by the thought of being so close to God.

She sank to her knees, interlaced her hands and started praying. One verse after another left her, confessing to her sins, sins she had committed ever since crossing paths with the priest. (Y/n) was too focused on her thoughts, the words spluttering from her lips like the river Jesus had been baptised in. But just like Johannes' guiding hand, pressed against the saviour’s forehead, (y/n) was desperate for a guiding hand.

“Commiting to your sins won’t do you any good, not if you’ll keep on sinning.” Sharp like a blade his voice cut through her, eyes wide as she whipped her head to the side, staring at the man. Priest Bower was standing behind her, arms crossed in front of his chest. No longer did he look innocent like an archangel, no, he had something dark to him. He was the devil in disguise.

She hadn’t been the one toying with him, it had been him leading the game all along.

“I’m sorry.” It sounded like a question leaving her lips, a question he ignored with the wave of his hand, successfully shutting her up. (Y/n) could only stare at him as he stepped closer, eyes wandering along her features. Priest Bower grasped her chin, forcing her to keep looking at him, her body following his every movement, now perfectly placed in front of him.

“You’ve been teasing me, that loose mouth of yours that can’t even seem to remember the right verses. And yet you think you’ll get me to kneel for you. Well, look who’s kneeling now, darling.” His bright eyes no longer reminded her of a summer morning, rather a dark river she’d drown in if she wasn’t careful enough. Was she stuck in Sheol? Brought down here by the devil himself?

“Father, I meant no harm, I,” he shut her up with a snarl rumbling through him, a sound so sinister she felt her heart sink in her chest. She’d pay, pay for every teasing word, for every short dress, she’d pay for it all.

“It’s a little too late for an apology, don’t you think? I can think of better ways to put your sinning mouth to use.” He let go of her, forcing (y/n) to sit still as he undid his trousers, eyes not letting go of her gaze once.

(Y/n) hadn’t even dared to dream about ending up with him, she had touched herself to the thought of choking on his cock numerous times, harmless dreams, nothing more. But now, as the man was about to turn that dream of hers real, she couldn’t help but doubt her motives. If she hadn’t bought a ticket to hell so far, this certainly was her golden one.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve been begging for my attention, well, now you got it.” His cock lay heavy in his grasp, tip bearded with drops of precum, a pearly rosary she’d count one by one, admiring every inch of it. The moment she’d put her mouth on him, hell would freeze, the archangels would stop bickering, and earth would slow its rotation, a moment’s silence for the two lovers that were now getting to know one another.

She didn’t need to be told what to do, yet (y/n) struggled to part her lips, wondering if this was nothing more but a dream, stuck in a vivid moment that would break apart like the cross Jesus had been nailed against, burnt to ashes in the heat of the morning. His touch felt too real, too raw with his calloused fingertips brushing along her lower lip, easing his way into her mouth.

Eyes fluttered close as if they were dying in that very moment, inhaling one last breath into their burning lungs. A guiding hand was forcing them to move along, not stopping once as the moments kept passing by.

Priest Bower’s ringed hand found its way to her head, following the bobbing motion that forced her further and further down his cock. Spit dripped from her chin like rain clashing from the sky, breaking the calm atmosphere that once lingered in the holy halls. But every movement of hers took that spell away, no longer a pure home of God and their belief, though tainted by her sins, allowing the devil to lure in the darkness of this very church.

Praises spluttered from his lips like verses being read out loud, and yet (y/n) couldn’t focus on his words, barely able to look at him with tears welling up in her eyes. She was struggling, struggling to breathe, struggling to keep bobbing her head, struggling to keep herself from gagging. His cock rested heavily on her tongue, slowing down her once oh so perfected movement.

“My darling, my angel, no one would expect the darkness feasting from your soul. But don’t you worry, we’ll bring your innocence back.” False promises rolled off the priest’s tongue, forcing her to momentarily meet his gaze. He was teasing her, clearly guiding her down the wrong path, yet (y/n) didn’t ever want to let go of him, if the ship would sink, she’d sink with it.

He parted his lips like the red sea, moans clawed through him, a sound so loud (y/n) feared the stone walls may begin to break, he forced her further down his cock, enjoying the gagging sounds that left her. She felt him twitch in her mouth, indicating his arising high, preparing her for the taste of his, etched into her tongue for the upcoming days and weeks.

Priest Bower came with his head thrown back and his hand tightening its grip on her, forcing (y/n) to hold still. She greedily swallowed every drop of his, cum filling her warm cheeks like an never ending stream of consecrated wine. Only as he came down from his high did he allow her to pull away, catching her breath with her hand pressed to her racing heart.

“My darling, look at you, greedy for my release. I’ll keep you close, a perfect bait for the devil.”

#Jamie Campbell Bower smut #little-diable priest #Jamie Campbell Bower imagine

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skvaderarts · 20 days

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Petrichor Chapter 69: Unpunctual

Chapter 69: Unpunctual

Note: A shorter one this week, but I still hope you enjoy!

(-~-)

The rain had forced their hand, causing them to remain at the station for about an hour before it had finally let up.

Pouring in an angry, writhing torrent, the maelstrom had battered the train station for what seemed like ages before it had paused, at least initially. People had rushed from the station, attempting to reach waiting vehicles or to make mad dashes to their hotel rooms and homes only to be tangled in the second wave of the storm that arrived not ten minutes later. A sight that the twins found humorous, even if a person or two did slip on the way to their destination. But a bit of freezing rain had never hurt anyone. Right?

Making their way down the street through the puddles and past the racing waters that coursed the storm drains at the curbside, the two of them initially walked along in silence with only the sound of dripping water and boots making contact with the pavement between them. Dante didn’t need to ask if Vergil’s thoughts were preoccupied. He wasn’t stupid. Well, he knew some people who might argue otherwise, but still. He wasn’t oblivious to his older brother’s silent reflection on the situation and the underlying sense of anxiety that radiated off of him even if he didn’t visually give it away in almost any way. It was subtle just as it had been before, but its intensity hadn’t died down at all, either. The devil hunter in the red coat wondered if Vergil would even be able to speak if they finally located her.

No, not if. When. They had to find her. They would find her.

“So what will you say to her when you see her again?” Dante opted to break the silence. It was probably a good idea to distract Vergil from the task at hand, even if only for a moment. Letting him dwell on the past was rarely ever a very good idea.

Vergil didn’t initially respond, lingering on the question in silence as they continued forward. That was a hard question to answer. They both knew that. In fact, that had been the reason that Dante had asked in the first place. It would force Vergil to think about something else for the time being because the younger of the two knew that he hadn’t come up with a script or a stilted response of any sort. That just wasn’t how he worked. As a general rule, he didn’t say things that he didn’t mean. And Dante was willing to bet that that aspect of his personality certainly applied in this case. He wasn’t going to half-ass a response to the woman whom he’d shared such an important part of his life with. He’d decided to have a child with her, for crying out loud. She was important to him. Or at least she had been at one time.

Dante looked over at him as they continued to walk. No. She was still important to him. He couldn’t hide that even if he tried. That hadn’t changed in all these years. Perhaps some of the struggle born of this situation was having to face the reality that she might not feel that way about him anymore. It was a realistic expectation. There was no reality where she had forgotten about him, but she most certainly hadn’t sat around all these years and pined wistfully over him like a lovestruck child. At least he hoped.

Maybe Vergil was just afraid that the love she’d once had for him had turned to hate, something that Dante knew his older twin felt he deserved for his actions, intended or not. And facing that was going to be difficult. Exceedingly so.

“I’ve been asking myself that since we left the office.” Vergil finally said, breaking the lingering silence. He didn’t elaborate any further, proving that Dante’s assumption was correct. Vergil was just going to go in and tell her the truth. He wasn’t working off of a plan of any sort here.

Opting to probe just a little harder at the risk of sparking ire between the two of them under such circumstances, Dante continued, working under the assumption that Vergil was more or less beyond the stage in their relationship where he would attempt to murder him on the spot for digging at a sore spot. Vergil had claimed to be trying a new approach, after all. “And did that get you anywhere or are you still…?”

Looking at him in an almost curious maner, Vergil shook his head before turning his attention forward again. From what he could tell, they were almost at the desired location. “Hmmm. It would appear it did not.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” Dante said with a slight huff. This was going to be one awkward conversation; perhaps the most awkward he’d ever seen. The idea of seeing Vergil attempt to walk to a woman he liked this much would be entertaining if not slightly cringeworthy under any other circumstances, but this? No, this was going to be rough, to say the least. I think I get it, though. In theory, anyway.”

