#(not that i'm bitter about that or anything)

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

HAPPY 1K!!!! That's SO exciting and well deserved!!

Might I humbly request a ficlet with...

Z. "You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"

and ⭐Celebrity AU

Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! 🍓

I'm celebrating 1k followers, requests are open

Just how much I'll do

Rated: M

Words: 989

Tags: Celebrity AU, modern AU, rockstar Eddie, nepo baby Steve, fake dating, sexual tension, finger sucking, enemies to lovers

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“Ah, there they are,” Eddie says. “Took them long enough.” 

Steve stops chatting with the waitress to follow his gaze. Something is glinting beyond their window, in the tiny space between two cars on the other side of the dark street. A camera. The waitress hurriedly puts down their dessert and scurries off. Steve watches her go with a disappointed frown. Using the moment of distraction, Eddie reaches out across the table and tangles their fingers together. 

The frown melts into a bitchy scowl and Steve flinches like Eddie’s hand is something gross. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Eddie laughs, loud and unashamed in the hushed quiet of the restaurant.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos. He flips their entwined hands so they’re facing the window, running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. His smile is wide and teasing as he leans over the table and into Steve’s space. “I must admit I’m a tad bit insulted. I make an effort to look nice for you, take you to the fanciest restaurant in town, and you’ve got nothing better to do than flirt with the waitress all night? Why, Stevie, do you even still love me?” 

“Quit it, Munson,” Steve snaps, trying to yank his hand away, but Eddie holds firm. A few quizzical heads turn in their direction and he’s quick to stop struggling. When he speaks again, his voice is a low hiss. “You know as well as me that this is all a publicity stunt. Don’t forget about the deal.” 

“Sure,” Eddie drawls, snatching a chocolate-coated strawberry from his plate and popping it into his mouth. The chocolate bursts between his teeth and tangy, juicy sweetness explodes all over his taste buds, making him hum in pleasure. The place may be way out of his comfort zone, markedly different from his usual dark and edgy night clubs, but at least the food is excellent. “We go on a few dates together, let our friends out there take their little photos, write their little news stories. After a few months, we break it off amicably - no hard feelings, you’ll always be special to me, yadda yadda. My label gets off my ass about my ‘out of control’ lifestyle, your old man gets to beat those completely unfounded allegations of homophobia just in time for the big election. Look how supportive he is of his queer son, after all. A true champ, a beacon of tolerance and open-mindedness, a shining example for all of us.” 

Steve, who has just taken a sip of his wine, snorts so hard, Eddie’s surprised it doesn’t come shooting out of his nose. He has a nice laugh - pretty like the rest of him, but there’s a bitter little twist to his mouth that never seems to quite disappear. Eddie catches himself wondering what his smile would look like without it. 

“Please,” Steve sneers, putting his glass back down with a bit too much force. A few drops of wine splash over the rim, staining the table cloth red. “My dad’s a bigoted old asshole and we both know it.” 

The hand that’s still tangled with Eddie’s tightens, almost painfully. A small part of Eddie imagines the things Senator Harrington must call his darling son behind closed doors. 

“Makes me wonder, though,” is what he says, “why you agreed to play along in this little farce? Why help him out if he’s such a douchebag?” 

For a second, something pokes through the facade of bored indifference on Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable and honest. Eddie wants to grab a hold of it and pull it all the way to the surface, lay it bare and never let it go again. But it’s gone as quick as it came, slipping through his fingers like mist. 

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and the bitter curl returns to his lips. “Not like you’d get it.” 

He's right, Eddie thinks. He probably wouldn't. He hasn't seen his own sperm donor in twenty years. He doesn’t know what it's like, growing up in the shadow of an overbearing father, constantly forced to uphold your family's image, to live up to expectations. 

But something in the way Steve says it, all haughty and derisive, like Eddie isn't even worth an explanation, makes something ugly stir low in his belly. 

“Oh, I think I get it,” he says, plucking another strawberry from his plate. Steve watches with a furrowed brow how he lets it dangle between them, waving it idly about as he speaks. “I think it must be hard, constantly begging for daddy's love and acceptance, but only ever being fed the scraps. Always so eager, always so willing, but never quite good enough, you poor boy. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?” 

Steve's eyes go wide, perfect lips parting around a punched-out little sound. Eddie grins triumphantly, lifting the strawberry to his mouth. 

But he never makes it there. 

Steve surges forward, fingers closing around Eddie’s wrist. Eddie watches, heartbeat pounding in his skull, how Steve sucks the fruit into his warm, wet mouth. How pink lips slip over his fingers, all the way down to the first knuckle. Chocolate cracks and a thin rivulet of red juice trickles down Eddie's thumb. Steve darts out his tongue and catches it, never once breaking eye contact. 

“Holy shit,” someone whispers. It takes Eddie a moment to recognize his own voice. He knows it's impossible through the glass and the distance, but he swears he can hear how the camera shutter on the other side of the street goes crazy. 

Steve releases his fingers with a slick sound, tongue licking over plush lips to gather the last traces of strawberry and chocolate and Eddie still clinging to them. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, breath cool against Eddie’s wet skin. 

“Let's get outta here … and I'll show you just how much I'll do.” 

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And then they went home and had hate sex. The end.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #1k followers #Hype's 1k follower ficlets

[shiin-ye]

𓆰𓆪『A Witness to Agony』꒷꒦

𓆰𓆪 summary : the first time you were brought to the Gojo residence,you were just a kid like the Gojo heir.

𓆰𓆪 warnings : a lot of fluff but since I'm not sane angst too,Satoru Gojo x sorcerer!reader,kinda long fic

𓆰𓆪 a/n : the idea just popped up,lol. @nightmoon3 killed me for this and @nanamis-baker had a tiny peek. Also I'm so proud of this one-

The first time you were brought to the Gojo residence,you were just a kid,that being seemingly your only point of similarity with the heir of the clan.

You,as a member of a clan inferior to the Gojo's,were sent to serve the Gojo heir - and because you were born a girl,in a clan who counts girls as a disgrace.

Albeit the next heir of the Gojo clan,Satoru Gojo,was nothing like you expected. Even by putting aside his six eyes and limitless technique,the other heirs of other clans held no candle to him.

You learnt with time that Satoru Gojo is the master of many facades. The responsible and gentle one he put on for his family. The carefree and arrogant one he put on for the other clans and the higher-ups. And the nonchalant,apathetic and serious one he put on for the servants of the clan and residence,you included.

Satoru Gojo,unlike the other clans' heirs,wasn't spoiled and capricious. Although the servants thought otherwise. The owner of the six eyes has a keen eye,and he most certainly isn't stupid. He notices all the things they say behind his back,the looks they give him and all the gossips. In fact,Satoru Gojo notices everything. He just takes the smart route and ignores it all.

Not that your situation is any better,if not any worse. You're from a good clan,yet here you are serving the Gojo heir. No way the servants are gonna turn a blind eye on that. The treatment you get from other servants is...humiliating.

They would bump onto you on purpose,making you almost drop whatever you were holding,whether it was food,tea,or clean laundry. Worst case,you would fall. Your small weak girlish figure was nothing compared to the experienced,tall and rough bodies of them. And when you fall? They would make fun of you,insult you and mock you. You tried to ignore them,hell you did,but the effect it had did the situation worse.

"Why don't you say anything to them?" The Gojo heir doesn't even look up from his book when he speaks to you,obviously recognizing you barely,but nothing can escape the keen eye of the one and only Satoru Gojo,the treatment you get from the other servants included.

"I- I'm afraid I'm clueless regarding what you're talking about,my lord." Swallowing hard,you pour him a cup of freshly brewed green tea,set along with his favorite mochi.

"Do you..." Finally looking up,his cerulean eyes lock onto yours,the cold stare causing blood to freeze in your veins. "...take me as an idiot?"

"I wouldn't dare to,my lord!!" Panic washes over you at the mere thought.

Taking off the door of his old Japanese cup,a masterpiece done by the hands of brilliant potters,he takes a sip of his bitter tea. "You're getting better."

Your gaze falls onto the floor,a wave of relief washing over you at the compliment. "Thank you,my lord."

"Why don't you deal with the servants? I assume you don't enjoy getting such treatment."

Pause.

"I can't comprehend why you're even here,brewing tea and serving another clan's heir when you ought to undergo lectures and lessons to be the heir of your own clan,which is one of the brilliant ones."

"I..." A bitter smile cracks onto your face. "I didn't have a choice...I'm born a girl..." You mumble,voice so quiet and filled with pain perking from the memories of the treatment you used to get from your clan just because you had the unfortunate fate of being a girl.

"No choice,huh..?" Before putting the door of the cup back on it,he takes one last sip of his tea,his further silence giving hint of possible experiences of helplessness. You realize that the Gojo heir didn't touch his mochi,even though it was his favorite. He drank his tea bitter,just like the taste the conversation left in both of your mouths.

The Gojo heir goes through a lot of intense and overwhelming training,which wasn't a shock at all. Of course,having the six eyes and limitless technique and being the next heir of the greatest clan in the jujutsu world had its penalty. One would see them as blessings,but they're in fact,curses he never asked for.

After learning about the times of his classes,you decided to bring him some things such as a cold towel,a glass of water with ice and his favorite mochi.

He would,after each of his sessions,shoot you a curious look but take the tray nonetheless,although he barely recognizes your presence. You're fine with it. It was your duty to serve him after all,the sole purpose left in your life,regardless of the treatment he gives you.

Daily physical training,a must for Satoru Gojo,led to him having incredible build,strength and physique comparing to any other heirs his age.

You're standing outside of the training room,a wooden tray with the usual things in your hand,waiting for him to be finished. Unconsciously,you start humming a song,one that your mother used to sing for you way before your life collapsed and reshaped with the single intention of serving Satoru Gojo. You're still humming when the head servant approaches alongside her usual underlings surrounding her.

"Honestly? The heir is spoiled rotten." She sighs,her tone a mix of humiliation and disappointment,not bothering to lower her voice. "Serving him was the last thing I wanted." And her underlings nod in agreement.

