#I feel HORRENDOUSLY lazy and horrible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenburd · 2 years ago

Text

Cross posted to ao3. Very mild formatting differences. Comments make me happy.

Hey, folks, this one is heavy, long, and full of repetitive text and phrases. While I know that's par for the course with this game, I bring it up because I know writing it made me feel weird at times, and it intentionally leans into its theme of deterioration. Take care of yourselves. We're dealing with the Figurines Ending, the Epilogue, and the Skip button.

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The first thing Stanley does, when the reset hits and he finds himself staring at his desk, is pick up the mug that sits on the corner and hurl it out the door of his office. It hits the wall beside the doorframe on the opposite side of the room, and shatters on impact.

“Stanley?! What in God’s name—“

He screams.

It’s a hoarse noise. It’s deep and it’s broken and it hurts to get out, but he screams because there’s something horrible inside him, something he needs to purge. The noise cuts out, and then begins again.

The chair is grabbed next—he hooks his arms around the backrest and lifts the thing to chest height before he flings it with all his strength. A wheel catches on the doorframe to his office and the chair crashes to the floor, hitting the wall with an almighty, horrendous crash and sliding partway across the hideous beige carpet.

“Stanley!”

His chest heaves with fierce, angry panting. His cheeks are wet. Another noise wrenches itself from his throat. Stanley turns to his desk and swipes his arm across everything on it, knocking pencils and papers and pens to the floor. He slams his fists on it. He turns and kicks one of the filing cabinets, turns and paces in the little room like a caged animal.

There is so much built up inside him that he doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows is that he’s going to rip this place apart with his bare hands.

It’s not just anger, you must understand. It’s much more complicated than that. You see, Stanley has just come from the Epilogue.

The sand blows around him. The wind is cold and fierce. The sun is unforgiving. The moon is a large lamp in the sky.

And Stanley is alone.

He walks for what feels like eternity. He walks for what seems like mere minutes. He walks towards nothing. He turns in every direction. He puts one foot in front of the other.

And Stanley is alone.

The fire doesn’t warm him. He can’t dislodge the chairs from the ground. There’s sand in his shoes and shirt and mouth. He wraps his arms around his chest and walks and walks.

And he is alone.

“Yes, I'm remembering something now. I remember before this whole story got started.

Back then, I was... I was different; I used to make big decisions, I was passionate! I was skeptical! I weighed each decision with profound thoughtfulness.

And then, somewhere along the way, I stopped making decisions.

I became lazy. And I came up with—well—I came up with a character named Stanley, to do my thinking for me. He would make the decisions, he would decide which way to go, I would cheer him on as he collected figurines for no reason.

Why did I invent Stanley? Was I lonely?

Yes, perhaps that's it. Perhaps I needed to imagine I had companionship. And Stanley really did make for a wonderful companion, even if he was a fiction.

But—ahh, I suppose it's grown old. I-I want to think for myself again. I want to go back to how it used to be.

Yes, I can be on my own again. I can do it! I'll be stronger this time. I'll take care of myself. I don't need Stanley anymore.

Oh, but he truly was so much fun to play with!

You know what? Since we're in the Memory Zone, how about one more good memory?

Let's go back, just once, and give Stanley one more run of the office! And then, I'll retire him for good. I did enjoy telling his story—so very much.

Okay, here we go.

This is the story of a man named Stanley.”

The Memory Zone is flooded with sand. The bucket does little to comfort Stanley, even as he holds it to his chest. He follows the power cord deeper into the deserted building, feeling numb.

[ Narrator? ]

[ Narrator, what are you talking about? ]

[ Can’t you see me? Hey! Hey! Narrator! ]

[ Why won’t you answer me? Answer me, please! ]

[ Narrator! ]

“I’ll take care of myself. I don’t need Stanley anymore.”

“Jim.”

The buttons glow softly. He presses them mindlessly.

“Jim.”

What once was a source of amusement leaves an ashy taste in his mouth. The bastard never tried, in the end, to make these buttons work. Like everything else, he half-assed it, then abandoned it when something else caught his interest. Left it to collect dust. Left it to be forgotten, with the rest of the oh-so-precious memories.

With Stanley.

Hurt blooms in his chest. It’s been minutes—it’s been years. Time doesn’t mean anything at all in this stupid game. Nothing means anything. The thousand thousand runs they’ve played don’t mean anything. The conversations they had don’t mean anything. Their friendship doesn’t mean anything.

He doesn’t mean anything.

“Jim.”

“Stanley.”

“Stop sniggering, Stanley, you’re ruining my take! Oh, it’s no use, we’ll have to start from the top.”

Stanley giggles around the hand he has pressed firmly to his mouth. He wants to be apologetic, and he’s glad the Narrator is involving him in this new promotion for the upcoming update, but the delight in him keeps bubbling over. It’s so rare to see the fellow direct that old familiar vitriol at someone other than Stanley himself. After so long knowing him, hearing him attempt to be menacing and nasty is outright silly.

“Wh—Silly?! You impetuous—Stanley, stop laughing!!”

Sorry, he’s sorry! A little off-balance from his own laughter, Stanley climbs onto the set and adds another tally to the whiteboard there.

“Unbelievable,” the voice mutters while he climbs back off the set and makes sure the camera is still centered on the tripod. “Here I am, trying to make a serious critique of game developer habits, and you demand to be included so I include you, and what do I get? Mockery. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Comments like these do little to dampen Stanley’s spirits, but he does attempt to sober himself. He does, after all, appreciate that the fellow has gone through all the effort to include him in brainstorming this one and setting it up. It was his idea to include the clocks and the tally board, and he really does think the shot is improved for it.

He sits back into the metal folding chair quietly. No more laughing. Promise. He’ll manage it this time.

The Narrator clears his throat. “Right. Let me review the script again.”

Stanley nods. His eyes flick around the small office set, then back to the computer monitor.

Man, has it really been almost nine years? It feels like they’ve been doing this for much longer.

“Well, really it’s only a little more than eight years, if I’m being honest. The original HD game released in October of 2013, so depending on when Ultra Deluxe drops in 2022, it may only be a couple months past the eighth anniversary.”

That’s being a bit generous to the developers, Stanley thinks. Does the Narrator really think it will drop in January?

“Oh, I don’t know, Stanley! I’m guessing, same as you.”

Still. Over eight years. Why does it feel like they’ve been here for much longer?

“Well,” the voice sniffs, “it could be for a number of reasons. Time is relative in the Parable, after all. Then of course there’s the fact you rarely sleep, since you don’t need to, so you get a lot more time than most proper humans would, since the usual human circadian rhythm makes them lose at least eight hours in a day. That’s fifty-six extra hours a week you have over most. Multiply by fifty-two, and then again by eight, and that’s not an insubstantial amount of time, I would say.”

That's fair. That's... shoot, Stanley isn't fantastic with numbers. That's... Fifty by fifty is twenty-five hundred, then six and and two is twelve—

“Twenty-three thousand, two hundred ninety-six hours. Divided by twenty-four, it's an additional 970.6 days, which means over two and a half additional years.”

Did he just pull up a calculator?

“Didn't.”

He totally did. Stanley heard the tapping of old clunky buttons.

There's a derisive sniff. “Yes, I suppose you would be the expert on buttons, and not maths.”

Also, is that two and a half years extra per year, or altogether?

“....I don't know.”

This is gonna give him a headache.

Quite without their meaning to, the both of them begin to chuckle at the same time. It's ridiculous, honestly. They're bickering over math, over time and takes and it's all just so ridiculous.

Eight years, give or take two or possibly twenty. That's how long it's been since Stanley started wandering these halls with little more than a voice for a companion. That's... that's a lot of time together. It's a lot of time for things to change. He kind of likes how things have changed.

And, as the fellow said before, time is relative here. They can and have experienced things on a different scale from how an experience would play out in the real world. Their own individual experiences are different even from each other's, with lost time, pauses between death sequences, loading screens—it's all subjective. Guess Einstein was on to something there. Bet he never imagined it in this kind of context, though.

Still. It's a long time with one other person. The universe spins on, and they have each other.

There's the tapping of keys again, a little soft muttering. He smiles.

He's double-checking the numbers, isn't he?

“No! No, I'm not, thank you!” The defensive tone in the Narrator's words confirm that yes, he is. It's made further obvious by the following deflection. “Now, that's enough of a break, let's get back to work. And no giggling this time, Stanley!”

He clears his throat, and the lights dim on the set. Stanley settles back in the metal chair with a grin, arms crossed.

“What does it mean to be a video game developer?” The voice begins. “It means lying, boldly and brazenly to your audience; promising them release dates that are wildly outside the realm of reality...”

“Stanley.”

Why is he still pressing it? Why can't he stop? Why is Stanley shaking, fingers pressing down on the plastic again and again?

“Stanley.”

When did the Narrator make this? When did he—and why is it here, with the rest of the discarded buttons? Why would he go through the effort to make something, just to leave it behind?

The button doesn't answer him. He presses it, and presses it, and it says his name until the word loses all meaning.

“Stanley.”

Every time you restart the game, we’ll advance the number of the sequel by 1, and then we’ll pick a new subtitle. That way, The Stanley Parable will never end! And nothing in the game itself will change when you do this, either. Adding more content sounds like work, no need to do that. It’ll just be the same content, recycled again and again and again, with a new title screen! What do you say? Should we go forward with this plan? I like it, but I want you to have a say as well. [Let’s do it] [Don’t do it]

He stares at the dark screen, but he doesn't really see it.

Stanley feels cored out. There's an emptiness in him that he can't truly comprehend. It hurts, he thinks, but he feels it in a detached sort of way.

The Narrator is gone. Stanley is alone. Yet, even now, he faces choices that are designed around traps for one or both of them. How is that fair?