Vergil gave him a skeptical look, silently indicating that he was in the right jurisdiction but perhaps not the right precinct in regards to being 100% sure what his younger twin meant by that. Vergil could make some guesses, though. Or at least he normally could. He was preoccupied. And Dante noticed this, opting not to let him wonder and to elaborate instead.

“You probably won’t admit it, but you care what she thinks about you. And you don’t want to know how much her opinion has changed since you’ve been gone.” Dante made the executive decision to not dance around the topic any longer and to just dive head-first into it instead. Maybe it was better to just rip the bandaid off now and get it over with. “That’s what I’m thinking, anyway.”

“Since I vanished into thin air and seemingly abandoned her when she needed me most, you mean,” Vergil said, his tone noticeably more morose than it had been a moment ago. He wasn’t going to say yes, but he wasn’t going to disagree, either. Both of them knew that was essentially the same as direct confirmation as far as their personal standards were concerned, anyway.

“Yeah. Something like that.” Dante almost wanted to laugh at how bad that sounded, but he didn’t want to seem like he wasn’t taking his brother seriously. He absolutely was. This entire situation sucked and they both knew it. But there was no running from it. That wasn’t what they did. And it never had been unless there was literally no other choice. And even then sometimes they stood their ground like the fools that they were, refusing to back down and retreat. Surrender just didn’t run in their blood. “I think this is it. Pretty sure this is the right street.”

“Mhmm.” Vergil nodded a single time in agreement as they stepped around the corner onto a quiet street. His brow furrowed slightly as they scanned the addresses, taking in the block in front of them. It was a street shaded by old, established trees. It was tidy, shady, and peaceful with rows of duplexes lining either side of the street and parking spaces on either side of each unit with small fences dividing the individual properties. Shaded porches and landscaped yards were a staple of the area. All in all, an unassuming, quiet little neighborhood.

But as they searched for the address, the two of them noticed something that neither of them had expected to find. A moving van. And it was at the address that they’d been looking for.

“Well… That’s not good.” Dante said, somewhat stating the obvious but not really thinking about it at the time. Vergil heard him but didn’t acknowledge him, instead heading over towards his previous destination just that little bit quicker. Dante followed closely behind, unsure as to what his older twin was about to do, but certain that he didn’t want to lag behind. Oh no. This wasn’t good…

… This was a problem. Had they just caught her in the process of moving out, or were these new people moving in?

Were they too late?

(-~-)

Ah yes, this cliffhanger is pure evil. I apologize. But you will find out soon enough! I’ll see you in the comment section and next Friday on 4/12/2024! Take care and I’ll see you all soon! Bye bye!

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astral-touched · 2 months

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@yellowfingcr asked:

"If I can ask," and the I is accompanied by a vague gesture around her head- I, un-illithid, empty of tadpole, woefully common, it means, "I, ah. I'm a gloom stalker. I've spent perhaps more than half of my life in the Underdark. I've seen all sorts of things. And I don't... think I've ever seen an illithid all by itself for so long? Is it- um, are you-"

She hesitates.

"-doing alright? I sound terrible. I'm sorry. I just wanted to ask. You cannot afford distraction, of course, so I do not expect you to, I don't know, come to camp, drink a glass of wine with us, but, well. You're all by yourself so often."

A mind such as the Emperor’s is a dreadfully vast, fighteningly enlightened thing. It had, once upon a time, seen and experienced the full gamut of human emotion and experience, before then ascending beyond and finding answers to all the questions it had once asked, carrying the expanse of all human knowledge with it to the stars. It has seen more than any being ought, and understood every facet of it. It is, by all accounts, a superbeing. It is something incredible…

But it still is caught off-guard more than it would like to admit.

This moment is one of those where it cannot blink calmly and answer confidently, shaken by the human experience once more — by this woman, with her kind words, and her anxious sentiment. The Emperor regards her with eyes that read nothing in a language she could possibly understand, but the words therein are bittersweet, should she learn the script. Its hands remain fixed at its sides. Its gaze remains fixed on her expression.

And it isn’t sure what to say.

Eventually, it turns to look away — shy, perhaps, or perhaps simply contemplative. Eyes scan the distance as it thinks. “Your sentiment is kind,” it says, not-quite-answering. “To be so concerned with one such as myself, and to think to ask at all. I appreciate you coming here. But you need not worry about me. I will be alright.”

Which is the truth, but ‘alright’ is not ideal in many cases. And this might be one of them. Still, it has made up its mind. “I will admit, I have long sought the company of allies, and my reasons for doing so have often extended beyond the dire circumstances. Relationships are something I have always tried to maintain, perhaps selfishly so. The fact that, as of now, all those I have had have ended is nobody’s fault. It is just the way of things. There is no one to blame. And my grieving is done.” Pause. “Does this mean I do not still yearn for companions? Perhaps not. But there is very little I can do to, ah… make friends. Very few would trust a mindflayer. And even less would think to invite one into their space — their heart. This makes you, stranger, rather interesting — and very, very different.”

It eyes her again with that, studying her. But it is unable to parse any answers by simply staring. Hm. “I appreciate the offer, and the concern, but you need not worry about me,” it repeats, more assuredly this time. “This is the path I have chosen. And it is one I would not trade for anything.”

Except, maybe, for a friend.

But that is for it to ponder, and nobody else to ever find out.

(But oh, how its mind flits to warm arms and soft smiles…)

…

Distraction causes its gaze to trail off, and it is suddenly far, far away from the moment, though still standing right within arms reach.

#[answers]#[ic]#yellowfingcr #oops this got long :’)

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wellntruly · 1 year

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M*A*S*H - Viewguide, S9

Are you interested in the long-running anti-war situation tragicomedy M*A*S*H (1972-1983), but there are simply so many asterisks and so many episodes?

Well I can’t help you with the asterisks, but nor can I help myself: I started watching all 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, and bringing back for you my viewing selections, chosen for The Qualities.

— — —

Haha I don’t know, I don’t know! Once again I felt this was kind of a weird one, and yet this time the mood would get odd and I’d be like….well go on then. What’d’ya got.

Here are nine various answers to that question:

M*A*S*H - Season 9 Recommended sequence

9x03 ‘Cementing Relationships’ - Script absolutely curlicue with wordplay, the passionate Italian soldier possibly the funniest patient they’ve had yet, and Klinger turns into Locke from the film Locke---I’m up.

9x04 ‘Father’s Day’ - Margaret’s dad sucks. :( The boys are engaged in trying to eat a side of frozen beef. With visible effort, Charles manages to list out “Hawk,” “Beej,” and “Max,” all before fully awake. These are some of the highlights.

9x10 ‘Operation Friendship’ - It’s called “Operation Friendship.” Do you need more? Alright, Klinger and BJ get injured in some sort of confusing pressure explosion, sending Klinger into schemes (‘course) and BJ into a tense & tender domestic drama with worried to distraction Hawkeye. More? In one scene, Potter is literally directing said domestic drama. More! That’s me asking.

9x11 ‘No Sweat’ - They Were All So Hot meets They Were Up All Night! Bitch you know I love an Aristotelian unity! The whole thing takes place I think between the hours of about 3am and 6am in diverse locations and vibes around camp, while crickets chirp in the dark and everyone is simply SO pants-less.

9x12 ‘Depressing News’ - One thing I always like Very much is when Hawkeye gets kind of unnervingly intent on some grim futile little project against the war. BJ is [spins wheel of BJs]...disinterested! Admittedly Hawkeye says something to him in this that sure pushed me right out of my mind onto the floor.

9x14 ‘Oh, How We Danced’ - Perhaps the most ‘Season 9’ Season 9 episode. Very sweet very sentimental, BJ always in a tiff over something, pristine background comedy acting, also moments like where Charles says with withering poison, “Hunnicutt, gooo hurt yourself,” and it’s like, oh, that’s weirdly extreme!

9x15 ‘Bottoms Up’ - Necessary inclusion for reasons of it's this one and for Margaret having just a terrifically mid-century lesbians plot line with her tall, card-playing nurse friend who is ~hiding a dark secret~

9x17 ‘Bless You, Hawkeye’ - MAYBE if anyone had actually said “Gesundheit” this wouldn’t have gotten this bad, eh!