How can she talk about the lord she's serving like that? It just makes your blood boil.

"Shut up..." You mumble,your voice lacing with anger as your grip on the wooden tray become so tight that your knuckles turn white.

The head servant stops dead in her tracks. "What was that,brat?" She gives you a look filled with irritation and malice.

"I said shut up!" Your eyes widen in pure hatred and anger as your voice raises with each word. "How dare you talk about the lord you're serving like that!? If you're that unhappy about it,about serving him,shut up and get los-"

The head servant snatches the glass of water and smashes it to your head. The glass breaks and the cold water splashes on your head,causing a gasp to escape your lips. She grabs a handful of your hair and pulls them. "How dare you talk to me like that,you rotten bastard!?" Her voice is dripping with something dangerous,like venom.

You laugh mockingly at her. "What,did I hit a nerve?"

"You little-" But she gets cut off when Satoru pushes open the training room's door with a bang.

"Get away from her!" He shouts,his body releasing a shockwave of cursed energy due to his sudden increase of negative emotions,causing the servants to fall onto their knees,squirming in fear. He steps closer slowly,his breathing heavy and his crystal blue eyes filled with rage. The head servant lets go of your hair and quickly leaves the scene,leaving you alone with the heir.

Satoru kneels down and pushes your hair away from your eyes,seeing the blood running down your face from the wound the glass has made on your forehead and the cut on your lips. "You..." His brows knot together,scowling intensely. "Why did you do that?"

"They...they were bad-mouthing you,my lord. I couldn't allow that..." You voice cracks as huge teardrops escape your eyes.

He puts a hand on your cheek,his thumb tracing the cut on your lower lip tenderly as he smiles bitterly. "So you keep quiet when they bad-mouth you but speak up when they bad-mouth me?"

Wiping at your tears angrily,you nod your head furiously. "You...you're my lord...I have to..." You sniffle.

He lets out a quiet chuckle. "You're so..." He pauses,putting his hand on his chin as he ponders. "Actually,I can't find a good word to describe you with." He smiles and it's the first time you get a glance at his soft side. "Let's get you treated." With a swift movement,he picks you up,carrying you to who knows where.

You gasp,not realizing how quickly he picked up you. "M-my lord! This is..." You stutter as you grab onto his shirt.

"Hush...I'm your lord,do you doubt my decisions?" His voice is sweet,alongside with a grin attached to his face.

"No,my lord..." Your voice is quiet,barely above a whisper as an unfamiliar heat creeps its way into your cheeks.

"Then keep quiet and let me do whatever I believe I should do."

You nod curtly,letting him carry you to get treated. How he doesn't know serving him is the sole purpose in your life.

"Y/n...!" Satoru whines,sitting on the chair in your room. "I'm beat..."

You chuckle,closing the book you were reading and putting it on the shelf. "Okay,okay." You walk up to him and ruffle his soft snowy hair. "You did well today." He smiles at the sensation of your fingers among his hair.

It's been almost four years of you witnessing Satoru Gojo as Satoru instead of 'The Gojo Heir' you served. Albeit you must admit he is quite...a handful. The almost sixteen Satoru is sweet,soft,carefree and even flirty and whiney at times. But he is also arrogant,has a big ego and...when did he get so tall?

He's been wearing himself out lately,getting ready to enter jujutsu high soon,to enter the jujutsu society as a sorcerer. "Yeah,I'm sooo tired..." He chuckles. "But it'll all end when I enter jujutsu high."

"Dream on. Your problems will only get bigger once you become a sorcerer." You sigh.

"It's fine!! I mean,you're here y/n."

"Yeah,yeah. Sure thing,my lord." You flick his forehead.

"Ow!!" He whines,pouting as you call him 'my lord'. "It's Satoru! Sa-to-ru! Not my lord or anything else!" He gets up,pinching your cheeks.

"Owowow!!" A whine escapes your lips. "Okay,fine! Satoru!"

He grins. "Better!" One of his hands move to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear while his other caresses the cheek he was playfully pinching just a second ago,his thumb tracing infinity on your cheek. "Hey,y/n..." He mumbles,voice so quiet,matching the soft behavior of his hands. "What will you do once I leave for jujutsu high?"

Your eyebrows unconsciously raise in confusion. "What do you mean? I'll stay here,of course. I'm supposed to serve the Gojo clan."

"No,you don't! You're supposed to serve me!" He pouts,causing you to chuckle at the cuteness only you can see of the nonchalant and arrogant Gojo heir.

"Okay,you big baby. What should I do then?" As soon as you say that,a familiar spark becomes visible in his cerulean eyes,the same spark that you see when you know he's planning something big..

"Come to jujutsu high with me."

"What!? Satoru,I can't-"

"You can,y/n! You're from a clan which is brilliant among the clans of jujutsu world other than the top three. You have great potential and amazing control on your cursed energy. Your physical strength is also higher than most people and your technique is marvelous! I and my six eyes know better than anyone else!"

You look down,a pathetic attempt to hide the blush appearing on your face. But Satoru's hande tilt your head up,forcing you to make eye contact with his crystal blue eyes.

"Please,y/n. I don't want you staying here. Plus,I'll protect you!"

"Oh,you will?"

"I will." He nods. "And when I'll make sure when I'm done with this world,you'll be kept in high regard and respected."

"You promise?"

He presses his forehead to yours,a soft smile cracking on his face. "I promise."

Jujutsu high was nothing like you expected. You could say it was one of your best experiences too. There was only a few students in each year,so everyone apparently got along.

Satoru and you were no expectations,opening up,making friends and hanging out caused Satoru to smile more,genuine ones. He was happy,and that was enough for you to feel grateful to yourself for taking on his offer to enroll in jujutsu high.

Or...that was what you thought.

After a special secret mission,the star plasma vessel assimilation -failed- everything changed. Satoru truly became the strongest and Suguru was probably at the lowest point of his life,although nobody expect you noticed,you who didn't have the courage to approach and help him.

You thought things will work out somehow,that things will get better,for all of you.

But you just thought.

Suguru left to follow his new ideals,leaving all of you. It was not just a little electric shock,it was like an earthquake shaking all of your worlds.

Shoko wouldn't mess around,make jokes or hang out anymore. She locked herself and worked on her new goal instead,to become a doctor.

And you? You always followed Satoru,but Satoru was shattered. He was a broken mess,seemingly beyond repair.

"I should've noticed,y/n...he was my best friend..." His face is buried in your neck as he cries quietly,the only thing giving him away being his shaky shoulders and sniffles. You keep running your fingers through his hair as an attempt to comfort him,your fingertips brushing against his scalp.

"I know..." You whisper,voice lacing with guilt perking of the knowledge you had of Suguru's condition,yet you were scared to help. How you wish you could take away all of Satoru's pain. How it tears you to see him cry like that,to be the sole witness his agony.

"He told me it's okay to...kill him...that it has a point...I should've..." He sniffles. "I...I should've..." His hands grip your shirt and he pushes his face more into your neck.

"I know,Satoru..." You press a kiss to the top of his head. "It's okay...it'll get better. Things will work out,somehow...anyhow."

Normally,he would scoff and laugh at that. Duh,he would probably even mock that person. But coming out of your mouth makes him believe in it,a tiny light of hope dulling his misery ever so slightly. He pulls back and stares at you,his now red due to tears scanning your face's every feature.

He lazily blinks,his snowy long lashes glittering due to the tears on them,fluttering each time he does so. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes before exhaling a long deep breath which touches your lips,causing you to flinch ever so slightly.

A wave of relief washes over you as you lay on bed with him,both of you fainting due to the exhaustion of the curses none of you ever asked for,shattered dreams,the long lost blue season and the harsh reality unwilling to let you both escape its grasp anytime soon.

"How can you eat that?" You point at the big chocolate and strawberry special ice cream with your spoon.

He shoots you a look of innocence before chuckling softly. "You've known me for all these years,yet you still underestimate my sweet tooth?" He tsks. "That hurts,darling."

You smirk,playing with your small -compared to Satoru's- ice cream before shoving a spoonful of it into your mouth "Quit the act. Plus,that's not something to be proud of. We both know that sweet tooth of yours was unintentional."

He hums thoughtfully before taking off his sunglasses,revealing those gorgeous crystal blue eyes alongside those snowy long lashes. "True."

After the ice cream,you go to the usual park with Satoru. "What was the special occasion for that?" You ask,eyes locked onto the lake,reminding you how little its beauty is compared to the infinite ocean in Satoru's eyes.

He sighs,faking his disappointment. "Can't I take out my cute,adorable,gorgeous and extremely lovable girlfriend out to have ice cream with for no reason?" He frowns,making you roll your eyes playfully at his act of innocence. "Sure you can. But that one had a special occasion."

"I forgot to add smart to your list of adjectives." He grins,his gaze locked onto yours. "I'm gonna be a teacher at jujutsu high."

You chuckle heartily. "Can't let that place be,huh?"

"Nope." His grin widens. "I mean,I need to fix this ruined world of jujutsu."

"You mean...Suguru...?" Your smile fades,your voice trailing off to the point that the last word is barely audible.

"That,yes. I'll make sure no one in this cramped world feels lonely again. You were right,y/n. Things will work out,I'll make sure they do." His eyes soften even more. "Plus,I have to fulfill my promise to you,too." He gets down on one knee,pulling out a small box out of his pocket. "I need you by my side,y/n,more than what you think."

Opening the box,he reveals a simple silver ring. "I wanted to get you something expensive and marvelous,like a big diamond or something. But I read somewhere that these rings resemble infinite love as they go on an endless loop,so..." He pauses,taking a deep breath. "Will you marry me?"

A gasp leaves your lips,your hand goes to cover your mouth as tears stream down your face. You nod your head so fast you feel dizzy and he slides the ring to your ring finger with a soft heartily chuckle,happiness and joy perking from the depths of his heart. The heart that you've seen all its sides.