How is it fair to ask him if he wants to go back to the office, to go back to companionship, when the companion in question has apparently abandoned him? How is it fair to ask him if he wants to drag that person back into hell, when they've supposedly freed themselves from it after years?

“How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another.

How they both wish to be free.”

He doesn't want to be alone, in this wasteland. He knows in the end what he's going to choose, and he hates that he does.

He's selfish. He's so, so selfish. His loneliness is more important than the Narrator's happiness, that's what this decision says. It says that he would rather force them both to live through the Parable, again and again, forever, than have the Narrator leave him.

And then, here's the kicker! Is this even Stanley's own choice? Is he coming to the conclusion himself, or is there another force at play, a Player, influencing his decision? He can't know! He only ever knows the Player's presence in the godforsaken Real-Person ending, they only ever fully yank the control from him there. Can he even trust his own mind?

Does... Does it matter?

[Let’s do it]

Stanley is not a good person.

So. As I said before, reader. Stanley's emotions are a complicated tangle of hurt, anger, despair, and uncertainty. It's almost impossible to tell where to begin when it comes to unraveling it all.

Still, one must do one's best.

For as long as the Parable has existed, it has spun around conflict. Taijitu, or yin-yang, is a circle made up of two teardrops, one black and one white, circling each other endlessly. A wheel that turns forever. Opposing forces that will never overtake the other. Always equal, always opposite.

But you recall this, don't you? This isn't new information. We've been here before.

Stanley and the Narrator are equal and opposing forces, circling each other. Stanley makes a choice, and the Narrator responds. Stanley moves forward, and the Narrator tries to pull him back. A battle for control—one only ever responds to the other. Neither of them can claim to want this, but if they didn't want different things, then there would be no game to play.

Time and again, the Parable tests the bond that has been crafted through time and care. Memories are taken. Time is stretched thin as it can go, like a rubber band. Stanley makes a choice, and it brings the Narrator joy or suffering. If he stops, the Narrator will be at peace, but then there will be silence, and silence cannot be tolerated. Silence is the equivalent of inaction.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is a game about control, and the lack of it. If you could find happiness through a single choice, but it would bring another person pain, would you do it?

How they both wish to be free.

But these two have turned a battle into a dance. There will always be a drop of yin in the teardrop half of yang, and vice-versa.

So how do they fight back? How do they choose to progress, when the wheel turns ever back? Or are they doomed to repeat the cycle forever?

When Stanley has had enough of his pacing, when the silence has become too oppressive for him to take, he turns on his heel and sharply faces the open door.

Well? Nothing to say? Nothing at all?

“Well,” comes the bitter retort, slower than expected, “I would ask what you expect this tantrum of yours to accomplish, but that isn't exactly the most constructive comment, is it?”

A hiss escapes through Stanley's bared teeth. That's it?

“What do you want from me?!”

It's desperate. It's hurt. It's confused.

“What have I done, Stanley? I can't make sense of you right now, your mind isn't making any sense!”

Of course he doesn't remember. Of course it's Stanley's job to be the one who remembers, who chooses, who deals with the consequences of both their actions. That's how it's always been, that's—

“Stanley, I know our situation has never been balanced fairly in your favor, but I—“

Stanley storms out of his office and kicks his chair out of the way. He grabs a cardboard filing box off the floor and lifts it over his head before flinging it hard. It hits the cubicle wall by the copy machine and the lid flies off, papers scattering across the floor and box bouncing off the top of the copy machine to fall harmlessly to the floor.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Stanley snarls again, at the open air, the ceiling, wherever he thinks the Narrator might be perceiving him. Never been balanced fairly?! Understatement of the millennia! Speaking of millennia, did the Narrator enjoy his little vacay away from Stanley? Was it fun, “thinking for himself”? Leaving Stanley in the sand with the rest of his discarded little game, his figurines and buttons?

“I—“

Did he come up with new stories? New protagonists? Was he stronger? Was he happier without him?

Did Stanley drag him back to hell?

The silence this time feels distinctly more shocked and hurt. Stanley lets out another noise, pacing across the carpet and then turning to door 429. He lifts his fist and slams hard on it, face twisted up into an amalgamate of pain and anger. He beats his fist on the door again, desperate and despairing.

Say something! Say anything! Fight him! Argue with him! Be angry! Be angry that Stanley was so selfish, that Stanley decided to get revenge for being abandoned, please just—

“I'm sorry.”

He flinches.

“I don't—I don't know what I did, but I think it must have been something terrible. I just can't stop, can I? Even when I'm trying to, to be careful, I can't stop being cruel to you. You're angry with me, I can see that, and you don't—you don't like to be angry, so I—“

The voice trembles. It sounds on the verge of tears. Stanley hits the door again, because it hurts to hear, and that's not fair.

Damn him. Damn his own empathy.

“I'm sorry,” it says again. “Whatever I did, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow. Do, do you want more endings? I'll make new endings, I'll find a way. I'll find more for you to do, I'll come up with something, please just let me fix it. I'm sorry I don't remember, but I'll fix it.”

Stanley screams hoarsely again. His legs give out and he drops, leaning against the bottom of the door with his fist pressed to it. His chest heaves, shaking sobs that wrack his frame, though there's barely any tears. It's just so hard to breathe.

Stop, stop. Stop. Stop apologizing. Stanley is the one in the wrong here. Stanley turned the wheel back. Stanley tore him from his happy ending.

Didn't he?

“I didn't go anywhere,” the voice responds, distraught. “I never left.”

Then what was that?

“I don't know,” it pleads. “Even if I could go, I wouldn't. I wouldn't leave you behind, you're my best friend. I thought you knew that, Stanley.”

He thought he did, too. But then the voice had called him a fiction again, something dreamed up for companionship, and had decided it didn't need him anymore.

The Narrator is quiet at this, and then he says, very carefully and in a voice terribly controlled, “I only ever thought that when you were frozen with the Skip button.”

The Narrator waited, but he was not stagnant. At some point, while Stanley was in a small concrete room, lit with only the glow of a yellow button on a pedestal, the Narrator decided to pass the time by making something new. Surely, when all this was over, when they were back in the office, they would put this behind them and pass the time as before.

For all that the new content for Ultra Deluxe had been a disappointment, hidden in the download were folders and folders of unused assets. It seemed that the developers had had countless ideas, and yet had done little to expand on those ideas, choosing instead to box them away. Well, the Narrator would show them what new content was supposed to look like! Who cared about Ultra Deluxe? No, he would really knock the reviewers' socks off. He was going to make a sequel! Stanley would love it!

When he came back.

If he came back.

No, of course he would come back!

And so time passed, and that was fine. More time meant a chance to perfect his work, to work out his new features and to even perhaps address some of the complaints people had had about the original game. And more time passed and he thought he might make a button that says the name of the player, wouldn't that be rewarding and engaging? Stanley would love that! A button of his own to say his name, wouldn't that just be delightful?

And Stanley stared unseeing at the Skip button, and the Narrator thought to himself, perhaps not. Perhaps Stanley wouldn't care at all.

But that was fine, because there were plenty of new features for him to explore! He'd love the Bucket, surely. All the silly secret Easter eggs, the little references to lore that went nowhere, he'd get a kick out of it for sure! And the figurines! There wouldn't be anything special about them, of course, but the fact they were Stanley! His silly face! Oh, the Narrator would be so excited to see Stanley get them all, and of course Stanley would, because he would do everything. He would find every single one.

And, and the Narrator was so excited for that! Maybe he didn't know how Stanley would react, maybe Stanley would think it all silly, but the sheer fact he would find each one, it would delight the voice to no end. It would say “you found one of them! One of the figurines!”

It would be so much fun! Wouldn't it, Stanley?

Stanley?

Ah. Still frozen. Of course. Not a problem. The Narrator would be here when he got back. The sequel would be here. The figurines would be here.

He would just get everything ready in the meantime.

Wouldn't it be wonderful, when Stanley was here, and able to play? There would be so much for him to explore! He would love the Bucket and finding its secrets, and oh, the figurines! He'd find them all, surely he must. And the Narrator would say “you found one of them!”

And one of them would be by the red and blue doors, and Stanley would probably get that one last, but there was no guarantee, he did like to keep the fellow on his toes, but when he did collect the last one, the Narrator would say “and now the first number equals the last number!” And it would be so exciting! Even though there was nothing special about them, just the experience itself, doing something for the sake of it, was so special, and he'd think about it always.

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

And the Narrator would say, “yes, another Stanlurine under your belt!”

“But there is no answer. How could there possibly be? In reality, all he's doing is pushing the same buttons he always has. Nothing has changed. The longer he spends here, the more invested he gets, the more he forgets which life is the real one.”

And the Narrator would say, “I haven't stopped thinking about them since you nabbed every last one.”

And the Narrator would say, “science tells us that it's impossible to forget your third time doing anything.”

And the Narrator would say, “No, no I'm not ready to move on! Stop the loading screen!”

“And I'm trying to tell him this. That in this world he can never be anything but an observer. That as long as he remains here, he's slowly killing himself. But he won't listen to me. He won't stop.”

And the Narrator would say, “We'll do the Memory Zone again from the opposite direction! See how that feels!”

And the Narrator would say, “I want to keep going! What else is there? What came before this?”

And the Narrator would say, “And before everything else, there was your office.”

And he would pause, and then wonder aloud, to nobody in particular, because nobody would be there, “Was there anything else?”

There must have been. He was sure of it. He was sure there was something, or perhaps someone. But that couldn't have been right, you see, because if there was someone, then he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be talking to himself, someone would be listening to him. Someone would hear him. That's what—that's what Stanley was for!

But Stanley wasn't doing that. Stanley had not done that for a long time. Had he imagined Stanley? He must have. He imagined many things, after all. Yes, he must have made Stanley up, to listen to him, to have a companion. It's terribly lonely, after all, being a voice without an ear.