9x20 ‘The Life You Save’ - Very interesting Charles episode!! And remarkably well-balanced between his troubled story and the dark-comic Army procedure absurdity the rest of the crew is getting up with. It kinda feels like this episode could be the exemplar of what M*A*S*H has most wanted to be in its run. An Alda Production™

Season 1 • Season 2 • Season 3 • Season 4 • Season 5 • Season 6 • Season 7 • Season 8 • Season 9 • To be continued

#M*A*S*H hours

#M*A*S*H #M*A*S*H hours #viewguides #Tarra watches

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laidee-flegman · 5 months

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Journal prompts for dealing with your triggers

What's that one thing that never fails to make your eye twitch? Describe it in all its triggering glory.

When did you first notice this trigger creeping into your life? Was it like a ninja in the night or more of a "bam, I'm here" situation?

Give your trigger a name. Go on, get creative with it. Something like Captain Cringe or Drama Llama. Own that trigger, fam!

How does this trigger manifest physically? Sweaty palms? Eye rolling so hard you can see the back of your head? Paint us a vivid picture.

Dig deep and uncover the root cause. What childhood trauma or embarrassing moment might be hanging out in the shadows, pulling the trigger strings?

Think about the last time this trigger ruined your day. What happened, and how did you react? Were there tears? Swearing? A dramatic exit?

On a scale from 1 to "I need therapy ASAP," how much does this trigger control your life?

Imagine your trigger is a character in a movie. Who would play it, and what would its catchphrase be?

List three situations where this trigger is most likely to pop up uninvited. Prepare yourself, Sherlock, we're going detective mode.

If your trigger had a theme song, what would it be? Bonus points if you can hum it while writing.

Flip the script! How can you reframe your thoughts when this trigger comes knocking? Turn that negativity into a comedy show, my friend!

Explore your coping mechanisms. Do you drown your sorrows in ice cream, or are you more of a scream-into-a-pillow kind of person?

Have a heart-to-heart with your trigger. What would you say to it if it were sitting right in front of you? Get sassy if you need to.

Reflect on a time when you conquered this trigger like a superhero. What powers did you unleash to defeat the villain?

Create a "Trigger Emergency Kit" – a go-to list of things that make you happy and distract you from the trigger madness. (Hint: Puppies and pizza are solid options.)

If your trigger were a meme, what would it look like? Embrace the meme magic, my friends.

Channel your inner therapist. What advice would you give your bestie if they were dealing with this trigger?

Journal your dream scenario: You, your trigger, and a boxing ring. Who wins, and how epic is the victory dance?

Share your trigger struggles with a friend. You're not alone in this, and sometimes a good laugh with a buddy is the best medicine.

Write a letter to your future self, giving them tips on how to handle the trigger like a boss.

Map out a "No BS" plan for dealing with the trigger next time it shows its face. No excuses, just action!

What would your favorite fictional character do in the face of this trigger? WWJD (What Would James Bond Do)?

Explore the silver lining. Is there anything positive you can extract from this trigger experience? Growth, resilience, a killer stand-up routine?

Imagine your trigger as a superhero origin story. What traumatic event turned it into the complex character it is today?

Create a mantra to repeat when the trigger strikes. Something like "Not today, Satan!" but tailored to your unique situation.

Draw a comic strip illustrating a day in the life of you versus your trigger. Spoiler alert: You're the superhero.

Journal your progress. Have there been moments when this trigger had less power over you? Celebrate those victories, no matter how small!

Write a breakup letter to your trigger. It's time to kick that toxic relationship to the curb.

Explore the possibility that your trigger is secretly your BFF in disguise, just trying to toughen you up. What valuable life lessons is it attempting to teach?

Reflect on how you want to grow beyond this trigger. What kind of badass version of yourself will emerge from the trigger ashes?

#journal prompts #journaling #journal #journals #trauma journaling #trauma journal prompts #shadow work journal #shadow work prompts #writing prompt #trauma prompts

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tripthelightfandomtastic · 2 years

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its my first wild wednesday of my senior year of college!!!! im taking a film class this semester and the TA sucks, so i’d like to imagine messing around w your hot, frat boy, film major TA Josh (circa highway tune era). im an english lit major and the film bros at my university are the bane of my existence, but theres something about having a little enemies to lovers with frat boy!Josh that just makes me want to throw all my morals out the window…

As a film school graduate, I completely understand how fucking annoying film bros can be. Holy fuck the way they get PISSED if you say, "I just don't think Quentin Tarantio is a good writer." I used to do that just to make them mad lol

I'd like to think you and Josh would have to do a scene together for one of your classmates short films, seeing as they didn't know of anyone else to ask who would be willing to help out. Josh is boarder line decent to get along with when you aren't talking about film, but the moment someone brings up Kubrick you want to punch him in the face.

"Kubrick was an amazing director!"

"He got a great performance out of her-"

"Um, do you even know the bullshit he put Shelley Duvall through for The Shining?!"

"By making her stay up for days on end with no sleep, and gaslighting her into thinking everyone on set hated her."

"It's still a good movie."

"You're a dick." You roll your eyes as you look over the shooting schedule, the two of you rehersing in Josh's off campus apartment. Running lines with Josh was nice most of the time, he was a good actor, it shocked you he wanted to be behind the camera instead of infront of it. You on the other hand, were just doing a classmate a solid in hopes that they would run your audio for your short film. "This script is fucking awful." Josh whispers frustrated from trying to figure out a non cringey way to read lines from a wannabe horror movie. "Yeah, its pretty cheesy." You agree, flipping through the pages of bad dialogue consisting of clichés, corny one liners and awkward flirty dialogue that only proves the guy who wrote it doesn't really know much about women.

"So what's the plan here? Your character is the killer, predictable, and I'm the helpless victim, sexist, and you're taunting me with a knife that I end up stabbing you with, wow how original." You sigh tossing the script on to the coffee table, turning to face Josh on the couch as he writes in his script. "It really does need some changes." He agrees as he continues his scribbling. "What are you writing?" "Some notes on dialogue, I'm thinking something that flows more naturally than, 'Oh no, you were the killer all along?' Something a little more exciting." Josh explains.

Josh moves closer to you on the couch, "So how am I supposed to move, I go from having you against the wall, to you pushing me to the ground?" Josh asks confused, "Well, you could choke me and I could pull a knife?" You suggest, Josh's eyes light up, "Do you know how to be stage choked?" He asks, "No? Do you?" You answer curiously.

The two of you end up rewriting most of the scene completely, a flirty back and forth where the killer doesn't reveal his plot but simply distracts the would be victim with seduction, "And then I stab you in the gut, telling the audience that I figured it out when you referred to the very first victim in the past tense when no one else knew that they were dead yet. It makes my character seem like less of the ditzy bimbo and more of the Nancy Drew type." You add. "What you don't wanna be a bimbo? I love bimbos." Josh smirks, "I bet you do. I have no problem playing anything, I just hate lazy writing." You justify.

"I took stage combat last semester."

"Of course you did."

"Hey, it was a good class, and obviously very helpful now."

You can feel yourself blushing, this is stupid, like where am I supposed to look? He's so close to me, do I look into his eyes? That's too intense, maybe his mouth, oh, his lips are pretty, no no that's weird, he's gonna get the wrong impression, I'll just look in his eyes, his stupid, big, brown eyes. It was not lost on you that Josh was cute, fuck, he's the cutest guy in the whole department, and him holding you like this and this close is not helping.

"Okay, whatever nerd, just show me." You sigh exasperated, moving closer to Josh. He brings his hand up to you, "Okay, so in stunt work, all of the responsibility of selling it is on the 'victim' in the scene, so you gotta make it look realistic." Josh explains as he gently places his hand on your throat adding zero pressure. "So you don't squeeze at all?" "Well, only a little bit, but just here, on the sides of your neck, not your actual windpipe." He says, his hand gently squeezing. "Oh yeah, that feels...fine." You say as you look him over.

"So what do I do?" You ask him softly, Josh's eyes search yours, "Uh, you can um, put your hands on my arm and my wrist, make it look like you're trying to push me away?" He suggests. You bring your hands up to his forearm, leaning back against the arm of the couch as you place your hands on his forearm and bicep, squeezing the muscle beneath for effect. Oh? That's nice, hm, a little muscle there, what a suprise, you think to yourself as your eyes look over his arm. His fingers give your throat a gentle squeeze, bringing you back to his eyes, "Does that feel okay?" Josh asks gently, his fingers applying just the smallest bit of pressure. You can feel your heartbeat slamming in your chest and your stomach doing a flip. "Y-Yeah, uh you can squeeze a little harder, if you want?" You say bringing your hand on top of his on your throat.