"I love you,y/n." He laces his fingers through yours,squeezing your hand as he pushes his forehead to yours.

"I love you too,Satoru." You smile,never feeling this happy and grateful before.

The last time you were brought to the Gojo residence,he was carrying you who were covered in white. Only not the kind of white he dreamed of seeing you in.

Satoru Gojo knew the gods hate him,but to this point? Never.

The cloth that covered you was painted crimson,reminding him of his misery,his silent agony and that the only person who ever witnessed that side of him is beyond save.

It was like the gods were teaching him how the strongest will always be and that he must be alone,by taking away his everything.

The white cloth,same color as his hair,now with the color crimson resting on it reminds him of his failures,that even if he's the strongest he can't keep every promise and protect everyone.

You,included.

✐ᝰ.divider by @/saradika-graphics

#〔𖤐Shin's work༉〕 #satoru gojo deserves the world and more #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo angst #satoru gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for this-was-a-terrible-idea; Jackson Kyle shows up in Gotham.

“I’ve met a lot of Superboys,” Jackson says, back to the bitter smile. “And a Supergrrrl, too. I was the only one who . . . wasn’t.” 

The only one whose Tim Drake was dead, Bruce can’t help but suspect is the actual end of that sentence. 

Unless . . . 

“Except for Black Zero, obviously,” Jackson says, and that bitter smile twists. 

And he still doesn’t look at Tim. 

Bruce watches Jackson in silence for a long moment. Jackson doesn’t fill the silence himself. Seems perfectly comfortable in it, in fact. 

He can’t imagine Kon ever being the same. 

“B,” Tim says warily. “This is . . .” 

“Black Zero is neutralized, to the best of our reality's knowledge,” Bruce says. More intel that’s not worth holding back right now. 

Or he's compromised and saying too much. That's less likely, but not something he's ruled out. 

“Kinda figured that when he didn't come back and conquer us, yeah,” Jackson says, wry and humorless. “It was a fucking mess to clean up, though. Not that it matters anymore.” 

Bruce thinks of that code phrase delivered at his front door and tactile telekinesis moving the hands of his study clock to a very specific time and just barely refrains from making the point that they'd bought the people of their reality a little more lifetime, if nothing else. He doesn't actually know how Jackson's reality ended, for one thing. Doesn't know how long it took, or if it was a direct result of Black Zero's interference in it. Doesn't know anything about it at all. 

He should ask. He will ask, obviously. 

But right now, he just keeps thinking about the way Jackson had first looked at him when he'd opened the door to him on the step. 

I fucked up real bad this time, B.

So Bruce knows better, but he still doesn't ask yet. 

“Relevant concerns?” he asks, and says nothing about Paul Westfield or anything related. That's . . . a secondary matter, for the moment. If that. 

Jackson's eyes unfocus briefly, and go just a little dull. 

“No, sir,” he says. “Not to you.” 

Bruce . . . pauses. Waits. Jackson, again, doesn't fill the silence. 

“Relevant to who, then?” Tim asks warily. Jackson doesn't answer him again, either because it's not protocol or because he doesn't want to. Bruce . . . 

He has questions, still. 

He has concerns, still. 

“Why not relevant to me?” he asks, which is a very different question, and Jackson's expression doesn't so much as flicker. 

“My status doesn't matter to you, sir,” he says, as even and toneless as any devastation of a report that Bruce has ever given himself. 

Bruce doesn't think about the pearls. 

“But no injuries to report?” he clarifies, because he's not going to insult Jackson by pretending that wasn't, arguably, the truth. At least the way Jackson clearly meant it, anyway. 

“No injuries to report, sir,” Jackson confirms tonelessly. He said that before, so it's not a surprising response.

But that phrasing might not mean “no injuries”, Bruce suddenly finds himself aware. 

“So you're uninjured?” he checks, and Jackson–pauses, momentarily. Like he might be about to lie. 

Or like he might just be surprised to be asked that. 

“Yes, sir,” he says, his voice a little stilted. “I'm uninjured.” 

The kid stripped down naked in front of him for the decontamination showers, Bruce reminds himself. No blood or bruising or swelling was visible. Color’s within their version’s normal range. No visible injection sites. A scattered scar or two, same as the faint one splitting his eyebrow, but nothing more notable than that. 

Not that any scar on a demi-Kryptonian isn't more notable than usual, of course. 

Much, much more notable.

#wip: jackson kyle #this-was-a-terrible-idea

[bylerbrainrot]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Initial Thoughts

hi! I don't usually to this but here are my thoughts about Taylor Swift's The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived. The purpose of this post is not to hate on Joe Alwyn btw, i'm just trying to decipher the meaning and link the lyrics to other songs. Lmk if you agree/disagree with anything :)

extra note: this is just a theory and i really know nothing about taylor’s life. so don’t take anything said as factual 🤍

--

Verse 1 pt. 1:

was any of it true? gazing at me starry eyed. in your jehovah's witness suit who the f*ck was that guy?

Thoughts:

Two things jump out at me with this verse.

One: "gazing at me starry eyed" is a direct reference to Call It What You Want, where Taylor describes Joe as possessing "Starry eyes" which light up her darkest nights.

Two: "Jehovah's Witness suit". This part really stood out to be because I literally had no clue what she was talking about. The area I live in doesn't have many Jehovah's Witnesses, so the concept of a suit commonly worn by one is pretty alien to me. However, upon further research I have concluded that it's just a suit with a buttoned up jacket and tie - something Joe often sported when out with Taylor at special events. My sister also suggested that it had something to do with Joe's role in Taylor's life. Jehovah's Witnesses remove themselves from "worldly influences", and tend not to celebrate occasions. This could be indicative of Joe's lack of interest in her achievements, and his detachment from her life as a pop star.

Overall, this part of this song is really just her questioning if the man she loved ever existed.

Verse 1 pt. 2:

you tried to buy some pills from a friend of friends of mine they just ghosted you now you know what it feels like

Thoughts:

So there's definitely some sort of substance abuse going on with Joe. I don't want to delve too much into it, because I think the lyrics speak for themselves and it's obviously a very personal situation, but I do think the second half is of the verse is interesting. It seems like Taylor was ignored/completely ghosted during her relationship, which was something I had never considered before.

Chorus

and i don't even want you back i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal and i don't miss what we have but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived

Thoughts:

Essentially Taylor is saying that she never wants to be with him again, but hopes that he knows how much he screwed her over.

When I hear "rusting my sparkling summer was the goal" I immediately think of august, with the song being set in summer and the lyric: "salt air and the rust on your door". August follows the story of a woman wanting love from a man who has no intention of doing so, which is a similar theme in this song.

I love the phrase "the smallest man who ever lived". It paints such a vivid image of how insecure and bitter a person can be. It's also notable that Joe being small contrasts Taylor being "too big to hang out" with (Anti-Hero).

Verse 2 pt. 1:

you hung me on your wall

stabbed me with your pushpins

in public showed me off

then sank in stoned oblivion 

Thoughts

"you hung me on your wall / stabbed me with your pushpins" reminds me of a postcard being stuck on a cork board. This alludes to me that Taylor is being preserved and cherished as a memento, which can be validating but also objectifying is some aspects. The imagery of her being stabbed reiterates that she is suffering because of him.

"in public showed me off / then sank into stoned oblivion" is another reference to possible substance abuse. It seems like when they were together around cameras, he appeared proud of her, but in private his affection was inept.

Verse 2 pt. 2:

cause once your queen had come

you treat like her like an also-ran

you didn’t measure up

in any measure of a man

Thoughts

I saw a few people refer to the first part of this verse as Taylor talking about infidelity. I actually think the "queen" she's referring to is herself, considering the next line she says he treats her like"an also-ran". If you didn't know, an also-ran is "someone in a competition who is unlikely to do well or who has failed". Joe considers Taylor his competition rather than his equal, and subsequently treats her as though she is sub-par.

"you didn't measure up / in any measure of man" is such a bad*ss line i love it. Here, she's saying Joe didn't possess any attributes of a "good man", like honesty, loyalty and respect.

Bridge pt. 1:

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

were you writing a book?

were you a sleeper cell spy?

in 50 years will all this be declassified? 

Thoughts

Taylor is questioning if Joe's intention was to ruin her life. She cannot fathom why someone would do the things he did to her without any motive. So instead, to rationalise her suffering, she suggests a plethora of reasons why Joe might've acted this way.

Taylor also asks if he is a "sleeper cell spy", which might be a reference to Stars at Noon - a 2022 film starring Joe Alwyn and Margaret Qualley where he plays an intelligence agent.

Bridge pt. 2:

and you'll confess why you did it

and i'll say good riddance

cause it wasn’t sexy once

it wasn’t forbidden 

i would’ve died for your sins

instead i just died inside

Thoughts

She's questioning what it is he wanted from her, because, once again, she cannot fathom the idea of someone being so cruel for no reason.

"cause it wasn't sexy once / it wasn't forbidden" weirdly enough reminds me of cruel summer, where Taylor speaks about having a forbidden, sex-driven relationship over the summer. This also once again reminds me of august, where a similar relationship is endured between augustine and james.

"i would’ve died for your sins / instead i just died inside" is a very blatant reference to peace from folklore, where she says "all these people think love's for show / but i would die for you in secret". It's actually really sad to see how the sentiment of her dying for Joe has evolved into something more sinister.

+++ is good riddance a gracie abrams reference??? (love that if it is)

Bridge pt. 3:

and you deserve prison but you won’t get time you’ll slide into inboxes and slip through the bars

Thoughts

Wowwwww. This one is actually insane! Did he actually do something illegal? Or is this a metaphorical crime? I don't think you're able to determine that from these lyrics alone, but man, it leaves you curious. It's interesting that even if he did get put away, Taylor assumes that he'll be able to evade punishment. Perhaps this is because he doesn't have a guilty conscious? Or maybe there's not enough proof to fully prosecute him? I have no clue, but one thing is for sure - this part makes me feel awful.