Maybe he should move on. Try something else. Maybe that would be for the best. But—oh, but Stanley made him so terribly happy. Just like those wonderful figurines. He loved to think about Stanley's adventures, he loved telling his story so much. Just like the figurines, he'd have to indulge himself.

Just one more time.

And the end was never the end. Was never the end. Was never the end.

Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another?

“I'm sorry, Stanley,” the Narrator says again, sorrowful. “When the game reset, everything was saved. The sequel content, but also the things I found myself saying during the interim. It's all here, somewhere. It's all my fault.”

So he never left?

“Never.”

And Stanley hadn't dragged him from his happy ending?

“No.”

He slumps further against the door. A hand absently lifts and scrubs at his face. So he's just stupid.

“No, I don't think so,” the fellow says generously. “I think you're hurting, understandably so. I think the Parable seeks out ways for us to try to make the other miserable, so that we will keep trying to control each other. You know the song and dance.”

Where it cannot find conflict, it will manifest it.

“Yes. We've been here before, haven't we?”

They have.

I asked you, before, how they overcome it. I told you they'd made a battle into a dance instead. How do they do it? How do they choose to progress when the wheel turns ever back?

But you already know the answer. You've already seen it. Don't you remember?

We've been here before.

“Stanley, I'm not going to hurt you.”

He didn’t want Stanley to be scared of him.

“Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

[ New path, new story. Just me and Stanley. ]

If Stanley gave him context, he could get to the memory himself?

“I—I can’t recall if I’ve said it before, how grateful I am to you, Stanley.”

This time, by the time the hold music has kicked on, Stanley is on the floor, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

[ Don't ever. Call yourself DADDY. Again. ]

Did he just pull up a calculator?

He’s listening. He’s listening, and listening, letting his friend know that they exist, together, the space between them closing again, and for as long as he can he won’t let the narrator be alone in the void.

The unwavering strength in his voice feels like an untapped well of passion. Like he’s working to fuel them both through this damnable path, letting Stanley know that yes, yes, they are moving towards something, he has not abandoned him.

“Please listen. This is important to me, alright? It’s not your fault.”

Stanley's fist has loosened and relaxed against the door. Now it rests there, gently curled, as he thinks.

They have been here a long time, in this game, and he is tired.

So now what?

“Well, now I think I'll close the figurines exhibit, so something like this doesn't happen again.”

The Narrator's voice is rather cool and detached. It lacks distress. It's professional. Words stated in the same way as a script, memorized by heart. Stanley doesn't like it.

He presses his hand flat to the door and rests his temple against it. It's cool against his face.

And after that?

“That's up to you, isn't it?”

Quite without meaning to, Stanley flinches again. The Narrator nearly speaks, before he cuts himself off, seeming to think better of it.

It's hard on the spirit, to be the one who has to make choices. Thinking of what they might mean, what the consequences could mean for others. Certainly, there's power in making decisions, but with that power comes the burden of responsibility. Include the added ordeal of being the one who remembers every consequence, every outcome, and one is left with the distinct feeling that they are being punished. There is no winning here. There is no gaining the upper hand.

He is so tired of making choices.

“Then, perhaps I could convince you to listen to me, and follow direction, for a few minutes.”

Something prickles in the back of Stanley's head in old familiar irritability. He doesn't want to do the story. He doesn't think he can get up.

“I didn't say anything about doing the story, now, did I, Stanley? Close your eyes.”

An innocent enough direction. He obeys, adjusting his position against the door to lean his back against it, hands in his lap.

“Good. Very good, Stanley.”

Still all professionalism. Still lacking familiarity, or anything more than casual approval.

“Now. Take a deep breath. Good. Now let it out, slowly. There you are. Again.”

His breathing steadies and his heart slows. Tiredness gives way to calm.

“Excellent. Now. I'm going to speak, and you're going to listen. That's it. No choices, no paths. Just my voice, and your ear.”

That's not a game.

“No, it isn't. It's a story, and you're my audience. Now. Quiet your mind, there's a good lad.

This is a story about my very good friend Stanley.”

“Stanley's had a rough go of it in his life. He likes simple things, like pushing buttons, and drinking coffee completely black. This isn't to say Stanley is a simple-minded fellow, oh no, not at all. In fact, Stanley is one of the most intelligent and compassionate people I know.

The problem is that, for all that Stanley prefers simplicity, he's been put into an impossible position. He's a protagonist of a story.

Now, everyone knows that the best stories aren't the ones where things just happen to a protagonist, but instead the ones where the protagonist plays an active role in progressing the plot. Making choices that result in changing the direction of a story, towards its climax and resolution. It's all well and good that Hansel and Gretel have been left in the middle of the forest, but they choose to be clever and leave a trail of pebbles behind them, before being forced to resort to breadcrumbs—and then of course the choice to use breadcrumbs changes the trajectory of their tale.

The truth is that being a protagonist is anything but simple. Quite without his permission, Stanley has become inundated with responsibility. It isn't an easy life, and it can quite honestly be an unfair lot to give to the fellow.

But if you ask me, there's nobody better suited to the job.

Now, perhaps this is unfair of me to say. After all, I'm not the one who has to make the decisions. All I have to do is tell his story, as a passive observer. Look at him, look at how he struggles, doesn't this make for an incredible tale of overcoming odds? I of course will never have to shoulder the burden he does, so I can say what I please without any regard to his own well-being. Oh, don't give me that look, Stanley, you and I both know it's true. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if I were paid to do it.

Yet I've been watching Stanley for quite frankly a ridiculous amount of time, so long one might call me an absolute creep. It's true! And so I feel I am at liberty to say that, for all that it's an unfair position to be put in, and a terrible burden to carry, there's nobody who carries it like Stanley does.

You see, he makes every choice to the best of his ability. He thinks about its ramifications to the best of his knowledge, and does his best to consider what his decision might mean in the long run. Take this recent choice, for example. He's decided to listen to me, for a few minutes, even though it's in his very nature to take action and to disagree, because he knows that I asked him to. He's chosen to compromise, despite the fact I could press an advantage.

He's done so, because he knows in his heart and in his mind that I care about him. I want him to be happy. He knows, based off prior knowledge and based on his own gut feeling, that listening to me will make him feel better, because he matters to me.

And this is a simple choice, deceptively so, but in its simplicity it is a perfect example of what I'm trying to convey—

That Stanley does everything to the best of his ability, with all the care he can muster, and that no one could ever judge him poorly for doing the best he can.”

Stanley doesn't know when he started crying again, body wracked with the force of it. It's quiet, at least. When the Narrator stops speaking, he still feels him all around, comfort on every side.

Does he mean it? Does he really—?

“Of course I mean it,” the voice huffs, faux offense warm in his ear. “Don't you know by now that I mean what I say? Don't you—“ it wavers a little, before pushing on, a touch shakier. “Don't you know how much you mean to me?”

He cries. The sigh is fond, and gentle.

“You're alright, darling. It's alright.”

Taijitu. Balance between black and white. The symbol didn't always have the two dots, you know. In the original concept, yin and yang symbolized stillness and activeness of all things in the universe, respectively. The substance of the universe moves as an active force, until it reaches its limit and becomes still; and yet even that stillness reaches a limit, and becomes active again. The dots, added during the Ming Dynasty, have since their inception been a portrayal of how one will always be the source of the other, and so both will always exist. There will always be an interconnected, interwoven, powerful bond between these two forces in flux.

Which doesn't mean much, to those of us who don't study Taoist philosophy or history. Most of us just appreciate the duality of opposites, who cannot help but have a grain of commonality. One does not and cannot overtake the other. Round and round they go, an endless chase.

Or, one might note, a dance between partners. Momentum carried through. Weight supported. Stepping in sync.

The wheel turns, as do the dancers. This is how they succeed. When one slips back, the other grabs them by the hand and guides them forward with the grace that's only gained through years of practice and familiarity. The wheel turns without catching, and neither are caught under its grind, because they're standing on its face, using it as the platform on which they perform only for each other.

Stanley dries his eyes and wipes his nose. He's sorry for causing such a mess.

“Please, I've seen you do worse and we both know it. Remember the time you threw every chair and box out the window to see if you could make a ladder back up into the office?”

He laughs weakly. Not one of his brightest moments, admittedly. The Narrator had threatened to navlock every last item in the office down if he tried it again, after.

“Which, of course, only motivated you to try again.”

Yeah. Because he's a bastard.

“That you are, Stanley.” The Narrator chuckles. “Now, up you get. Up, up!” he reinforces, while Stanley sluggishly gets to his feet. “I have a surprise for you!”

Oh boy. That can only be good, he's sure.

He's led through the office to the TSP 2 Expo sign, which has returned to take the place of door 416 for good, it seems. When the Narrator guides him through the display environment, he takes care not to rush Stanley, since the thin monitors and patterned carpet delight him more than he ever thought possible, but it's also clear the fellow is eager to get a move on, to show Stanley something he's sure will knock his socks off.

So when Stanley gets to the Jump circle, displaying twenty-one jumps left, he's distinctly unimpressed.

“Just trust me,” the Narrator says, with nothing but earnestness.

And so he does. He steps into the circle.

“Jump!”

With a barely-there smile, and a roll of his eyes, Stanley jumps.

And then the game resets.

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEENDISLOADING

Stanley blinks, looking at his computer monitor, then up. Uh... What?

“Stanley,” the voice says slyly, “when have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

“Now. Jump.”

Stanley's eyes widen. He blinks.

And then he jumps.

He jumps again.

And again.

And then Stanley begins to laugh, utterly befuddled and delighted and surprised and joyful, and the Narrator begins to laugh as well, and the wheel spins on, and so do they.