Josh's eyes look to your neck as he feels your hand, helping him tighten his grasp just a tad more. "I don't wanna hurt you." Josh whispers, his eyes looking into your eyes, "You aren't. It's, uh, nice." You say softly, his hold semi affecting your voice. "That's my line, 'I don't wanna hurt you', remember? I think you wrote it." Josh smiles shyly as he moves in a little closer. "Oh," you chuckle nervously. Fuck he's cute, "Maybe I am more of the ditzy bimbo type." You respond quietly, a subtle rasp to your voice. Josh smirks as he looks at your lips and back to your eyes, "I do love bimbos." He whispers as he brings his lips to yours, kissing you gently.

His kiss is soft, warm and gentle, he tastes sweet, like cinnamon, and his lips are softer than you thought they'd be. You kiss him back and soon your hands move to his shoulders, pulling him close to you. His hand lets go of your throat as he lays more against your front and between your legs, his hand in your hair.

His tongue enters your mouth and you can't help but moan into his open mouth, his fingers scratch gently at your scalp as he pulls your hair so he can kiss at your neck. You grind against him, wanting to bring him even closer still, "Fuck, Josh." You whisper as you pull at his shirt, slipping your hands to rest on the warm skin of his back underneath. "Do you want to take this to my bedroom?" Josh asks slyly, kissing and licking up your neck. "Yes, please." You whine, he pulls away, getting up and picking you up to take you into his room.

"I swear to God if there is a Pulp Fiction poster in there-"

"Let's just stay out here then."

#pulp fiction poster is my biggest red flag i look for #wild wednesday #fuck heres a whole fic #gvf #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #jake gvf #josh gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf

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deltaengineering · 4 months

Text

Fall Anime 2023: A Fallful of Fail

you will be shocked at what happens at the end

horse_ebooks S3

Umamusume S3 is bad. Not that that should be a surprise to anyone – the anime was never beyond decent and even then mostly just the price of admission to a galaxy of fanart. And looked at from the outside it is simply shaped liked itself: nothing more (or given the context, rather nothing less) than a fat and lazy gacha franchise advert.

The question is why S1 and S2 apparently were not when they were materially barely any different, and the answer to that is simple: S1 had the novelty and S2 apparently brought the best material Umamusume can realistically offer – which already wasn't that much. If you just want the quick take, S3 is very much like the boring first half of S2, and then just keeps rolling like that until episode 12. However, since it drops all the distractions and embellishments and just presents itself naked and at the most basic level, S3 works as exactly one thing: A case study why Umamusume was never good, will never be good, can never be good and is fundamentally just a bad idea.

It's a confluence of things that are each on their own questionable, but each of them boosts each other's shortcomings in such a profound way that it's hard to say what the "core issue" even is: It is obsessed with a "sport" that is so simple that all events are short and indistinguishable, and winning just comes down to whether you decide to go fast that day. It values gambling results from decades ago over having a structured story. It wants to pick protagonists that are popular, and horses are popular when they win. It needs to have a vast yet simplistic character roster where having two personality traits makes you Rice Shower, the deepest character in the franchise. It plays it so safe that there shall be no villains or even adversity – having injuries in S2 was apparently already too spicy so we just don't do that anymore. It despises continuity, which means that Gold Ship can get a random episode about ending her career and this making no difference whatsoever to her presence, which remains exactly the same as it has been since the first episode of season one. And yet, it thinks it can have all of these and tell a character-focused underdog sports story, because that's what you do when you hear "racing".

The end result of this is that we have a two-episode loop that is intensely centered on one unbelievably shallow protagonist with the personality of "everyone loves her", who constantly keeps winning unless she gets sad, and then people tell her she is popular to cheer her up, and then she wins again, and then we do this 5 times in a row, and this being framed as some epic triumph over adversity. And none of this is new, it's just really apparent when your protagonist is "Teio, but worse", your sidekick is "McQueen, but worse", and your supporting cast is "you liked these characters last season and they like Kita-chan, maybe you should too". Intellectually, it's astonishingly awful and yes, I'm mad.

But with high production values and a bunch of cute hors doing cute things, it's still nothing more (or given the context, rather nothing less) than a fat and lazy gacha franchise advert. Just don't ever consider turning on your brain while watching it because that shit hurts. 4/10

Tearmoon Empire

I'm probably only putting this one over Umamusume out of spite, because while Umamusume did pretty much everything wrong on a high level for interesting(?) reasons, Tearmoon is just a bottom-shelf product and that's the the long and short of it. To be fair, it starts out as a pretty good one of those, with a decent twist on the "I read the script" style of story that these always are, and watching trash princess Mia stumble around trying to save her head from getting lopped off with inexplicably positive results for everyone involved is a decent, if easy, laugh. This already doesn't ever reach its full potential, because it's ultimately bland and one-note and there's nothing else (apart from a very funny OP). Tearmoon was cursed by amateurish light novel writing from the start, but what really does it in is Volume One syndrome: That plot is resolved about two thirds in, and what follows is just staggeringly uninteresting political machinations in a thoroughly dull universe. The beginning was weak, yes, but it was followed up by stuff I could not possibly care any less about. In a way it's a positive that nothing comes together, because then the show's single biggest lategame misstep by far (guess what, nothing was Mia's fault after all!) would total the show's thematic core. If it had managed to establish it. Which it didn't. 4/10

Bullbuster

I'll give Bullbuster one thing: It at least feels like a show anyone wanted to make. And while "robots, but realistic and working class" is not a new angle, doing a mecha show through the lens of workplace laws and corporate policies instead of technology is a pretty good starting point. It's just that things went wrong when developing this into an actual story – something with this grounded a concept should not stumble around for weeks until it eventually ends up with the "twist" that the local Umbrella Corp experimental biotech plant is the source of these weird mutations, for example. The characters also just aren't strong enough to keep this weird mess of a plot together on their own either. It also notably has some of the worst monster CG in recent memory, and as an action show (something it isn't, to be clear) it would have been a laughable failure. This is not at all surprising coming from the Deca-Dence studio, but everyone somehow gave that show a pass while I don't think this one will be on anyone's hidden gem list in a hurry. In any case, "could have been good, but isn't" is all that really needs to be said about Bullbuster. Sometimes an anime isn't good for no other reason than simply lacking in quality. 5/10

16bit Sensation

I was always going to watch 16bit Sensation due to personal interest in the subject matter, and honestly the best I can say about it is that "it gets better". Not that that means much because it starts out badly, with just a bunch of uninspired 90s vndev references and anecdotes that the people who were there probably find very relatable. That said, the show notably improves once it starts going down some weirder parallel timelines & moefag aliens paths – but it has so far to go that that really isn't enough either. Unlike its simpatico Animegataris, 16bit Sensation doesn't go to really weird places and also completely lacks bite because eventually it just wants to be like, about the power of creativity, maaaan, which drives it more into "Eizouken without the production value" territory, and logically very little of it makes sense. Admittedly it doesn't strictly have to, but it's not very funny or insightful either. In any case, the real loadbearing part of this show is the character of Konoha anyway, and she's a mixed bag. Her goofiness is endearing, but it's also hard to deny that her character mostly consists of Aoi Koga's voice performance, and that is in turn mostly just consists of "the wacky bits from Kaguya-sama but extra hard and all the time". It's certainly something, but whether it's a selling point is a deeply personal decision for every viewer. Unlike the undisputably crappy opening song performance by Shokotan of all people, what the hell. 5/10

Under Ninja

Under Ninja has one thing going for it, and that is that it's unlike anything else (well, I hear that all the other mangas by this author are exactly like it, but in animated from at least). It's a weird mess of an absurd Metal Gear plot presented with all the ambiance of a 4chan greentext story, which gives it an unusually deadpan sense of humor similar to something like Burn After Reading. If nothing else, it's an experience... but I still don't like it very much. For starters, this show looks like absolute butt, and only half of that can be attributed to intentionally grimy stylistic suck. No-budget James Bond might be a joke, but at the end of the day you still have to watch it, and there is far too much action in the show for it to look this crappy. Characterwise, it starts with exploring the more sympathetic sides of unlikeable losers, towards the end it just keeps spamming more unlikeable losers because... funny? Also, the story is wilfully obtuse but appears to take itself increasingly seriously as it goes on, which makes it eventually cross over from "shaggy dog" to outright "just a prank bro". Now, I will say that this is more than just random nonsense. I think that it does try to say something about Japanese society – I'm just not sure what that actually is. Instead the intense cynicism gets the better of the the show and it just disappears up its own ass, and I don't think that is particularly hilarious. 5/10

Otona Precure

I can't hate Otona Precure. It's just exactly what it says on the tin, a basic-ass Precure show with mildly adult topics while everything else remains as generic as it it gets, production included. This was never going to be extraordinary or subversive (and if it attempted that, it would probably have gone badly), so I'll just take things like razor thin characters, baby-level takes on environmentalism and egregious reuse of 20 year old stock footage as a charming part of the package. In fact, if it was less rudimentary it would not be watchable for someone like me who doesn't care to explore the 100+ episodes of old assembly line magical girl anime that this ostensibly a sequel to – I get it just fine from context clues, thank you very much. It's very much a slim novelty, but enough of a novelty that it can just about sustain 12 episodes and that is it. 6/10

Overtake!