Bridge pt. 4:

you crashed my party  and your rental car you said normal girls were boring  but you were gone by the morning

Thoughts

The first thing I think of when I hear this part is Taylor's grammy's after party, soon after which their breakup was announced. Joe posted a photo of him and Jack, confirming his attendance, but no pictures were taken of Taylor and Joe. Maybe he had "crashed", and attended without her permission? As for the part about crashing a car, I couldn't find any info on Joe being in an accident around this time. But then again, maybe it was covered up? Or perhaps it was a minor crash?

"you said normal girls were boring / but you were gone by the morning " sounds like a washed up ex begging for forgiveness. To me, it tells the story of Joe coming to a party and telling Taylor that she was better than "normal girls" and that he wanted her back, only to depart the next day.

Bridge pt. 5:

you kicked out the stage lights but you’re still performing  and in plain sight you hid but you are what you did

Thoughts

She speaks about how Joe is an actor who continues to try and grow his career despite trying to undermine Taylor's. He will carry on about his life as if nothing happened between them, but somewhere in his mind he is aware of how much he hurt her.

Concluding Chorus:

and i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived.

Thoughts

This part reminds me of Bad Blood's "You forgive, you forget, but you never let it go". Taylor is going to move on from Joe, but she will forever maintain her disdain towards him and what he did to her.

Random things I noticed while listening

the breaths you can hear between each verse are the same heard in you're losing me - a song about the death of Joe/Taylor

piano is the primary instrument, which Joe is known for playing (ie. exile)

There is a tempo change in the bridge which is similar evermore, another song about and written by Joe

the song duration is 4:05, which is the same length as tolerate it. The song depicts "the continuous struggle of wanting love from someone who isn’t even paying attention to anything you do" (does this relate to her dynamic with Joe?)

--

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!! I'm writing this extremely sleep deprived so please tell me if what i'm saying is coherent. Also please do expand on my thoughts!! I'm kind of just jotting down whatever comes to mind, so feel free to correct/add anything you like <3

ps. this is all speculative!! No hate to Joe because i actually have no clue what he did :p

++ going to quickly mention that is it is of my opinion that this song is NOT about m*tty h**ly. I don't think they dated nearly long enough for him to have such a detrimental impact on her mental health, and for her to of metaphorically "died" because of him. Plus, there's a lot of references in this song to other works about/involving Joe.

#taylor swift #taylor swift analysis #the smallest man who ever lived #ttpd #the tortured poets department #joe alwyn #joe x taylor #lyrics #song analysis

[merrymorningofmay]

I saw your post about how hard things have been lately and I was wondering if having people boost not just war/survival related things, but also positivity would help? Ukraine has such a rich and beautiful culture; I'd love to know if there are good tags for finding information and examples to boost to show people that and if you think that would be genuinely helpful?

Sorry if this is worded oddly. I hope you and your family stay safe and that this ends in victory for your people soon. <3

thank you for the kind words and support!!

as for your question: it's not odd at all, but i have kind of mixed feelings on the matter, so this is gonna be long i'm sorry....

first i'll say this: celebrating and promoting ukrainian culture is always, unambiguously, a good idea, because historically it's been largely underrepresented and understudied (and appropriated and/or miscredited by. Some Country. anyway). i like to think it's also helpful to our plight, however marginally, because people are more likely to sympathise with someone familiar and relatable, and engaging with ukrainian culture/boosting ukraine's presence anywhere can help bridge that gap.

as for online sources to share, i can definitely recommend ukr_arthistory (ukrainian art) and old_ukr_books (vintage book illustrations) on twitter, and also vintage-ukraine here on tumblr. if you'd like to help promote ukrainian artists on here as well as on twitter, #украрт, #укркрафт are the tags you wanna check out. living artists could always use some engagement/commissions

this list is quite short, to my shame, but again, fellow ukrainians are very welcome to add their own suggestions! (guys, please do)

i have my own reservations, though. see, there isn't a single aspect of ukrainian culture, art, life that hasn't been affected or retroactively reframed by the current war or by the long gruesome history of russia's colonialism in ukraine. the war is a part of us, it's a part of me, and any attempt by a non-ukrainian to draw a neat line between the two feels. unearned and violating? somehow? (again, these are just my feelings; e.g. i never trigger tag my war posts because nobody gets to have the fun parts of me and filter out the war part of me. other ukrainians may have different feelings)

and especially now, when the political and battlefield situation is at its bleakest yet and ukraine has been making less and less headlines, hearing non-ukrainians praise the resilience of the ukrainian people or repeat the comforting "kyiv in three days" platitude makes me feel bitter more than anything, because like. we shouldn't have to be this resilient! we're resilient because our allies are failing us and our only other choice is death! sure they didn't take kyiv in three days, but if they take it in three years instead i'll be just as dead in the end! you feel me?

this, of course, isn't to imply you did/were about to do any of that; i'm just trying to explain why i can't just answer "yes, by all means" to your (respectful and valid) question.

i guess the bottom line is: sure, do share and celebrate the beautiful, joyful, fascinating things about ukraine, as long as you also share and engage with the serious stuff. unfortunately, the bad news are the priority right now. i sincerely hope we live to see the day they won't be.

#rereading this i realise that the whole paragraph about resilience had nothing to do with your question and i could've omitted it altogether #uhh. consider that one a rant tangent i'm sorry #mari asks

[cherryrainn]

Omgigmgmgkgmg imagine striker finding an injured exorcist whom is hurt so bad and she doesn't want to be an exorcist, after awhile she's able to escape being an exorcist and lives with striker in a relationship

𝙎𝙊𝙁𝙏 .

༄ ⠀𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | striker x exorcist! reader.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | injury, striker might be a bit ooc

༄ ⠀𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | i have absolutely no clue if you wanted me to make the exorcist a reader or some random exorcist so i just did reader hehe. anyway i'm super proud of this. also i changed the ending up a bit so sorry about that </3

Striker sauntered down the dimly lit alley, his long tail swaying lazily behind him. He was bored out of his fucking mind. He kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering across the pavement as he idly scanned his surroundings.

Turning a corner, his eyes caught sight of something not quite out of the ordinary—a figure slumped against the wall. Striker's first instinct was to ignore it and move on. After all, bloodshed was as common as rain in a storm.

He was about to turn away, but then something caught his eye—something that made him pause in his tracks. The figure was bleeding gold—strange, shimmering rivulets that stood out against the backdrop of darkness. intrigued despite himself, Striker approached cautiously, his curiosity piqued.

As he drew closer, he realized with a start that the figure was an exorcist—her spear lying abandoned beside her, her mask shattered in half.

For a moment, Striker entertained the idea of finishing the exorcist off himself and putting an end to her misery with a swift stroke of her own weapon. But before he could act, a voice pierced the silence, starting him.

"You... you're not going to kill me?" The words were barely a whisper, barely audible above the din of the city.

Striker's gaze snapped to the exorcist, surprised to find her conscious and aware of her surroundings. He remained silent for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

"No," he finally replied, his voice a low growl. "I'm not. Not yet, anyway."

The silence hung heavy between them. Striker could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the gravity of his decision sinking in with each passing second. He could easily end her here and now—she was defenseless, powerless to stop him. But something stayed in his hand—something he couldn't quite explain.

"The fuck happened to you?" Striker finally asked, his tone betraying a hint of genuine curiosity.

Her response was a bitter laugh, a hollow sound that echoed through the empty alleyway. "Does it matter?" she muttered, her voice barely audible above the distant rumble of traffic.

Striker fell silent, his grip on the spear loosening slightly as he considered her words. Did it matter? Did anything matter?

And then, just when he least expected it, she spoke again, her voice trembling. "I don't wanna be an exorcist anymore."

Her words hit Striker like a punch to the gut, stirring something deep within him that he couldn't quite name. He never thought he'd ever find an exorcist willing to abandon their calling, willing to forsake everything they had ever known for the chance at a different life.

For a moment, Striker found himself at a loss for words, his mind racing with a million different thoughts and emotions. And then, without a second thought, he made a decision. Fuck, he was crazy.

"Come with me," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I'll take care of ya."

The exorcist's eyes widened in surprise. "But... why?"

Striker shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I don't know. Call it a moment of weakness."

With that, he gently lifted her into his arms, her weight surprisingly light despite her injuries. careful to avoid drawing attention, Striker maneuvered through the streets, his boots echoing softly against the cobblestones.

They reached his cheap, rundown hotel room without incident. Striker pushed open the window with his foot, the hinges creaking in protest as they entered the cramped space.

Setting her down on the edge of the tub, Striker turned on the faucet, filling it with warm water to soothe her wounds. He rummaged through his meager belongings, searching for his med kit. He can't believe he was doing this. Was he finally going crazy?

"What's yerr name?" He asked, his voice softer now as he located the med kit beneath a pile of dirty clothes.

The exorcist hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on her legs. "Y/N," she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Striker nodded, acknowledging her response, responding with a "Striker." before he moved to tend to her wounds. His touch was rough, and as he worked, Y/N winced at the pain of his touch, but she remained silent, enduring it as best she could.

She knew she should be grateful—he was helping her, after all—but she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the roughness of his messages.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Striker finished patching her up, his expression unreadable as he stepped back to survey his handiwork. She took a deep breath, relieved that it was over, and she mustered up the courage to speak.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Striker glanced at her, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he nodded in acknowledgment. "Don't mention it," he replied gruffly, his tone betraying none of the emotions swirling inside him.

With that, Y/N gathered her strength and made her way to the window, her movements slow and unsteady. She knew it was probably time to go anyway.

Before she climbed out of the window, she hesitated, glancing back at Striker one last time. "I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the distance between them.

Striker said nothing in response, but he watched her go with a sense of resignation.

A few days later, Striker was sauntering down another dim alley, thinking about how much time had been wasted since he’d helped Y/N. Maybe he was getting soft, but the thought of her was lingering in his mind.