#the stanley parable #tspud #may writes #the sparrow parable #tsp #idk why i am bothering to tag when the embedded links mean it wont show in the tag but #here we are.

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hauntedmestunningly · 2 months ago

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I was tagged by @violettathepiratequeen for this fanfic game, thank you for including me!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!

Woohoo, let's see what I've written recently. I mean just because I haven't posted anything in a while, and haven't been reading much Spuffy fics lately, it doesn't mean that I haven't written anything. So some of these will be stuff that I haven't posted yet because they're not finished yet (I also have some unposted drabbles that are around 10 lines, so I'll not include them), all the others can be find on Elysian Fields. Also, I'm going with Violetta's approach of first 10 sentences, that looks more fun :3 (all the unposted stuff is also unbeta-ed, so apologies for any mistakes)

1. Ways to thwart an apocalypse

this was supposed to be my entry for the April event at EF, but I couldn't finish it in time :(

Buffy didn’t know when it happened, but she became one of those people who could only talk about work, even when she was supposed to have fun with her friends. Or well, it’s not that they were not having fun, if the half empty bottle of amaretto and the handful of cans of lukewarm beer was anything to go by. It was a Thursday night, and all the Scoobies were sprawled out in her living room (just like old times), upholding one of their new traditions. She was sitting on the couch with Dawn tucked to her side, gently drooling on her shoulder. Spike was sitting on the floor by her legs, back pressed to the couch where he could conveniently turn and press a kiss to her knee if he wanted to. Willow and Xander claimed the ‘comfy couch’ as soon as they arrived and Giles was perched on the chair of Spike’s ugly armchair for some reason. Buffy wasn’t sure how the whole thing started, maybe with Spike opening a bottle of beer one day after they got home from fighting the slimiest demons she remembered ever fighting, just to have Xander arrive a couple of minutes later with a six pack to let out some steam after such a horrible ordeal – being the bait was always stressful work, he said. And since then, their new ritual stuck. In typical Scooby fashion though, they really had to plan their impromptu celebrations in advance. The first few times they tried to gather and just have a lazy evening in with just them, there was always one of the newbie Slayers knocking on the door with another emergency.

2. I wanna teach you how forever feels

Buffy was having a flashback. Or several flashbacks, to be precise. No matter where she looked in the room, her mind bombarded her with image after image of the past ten years of her life. Their life. As the glint from the afternoon sun caught on the band on her right hand, she swore she could actually feel the much heavier weight of a gaudy skull ring from all those years ago. Thankfully, her ring was a lot nicer this time. She smoothed down some imaginary wrinkle in her dress, admiring all the details that made it just the perfect wedding dress for both Buffy and the Slayer – like the glittery fabric that made up the skirt, to appease her inner California girl, or the matching holster underneath, to keep Mr. Pointy in comfortable reach. Buffy couldn’t help but remember the last wedding she attended, the absolutely horrendous green gown Anya made her wear and the unceremonious way a certain bleach blond vampire had ripped it to shreds when they got home that night. While preparing for this day, she briefly contemplated getting some revenge on her friend with a similarly atrocious bridesmaid dress, but then she decided against it. Better not to give D’Hoffryn a reason to pop into the ceremony, even if it would only be to congratulate Buffy on her impeccably executed vengeance.

3. Timeless

Buffy knocked on her sister’s door, waiting for Dawn to let her into her apartment. And wasn’t that the weirdest thing ever, Dawn living on her own. Well, not really on her own, but when they set up the new Slayers’ headquarters, they agreed that Buffy and Dawn would have their separate living quarters. Not just because they were all traumatized by basically living as sardines in a can back in Sunnydale, but everybody seemed to agree that Buffy needed her privacy (as if that was ever anybody’s concern before) after everything. So Dawn got a nice little apartment – as she liked to call it – on the first floor of the Slayers HQ building. But really it was just a glorified dorm room, at least that’s what Buffy kept telling herself in order to make herself feel better about leaving her sister alone. Also, Dawn kept reminding her that she needed to be able to take care of herself, because soon she would be leaving for college and she didn’t want to be one of those kids who didn’t even know how to boil a pot of water or do laundry. Which was a fair point, if Buffy thought about it. As she waited for the door to open – she was past her days of barging into people’s private residences – she tried to imagine what the place would be like. Even though all of the living quarters had the same floorplan, she was kinda curious to see how Dawn decorated her place.

4. Key Moment

Dawn really didn’t think things could get any worse as she looked around the damp cave again. She tried to loosen the ropes binding her hands one more time and hoped that the flickering torches lining the walls gave just enough light for her to see while still keeping her movements hidden from her captors. Her captors... God, she was such an idiot. When she first met Damon during college orientation day, Dawn had been thrilled at how easily they became friends. He was the first real friend she had made since moving back to the States with Buffy and Spike. And when he let it slip that he was a magically inclined person, Dawn was over the moon that she could share all parts of her life with somebody. Because okay, she had her sister, and Spike, and the Scoobies, but they were all just so... old. A bunch of weirdos in their mid-twenties, killing monsters and thwarting apocalypses left and right. Except for Spike, who was all of the above, but almost in his hundredandtwenties. As if there were no better things to do in life, like, let’s say, sharing your mystical origins with nice boys you met on campus and bonding with them over the spells that went wonky in your life.

5. Creature Feature

As they snuggled in for the evening in Buffy’s room, both of them with a book in hand, Buffy made a note to herself–again–to remember never to rent anything ever again, not even if her life depended on it. Maybe especially not then. But then Spike put his hand on her thigh and started absentmindedly stroking it between turning pages, and Buffy thought that at least something good came out of the last couple of weeks after all. Still, just the thought of all the craziness they’d had to endure to get here made her all riled up again. It wasn’t enough that they had to fight their way through literal movie monsters (and one asshole who really should learn by now to stay away from Sunnydale). They also couldn’t even rent a movie anymore to have a relaxing night… *** Two Weeks Earlier When E’s Video Rental opened its doors, Buffy should have been suspicious. The town already had a Family Video, and really, what need did Sunnydale have for two video stores? Especially when one of them delivered both pizzas and movies. But against her better judgment, Buffy decided to take a swim in that famous river from Egypt and rented a creature feature to enjoy in the solitude of her bedroom.

6. I Lie Awake Every Night

This whole thing was a bust and they should just give up, Buffy thought. Really, it was the same routine every night, except when both of them were so exhausted that they just fell into bed at some ungodly hour and slept right through the next day. “Buffy?” And here we go again, she thought as she heard Spike’s voice from behind her where he was spooned against her back. She tried not to sigh as she waited for him to continue. She cracked an eye open though, to check the clock on her nightstand. Yep, 3 AM. Right on schedule. “Luv? Have I told you that a Carnyss demon tried to sell me a mirror the other day?”

7. Game Nights

“UNO!” Buffy looked up at Spike’s still slightly bruised face, which was showing a ridiculous amount of satisfaction, considering what they were doing. Stupid vampire. “How are you saying UNO already!?” Buffy asked, glancing at his hand of card. As in singular. “I literally don’t have any more hands to hold all these cards with!” She was trying not to yell at him as she took in the sight of what was probably the whole deck in her hands. For one thing, she really didn’t want to draw attention to themselves, not that they were actually hiding for once, sitting behind the coffee table where anybody could see them. But she also didn’t want to wake up her sister, who was dozing on the vampire’s shoulder.

8. Never Let Me Go

She realized her mistake too late. She heard her name – Angel speaking her name – and she couldn’t help herself, she had to get closer to him, to feel him with her one last time. As she stood there, looking into his eyes and willing him to see how much she loved him despite everything, how sorry she was, Buffy could see the statue behind him opening up, promising hell on Earth. And yet she couldn’t stop her feet from moving towards him. Then she felt his hand close around her wrist, and Angel was pulling her towards him, just as the portal opened big enough so it could suck him into hell. Him, her, and everything else. Buffy thrashed and clawed and fought as best as her battle-worn body allowed, but the pull of literal hell on her heels was too strong, even after she couldn’t feel Angel’s presence with her anymore. But then a cold hand clasped hers and pulled her from the clutches of perdition. “I’ve got you, Slayer.” And then he was gone too, in a swirl of black leather, and Buffy was left panting on her hands and knees in front of the dormant statue of Acathla.

9. Poor Man's Treacle

Buffy had realized a long time ago that there were some things she just couldn’t get Spike to stop doing. Like, eating garlic. She remembered how he used to wolf down those deep-fried onion monstrosities at the Bronze, which was, okay, not garlic, but almost. Of course, back then she didn’t want to think about what all those fructans were doing to his body, and by the time she really did care, there was no Bronze to serve those onion things, and most importantly there was no Spike. And yes, Buffy had to actually look up what was making her boyfriend so sick after a night out at their favorite Italian restaurant a couple of years later. At first, she thought it was some bizarre side effect of being corporealized again, because really, who knew what it did to someone’s body, going from being a ghost to becoming a vampire again? But then Dawn had shed some light on Spike’s more extreme habits, which didn’t end with taking sunlit strolls in the morning. Buffy learned that Spike always ordered his pizzas (and let’s not get into the fact that the big dope didn’t even need food at all) with extra garlic in the crust. Dawn said that one time, during the summer when it was mostly just the two of them, Spike got such severe stomach aches that the Scoobies were contemplating performing an exorcism on him. Over the years, Buffy had learned to look for signs, indicating that he had a secret stash somewhere in the house.