Overtake is, to put it simply, thoroughly competent, as expected from Ei Aoki – a small-scale, vaguely bromantic character drama with a moderately novel setting that can take full advantage of its traditional underdog sports story trappings. It certainly won't blow anyone's socks off but compared to all the questionable jank above it does feel like a breath of fresh air when something just works, and I really can't stress this enough – I did not particularly care about Overtake and its characters at first but godammit if it didn't put in the work and skill to make me care. The characters are fleshed out and fun, the plot is well paced and goes to some less predictable places, and it looks really appealing without coming across as living above its means. I had a genuinely good time all the way through but ultimately wasn't invested enough to consider it a classic, and that's fine. It's an "exceptional midcard" type of show, and I wish there was more of this tier between the cheap trash and the ultra-premium crowdpleaser.

And I cannot keep myself from saying this, but this tangentially-about-racing character drama just so happens to utterly clown on Umamusume in regards to making racing exciting, without even trying very hard (Redline it is not), via groundbreaking additions such as left turns and actual strategy. And that is before it's actually a good show with characters and a story worth caring about. Imagine that. 7/10

but consider the following:

In all honesty, this was a pretty good season and almost all the reasons for that are not on the above list. Yes, the premium material on top of the rankings did actually deliver hard this season, which is to say that both Frieren and Apothecary Diaries would be easy AOTY contenders had I not learned my lesson regarding continuing shows with Ranking of Kings. Both were great but face some rough road ahead – Frieren is heading into a Shounen Exam Arc™ while Apothecary Diaries is starting to show signs of classic shoujo romance pitfalls, so I'll hope for the best and give them their due once they end. And there's also Undead Unluck, which is simply the Fire Force that Weekly Jump has at home, and by that I mean that it's two thirds delightfully unhinged psychedelia and one third Jump brand "I should really drop this" pablum, a ratio that is highly unlikely to improve. Besides that, I'm quite a ways into Pluto but haven't finished it yet because it is indeed Naoki Urasawa's Award-Winning Masterpiece Pluto – expertly made and decently meaningful but also bloated with self-importance past the point of flatulence. We'll see.

#anime #review #fall2023 #uma musume #tearmoon empire #bullbuster #16bit sensation #under ninja #otona precure #overtake

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colorisbyshe · 5 months

Text

my review of the boy and the heron: in some ways, it felt very nice that the film followed the same beats as/mirrored spirited away so heavily but in other ways, it kinda felt like... yeah, maybe you're going back to the well too many times with this. similarly, i think the time period being used to explore grief and generational trauma was very poignant but also... i'll admit, mahito's father becoming wealthy off of building fighter planes for world war ii chafed a bit (maybe that's my problem, i get this film is pointing out the pain of war but... i've written before about my opinion on war films, even war-adjacent films like this). (that said, I really need to think about the film more to really understand the war's role in the film, though I get... a decent amoutn of it, at least intellectually.)

but more to the actual point, thematically, the film was beautiful and meaningful. a lot of the imagery was beautiful and fucking visceral, although i wish it was more expressive at times (the english dub was sometimes a bit flat, a bit reading-off-a-script-y for me, and the animation sometimes felt kinda... mouth flappy?) when it came to the human characters. although i also get why characters did come off as flat, all themes considered.

with the reuse of very familiar imagery, i do think sometimes i got more caught up in thinking "oh, just like howl," "just like this other previous film" rather than enjoying it. but again, a me problem, and i think when i remember that this film was meant to be miyazaki's swan song, it makes more sense, even if it was distracting. especially when i recognize a lot of this film is meant to be about him... saying goodbye to his own career and creations.

and it never made me feel less to be distracted in that way. and this film made me feel a LOT. i felt joy, i felt nostalgic, i felt an ache that radiating from my chest into my tinger tips. for such a magical film, it's deeply human. i wish it lingered a bit more because the ending, as obvious/well-projected as it was, ended up feeling a bit too rushed and almost abrupt. i understand why it was abrupt but i kinda feel like the film was holding my hand and then sort of ripped its hand out of mine and screamed ROLL CREDITS!

i think this film is very middle of the road miyazaki for me. it does make me want to rewatch his other films (and watch films of his i have never seen before), which is both a plus and minus.

this is a solid... 3.4/5 for me? i wanted more than i got but i also felt very, very emotionally connected to film in a way i don't experience with most films and i think i have a lot to think about in the wake of watching it. so, with time, this score might rise, as i understand more of the abstract moments.

#i think my fave part of the film was how dialogue-light it was #it added to it

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bookishtheaterlover7 · 5 months

Note

Hi all one of bookies friends here.

Everyone needs to calm down

Look at the facts.

Video- showed her without ANY ring a lot

Video-could he be anymore obvious with his left

hand.

Everytime he does or has something come out she does something. This time she shot herself in the hand twice.

And no I no longer find Chris attractive. If your team real i dont care. I just dont like seeing my friends on here who are team or get all worked up bwcause its nothing. It is for nothing we've, proven its fake.

How many holes can you put into a hot air balloon before it can't fly anymore?

To the GP (genaral public) they are married so right after all it was exposed the rings are fake. teams are gunna have to do or try and do clean up for a while. We knew this was going to happen. I expect to see shit about one flying here or the other flying there or they both fly to meet each other. I mean how many roumers in 2 days can start about who is where? It just

makes it look worse and more comical. A real couple wouldnt do damage control at all. Just because a website publishes an article doesn't mean it's a website that reports news or the truth. Remember People mag, US weekly etc is are still mags they use click bait. Don't freak out everytime you hear a rumor that she flew here or did this or that . The fact is its been de bunked disproven if they choose to continue on with the PR BS thats on them a lot of fans are not playing along any more. Im.not playjng along anymore im done with it. I saw a post in instagram that sums everything us well it said

"I am on team PR. But if he wants people

to believe he's with her, then we should

just leave him to it. It's true he owes

us nothing but we also don't owe him

our support anymore."

What point is there to get upset or nervous or anxious over something just because there a rumor about a plane ride. If you wanna believe theres a plane ride maybe its to sign a new contract that this shit is over.

You know its fake i know its fake. And you know what they showed they were gifts from cartier. Maybe her team would shse poney up the money to get cz versions. Frankly it would be even funnier.

We dont owe chris anything.

If you feel silly or stupid or being duped by thibking he was a better man than he is dont be, everyone was. It only goes to show the man could've had awards by now if he picked better scripts

Clean up is gunna happen. WE HAVE SEEN IT. the less you play into it the faster itll be over with.

But dont let this distract you or upset you from a joyus holiday season or take away any happiness you're experiencing or could be experiencing. Focus on something positive and happy. At the very least i saw a blog with a debate about who qas hotter Sam or Castiel. Now THAT is some shit worth arguing about. Not an airheaded Nazi

Thank you, my dear An🫶n.

Honestly, this is a serious wakeup call to a lot. That ring debacle/exposure is something to note, and it could be the sign to many of being done.