Lost in thought, Striker nearly missed her—a figure slouched against the wall, this time with no wings, no halo, not really bleeding anymore but obviously bruised. At first, he didn't recognize her. But then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, breaking into a run.

Reaching her, he skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with shock and concern. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and she smiled—a soft, sad smile that made Striker's black heart clench in his chest.

"I'm not an exorcist anymore," she said softly.

Striker stared at her, the pieces falling into place. He didn't know much about this heaven shit, but he could only assume one of the higher-ups had ripped her wings and halo off like some fucking sicko. So much for being good.

For a moment, Striker was at a loss for words, his mind reeling from the revelation. And then, without thinking, he reached out, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace, as if he could shield her from whatever she must be feeling.

"Fuck 'em," he muttered against her hair, his voice rough with emotion. "You're better off without 'em."

Y/N buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking through the fabric of his jacket. And as they sat there, clinging to each other in the dim light of the alley, Striker realized he didn't give a damn about getting soft.

Sometimes, he thought, moments of weakness weren't such a bad thing after all.

#STRIKER #striker #helluva boss #striker helluva boss #helluva boss striker #helluva boss x reader #striker x reader #helluva boss striker x reader #y/n #reader insert #x reader #ask #hazbin hotel

[autumnywinter]

Im crazy for this blog! Do you mind writing for yandere Baizhu or some hcs? Maybe a modern au?

Baizhu's more just a clinician than a pharmacist here because I'm obsessed with yandere doctors. It's been a while since I wrote for him, I'm not very confident in this but I hope it's still good ^^

Yandere!Baizhu x Reader

TW: Heavily implied noncon somnophilia, drugging, doctor/patient, gaslighting

You had been seeing and hearing things. It started with little noises outside of your window at night, rustling and shuffling. It scared you, but not enough to do anything about it. Next thing you knew, you swore you were seeing white flashes through your window at odd hours of the night. You'd look out the window, and there'd be not a thing in sight except for the stillness of the night.

It got worse.

Items of your possession began to go missing, mostly clothing, oftentimes dirty. You told yourself it was probably due to your own absent-mindedness, but you knew deep down that something was wrong.

The thing that set you off was when you'd wake up sore and hurting. There'd be scratch marks on your arms and back, and bruises you swore were hickeys on your shoulders and neck. They were in places you couldn't have reached yourself. Your mind had jumped to the worst case scenario, and you were terrified.

Yet your trusted doctor brushed it all off, saying you were getting hallucinations and stressing yourself out far too much. He claimed what you were so sure were hickeys, were actually just bruises. He said you were likely a sleep walker due to your increased stress, hence it made sense that you'd unintentionally hurt yourself while asleep. You'd bought into his reasoning, because he'd always been so trustworthy and reliable.

He gave you medication to help you, but you couldn't help but feel like what he prescribed made it worse. You found yourself more groggy than usual, and often having nightmares. You felt physically sick most days.

But Doctor Baizhu was so trustworthy, you felt like it was the right choice.

You noticed how his fingers would linger longer than they should whenever he took your pulse. You noticed how his eyes would dilate when staring at you for just a bit too long. You noticed how his touch felt wrong, like there was something else behind it. But you were just being paranoid, just as Baizhu said.

"Feeling sick again?" Baizhu's cold hand pressed against your forehead. The touch sent a shiver coursing through your body, the sharp contrast in temperature setting your nerves on edge.

"Yeah," you managed. Your voice was barely a whisper.

"That's unfortunate," Baizhu sighed. He clicked his tongue a few times in thought. "Well, if you continue taking this medicine, you should start feeling better soon. Although I'm starting to worry the side-effects are a pain. I have something else to try, so if you would just give me a moment..."

Baizhu walked off to the other end of the room, leaving you alone. You swallowed hard, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling. Your throat was always dry lately, and you found yourself struggling to swallow, let alone eat. You wished you could sleep, but the nightmares always left you a groggy mess. You could never remember them, only that they were terrifying.

"Ah, here we are," Baizhu smiled, snapping you from your thoughts. He had a bottle of pills, shaking out one singular white one. "It'll dissolve in your mouth. It's to help ease your nausea. I know you haven't been keeping anything down well lately. Hopefully this should help."

You extended a hand, to which he placed it in your palm. Were doctors even allowed to give out pills directly? You weren't sure, but shrugged it off. You popped it into your mouth, and Baizhu was right. It quickly dissolved, and you were surprised that it didn't have a funny taste. You were expecting something bitter or awful, but there was nothing.

"It'll take some time to kick in," Baizhu assured you. "I'd like it if you stayed here until it does. It might make you a little dizzy."

"Sure," you nodded. You had no reason to distrust Baizhu, despite every fibre of your being telling you something was wrong.

The medicine kicked in quickly. Within ten minutes, you were feeling a bit weird, like you were floating. Your head was lighter. Baizhu noticed you swaying and pushed you gently onto the examination table.

"Dizzy?" he asked.

"Uh huh," you replied dumbly.

"Stay lying down," he instructed. Your vision was spinning and your head was empty, so empty you could hardly process the fact he was digging into your belongings and then leaving the room. You wanted to ask him where he was going, but couldn't find the energy. Instead, you let yourself lay there, staring at the ceiling as it spun round and round.

Baizhu came back, rolling in a wheelchair. He lifted you up with a quiet groan, and set you gently into the seat, draping a blanket over you. It was scratchy and thin.

"We're going for a walk," Baizhu said. He wheeled you out, and as loopy as you were, a spike of hazy panic hit you when you saw him leading you to a car in the parking lot that wasn't yours. You tried to protest, but Baizhu cooed, petting your hair and whispering sweet nothings.

"Shhh, it'll be okay. Everything is fine. We're going home."

Baizhu opened the passenger side door, pushing the chair close. He lifted you out with a low grunt. You felt weightless in his arms, like a feather. He buckled you in, and his minty breath ghosted across your face.

"I love you," he murmured.

You passed out before his lips could even touch yours.

#answered ask #yandere #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #baizhu #yandere baizhu #baizhu genshin impact #genshin impact baizhu #baizhu x reader #baizhu x y/n #baizhu x you #genshin x reader

[funnycreatortimetravel]

So the Madoka Magica movie is coming out and there's a lot of speculation about how it's going to end (or rather, be the start of a new series of movies/a show? Idk, it was extremely vague.)

And while I love the idea of Homura and Madoka ending up together because they both deserve some happiness, I can't help but feel like the best ending for Homura at this point is letting Madoka go so she can become a healthy adult (which, let's be real, that's not possible in this world.)

And by "letting go," I don't mean cutting contact or abandoning her, I mean they can still be friends while Homura can become a person who sees herself worthy of living with or without Madoka. Because as much as I love my favorite tragic lesbians, Homura isn't her own person in the relationship with Madoka.

Like, Madoka has a loving family, loving friends, and people cheering her on. And even if she doesn't believe she's good enough to do anything, she still objectively has things going for her, a safety net if you will. And she still has a goal in mind that doesn't involve one specific person, but rather she wants to become someone that people can depend on/wants to help other people (regardless if this is at the cost of herself.) I'm not saying it's a good or even a healthy goal but with some tweaks, I could see the goal becoming something she could work toward as a means of personal growth and not just because she thinks she's useless.

Meanwhile, Homura doesn't have parents as far as we're concerned. The only ties she has that we're told about are the catholic school she attended and the hospital she pretty much lives in. No friends, no family, and no aspirations of her own. And because of her circumstances, she really wouldn't be able to. It's no fault of her own. I get why, then, she attaches herself to someone like Madoka. I'm sure ANYONE would attach themselves to Madoka if they were in the position Homura was in.

And then that starts the obsession. A long, tiring journey in which this poor girl sacrifices her mental health, her youth, countless years spent trying to save this doom girl and her doomed friends while she herself is also doomed. She's pretty much made herself Madoka's sole protector while also not allowing herself to even do or enjoy the one thing she wanted in the first place; being Madoka's friend.

It's all but confirmed that Homura hates everything about herself as seen in her backstory and rebellion when she was destroying her labyrinth. Her saving Madoka is the one good thing she thinks she's associated with, so much so that she's OK with dying either to protect Madoka or in a world without her.

Like, the concept of one person being the only reason you continue existing is so unhealthy (note that I'm not saying their relationship itself is, it's just her mindset.) I completely understand wanting to help your friend you know...not die a terrible death, but Homura doesn't think she has anything going for her outside of protecting someone else and that's such a sad thought to me. She thinks of all her past friends as enemies now, and she alienated herself from everyone. She thinks, now, that it's her versus Kyubey, the other magical girls, and Madoka herself. The girl is borderline, if not entirely, suicidal.

I'm hoping so badly that in the next movie, this is the start of healing for Homura (though it probably won't be because Mr. Uro loves his sad/bitter-sweet endings.) I hope this is the start where she's able to piece together who she is outside of wanting Madoka, who she could've been had Kyubey not manipulated her and the other girls into making contracts, had her parents not died, had her body not been as fragile as it was, had her confidence been strong, had she felt she was good enough to befriend and get close to other people without fearing her hurting them or them hurting her.

Sayaka was able to let the bitterness of not being with Kyosuke go, accepting that even though she wanted him, she couldn't be with him and even if she was, she never would've been happy. She was able to realize the flaws in her "ideal magical girl" concept and accept the fact that she's just one person and even though she's not perfect and didn't get the thing she wanted, she's still able to be a hero in her own right in the company of people who actually love and support her because she's Sayaka Miki, not because she's a heroic magical girl.

Mami was able to be honest with herself, similar to Sayaka, that she's not a perfect person, that the perfect magical girl illusion was never her. She's able to admit to herself that she was inherently selfish that all she wanted was friends and family, and that there's nothing wrong with that. She doesn't have to keep up the pressures of being perfect and mature and all-knowing because, at the end of the day, she is still that little girl who almost died in a car crash that claimed her parents' lives, and she has to live with the fact that she didn't and wasn't able to save them even when she had the chance to. And she's able to come to terms with the fact that though she was alone, she didn't have to be lonely. She's able to realize that it's not too late for her and she can make her own family that will stick around with her, flaws and all. And she can be a good role model for her little sister surrogate and also orphan Nagisa, but this time, she can be a realistic big sister rather than an idealistic one.