10. Untitled drabble based on the prompt "One look, dark room; meant just for you."

As far as Slayer-vision-quests went, this was Buffy’s favorite so far. Of course, it didn’t mean that it was not weird as hell, but at least it was pretty. Not that a mountain lion prowling through the desert wasn’t mesmerizing in its own right, but this one felt different, Buffy thought, as she looked around her surroundings once more. She was standing on a ledge in a cave, a huge opening in front of her, where she could make out the roaring and splashing of the ocean’s waves in the distance. As she walked closer to the edge of the startlingly white rocks – limestone, the voice of high-school Buffy of the past supplied helpfully in her head – she was surprised to see that there was another, lower level to the cave. It reached directly into the rolling sea outside the cave mouth, providing a direct path into the water. Buffy peered down over the ledge and saw a huge hole in the rocks below her, with thousands of vines crawling out of the hole in all directions. She couldn’t tell what was in it, only that there was some shallow water and a faint pinkish light emanated from somewhere deep in the pond. The whole thing should’ve been creepy as hell, but the plant bursting forth from the ground was such a vivid shade of green that Buffy had trouble believing such a color could exist. It almost looked like ivy, though Buffy was pretty sure ivy didn’t have this kinds of flowers.

I'm tagging @acekoomboom, @isevery0nehereverystoned, @womanaction, @peaceoutofthepieces, @swiftlythebest and @l56895 (only participate if you guys feel like it^^)

#what we learned from this is that I start every story with the character's name whose POV we are in XD #amazing creativity from me yep #ace I know you were already tagged but I wanted you to see some stuff that I think you'd enjoy especially that damn TS inspired drabble :D #spuffy #nick and charlie #I'm spreading the fanfic love over to the narlie fandom as well <3 #fanfic

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mistystarshine · 5 months ago

Note

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

1. Character bashing. It doesn't matter who the character is, if they're OOC in a way that makes them significantly worse than they are in canon, my ass is OUT. Doubly so if it's to make it easier to get a ship together.

Please note that I do NOT consider exploring the negative aspects of a character to be character bashing. @megaunhappybunny 's Stolitz one-shot was not character bashing no matter what she says, because it delves into a negative thing that actually did happen in canon. However, saying that Lucifer is actually a manipulative evil asshole and using "well he's the devil" to justify it is character bashing AND either ignoring or butchering the whole point of the source material. (Like. Why are you even here?)

On the flip side, Adam is a horrible bastard with a lot of flaws that can easily be delved into. I do believe that his narrative purpose post S1 is to be an extremely challenging sinner for Charlie to redeem, but you don't have to reach far to make him a villain. Saying that Adam is a bad guy and thoroughly in the wrong is in no way character bashing. However! Saying that he's abusive toward Lute, doesn't actually care, and would throw her away like trash the second she is no longer useful to him is character bashing, since his relationship with Lute is his one canonical redeeming trait at this point. I honestly feel like painting misogyny as The Point of his character counts for both him and Lute, in a way. Misogyny is a flaw on Adam's part and definitely worth exploring. However, anyone who says that it's the main subject where Adam and Lute are concerned is seriously missing the point of both characters. Misogyny is Adam's secondary jackassery, vengeful obsession is Lute's. The main sin for Adam and Lute is their horrendous bigotry for sinners, self-righteousness, and seeing them as worthless to the point of slaughtering them yearly. They are both equally culpable of this.

I bring this up because I find that fics that take this route also say that Lute only hurt people because Adam forced her too and isn't actually culpable of her action, which I feel massively deprives her of agency while simultaneously making Adam even worse than he is. But, again, this usually ties back to "Adam was abusive toward Lute", because it's a nice way to shuck culpability off Lute's shoulders and make her easily shippable with Emily/Charlie/whomever. Just like "well Lucifer is the devil and hell is dangerous" makes Adam far less horrible than he is, allowing him to be retroactively made a hero. And how "Lilith is a manipulative abusive bitch" makes it easy to yank Lucifer away from her to put him with Alastor or Adam. (Note: there is more wiggle room with Lilith, since she's had no screentime, but a lot of stuff just makes her a flat villain with no nuance.) Or how "Vaggie is a mean, uncaring, controlling girlfriend" allows Charlie to be thrown as Alastor.

IN SHORT. Character bashing is lazy writing. You can work around all of those things without throwing characterization under the bus, but a lot of people can't be arsed, so demonization it is.

But! For Hazbin specifically!

Anything that says Adam was right or had the best of intentions with the exterminations. I enjoy the headcanons that he started out as someone who was worthy of heaven and then decayed into who he is today, but the notion that he was actually a good guy all along in season one? Fuuuuck that. Even when character bashing isn't involved, it's a total misreading of the character.

Bible stuff is also an immediate backpeddle for me. Too many of them say that Adam was right and character bash Lucifer. Additionally, bible fans tend to be absolute fucking assholes about insisting that their headcanons are canon and harassing people to follow them. Hate to break it to you, babes, but the entire goddamn point of Hazbin is that the bible - at least the one that damns people for all eternity - is wrong. It so very aggressively doesn't play Bible lore straight. So why the fuck would I want to read a fic that does, let alone write one? I'm here to write about Hazbin Hotel, not the bible. I really don't know how so many people managed to miss this, but they are, in fact, separate things.

Fun fact! The "You NEED to acknowledge all the suffering Adam went through on earth and his romance with Eve and how he was a good dad and-" dickwads are also why I refuse to write any biblical characters who appear on the show and will not be acknowledging Abel's existence until season two comes out and I find out if he's the two-faced villain that I suspect and want or I will simply hate him.

Note: There are a very few people who I will read fics including bible stuff from, but they are exclusively people I know and fics that I was already invested in and had been writing the characters well (read: not making Lucifer the villain or handwaving Adam's actions) by the time the Bible stuff crept in, thus making me go "fuck it". However, enough bible lore fics are of the heaven is good and just and right mindset that I am not willing to give them a chance, point blank.

2. We Won't Be Talking About That

3. Adam is a villain and was completely in the wrong?

Jk.

Alastor is better as a villain than a morally gray hero. I could potentially see him being redeemed very late into canon and will read a very small selection of fics with it (hi @cubanellefatalii), but saying that he was actually a good guy right off the bat defeats the entire purpose of the character.

Also, Valentino is a scumbag, but he's an interesting character who adds to the narrative in a writing level. Fight me.

#Answered #Ask Game #Inbox Game

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minimag1c · 8 months ago

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Day 2 of Radioapple trick or treat week!

This time with gross candied apples!

Sweet AND savory

Day 2 ----->ᶜᵃⁿᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵖᵖˡᵉˢ/ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 ✏ 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬

To be honest, I had no idea what to do with this one but still, I have even more writing block when it comes to the other prompt thus I didn't really had the choice lmao.

So yeah welcome to this very ooc, fluffy and silly one-shot with whatever the fuck this plot is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ all I can say is "idk they bicker and love each other"

There's isn't really a trigger warning here just blood probably idk

Enjoy it please I know it's awfully bad but really I beg you-

Also

I was too lazy to Google any recipes on how to make an in quote perfect/proper candied apples as I just based myself on what me and my cousin have made once with measuring based on our ancestors' feelings thus it's more tangulu than candied apples lol sorry not sorry. Plus the recipe isn't there. Again. Sorry not sorry.

Oh and to add, Husk is malagasy because I want to

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

Alastor was never the one to be known for appreciating sweets or delicacies that had to do with sugar.

For insistance, whenever Lucifer would cook his famous duck shaped pancakes or when Husk would made his sweet and spicy alcoholic drinks, he would usually coats his own part with vinegar ("vinegar?? Vinegar OF ALL THINGS??" Sometimes Vaggie would say, completely flabbergasted by his lack of taste) or salt, his tooth not used to candy or sugary cream.

And, as you could see, despite being judged for those horrendous mixes, Alastor supported more the concoction than it was originally.

"The dude upstairs be damned if that freak would even wants a block of sugar in his bitter old ass coffee." Husk grumbled slightly, cleaning off a few bottles of booze that was laying on the counter while Angel, still half asleep yet glued on his phone, nodded absently, his finger instinctively muting every messages Valentino kept sending him which was almost every two minutes.

"C'mon Husky, Smiles's just that of a picky eater that's all. I mean, yeah sure this dude eats pancakes with liver. Liver! But-! He isn't that horrible once you know the context-"

"Didn't he put pepper in your homemade Pana Cotta when you have made one that time?" Husk asked as he couldn't hide the smug grin when he was Angel's grip on his phone getting tighter while a vein was threatening to pop up just above his frowning eyebrows and clenched smile.

"It's__!" Angel started but then his teeth clenched before he sighed dramatically, his four arms limping on the counter. Husk couldn't help but move out one of it delicately, cringing a bit at the recently cleaned up counter.

Then Angel broke. "No but you're right! I really don't understand this guy- how? HOW?? How can you be SO repulsed of something that isn't salty or spicy?? Fuck, even when it's about sex Smile's not even that iffy towards it-!" The spider complained, frowning deeply all the way.

Husk raised an eyebrow with slight Inquisitor at him while sorting a few bottles of whisky and wine from a recent delivery from one of the overlord of the pride ring that specialized himself in alcoholic drinks. The four armed demon was about to continue his ramblings until someone else piped in, their voice groggy.

"Technically Alastor's libido is pretty much a fifty fifty. Or a roulette wheel. I know from experience."

Completely ignoring his own double edged words, Lucifer sat on the other disponible chair next to Angel quite heavily, his six wings hanging lazily from his back as they almost reach the ground but the monarch didn't even seemed to mind it the slightest. He slightly rubbed his face out of tiredness as Angel's eyes widened a bit but soon his flirty and smug persona came back as he leaned furthermore to the counter, much to Husk's disagreement as the cat demon's tail puffed slightly.

"Hey there short king ~" He purred out, waggling his fingers at Lucifer. The devil, at first, frog blinked slowly until he realized that Angel was hitting on him as he coughed up suddenly, laughing awkwardly as he pulled slightly his sleeveless turtleneck.

"UHM ANYWAY- You two were talking about Al right?" The king immediately changed the subject. Angel got even more confused ans pretended to pout when Husk chuckled at his failed attempt at getting interesting results.