And if they aren't, well, I'm happy to partially become the blog that becomes a nostalgic stop for old Chris, Chris Evans before he was a shit person in a shit relationship with a shit person, and Chris Evans Characters Appreciation and absolute SIMPING!!! Oh, and the occasional Albitch hate post, because I still hate her 😆

I'm even thinking it's time to add more Fandoms to my roster. Marvel characters are high on that list. So are book discussions, because I am enjoying that as well 😁

We'll see. The world is my oyster now, especially with that big bomb that fell into our laps, as well as the fact I'm on break and about to undergo the busiest month of my life!!!

It's going to be filled with holiday cheer, family love, Christmas shopping, reconnecting with everyone, and focusing on improving the one love that came back a few months ago, after years... Writing 😊

So, my beautiful weirdos, can we PLEASE take steps towards something new? I think we could use some respite after months, maybe even years of PR Debunking Hell... 🫶

Also, there are certain topics that I don't want to be discussed on here. Because I don't feel comfortable being in the middle of any debate whatsoever (you can ask my dearest friends on here, they know I hate politics and avoid discussing, and eventually debating it, as much as possible). Until my next post, Beloveds 🤗

#An🫶n asks #thank you!#booky reacts #chris evans #chris evans fandom #still a place to hate Albitch.#booky answers #on to new horizons #Happy 25 Days Before Christmas to those who celebrate it Bitchez!!!!#Happy Hanukkah as well... don't know when but figured #I should embrace different cultures on here 😁#DON'T AT ME ABOUT THE WAR EITHER

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lumelii · 2 years

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Nanami as Mr Darcy pls!!

🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻 SAY LESS

Regency!Nanami x fem!reader

Receiving an invitation to the Gojo ancestral home was never something you had expected for your first ever season in London. Yet one had come all the same, addressed to ‘Miss (f/n) (l/n)’ in elegant script on the finest cardstock you had ever held between your fingers.

Of course, an invitation had come for your aunt and uncle as well, along with their children. There was no way you could attend a house party, the unmarried lady that you were. Your cousin had whined that she had not been sent a separate invitation given she was also an unmarried lady, but you paid her no mind. The invitation left you feeling light the whole rest of the week as you prepared for the two-week excursion to the Gojo estate. The season has been uneventful compared to your cousin’s, and even though you weren’t particularly looking forward to people who you were certain would attend the country retreat, being singled out eased most of the trepidation surrounding the trip.

Being there now, however, was another story.

It had been three days since you had arrived, and for much of that time, you were able to hide yourself away in its extensive library. The only exception was in the evenings, when everyone convened for dinner and conversation. Particularly, you were able to avoid him.

Seeing that head of flaxen hair instantly made your teeth clench. You had been able to exchange pleasantries in the few encounters you had with him so far on the trip but each time his obviously incorrect opinion was chosen over yours simply because his acquaintances agreed with whatever came forth from his mouth you patience grew thinner.

“I simply don’t see how you read The Castle of Otranto and say it’s unimaginative.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You had the unfortunate timing of arriving in the morning room just as he was, forcing you to break your fast with him or make it plain you didn’t want to be in his presence even in the company of others. Your host Satoru Gojo was there too, along with a few other guests. At least you wouldn’t have to be alone, yet you had the misfortune to be seated directly across from Kento Nanami.

The coddled eggs and toast did little to distract you from the conversation being held across from you. One of his companions, an old college friend you presumed, had arrived shortly after you and felt the need to continue their discussion from the night before about literature. Your ears perked slightly when you heard them mention The Castle of Otranto, one of your favorite novels. Then, your knife went through the piece of toast you were buttering when Nanami stated “I don’t understand why a novel so unimaginative would be so lauded,” you couldn’t help but state your own opinion in a rather rude tone.

The words hung in the air at the table while all conversation stilled and everyone looked at you. Nanami’s eyes were narrowed as he regarded you, calculating in his gaze.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami asked.

There was no helping it now. You squared your shoulders and stared back at him.

“The Castle of Otranto is one of the first books of its kind. What other novel have you seen that deals with the supernatural in such a way?”

“The story itself is a conglomeration of Shakespeare’s works. Adding a ghost and the death of an heir by unusual circumstances does not make it groundbreaking in any way.” He replied evenly.

“Perhaps if you were able to interpret what is beneath the surface, you would find the novel more compelling.”

“So you yourself don’t think it relies too heavily on Shakespearean themes?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it when you realized you had no retort for his statement. Although the novel had the supernatural element that gave it some edge over its contemporaries in your eyes, you yourself had remarked on how similar it was to Shakespeare’s works.

Your silence didn’t seem to have an effect on Nanami at all as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Someone with such strong opinions ought to be able to defend their stance.”

You gaped at him. Had he really just said that to you, at a breakfast table full of people? Who did he think he was? He insulted you further with a raise of his brow when he noticed your shock, as if saying ‘don’t you agree?’

“Now, I think this has gotten a bit too heated.” Gojo laughed lightly from the head of the table, but you had already stood with a quick word of excuse and were out the door, following the main hallway until you were on the back lawn. You walked until you were in the garden amongst the early spring buds, far enough away from the house and obscured so no one would see or hear you.

“Insufferable man!” You spat, kicking a patch of grass. “Pompous, arrogant, wind bag!” You tried taking in several breaths to calm your anger, but the more you recalled what had just transpired, the angrier you became. What did it matter if you had disagreed? Was it necessary for him to speak to you like that? That was no way to speak to a lady.

Just as you were about to march back into the house to embarrass yourself further by telling him how you really felt, you heard a small voice call out “Miss (y/n)!”

Turning, you saw Yuuji, a young boy of five and one of your younger cousins’ playmates running at you from across the grass, chased by his nurse struggling to keep up. You stood still and greeted him with a smile as he threw his arms around your legs and squeezed. “Good morning, Yuuji.”

“Good morning!” He beamed. Stepping back, he offered you a small bow and took your hand to kiss your knuckles. You laughed and curtsied in response. He was always so sweet, asking you to read him stories or play with the young ones whenever he came to your uncle’s house to play with your cousins or in the park.

“What are you doing outside?” You asked him, directing the question more at his nurse who had finally caught up and was trying to regain control of her breathing.

“We decided to go for a walk!” He grabbed his nurse’s hand. “Nurse Miller said it’s nice out.”

“Indeed it is.” You agreed. “Did you see anything interesting on your walk?”

He shook his head. “Megumi fell down and scraped his hands, so he went inside already. We need to eat breakfast. Do you want to eat breakfast with us?”

You smiled at his kindness. “I already ate, I’m afraid.”

“Then would you like to meet my papa?” His eyes lit up. “You haven’t met my papa!”

“Your papa?” You looked at his nurse. You didn’t know what you had assumed. Surely his parents would be here, if he was here. But you weren’t aware of any of the other adults, save Gojo and your aunt and uncle, that had brought their children. He didn’t resemble any of the adults either. Who exactly did Yuuji belong to?

Curiosity got the better of you, as well as your inability to deny a child’s request. “Of course I would like to meet your papa.”

Yuuji’s smile widened into a grin as he grabbed your hand and started running into the house. “Come on, he should be up by now! Papa never sleeps in.”

He pulled you into the main hallway then let go, poking his head into the nearby rooms until he ran back to you with a smile, grabbing your hand again and pulling you with him towards the morning room. “Come on, he’s finishing his breakfast!”

Yuuji’s ‘papa’ must have come down after you had left in a rush. No one you had dined with had children, as far as you knew. They had never mentioned it before.

“Papa!” Yuuji burst into the room and ran around the table. To your horror, Nanami turned at Yuuji’s yell and smiled, opening his arms wide so his son could run right into them. Yuuji hugged Nanami around his neck tightly then turned back towards you and pointed. “Papa, that’s Miss (l/n)!”

Nanami’s own face transformed from a smile to a similar look of horror as he met your eyes in the doorway. You had no idea what he was thinking, but you were certain it was similar to your own thoughts at the moment.

How the hell was this the same person?

#regency!nanami #regency!au #nanami kento #jjk nanami #JJK #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #my writing #asked and answered

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digital-corruption · 2 years

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My comments on The Ssum (by the studio that made Mystic Messenger):

I want to say I like The Ssum, but it's pretty weird. I don't understand the purpose of all the side stuff. I guess it's original in that there's no mini games per se, but you have a pseudo social media platform within the game. Does it have any actually purpose other than being a distraction while you wait for Teo?