Kyoko can move past the pain of her family's demise, and unlike Mami, feels as though she is directly responsible for it. She was a naive kid who only wanted the best for her family and yet, by doing the "right thing" her father goes on a massive suicide-homicide rampage and she's left to think that her naivety, that her wanting to do the right thing, was what killed them. But no, it wasn't. It's ok to have hope and to have the desire to help others and do the right thing. While the actions of the wish were undesirable, it didn't change the fact that Kyoko's heart was in the right place and that she could continue to try to help others without fear of it coming back to haunt her. She can let the tense guard she's had up since her family's death and enjoy the little things in life she never got to when she was too poor; food, drink, comfort, and having others around that care about you. While she thought that it was her wish and her misunderstanding of what her father wanted that ultimately killed her family, it's the same desire and intentions that push her to save Sayaka and befriend her and the other girls later on.

Now Madoka is an interesting case because she, like Homura, is sort of trapped in being who they were before they gained powers. Now that Madoka is essentially back to where she started (unlike everyone else who at least has something/someone in their lives now in Rebellion compared to the OG series where they were missing those intimate connections) again, she's left to feel like she's missing a key part of herself (only in the OG series, she was missing the confidence she had the in OG timeline as a magical girl whereas, in Rebellion, she's literally the missing part of the Law of Cycles) and you're left to wonder if she'll be satisfied, or will she challenge this new world that seems too good to be true, a world that was made just for her and only her?

And Homura?

Poor Homura.

Being an orphan and having no one, not even doctors or nurses it looks like, be close to you? Being unable to live comfortably due to a physical condition you had no say in? Having to be behind because of said physical condition and then having an inferiority complex WHILE teachers belittle you for things out of your control? So then you consider yourself a burden and truly believe only death and loneliness await you? AND YOU’RE ONLY 14???

And then you think you've met this amazing person, this girl who thinks you're interesting and cool with no ulterior notices, a girl with amazing powers that are as wonderful as her only to have the rug pulled under you and realize that the cost of those powers and your protection is her's and others like her inevitable demise. So then you attempt to right that wrong because even further than your want to save your friends, you know the system that they're in is objectively terrible and needs to be torn down.

But then you try to warn said friends about the system and all they do is belittle you and admit they're comfortable in something that's designed to kill them before they turn twenty, and when (or even if) they're finally aware of the system and the terrible reality of it, they STILL blame you for not telling them sooner even though you tried your damn hardest? Or even worse, try to KILL you after they find out for themselves?

And then top that off with an oppressive alien race trying to control you and pretty much end your life prematurely or turn you into an immortal Lovecraftian Paper mache creature that looks like it was created by five-year-olds should you fall into despair at the hands of this default depressive system and you'll have to remain like that, killing and trapping people while you have no memories of your life as a human and have to live as an animal of pure instinct and evilnesses until some unknowing other magical girl puts you out of your misery, and the cycle will rise and repeat eternally.

Then not to mention other magical girls who try to "game the system" (which only leads to them dying/witching out even earlier, indirectly harming the girl you're trying to protect) or even worse, the girls see you as competition because they're insecure/power hungry instead of joining you in taking down the system set up so where death is an inevitable thing regardless, indirectly siding with the species that are literally killing them slowly but surely (and yet you're somehow still the problem in their eyes.) And then to add the shit sprinkles to this shit show of life, you have to battle this biblically accurate German clown of a witch that's a bunch of witched-out magical girls mashed together like a Cthulu-esque Ren and Stimpy-type creation (that's also pretty much invincible to everything that you and all of the nukes and missiles you store in a tiny, rinky-dink space-time shield you were pretty much cursed with while everyone else gets a built-in weapon.)

Not to mention the PTSD of having everyone and everything around you die and crumple to bits for 26 years over and over again, failing at every turn to complete the only goal you have for yourself (which isn't even for you, it's just saving another person because you believe you're extensible at that point) and at every twist and turn, you're beaten, bruised, belittled, scared, tired, pushed to the brink and all alone with no one to depend on because you're the ONLY one who can and will remember anything once you have to go back in time.

And then you learn the more you go back in time, the more fate and karma you're attaching to this girl which makes the aliens target her even more because of the level of potential she has. And even worse, you find out that the girl you've been fighting so hard to protect is now an entirely different person, lacking the confidence and outgoingness that made you fall in love in the first place, her desire to become a confident magical girl being unfulfilled because of you.

But you have to play the smaller evil. You have to deter her from making a wish, even if it means inadvertently scaring her away from the idea, even if it means being cold and calculated and harsh because she won't listen otherwise.

You have to crush that confidence because that desire will only lead to her death, but she can't know that because well, you still want her to trust you.

But because you've been trying so hard to scare her away from the idea of becoming a magical girl, she ends up becoming scared anyway and distancing herself from you, meaning you don't even have the comfort of knowing you two are friends anymore.

And even still, all of the other magical girls, including her, always end up dead or turning into witches no matter what you do, leaving you to fight the final boss witch alone and failing every single time because it's just too powerful.

But you can't stop. No matter what, you can't stop. Because stopping means death for you, the girl you love, and the entire world, whether it be because of Walpurgis or Madoka's witch which is only so powerful because of you and your time-traveling shenanigans.

So you do another timeline, and things go wrong like they have for the past 100 timelines so you're just numb to it now, and while you're fighting the boss witch, you get critically injured. And now armed with the knowledge that you'd just be putting an even bigger target on your friend's back, you resolve that your efforts were all in vain and useless and decide to just let yourself witch out because you have no other choice.

Only, you're interrupted by your friend, who's finally ready to put her fears aside and make a wish.

Your biggest fear is coming true and you're powerless to stop it.

So she makes her wish and becomes a magical girl Jesus pretty much and restores hope to every magical girl.

Every magical girl except for you.

She says your efforts are the reason why she was able to make such a powerful wish and thanks you for your service, as if you're an old veteran about to retire, and then she ejects you to a remade world, a world without her.

And you're doomed to fight in this world, the world she gave her life to protect, a world in which only you remember her. You don't let yourself become too close to the other magical girls for fear of losing that connection once the Law of Cycles takes them away.

So you're doomed, essentially. The one thing you've fought to protect is gone forever and there's no one but you left to grieve for her, and you start an endless fight against the new evil creatures in place of witches until you're about to disappear yourself.

But you don't even have the comfort of peaceful passing on because AHA!, that evil alien race wants to you use as a sadistic experiment to inflict suffering on you and the other magical girls while controlling the one saving grace you all had, to restart the terrible system you were trying to run away from in the original world.

So they place you in this fake simulation of happiness and fun and magical girl transformations all for the sake of controlling you and the girl you fought for and thought was safe.

So you take matters into your own hands and resign to destroy the labyrinth, even if it means your death, hoping the other magical girls put you out of your misery once and for all.

But if you die, then who would be left to protect that girl you love so much?

So you take matters into your own hands and override her power, creating an idealized world in which everyone can be happy at the cost of making all of your past friends your enemies later.

Even the girl you love and gave your life for time and time again.

All for the sake of keeping her safe once more from not only herself since you pulled a piece of her from the Law of Cycles, but also those terrible aliens who can only think about themselves and their sick curiosity.

I so badly want a happy ending for Homura, and I'm so hoping that that happy ending is one without magic or Karmaic fate or the weight of 26 years of repeated time travel or having to save her girlfriend from a terrible demise or dooming herself to magical Jesus type limbo for eternity all while she's the only one who can remember.

Outside of Madoka, what does Homura enjoy now in Rebellion? What were her dreams, if she had any? Her aspirations? What was her childhood like (even though we know it was lonely) was there anything in her life that even remotely made her feel that living was worth it?

If and when she becomes an adult, what will she be like? What career what she want to pursue? What interests her? What does she want the most for herself? Power? Fame? Company? Comfort?

And will it even be possible for her to enjoy anything outside of Madoka so long as she attaches her self worth to this one, ordinary girl?

Will she succeed in protecting her at the cost of herself? At the cost of anyone else excluding the kyubey?

Will she give up ultimate control over the world, or will she double down; ok with challenging her friends-turned-enemies all for the sake of her love?

And if so, will she succeed as Madoka's sole, eternal protector forevermore, or she be dethroned and killed, left to rot in a labyrinth of her self-hatred and mistakes? (God, I hope not.)

Or...will she finally be saved and released from the shackles of fate, time, and space so she can live her life as a normal girl, a life she wasn't granted even before she made her wish?

My excitement for this movie is beyond real.

#madoka magica #homura akemi #pmmm madoka #sayaka miki #kyoko sakura #mami tomoe #puella magi madoka magica #madoka x homura #madoka magica rebellion #madokami #magical girl madoka magica #devil homura

[aysegust]

MOONDUST. - K.B

Pairings: (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

A/N: Hello beautiful people! This was a request back in 2021 and I couldn’t write it. Due to my business in studying and since English isn’t my main language, I wasn’t good in writing that well. I loved the request and I didn’t want it to be bad and recently I started to write again due to ease my mind from the anxious things, I wanted to try and give it a shot. I also put a bit weight into Kaz’s way because I felt that would be more fit for the song and fiction. Hope you like it. Inspired by the song named [Moondust by Jaymes Young]

Request: Hey there dear! I saw your song inspired fic for Kaz with War of Hearts and I loved it. Now I'm wondering if you would do one for Kaz with "Moondust" by Jaymes Young (I'm obsessed with that song lately) in which both him and the reader are in love with each other but they decide to keep it quiet believing that it's the best for the other?

Warnings: It’s all honey and glass

Word Count: 1.242

Looking at you, like a star

From the place, the world forgot

It was a desperate attempt, trying to catch your glance. Kaz, sweared to himself inside, why he was acting this sentimental. Needing to see your face, hearing your angelic voice and to cross his eyes to yours.