The cat demon was the one to answer him.

"I've been on his leash for more than a decade now and yet he still somehow manage to impress me each time he tried to "soothe down" a sweet dish. Le alika maty tena, one time he put sauce in my mofo akondro, that was a really low blow." Husk added in as Angel couldn't help but whistle, knowing that Husk, despite swearing like an old sailor, would rarely use his native language to insult ever even for something mundane.

Lucifer, like the being he was, obviously knew and spoke malagasy and he couldn't help but be even more surprised, knowing Husk rarely use his native language to insult.

"Wait what he does that now?? I knew that he really hates anything related to sugar but this seems a bit extreme-!"

"Isn't that weird too that this fucker do like cooking? I'm still surprised he didn't poisoned all of us until now" Angel said, actually getting wary at the realization but Lucifer waved his hand around as Husk shook his head to confirm that the spider's suspicions were useless.

"He ain't going do that. Cooking is actually one of his passions plus he ain't that clueless, he knows that people are not that allergic to sweets like him." Husk argued back, even him telling that information felt weird on his tongue but it was true, Alastor knows that he was the only one in the hotel that was so repulsed of anything other than salt or spicy.

He would have shocked Husk if it wasn't for the fact that Alastor was just full of salt himself.

During the small conversation, Lucifer pondered on his own and couldn't help but slightly rolls his eyes in tiredness even though it was morning already. He knew about his husband's loath for anything sugary, he was already used to it when Alastor would put deer liver in between pancakes to lessen down its savor or drink his dark coffee with nothing else but the devil had to admit that this was just too much!

Something, Lucifer was actually convinced that this guy's doberman like taste was actually the main reason why he went in Hell, not the murders and the cannibalism or whatnot.

"-Plus Charlie wanted me to hang a few decorations with her and Vag. After all, it has been a while since I even celebrated Halloween." Husk admitted as he shuffled a few tarot cards on his own as Angel titled his head to the side, those rare calm expression on his face that were only reserved to the cat bartender shown as he slowly nodded his head before raising an eyebrow.

"Really?"

Husk shrugged.

"I've only done famadihana when I was a kid, don't know if that counts."

Lucifer didn't minded that the two didn't aknowledged him, in fact, he didn't felt the need to be seen on the current but upon hearing the oh so familiar therm of Samhain that regular people would use differently, he perked up slightly.

When Charlie was just barely a 5 feet tall naphil, Halloween was her favorite holiday and day of the year, mainly because Lucifer would usually told her about how the gape between humans and them demons would meet each other without discord or chaos. Of course, it was stupid to think that way especially when during the time Charlie was a toddler, humans would rather torture and brainwash their own kind if they were queers or just left-handed. Sending a pale child whose friends were goats plushies during the Victorian era would have probably made polemic and she would mainly ended up in an horrible church disguised as a rehabilitation center than with friends going to school while munching on apple slices.

And then people wondered why Lucifer didn't liked humans, especially less sinners but a few were an exception.

Now, unfortunately, he didn't knew anymore if it was still her favorite time of the year but upon hearing the familiar words again, it seemed that it was unchanged until now.

That information made him smile warmly and furthermore when one thing led to another.

It has been eons since he hasn't made his famous candied apples!

He remembered when Charlie would be crazy about those sweet things and he himself would be more than thrilled to cook those delicacies just for her. After all, even if Lucifer would not be that such of a great cook aside from his iconic pancakes (was the devil even know for his flour and syrup? Meh at least he was known in the hotel for this and there weren't even that many of patrons here), Lucifer's second most favorite was making those delicacies topped with melted caramel and in some times edible glitters.

"Did she thought about celebration Halloween or not?" He suddenly asked out loud, only now realizing that he actually didn't listened to their conversation, a guilty feeling gnawing in his guts.

Both Angel and Husk looked at the devil before the smaller demon shrugged, unsure.

"She didn't confirmed yet if she really wants or not."

"Well knowing our lil ray of sunshine, the reason she wouldn't accept would be probably because of the fact she's constantly busy as a nun during vespers." Angel added.

Lucifer faltered slightly. Well, that not really the answer he hoped but at least he still had a bit of glimmer that he would have an excuse to cook again and now for a wider range.

Oh well! Technically now he had an excuse!

Again, without knowing, he bid farewell to the two as he vanished in a red mist as Angel also had an unexpected filming where he needed as a major role, leaving Husk again with a counter that he just barely cleaned who now had glitters on it.

Husk sighed deeply.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

Early that day, the sin of Pride stood in front of the kitchen, his hands on his hips and a determined expression on his face while contemplating all around.

Today, he got up early to make those delicious snacks he used to make, hoping that his mind wouldn't play any tricks against him such as forgetting essential parts.

But he was lucky! He wasn't known for being the one with a clownfish memory! Details were hard but he could still keep in mind important matters.

Like his fall for example.

Ouch.

But anyway, this wasn't the main topic Lucifer was thinking about his famous candied apples. Without waiting furthermore, he summoned with a snap of fingers all the ingredients and the necessary ustensils he needed.

Taking a deep breath while tighting furthermore the apron around his waist, he stood in front of the kitchen counter, darting his gaze around.

"Let's see..." He thought to himself, rummaging through the tidied mess as he landed on the bright red apples. He smiled widely before he remembered a detail that almost made his face drop.

Oh yeah. Alastor.

Lucifer facepalmed as he grunted in annoyance at the realization. Of course his dumbass of a husband, like the weird ass cryptid he was, would be the exception! There's no way he was Lucifer was going to let him put a gizzard or deer blood on his sweets. It was his dish after all!

Suddenly, he perked up as an idea sprouted in his mind. Well, if Alastor wasn't able to put those horrendous mixes in Lucifer's concoction... Then Lucifer will be the one doing those horrendous mixes!

That sicken him slightly but it was better than having a heart attack when someone else do it.

Well, changes of plan! He WAS going to make those candied apples and for an annoying exigeant Bambi, a version with more savory taste.

Thus started a whole operation in the kitchen that was divided in two, one side of the counter being filled with sugar, melter butter and butterscotch while the other had blood from who knows where coated with smells like pepper or sauce.

The devil breathed out heavily, wiping his sweaty forehead with his arm as he admired with pride the plate with the bright, sparkling fruits that were put on it topped off with still fresh caramel alongside with edible, shiny glitters. Then, his gaze darted to the other plate who looked more like a poor representation of what foods look like from a 5 stars restaurant.

The key words were poor representation.

BUT if he had to be honest, Lucifer was surprised that Alastor's part was okay ish and actually something alright?? Well- the coagulated blood topped with sesame was probably a churn sensation for delicate stomach bur Alastor's was definitely concrete thus he wouldn't mind it.

He just hoped that the smell would not be unbearable for the others, because eating something sweet with the scent of cooked steak wasn't probably the best feeling.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"Oh my gosh dad you really didn't had to!" Charlie's enthusiastic voice rang out, already full of emotions as Vaggie raised an eyebrow, curious, at the frozen syrupy apple that she was holding before she took a small, tentative bite and soon her eye instantly gleamed.

"Wow it's actually good-!" The fallen exorcist added and couldn't help but take another, smiling furthermore when she caught a bit of liquid butterscotch with it.

Lucifer couldn't help but also bust his chest in joy and satisfaction, seeing that his desserts were a success for everyone who either shares because of the size of the fruit or it's excessive yet enjoyable sweetness and crunchiness.

The short king looked around, his heart swelling even more when he saw the bright, giddy expression on Charlie's face just like when she was still a child as she told the other hotel's residents about some memories she had with her pa' and then in general.

"It seems that everyone is quite enjoying your delicacies apparently" A familiar radio filled voice suddenly rang in as Lucifer felt a presence materializing next to him.

He didn't needed to turn his head to know that Alastor was looking at the candied apples with a hint of disdain. Lucifer chuckled slightly.

"Well it has been a while I didn't spoiled charlie or even anyone with snack so I decided to prepare something" Lucifer explained, shrugging.

Alastor simply hummed.

The two, for the smallest of seconds, just stood next to each other, enjoying in certain degrees the sight of either Charlie holding Vaggie's hand while she was discussing with Cherri or Nifty, high on sugar, fastly crawling around while Angel tried his best to hold her in place with Husk slightly snickering at the interaction. After a few ephemeral moments, Lucifer spoke up, his tone smug yet a spike of uncertainty flared up alongside.

"How was your version of candied apples though?"

"If your version of candied apples was putting anything that was my liking then you should probably reevaluate your cooking skills" Alastor said casually, his permanent smile getting wider when Lucifer hit him on the shoulder.

"Hey! I'm not the one who's so repulsed by sugar I need to tone it down with spice!" The king argued back, revolted as such words. Alastor only barked out a laugh.

"Well technically I like sugar-"

"Say what now?" Lucifer deadpanned at him, already preparing himself to shake Alastor as a result of his efforts to make something at least potable for Alastor. The deer raised an eyebrow.

"-But! I'm not the kind of indulge myself in it."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at him.

"... So you don't like sugar."

"Indubitably."

Lucifer sighed, massaging his forehead but then Alastor continued, his tone more sincere now.

"Still, I appreciated your efforts into making sure your dish is adequate to my tastes. Really." The deer added as his husband's eyes widened a bit at the aveu before he smiled back at him, a snort almost leaving his mouth.

"Well, that's something I didn't knew you would s-"

"The venison was horrible though."

Lucifer this time didn't hesitated as he hit, this time harder, Alastor who couldn't help but cackle, Charlie looking at the two from afar, still smiling at their interactions.

Maybe she shouldn't tell her father that she smelled the blood on a few apples, he seemed happy enough.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

Holy shit I went past day one what a miracle! 😱😱😱😦😦😦😦 /Hj

Anyway again sorry for any shitty writing it will happen again.