Oh man, if you decide to give the game a try, you have to be super careful how you set up your daily schedule. There's 5 chats a day: wake up, breakfast, lunch, dinner and going to bed. The thing is the chat opens about 30 minutes or so before the time you set and so it closes about 30 minutes before the next time. In a way this is a massive improvement over Mystic Messenger. No chats while you're sleeping so no waking up at weird hours. However, you have to be mindful of how you set up your time. If you set the wake up and breakfast times too close together, you risk missing the wake up chat. Also if you have a tendency to sleep in on weekends, you're at risk of missing out. Strangely I found the going to sleep chat closes at midnight. I don't know if this is the case if you set the time after midnight. I just know that setting it for 11 pm screwed me over, especially because I fell asleep early that night. Maybe this will be fixed?

I've seen a lot of people complaining that Teo is too bland. It is sort of a mistake of only offering one character and hence one love interest. They are trying to appeal to everyone and thus Cheritz have made him too generic. There is the point that Cheritz are boasting 200 days of content so it is meant to be a slow burn relationship. I do find the conversations rather bland. The situation could had done with other characters to bounce off of. Rather than 200 days of Teo, why not 50 days of 4 characters instead? 50 days of content would’ve still been super impressive.

My next concern, 200 days is quite a commitment for a game. The plot better start becoming engrossing, otherwise the game is just a chore. There is no way to save and take a break either. You can pay via IAP to go back or forwards in time.

I missed the wake up chat this morning because I didn't open the app until just before my breakfast time. However for a game that boasts its realistic dialogue, Teo quickly forgot that we didn't actually have that conversation. Not to mention the English translation is rather poor for a game that had several delays. It's playable and passable, but needed someone who spent time living in an English speaking country to edit the script.

I won't be paying for the subscription. For where I live it's over $1 per day and that's far too steep, especially when there's 200 days of content. No matter how you look at it, that's $200 to play the game. PS5 games here are $110-$130 at the moment for a standard edition. There is no way this game is worth more than a PS5 game. So I will suffer the ads and the slow text speed. Also it doesn't unlock Teo's private account? The money grabbing Cheritz is doing with this game makes me sick. I get that there is a lot of continued maintenance required to keep the side stuff going, but we're not talking a few coffees here.

Tl, dr: The Sum has a lot of confusing filler to the game thaf you can ignore. If you intend to play, take care setting your schedule because you can't fix it without paying money, which is just one of a dozen ways the game tries to take your money. Four days in and the chats have been shorter than Mystic Messenger with considerably less plot development. It is meant to have 200 days worth of chats so the relationship is expected to develop slowly. Teo though feels very generic. Trying too hard to appease every preference?

Also why no option for player to be male/nonbinary? They provided a female love interest in Mystic Messenger. This feels backwards...

I'll give it a few more days and to see how it goes.

#the ssum

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winecupwars · 1 year

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progress report: year-end edition

we went a full year without one of these funky little things, can you believe it? well let's get back into it. here's my 2022, all wrapped up :)

some neat things that happened this year:

my 28th birthday! i remember looking for songs that mention being 28 and they were all forlorn, with lyrics like "i'm 28... is it too late?" like. hello? you're in your late twenties, not turning into dust. i swear, society's obsession with being young and thinking that life ends at 30 is the cause of so much unnessary pain and worry. aging is a gift! let yourself grow old!!

first time to vote in a national election!! the one i voted for didn't win, sadly, and the one who won is an inept corrupt piece of shit who i wish would get the comeuppance he and his entire family deserves. i hate them so much. but enough about that.

my first work anniversary! as of now, this is the longest i've worked at any company. and i still like my job, amazingly. i can see myself working here for the next few years.

went through a battery of blood tests and doctors appointments, which all came down to this conclusion: i need to lose weight and fix my diet. which i am doing now! i am eating somewhat better, and exercising semi-regularly. i'm working on it.

i have a girlfriend now!!!!! we've been together a month and a few weeks as of this december hehe. i'm happy :)

i took a pottery class and realized that it's challenging and expensive. on the fence about pursuing it as a hobby, tbh

wrote some moz/ulysses stuff that i posted on ao3 and on my fallout tumblr!! drew a bunch of fallout oc art as well. finally made an oc page with all new art, for example. check it out if you want!

got my first tattoo!! it's of the skull from the skeleton on the cover of the black parade, with lyrics from famous last words. it's so nice and now i want another one. they can be addicting!

started a vinyl collection finally!!!!

wrote up an entire thing about my plans for kapitan kwek kwek, as well as a script for the first story!! i was about to draw when i got distracted by my gf ahahahahhaha

learned how to make browned butter horlicks cookies! i think they're going to be my signature cookies now.

there are definitely more things that happened that i've forgotten about lmao but those are the big ones that immediately came to mind.

as for the media that i experienced this year - i dedicated an entire notebook to it, with ratings and little blurbs of how the thing made me feel. it's cool, and i recommend doing it. reading back on those entries, i think here's my top pieces of media for this year:

book: i'm glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy

i didn't read a lot of books this year, but this was the one that i fully enjoyed the most, despite its subject matter. after reading, i just want the best for jennette. her life has been nothing short of tragic, and she writes about it so simply and yet so impactfully.

series: amc's interview with the vampire

there were soooo many good shows that i watched this year. our flag means death, the bear, abbott elementary, arcane, etc etc, but this one. this one. kept me on the edge of my seat for the few weeks it was on air. my cousins and i were hooked! it's doing its own thing and that's what makes it a great adaptation. best show of the year, by a mile.

movie: nocebo (2022) dir. lorcan finnegan

i watched this with my girlfriend in the cinema, during the qcinema festival. i honestly only wanted to watch it because i was curious about whether it'll be racist towards filipinos, but surprisingly, it wasn't! it's a filipino-irish (!) film that is ugh so good and so subtle and so magical and heavy. justice for all kentex workers, and for all workers like them, who are being paid poverty wages and worked to the bone in terrible conditions, all for foreign bosses who could not care less about thier wellbeing. we will have our justice.

youtube

album: the loneliest time by carly rae jepsen

it was a toss-up between this, laurel hell by mitski, and dance fever by florence and the machine, but in the end, carly rae jepsen's pop masterpiece won. it's just fun, and more of carly's signature pop flavor. top three songs: sideways, bends, and bad thing twice. though, honestly? all songs are top-tier.

i'm happy to be doing this again! i need to get back in the groove of writing, to be honest. and what is the point of a blog if i don't, well, blog? so. here. see you all again in a week!

#progress report #shh peri shhh

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tlltaleheart · 8 months

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cw. themes of depersonalization / derealization

SCRIPT.

a nightmare devil seeks you out in your sleep. fed by the sweet fear of bad dreams, it twists your senses, distorting the room and its form to become your greatest fear. what do you see?

SCENE.

the devil looks like a devil, which is to say that it looks like the devils in the movies he's seen in mise-en-scène's backroom. it sits at the side of his bed, comprised of scars and features that are too sharp to be human, with horns that curl out from their temples and twist back over long and haggard hair. their eyes are glittering, their teeth sharpened.

"i need your help," it says, leaning in. it has the voice of thousands. "i'm hungry. i'll fade if i don't feed. but no one has been kind to me, to even spare a scrap."

"i'm sorry for that," minseo murmurs, sympathetic. "most people aren't kind."

"they are heartless." it nods, then sighs. "will you help me?"

minseo only needs to think about it for a few seconds before he nods too. "what do you feed on?"

"simple things. you wouldn't even need to stand up for it." it smiles. "i don't think you use your voice very much, do you? i could feed on it a little. you wouldn't notice a difference."

it isn't wrong --- some days he'll speak and find his throat scratchy from disuse. there are other ways to speak. he thinks of the last time he really used his voice, that disagreement over the smoke with irin. maybe if he had less of one, he wouldn't have to fight others so much.

"you can have some of it," he relents, though he's not entirely sure what that'll mean. he's never fed anything except stray dogs before.

the devil coos. "you aren't like the others after all," it says. "you still have your heart."

i do, minseo thinks, feeling a ripple of warmth. and it distracts him enough from the next second, when the devil dips in with glowing eyes and swallows up his voice.

did it work? he asks, only to blink at the new, strange emptiness inside his throat.

"it did." the devil's eyes thrum with a light not unlike the one in his chest, promising a newfound energy. now, minseo thinks he can hear his own voice under all of those others. "but i'm still hungry. do you think you could spare a little more?"

i think you already took all of it, he says. what else could you have?