Like you were a star, you shone through the bitterness of Ketterdam. Bitterness of his heart. The one thing he admired you about is that you were caring. Whatever Jesper rambles, what Nina wants to eat, Wylan’s info-dumps or Inej’s prayers -even you cared so deeply about what he wanted to say too.

But most of the times, Kaz didn’t share anything. He just stayed silent. However, you were fine with it. You loved to spend time in his silence, it was calming. A mutual understanding was there.

Both of you could relax with each other’s presence.

And there's nothing, that I can do

Except bury my love for you

But Kaz couldn’t be vulnerable. He had to be strong, cold and sharp. The thing about surviving in the Barrel is that you cannot have any weaklings. If you want to rule, you gotta be cold and cautious.

Sometimes as some of the nights passed without your company, he would think to himself. Besides thinking every outcome, Kaz thoughts about you. How, deeply inside his mind, he wants it. He craves your warmth, your affection and your caring nature.

He lived his life in a hell. He lost his family, his childhood. Living his life with a rage that’s just surround his every moment. With vengeance. Always having his guard on. It was tiring in some way.

His enemies thought the weak spot of him is his limp. They weren’t smart or Kaz’s just too cautious to hide the real one. It was you.

But he never showed it. Every heist, every dinner with Crows, all the sessions of your hangouts, he never showed it. He buried into his chest and never dared to admit anything.

As in the other hand, you understood him. In every action he took, what was the motive behind that.

Living in the Barrel and growing up without a stable home and family wasn’t surprising. In addition to that, the traumas buried under the grounds of Barrel.

The first time you realized he may care for you in a different way. After spilling you his past, he trusted you. That night a bright feeling of anger sat inside your chest and you wanted to protect him. What a conundrum.

Unfortunately after that night, as you also let yourself be vulnerable to him, the other day came and you both pretend that night was never really happened. For the sake of the surviving.

Sometimes, most of the times actually, you wanted it. You would’ve wanted to try. Be brave for him, like a lover. But in these circumstances, it was impossible. If you two met in another life maybe, but in this life, ot was just impossible to act on it.

I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice

To bury my love (to bury my love)

In the Moondust

A week passed after the petty argument inside his office. He was pissed after an unsuccessful heist. The results of the heist cost the loss of money and Inej got hurt, you got hurt. Under his watch, you got hurt.

Kaz went insane. He was extremely violent as he saw you and Inej got hurt because of the hired Grisha’s in Ketterdam.

As you went to his office later that night, you wanted to talk to him. To explain him that you are alright and everything is going to be alright, he lashed out on you. About your optimism and your carelessness.

Which wasn’t true. You were careful, he knew it. He was pissed because seeing you hurt, he had seen it before but those times he hadn’t realized he was in love with you, this time he knew it. The fact that he tried to shut it out, to bury it out. So he was pissed because he almost lost himself and terrified, Kaz Brekker got terrified. Unlikely of him, wrongfully so.

So, you felt hurt after his accusations and you also got angry with him and the two of you argued.

A week passed. As the of you didn’t hold a conversation. Kaz longed to hear your lovely voice. Your rambles, your gorgeous eyes. However, whenever that thought crossed his mind, he closes his eyes momentarily and try to focus on his work and bury the thoughts of you again.

He was dark, crooked and full of vengeance. Opposite to him; you were like a star. You were kind, elegant and you make things around you better. He wasn’t like that, he was destructive while you were constructive.

Nothing can breathe, in the space

Colder than, the darkest sea

His nightmares came to present again. Haunting him as everyday wasn’t just enough but haunting him into his dreams were cruel as always.

He could feel the Jordie’s lifeless, cold hands gripping his collars. Acting like madly and shouting at him about the past, he was feeling to lump on his throat and the uneasy feeling inside of his body. His hands trembling, his head is foggy and the paralyzing feeling of the touch of skin just makes him want to die. To end his suffering.

But he wouldn’t he just couldn’t.

I have dreams about the days

Driving through your sunset breeze

Because you as Jordie pulls him into the water, you on the other hand help him to breathe again. You came into his dreams, after sleep deprived for days, the only time he drifted off to a nap, it filled with you. You were looking at him with your soft eyes. Your warm smile and your blissful laugh.

You waltzed into his dreams so smoothly and it helped him to sleep for couple hours without waking up in a drenched with sweat.

Yeah, I'm living far away, on the face of the moon

I've buried my love to give the world to you

Maybe in another reality he could’ve held you closer but as like the two of you agreed in a silent way that not acting on what you feel to each other was the of protecting each other.

Kaz Brekker and Y/N L/N had to be careful. Surviving in the Barrel wasn’t easy not when you two had enemies, unfinished business and haunting ghosts from the past.

Nina protested it in a way. She was the one who saw it in the first place. She could her Kaz’s heartbeat as hearing your laughter. It was beating fast. Or whenever he entered the Slat, you would directly look at him and your heartbeat, well, it was beating too fast.

She never understood why you two kept it from each other and why the two of you don’t chase the true love but it was a conversation for another day.

You and Kaz maybe didn’t act upon it but what the two of you felt was real. It wasn’t negotiable and it was pure.

The thought busied him throughout the nights. So he promised himself after he got his revenge on Pekka, he would come for you. He would be a better man for you. He would be more for you, he would try so hard to earn you.

#kaz brekker #shadow and bone #kazzle dazzle #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #reader insert #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz rietveld #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker fanfic

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

*Tap mic*

Yes, it is I - your poor little Dollya

As some of you may have known already because of my constant whining and bickering for the past few days, my original blog was flagged and I'm trying to appeal. Things seem to not be on my side, though, so I figured a new blog is a must.

I won't delete the og blog, there are too many things going on over there and I simply can not. All my contributions to the DoL fandom, my AU and asks and stuffs,... have all been hidden away from the tags.

Not gonna lie I was terribly discouraged and couldn't pick up a pen to draw or do anything for several days. Terrible, just simply terrible, to look at the ask box or that stupid default avatar icon... But, well, you know, it is what it is, no point just weeping around so might as well make a new place to post stuffs!

This is a sub-blog with the same email address as the flagged one, I think I would still use the same tags as the original flagged blog: Dollya art, Dollya ask,... and I won't repost my higher interaction posts here either, that's just bitter.

I will post more "community-friendly" kinds of stuff here, so spicier asks or requests oughta go to the original blog' ask box... I don't really know, I guess things will kinda fall into the right places after some time... What do you call it? Settle down?

Anyway, I'll try to be positive. After all, the Pandora box was opened, so if I don't hold onto the tiny hope left behind, I will have nothing.

Let's just hope for the best.

#dollya art #dol pc #robin the orphan #dol robin #dol fanart #degrees of lewdity #dol #You can already tell I'm still very sad :( and I'm gonna be a bitch about it to the day Tumblr un-flagged me that blog is my everything #I didn't spend every last thread of my sanity drawing and answering to be flagged fuck it I haven't even opened any commission slot yet #I won't let that blog go what if my mutuals come back one day and wonder where am I?? Some of them've gone for a while I want to wait #my face is exactly how my icon looks: fucking bitter and can't do anything #Lya the Blossom #Lyah the Emancipated

[thunderboltfire]

I have a lot of complicated feelings when it comes to what Neflix has done with the Witcher, but my probably least favourite is the line of argumentation that originated during shitstorms related to the first and second season that I was unlucky to witness.

It boils down to "Netflix's reinterpretation and vision is valid, because the Witcher books are not written to be slavic. The overwhelming Slavic aestetic is CDPR's interpretation, and the setting in the original books is universally European, as there are references to Arthurian mythos and celtic languages" And I'm not sure where this argument originated and whether it's parroting Sapkowski's own words or a common stance of people who haven't considered the underlying themes of the books series. Because while it's true that there are a lot of western european influences in the Witcher, it's still Central/Eastern European to the bone, and at its core, the lack of understanding of this topic is what makes the Netflix series inauthentic in my eyes.

The slavicness of the Witcher goes deeper than the aestetics, mannerisms, vodka and sour cucumbers. Deeper than Zoltan wrapping his sword with leopard pelt, like he was a hussar. Deeper than the Redanian queen Hedvig and her white eagle on the red field.

What Witcher is actually about? It's a story about destiny, sure. It's a sword-and-sorcery style, antiheroic deconstruction of a fairy tale, too, and it's a weird mix of many culture's influences.

But it's also a story about mundane evil and mundane good. If You think about most dark, gritty problems the world of Witcher faces, it's xenophobia and discrimination, insularism and superstition. Deep-seated fear of the unknown, the powerlessness of common people in the face of danger, war, poverty and hunger. It's what makes people spit over their left shoulder when they see a witcher, it's what makes them distrust their neighbor, clinging to anything they deem safe and known. It's their misfortune and pent-up anger that make them seek scapegoats and be mindlessly, mundanely cruel to the ones weaker than themselves.

There are of course evil wizards, complicated conspiracies and crowned heads, yes. But much of the destruction and depravity is rooted in everyday mundane cycle of violence and misery. The worst monsters in the series are not those killed with a silver sword, but with steel. it's hard to explain but it's the same sort of motiveless, mundane evil that still persist in our poorer regions, born out of generations-long poverty and misery. The behaviour of peasants in Witcher, and the distrust towards authority including kings and monarchs didn't come from nowhere.

On the other hand, among those same, desperately poor people, there is always someone who will share their meal with a traveller, who will risk their safety pulling a wounded stranger off the road into safety. Inconditional kindness among inconditional hate. Most of Geralt's friends try to be decent people in the horrible world. This sort of contrasting mentalities in the recently war-ridden world is intimately familiar to Eastern and Cetral Europe.