[26/10/2024]

(2816 words)

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Wattpad version

Archive of our own version

#radioapple trick or treat #radioapple #appleradio #deerduck #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #Angel Dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie magne #charlie morningstar #huskerdust

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whatyourusherthinks · 1 year ago

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The Garfield Movie Review

Ah Garfield. The dead-beat dad of the Sunday morning paper. He was popular once, but years of resting on their laurels has made him nothing but a some-what sad joke. Anyway this movie looked bad. Real cookie cutter, bland, kids fare honestly. It did look better than the Bill Murray ones, but almost anything is better that the Bill Murray Garfield movies. I shudder thinking about those horrible eyes.

What's The Movie About?

Garfield and Odie involved in a heist of a dairy farm because of Garfield's dad and an insane Persian. Persian cat, not a person from Persia.

What I Like.

Dudes, what the fuck. This movie is actually really good. For starters, this movie is hilarious. Not every joke lands (and all the worst jokes are either awful cat puns or jokes where the punchline is "Modern gadgets sure exist, huh.") but there's a good 4/5 of comedy that is quick and hilarious. The only pauses in the comedy are for just for visual gags that look like they could've been pulled straight from the comic strip. There is a lot of background gags, admittedly some those awful puns, and the physical comedy is no slouch either. I was guffawing a whole lot more than I ever thought I would. And the movie has some really good emotional moment too. I really like Vic, Garfield's dad and his story was great. All the voice acting (with one notable exception) was great too. Animation is a bit simple, but it is perfect for a Garfield movie since it looks like the simple comic strips, just with more backgrounds and slight texture detail on character. The movie isn't afraid to make fun of itself as well, which I always appreciate, and it is perfect to establish not taking the world too seriously. Funnily enough though, the worldbuilding is much more consistent at following its rules that IF, the kids movie that came out the week before.

What I Didn't Like.

Act surprised when I say that my only issue with this movie is Chris Pratt. He's not horrendous in the movie, there are a couple line deliveries where I thought to myself, "That line kinda sounds close to what Garfield should sound like." But he does not blend with the character, unlike every other actor in the movie. I wasn't as initially dismissive of Chris Pratt as most others. I think he's a good voice actor actually, but here's the actual problem. Chris can only play 3 kinds of characters: the Goofball, the Everyman, and the Generic Action Hero. And Garfield is a Boor stereotype. He's supposed to be dry and sarcastic, uncaring because of either laziness or pride. They do give Garfield more goofy lines presumably in an attempt to make it work better. Didn't work. Funnily enough, the movie makes a bunch of jokes about Mission Impossible (I mean, Ving Rhames plays a mastermind) so I wonder if the film makers wanted Tom Cruise to be the lead. I could actually see that working pretty good.

Final Summation.

I feel undercut here. The Garfield Movie is good, but it's not so good that I'm super excited to tell you all about it. There's not really a lesson to learn in relation to this movie either. I guess I can end with this joke: I came out of the Garfield Movie higher than Furiosa. Not because it's a better movie, good lord no. But I had expectations about the quality of Furiosa that it met, while I had no expectations for Garfield and it vastly succeeded them.

So which is better, IF or this movie. Eh.... The problem here is that the Garfield Movie and IF are good for different reasons. IF was more imaginative (of course it was) and has a better message for kids, while Garfield is more structurally competent and would definitely be more entertaining for the parents. Honestly... If you can double feature them, go ahead. They are both less than 2 hours. Otherwise I'm leaning towards IF.

Anyway, chalk another notch up for a movie I thought was gonna suck actually being kinda awesome. This has lowkey been one of the best parts of this whole 'watch everything that comes out' experience. There's not going to be any reviews for a bit, since no new movies come out next week and I'm probably gonna be too busy to start watching Columbo again. Ciao!

#The Garfield Movie #Recommended Movies

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decentmonster · 1 year ago

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a little personal vent about my relationship to religion made while drunk n sad

but it honestly makes me so sad that I finally reconnected with my ancestry and left Christianity for Judaism (I'm Jewish but was adopted by Evangelicals) and then immediately Israel was so much more grossly evil and bigoted. like. I knew Israel was bad but it's. so much more evil than i naively realised. vomit-inducing horrible. I don't even know how to express it in words bc there isn't a word for grief like this in any written language- the only "word" I can think of to express it is just the guttural piercing scream of a terrified infant.

can I not find faith that isn't deeply linked to oppressing and hurting people

i am searching so desperately for a god who is good.

like I know that Judaism is actually quite against genocide and everything, like, fundamentally taking lives is extremely evil in judaism. but.

but the stuff going on in Palestine feels sooooo similar to the same bigotry and evil that made me leave Christianity that I'm just. In shock.

where is god. wtf are they doing? are they lazy or evil?

it feels almost like G*d themself wants me to be agnostic

how can God or G*d or god be good if every place I search for them I only find the most horrendous egregious and systemic evil.

ouch. ouch ouch.

I'm just wrestling with God. Fuck this.

#god #religion #judaism #christianity #tw religion #palestine

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cornfields-td-nonsense · 1 year ago

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🧠 all of them

An ask from the OC ask game I forgot to answer oops

What do you like most about them?

Starting in elimination order, then quickly veering off and going in a completely random order:

- William is a dramatic little bitch who dresses like a colourblind D&D bard. Need I say more.

- Sal's just big and dumb and doesn't know her own strength but cmon guys, she's doing her best!

- Nicolas is just funny to me, like, conceptually. Chris really went through the process of adopting a random orphan to have on his show and became an unwilling father. brilliant

- Reggie's just silly. She's the definition of a silly little guy. She operates on cartoonier physics than anyone else. She's a horrible influence on Nicolas. She's Roger Rabbit as a teenage lesbian. Also I just love clowns, I wanted to make a clown character for TDN almost as soon as I thought of it

- Carmen's just fun. She's pretty and smart and she gets along with everyone! And I especially love how human she is. Like. Totally human. I don't know what that one anon was talking about. There's nothing supernatural about her.

- Matt, on the other hand, is an absolute bitch. Sometimes it's just fun to have a horrendously unlikeable character to play around with.

- Greta's a wannabe supervillain that is trying and failing to be evil. She's like if Max wasn't annoying.

- Hans just does not give a crap. I respect that.

- Charlie's aroace and we need more aspec characters like. in general. Also I like it when characters in TD do something, get eliminated, and then the thing they did continues to be important and comes up later, like MK hacking the confessionals in TDI2023. Something similar happens with Charlie's research and notes on his findings about the island - something to do with Alisha and Esther.

- Harper. One, I like the idea of an intern being unwillingly dragged onto the show. Two, I love stories about unrequited romantic feelings that have actual happy endings and show that "staying friends" is a totally feasible option that can actually be the best case scenario. Harper and Charlie manage to snag their friendship out of the fiery wreckage of their not-romance, and they're both better off for it.

- Esther was the first TDN character, and you always remember your roots. Shes basically the reason this thing exists, lol. I also put a lot more of myself into her than I was expecting to, but I do that with a lot of my characters

- Skelly is a punk character that isn't Duncan. That makes them awesome in my book.

- Alisha is a theatre kid. We love a theatre kid. I do have a lot to say about her but I'm saving that for another ask currently sitting in my inbox

- Ming is a menace. In the best way possible. Once Lloyd pulls the betrayal card on Rod, Ming fully declares war on his ass - she is VERY protective of her friends.

- Art is the kind of unlikeable character I really enjoy - he's believable. He's multi-dimensional. There's reasons he is the way he is, and he's capable of change.

- Isla is a bigender artsy kid with ADHD. You know. Like me.

- Eve has a snake. Like. Come on. (Also yours truly forgot to mention she's mute and uses ASL in her character bio. oops. I'll go back and edit that in later lol)

- Lloyd is, like I've said before, utterly overflowing with issues. I want to examine his brain under a microscope.

- Rod's not stupid. I know it's a bit of a weird thing to specify, but oftentimes the optimistic ray of sunshine who's best friends (or more...?) with a jaded grumpier one is portrayed as dumb. Rod isn't some kind of genius, but he's no idiot, either. I think that's important to say.

- Lara is an autistic girl who overthinks every social interaction she has, struggles with sensory issues she doesn't know how to deal with or even explain, and gets pushed around by certain individuals (coughartcough) who perceive her struggles as her being lazy or untalented. And by building a support system and finding someone she can truly connect with in Esther, she comes out of her shell, stands up for herself, develops and fleshes out her skills and manages to win. In short, Lara is the character I needed when I was younger.

#did i miss anyone?#total drama #total drama nautilus #tdn ensemble

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aizandoesstuff · 7 months ago

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I did a thing.

I was initially inspired by a the Draftsmen Podcast (can't remember the episode anymore) where Stan talks about his painting process (sort of). He mentions that when he makes a piece and along the way he starts to not like it, he doesn't just stop and start a new one, he finishes it and then starts a new one. So that's what I've been doing.

In my free time I've been drawing this woman:

and every time I don't like the painting I've finished, I start a new one. And here are the horrible paintings and the one that I deem a success, with some of my comments : D

If I didn't know what this women was suppose to look like, I would have probably said this was good enough.

This one

this one I hate the MOST out of all my attempts. The only thing it probably gets is shadow placement.

It is absolutely horrendous

This might have been because by this point I got lazy and I just wanted this painting to be over with cause it was taking me like a week to finish. I wasn't even halfway done when I already knew that I hated it. I was still desperate to save it that I even used the blend tool on pretty much everywhere.

By the time I was done I was like, "Okay, how do I not do that again?" So I looked some of J.C Leyendecker's artworks (one of may fav artist) and some art analysis vids and a tutorial on his style, as well as videos about measurements, and at the end made this:

Looking at it now and comparing it to the last painting, the one true success, I still really like this piece. To me it has so much character and charm because of the coloring and the brush textures. You can see it very obviously on the nose and right cheek, and it's there because I was a only a little bit lazy this time.