"you don't use your hearing very much either."

minseo pauses. well, he thinks with some regret, he does use it now. there are voices in the world that he cares to hear now. he would miss the tinny arcade sounds when jaehyun beats him at another game, even the music that he can hear from his neighbors at the next apartment over. and the city. he would miss the sounds of the city, which keep his surroundings from being too quiet.

but it would be cold to refuse the devil after he has already agreed to help. okay, he says reluctantly. just a little of it, this time.

"just a little," the devil promises, and with that, it leans back in and eats up all sounds of the world.

wait, minseo says, flinching back in his sheets. that didn't feel right.

it often doesn't, the devil agrees. but you will get used to it.

are you full now?

hm. i can't quite tell. the devil taps its scarred cheek. you know, if i could taste, i think that would finally settle my stomach. you know how it is, don't you? the mind isn't convinced it's really had something, really experienced something, unless it can taste it, raw and real.

his heart has quickened now, warmer under the covers. but if you take it from me, then i'll stop being able to tell, too.

i won't take all of it, the devil promises, but when it eats up those bright, sensory papillae of his tastebuds, it's just as greedy as it was with the others. delicious, it sings. i haven't had sweets in a while.

so you're full, minseo says, eyes hot. it's been so long since he's felt a heat like this, radiating from his chest and upwards, filling his head. upset, that's the word. it's been so long since he's been upset, and he has to blink back the sting in his eyes. now will you leave?

i have to make sure it really works, the devil says, shaking its head. one more, just to make sure i can taste it. you've been so good to me that i'll let you choose this time, don't worry.

it leans in.

will you give me your eyes or your hands?

no.

even without a sound, the word takes up space for itself in the air. will the world ever be real again if he can't see it? will he ever be real again if he can't be touched? both sound so frightening that he has to shake his head and say it again. no. no. not his hands, not the days of feeling his way through iseul's blueprints, not the comforting methodology of changing out his own heart, not the stability of another body nearby to ground him. not his eyes. how will he see sangwon without them, how will he know that sangwon sees him in return?

indecisive. the devil clicks its tongue. if you don't choose, then i will.

how can he, when these are his last ties to the world?

no, he repeats, terrified.

but at this, the devil just seems to swell with glee. perfect, it croons, before it eats up the both of them and leaves him in a stifling, silent emptiness.

it's nothing. just the vaguest awareness that he is still there, that he's still some kind of entity that can think and wonder and fear.

nothing, in nothing, he fumbles for the familiar cradle of his bed and finds none there. panic closes around his throat like a fist. he tries to sit up but he realizes that he can no longer feel what is up and what is down either, or when he began to fall and where he's falling to, what his unfeeling hands close around, if there's anything here at all. is there anyone here at all? he calls for a name but forgets that he doesn't make a sound. it doesn't stop him though, and he keeps calling and calling and gleaning the dark for something that might be there waiting for him. with him. but would it be any use, he realizes, if there's no way now to know it?

eventually even the panic loses its feeling too. it doesn't go away, just grows so sharp that he has nothing else to compare it to, and maybe he's sinking but maybe that also doesn't mean anything now and he's really just floating. serene, and quiet, and nothing. nothing except for that fear, and that mouth that keeps feeding in the dark.

#x / muse.#rmnt:event002 #ok .#x / task.

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dumbbitchfrommars · 8 months

Text

on another note (please let me distract myself from my pathetic past times) - MY PRESENTATION WENT REALLY WELL! well as well as i am capable of. i was reading from the cue cards the entire time but my script was good and so were my slides. i was shaking but my voice was steady, and my knees didn't buckle from the adrenaline-anxiety, so i think i did pretty fucking fantastic. for the others who are used to presenting and dont know the depths of my shame associated with a lifetime of crippling anxiety - its easy to critique my lack of connection with the audience. but in all honesty... IT IS SUCH A PRIVILEGE AND AN HONOUR TO RECEIVE SUCH CRITICISM. like, my presentation was substantial enough to even receive comments. and you understood what i said, and you listened to me, and it wasnt completely terrible, and i didnt have to watch myself so i survived. and i did it!!! it makes me cringe to imagine seeing myself up there not even glancing up at them for a second but sometimes you have to do what you can to get through difficult situations. i am so fucking proud of myself. like... i can hear my inner child jumping for joy. im actually fucking traumatised from the one time i tried to present in grade 7 and the dickhead class clown made fun of me for having badly made slides. in retrospect... he was criticising me because i was the teachers pet and was probably jealous of how smart i really was. and its easy to pick on someone whos already shy. but man did that fuck me up. and that shyness carried on into high school. i cant believe no one saw me and thought hm, she looks like shes struggling, maybe she needs counselling. maybe she needs help. maybe she deserves a little compassion. instead everyone took advantage of their power over the girl raised to be a people pleaser and subservient to authority. NOW LOOK AT ME YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! i wont listen to bullshit from anyone. not kim telling me oh, but makeup wont get paid as much as here, oh youll probably only get around $28 an hour. GUESS WHAT BITCH, I GET THE SAME EXACT RATES AS THIS SHITHOLE. and ill be even happier doing it. no more drunks, no more creeps, no more druggies, no more aggros, no more smelly homeless weirdos, and no more energy vampire coworkers.

fuck you scott for being less mature than me, someone probably less than half your age. i am the adult when youre around and it must make you so fucking insecure. anyway. i always get like this before the weekend when i am forced back into that hell hole place.... at least i dont have to deal with the annoying ones tomorrow. and fridays are usually more fun because there are more young people heading out for the night.

working in alcohol is just not appropriate, safe, fun, or nurturing for a beautiful 22 year old girl. sorry guys. i got to go. its not my fault my energy triggered you because youre old and afraid of change and settled for a shitty job just because it paid well. LIFE IS FOR LIVING NOT FOR MAKING MONEY.

on that note, i know its a privilege to up and leave a job simply because the "vibes werent right". its a privilege to say money doesnt matter to me. and its a privilege to choose a job based on my personal preference and not on survival. but its a privilege we all have, if youre willing to work hard enough. im sick of lowering my voice and downplaying my strengths and my achievements for fear of pissing people off, for triggering people, for bringing their insecurities to light. LET ME WIN IN PEACE FOR ONCE. smile for me for once. pretend to be happy for ME for once.

i hate fucking pretending its not that big of a deal when its secretly a huge deal for me. i have achieved so fucking much in the last year of my life. i finished an undergraduate bachelors degree, i got a new job and excelled in it, literally made all the customers prefer me over my longstanding coworkers who are miserable with the worst attitudes even towards me who is nothing but kind and friendly. i started and honours degree whilst working part time - and im excelling in that too. because i am hardworking as much as everyone wants to pretend im not, and that im not that capable, and that i need things to be explained to MAYBE YOU SHOULD FUCKING LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE. cause i clearly have a lot more going for me that you want to believe. i might only be 22 but i was raised to work hard and strive and always find something new and better to challenge me to work towards. anyway, i also went on a trip to europe this year . though it feels like ive already erased that from my memory, cause it didnt go the way i wanted it to. anyway. i know how to handle my finances, i am independent, i am strong, i push myself. i joined a gym after years of avoiding and bein afraid and not believing in myself enough to do it. I AM PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY STRONG AND GETTING STRONGER EVERY DAY. ugh . i just wish people could see that. i wish people appreciated that...

yes i was very sad to say i was leaving my job. but God instantly reminded me why i wanted to leave in the first place. why i decided to make that application, go to that interview, and pray for months on end that my time to leave would come soon. because no matter how much love and kindness i pour into that place, it will always take and never give. i am completely drained by it. i will break if i stay there. and i cannot fucking wait to leave and know that slowly but surely, every single one of the stupid, pathetic alcoholics that frequent that place will notice my absence and be disappointed that im gone. and they will wonder why, and they will realise and know, that the people there were so fucking terrible to me that i had no other choice but to find something better. that in their own little way, they contributed to me leaving.

even my manager. i already know im gonna miss him like crazy when i leave but its for the best. not only is this crush fucking relentless and so stupid, but hes not even that great, and he doesnt deserve my respect and adoration to this level. as cute and funny he is, he is just another white man. sigh

i didnt realise i had such a rant to get out... i think scott triggered me yesterday. the good thing is i dont really notice in the moment how much of a man child hes being, so he doesnt get the satisfaction of my irritation in person. but i wont forget that he dipped and i didnt get a break after being on my feet for 6 hours straight. fuck you, old man.

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