But it doesn't end here. Nilfgaard is also a uniquely Central/Eastern European threat. It's a combination of the Third Reich in its aestetics and its sense of superiority and the Stalinist USSR with its personality cult, vast territory and huge army, and as such it's instantly recognisable by anybody whose country was unlucky enough to be caught in-between those two forces. Nilfgaard implements total war and looks upon the northerners with contempt, conscripts the conquered people forcibly, denying them the right of their own identity. It may seem familiar and relevant to many opressed people, but it's in its essence the processing of the trauma of the WW2 and subsequent occupation.

My favourite case are the nonhumans, because their treatment is in a sense a reminder of our worst traits and the worst sins in our history - the regional antisemitism and/or xenophobia, violence, local pogroms. But at the very same time, the dilemma of Scoia'Tael, their impossible choice between maintaining their identity, a small semblance of freedom and their survival, them hiding in the forests, even the fact that they are generally deemed bandits, it all touches the very traumatic parts of specifically Polish history, such as January Uprising, Warsaw Uprising, Ghetto Uprising, the underground resistance in WW2 and the subsequent complicated problem of the Cursed Soldiers all at once. They are the 'other' to the general population, but their underlying struggle is also intimately known to us.

The slavic monsters are an aestetic choice, yes, but I think they are also a reflection of our local, private sins. These are our own, insular boogeymen, fears made flesh. They reproduce due to horrors of the war or they are an unprovoked misfortune that descends from nowhere and whose appearance amplifies the local injustices.

I'm not talking about many, many tiny references that exist in the books, these are just the most blatant examples that come to mind. Anyway, the thing is, whether Sapkowski has intended it or not, Witcher is slavic and it's Polish because it contains social commentary. Many aspects of its worldbuilding reflect our traumas and our national sins. It's not exclusively Polish in its influences and philosophical motifs of course, but it's obvious it doesn't exist in a vacuum.

And it seems to me that the inherently Eastern European aspects of Witcher are what was immediately rewritten in the series. It seems to me that the subtler underlying conflicts were reshaped to be centered around servitude, class and gender disparity, and Nilfgaard is more of a fanatic terrorist state than an imposing, totalitarian empire. A lot of complexity seems to be abandoned in lieu of usual high-fantasy wordbuilding. It's especially weird to me because it was completely unnecessary. The Witcher books didn't need to be adjusted to speak about relevant problems - they already did it! The problem of acceptance and discrimination is a very prevalent theme throughout the story! They are many strong female characters too, and they are well written. Honestly I don't know if I should find it insulting towards their viewers that they thought it won't be understood as it was and has to be somehow reshaped to fit the american perpective, because the current problems are very much discussed in there and Sapkowski is not subtle in showing that genocide and discrimination is evil. Heck, anyone who has read the ending knows how tragic it makes the whole story.

It also seems quite disrespectful, because they've basically taken a well-established piece of our domestic literature and popular culture and decided that the social commentary in it is not relevant. It is as if all it referenced was just not important enough and they decided to use it as an opportunity to talk about the problems they consider important. And don't get me wrong, I'm not forcing anyone to write about Central European problems and traumas, I'm just confused that they've taken the piece of art already containing such a perspective on the popular and relevant problem and they just... disregarded it, because it wasn't their exact perspective on said problem.

And I think this homogenisation, maybe even from a certain point of view you could say it's worldview sanitisation is a problem, because it's really ironic, isn't it? To talk about inclusivity in a story which among other problems is about being different, and in the same time to get rid of motifs, themes and references because they are foreign? Because if something presents a different perspective it suddenly is less desirable?

There was a lot of talking about the showrunners travelling to Poland to understand the Witcher's slavic spirit and how to convey it. I don't think they really meant it beyond the most superficial, paper-thin facade.

#The witcher #Sorry if its convoluted I just got reminded of something and it made me a little angry #and as I had this conversation a lot of times I've decided to put it into written text #sorry about being bitter #but these are some of my favourite books and I'm still upset when I get reminded how badly they were treated in the recent adaptation #I'm not saying you should never change anything #But it's good to have enough background to understand why some things are the way they are in the original #and to understand what the source material is about #we don't talk about particular character's looks or something (altough I feel they could care more about it too) #but central themes tropes and motifs #long post #it may seem like I'm talking from a high horse here #people are welcome to interpret literature however they want #Nobody has a monopol on themes #I just think that in this particular case the cultural context influences the worldbuilding #and if changed it doesn't have the same impact anymore #meta

[bardandbear]

So. Transient media. I'm not looking to start any beef, however the latest change to BG3 has me feeling uneasy, less for the specifics involved and more for what it represents.

For those unaware, some very eagle-eyed players spotted that Larian had rewritten some of Gortash's Act 3 letters. I don't know what prompted them to do this, they're extremely minor codex entries addressed to a NPC. I find it hard to believe that anyone provided feedback about these, and the opinion I've seen from most Gortfans is that they liked them before. They were a little character reward for people who were obsessively scouring the game for information.

What I find troubling is that the change definitely alters characterisation in a way that isn't building on something that already exists, it isn't reworking something in a remaster a decade later, it's literally been months. Lore and character are being retconned months after release in what was supposed to be a (finished) standalone singleplayer game.

When is it done? Bug fixes obviously can and should be applied when something is actively broken, but this isn't a bug fix, nor have the previous 'minor' tweaks to character approvals and voicelines etc. It's also not adding content to the game, it's changing it. It's like seeing a movie re-cut for the streaming release, or a book getting minor deviations introduced every time it gets a print run. By all means, fix errors left in by mistake, fix your typos, make a sequel, but why are we okay with increasingly crowdsourced transient media? What is the point in engaging with something, with forming connection with something, if there's always the chance that what you liked about it in the first place is going to get changed?

#bg3 critical #larian critical #leave the text alone #it's done #it's released #put down the pen #this feeds in not just to artistic expression but the broader trend of how we don't own anything digital anymore #things you paid for #things you liked #can be irrevocably changed and removed #yes i'm still bitter about what happened to overwatch

[laufire]

early 00s comics be like. everyone was SO mean to stephanie for NO reason.

#reading in rapid succession how bruce is blacklisting her and the bop refuse to keep training her #and cass just keeps knocking her unconscious adsñlfkja (which barbara practically cheers on because steph is just soooo annoying apparently #like am i supposed to believe there was anything ''defective'' about her that meant she had to be stopped from vigilantism AT ALL COSTS #(except whenever it was convenient to bruce) #but every other child/teen vigilante is just. fine? like. how is her case different than tim's? #(other than bruce needing a teenaged minder as to not get overly violent and kills someone) #and i'm sure she made mistakes* along the way but lbr batman comics are notoriously hypocritical re: whose mistakes are forgiven #(*this is all before war games but that was another story and straight up character assassination lbr) #talking to the void #my thoughts #dc thoughts #dc #dc comics #stephanie brown #bitter lau tag

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Tumblr is way chiller than Twitter for sure but sometimes I see a post and I'm like. Y'all DO remember this is a block game, right? You're not gonna get legitimately pissy and passive-aggressive over characters doing things in a block game, RIGHT???

#i talk #qsmp talk #Chatter: Jaiden don't do this— twitter will cancel you! #The rest of us in chat: Why should she care about anything Twitter says #People on frickin twitter AND tumblr: *whining about Jaiden* #LIKE BRO YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS LMFAOOOOOO #fandom wank #I'm gonna start unfollowing people #not even just for bad opinions I'm just tired of seeing people being mean and bitter #I'm just here to have fun I don't want to constantly see whining #Critique characters and stuff all you want that's part of the fandom experience but some of y'all are so damn mean for no reason lmao #Touch grass and seek therapy #I know me posting this is part of the ''too many people complaining'' problem but Jaiden's my gal I am a little bit annoyed by that #Again: character critique is fine #but sometimes it's just so passive-aggressive and like. written like the character did a personal attack on YOU #<- the last tag is the most important point here I think

[oifaaa]

Okay got a question for everyone

#Poll #I'm arguing with a friend #Bc I used to work at a cinema #And we used to find money while cleaning screens #Usually between 20p to £20 #And ngl we all just kept it #We were meant to give it to our manager #But like we were all usually bitter about the state the screens were left in #So you know fuck um #-for legal reasons this is a joke I have never done anything like this before ever

[thetrashthatsmilesback]

i watched a compilation of other youtubers complaining about DnP, and when the complaints weren't just "the phandom is annoying," they boiled down to:

DnP are both nice but are aloof/weird/insert other trait that makes talking to them at gatherings difficult.

Phil is nice but Dan's a Bitch who Doesn't Let Phil Talk To Other People (which... Phil is a grown ass man but okay. Maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you but whatever, sure.)

DnP are nice but they queerbait (ig now they're the ultimate queerbaiters since they own a house together lmfao)

DnP are nice but Phil is nicer and Dan is hotter (which,,, I honestly don't know why these clips were included but I'm going to take it as "They're both nice but Dan is more aloof" which is funny because that's a character trait he's said he has for years and as a fellow aloof bitch its very funny to me when people complain about it lmfaooooo)

I'm ngl, the amount of people who were in the compilation just because of the Phandom, or who's complaints boiled down to "DnP are both very nice but very awkward/aloof/stick to themselves" makes me think that they're generally nice and other people just don't understand that not everyone likes talking all the time lmfao

#dnp #phan #this was a pointless post but it is interesting to see people actually dislike dnp #because i feel like 90% of other youtubers say they're incredibly nice #so seeing people say ''phil is nice but dan is a bitch who doesn't let other people talk to phil grrr'' #and seeing that come from people other than charlieskies #is interesting #it does raise the question of ''how much power over phil do these people think dan has'' #because if they genuinely thought dan was ruining phil's friendships and controlling him then they should have actual concern #but instead they just seem bitter that phil doesn't talk to them at meetups and have decided to blame dan for whatever reason #queue #if i'm using queue it just means i hit my post limit #not that i think the post is particularly special or anything #dan and phil #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #danisnotinteresting #lessamazingphil #i saw these comps as a kid but i refused to watch anything that insulted dan or phil so i never watched them #and honestly? having watched them now? they are 99% about the phandom being annoying lmfao #which good for us