But I'm sure you could probably tell why I had to restart.

The measurements are off.

And this was a personal thought but the painting really is too orange. As much as I do still love the colors, it just deviates too much from the reference. Although many of Leyendecker's works have this warm look to them, that's more because of the warmer, orange undertones he adds, but if you look at his work it doesn't particularly look orange.

I did the whole thing again, this time started using the ruler tool in my drawing software to really get the colors right, also looked up some tips for shading and ended with this:

I didn't mention this before but this one probably used the most layers out of all the attempts. The eyes, brows, hair, hairband and skin are all in separate layers while other attempts only used one. My third attempt used like 3, for the hair, hairband and skin.

This last attempt also took the longest (mostly because of school and my teachers dumping a bunch of work on us cause it's almost the end of the semester). But because of that I've been working on this for about a month.

I think in total I've been drawing this women for about 3 months now. And no offense to her but I'm absolutely sick of looking at her after having to look and paint her for so long XD.

Here are the speedpaint TikToks for these attempts (yes I even mad one for the worst attempt)

the title of the song here very much captures my feelings when I was finishing and finished this piece

The vibe of the song very much represents how I felt when I looked at this piece. (honestly would have preferred Judy Garland's version but TikTok didn't have it)

#there are still parts of this last painting that I don't like to much #like I wish i kept the blue hairband from the 3rd attempt instead sticking with the reference #it would have added some nice contrast I think #buuuuuut what can you do #I'm definitely not making another artwork of her anytime soon #digital art #art progress #art project #made with krita #I also suck at lashes which is why I never added them :P

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inshelliesworld · 2 years ago

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Buckle up. This is long.

Last night after dinner w/my fam I watched the SAG awards so I am a little behind on the conversation around the Chris Evans Clown Show Comedy Hour. However I read a couple of asks received by @nancydrewwouldnever about how he’s been looking like the Raggedy Andy version of his normal self these past few months and I couldn’t agree more.

I thought so watching the SMA videos People put out.

Back during my more naïve days, I just thought he was possibly exhausted and that could very well still be true. But after the rabbit hole I’ve been down for the past couple of months, I am of the opinion he's exhausted for a different reason than work requirements. Which is just that – my opinion: observation mixed with speculation.

I don’t think this RS – if it is rooted in PR like I think it is – was ever intended to last this long. From what I have gathered, the Netflix show and movie for which AB would have benefited the most having a lot of attention were originally supposed to both release in the first half of 2022. One or both were delayed, the show being very delayed -from first/second quarter all the way to the last quarter of the year. So not only did she lose out on a bump for the movie, but by the time her show finally launched it pretty much had already been axed by NF. So when Mr. SMA 2022 does the CP Marathon (horribly) with her, the only project she has going on at the time is hanging by a thread.

That's her fault for being lazy and entitled. A million golden opportunities were missed by her/her team, but I feel like Chris wasn’t going to sell anything very well anyway, as he likely was being pissy about this situationshit lasting so long. Which led me to thinking that “laser focus” press question was a plant to tie back to the earlier article BUT made me think it could possibly have been contrived as a way to signify the end of their "RS" had it gone to plan. The question would allow room for him to insinuate he was single again and “focused on finding the right partner” to “pour himself into” bc “awe, shucks, I’m just so unlucky in love…” 💀

BUT THAT CAN’T HAPPEN… he can’t signal the end of something that hasn’t yet been announced. So it looked to the viewer, and especially his fandom, that he was signaling his singlehood – and for his fans, to debunk the rumors flying around about his Lolita. NOW he has to stutter around and trap himself in word prisons and go take a quick pap sprint the same time as SMA announcement bc that’s when the show drops and do more photos and BS to sell the OVER year-long narrative when they were really prepped to do a 9ish-mos storyline. All the OG pics and scares (IMO) that were preemptively shot not only look slightly better but they also would have fit in with starting the RS storyline Fall 2021 and, if nothing would have been delayed, the end falling somewhere Summer 2022.

I think this is why he does such a shit job selling it. He struggles to sell intimacy anyway, but he’s not even giving it the ole college try bc he’s pissed off that it’s taken more time than he expected and dragging his feet. I mean…. All these rumors about the same chick for months HAS to have a negative impact on his harem, right?? 😂 Now she’s pissed that he’s dragging his feet – or maybe she wanted it to turn into more than what it is and he’s noped the fuck out – so she throws a hissy fit with the yoga cert mess, her mom’s pic, and her OF shower pictorial.

It's possible had this not dragged along for this long, all the dirt that has surfaced RE: her and her sOuLMaTes being racist, antisemetic, fat phobic, basically all around horrendous ppl that has TANKED his image and lost him a good portion of his fandom would have maybe not surfaced. The mess would have been announced, been annoying, and been over before anyone cared enough to dig that much - or at least make that big of a deal about it, bc he would have been rid of her. I know that this dumpster fire mimics SS a lot but I think that Chris agreeing to a much shorter version in the beginning is why there are SO MANY pictures all at once. He probs didn't want to do this for the 2 years or whatever that SS committed to.

I think he has thrown his own tantrum of “I ain’t doin this shit anymore” and has left it to someone else to handle which is why he is AWOL from everywhere, including going out to dinner with his friend/castmates, and not doing his own SM anymore (I personally don’t think he’s posting anything at all right now himself). Seems he’s also made sure that he/his team control the mass narrative to the GP.

I think they’re riding this shit show out until the end, letting their teams do whatever they need to do. Even if she has the DESIRE to show up for anything like the Twitter reading (was she even invited? Was she wanted by her castmates/showrunners? Hollywood is show BUSINESS afterall so even if she wasn’t wanted she would be expected to show up to make good on production companies’ investments & save face?) the situations aren’t really going to be great for her. There would be – and SHOULD BE – backlash involving the discriminatory posts, which she obvs has no intentions of denouncing. IMO she should have done it anyway for her fans, but her not doing it goes a long way to prove her entitlement, lazy ass attitude, and ungratefulness. But from the looks of those Star Power reports from IMDB that someone shared, it’s not her that’s hurting… it’s HIM. 🤡

He’s suffering greatly, which is also deserved, and he very likely knows it. It has taken a noticeable toll on his looks, his presence, his gait, and his energy. He looks like a shell of his former self bc he is. And he’s seemingly off licking his wounds until he can start his Chris Evans Redemption Tour.

I would like to put it out into the universe that my birthday is next month and it falls within their usual “drop” timeframe so it would be a fantastic birthday gift if March’s bomb was the BUA.

#Chris Evans #PR #shit show #birthday wish #Pisces season #please end the misery

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stxleslyds · 4 years ago

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MY THOUGHTS ON TITANS’ RED HOOD,

BEFORE WATCHING THE LAST EPISODE.

I will start by saying that I haven’t been able to watch the show, these are my thoughts after reading a very well-written and detailed review of the last episode. The review is also written by someone that enjoys the show, this is important because my thoughts don’t align with theirs.

I understand that Titans is known for being garbage, I know their writing is messed up, and I had no hope whatsoever for them to actually write a good Jason Todd/Red Hood story. I would also like to make clear that this post is in no way hate towards the actor playing Jason, this post is just my thoughts on Jason’s characterization.

What I really don’t like is these shows/movies taking the names of loved characters and making an “original character” out of them. Yes, there are different takes of the character and you can build their story differently but I do feel that what they did with Jason is beyond all that. They twisted every concept from his origin and his story, nothing really fits, but someway, somehow, they still managed to push all the wrong narratives when it comes to Robin Jason.

Two of the most horrible narratives that DC has decided to push are “Robin Jason was reckless and a troubled kid that never did what he was told” and “Jason Todd is to blame for his death”.

The show does push the one where Jason is reckless. Jason is consumed by fear, and Bruce Wayne pays attention to that but he doesn’t only do that, he also offers comfort and help, he tries to make Robin Jason go to therapy.

This is huge, they build up the perfect scenario for Jason to not become the Red Hood. But for some reason, they decided to make Jason reckless and too eager to prove that he didn’t need that kind of help. And then they didn’t help Jason’s case because they wrote their Bruce as a caring father that does not want to see his son get hurt or end up dead.

This Bruce Wayne is doing everything that comics Bruce Wayne didn’t. This Bruce cares, so once more, one would think that this Jason wouldn’t become the Red Hood. But, surprise! Jason Todd doesn’t take well the news of him not being able to be Robin anymore.

Here is the thing, if you were Bruce in this situation, would you let this Jason continue to be Robin when he is a danger to himself? I know I wouldn’t.

Here is where Titans’ terrible writing reaches its peak. They have a vulnerable and reckless Jason try to prove that he can still be Robin by working on *something* that can take his fears away. Jason Todd wants to make a drug, let that one sink in.

Jason Todd wants to make something that is basically a drug. Did Titans really erase the fact that Jason’s mother overdosed? Because that’s one of the most important things in Jason’s life and that built up his hate for drugs and what they do to people. His mother was in an abusive relationship and that led her to do drugs and later led her to her own death.

This might not sound too important to other people but to me, it’s something that has always been important to Jason’s character before and after his death.

Going back to the actual show, Jason goes to Scarecrow, willingly, and asks him to make him a drug that will make him don’t feel fear. I know that this Jason is vulnerable and that he probably thinks that therapy isn’t working for him, but why on earth would Jason think that making Scarecrow make a drug for him would be a good idea?

How does that make sense? The show is basically telling us that Jason had a support system and that he was going to therapy because Bruce wouldn’t want to lose his SON. Why does this show go far and beyond to make Jason look reckless and dumb?

This is not me comparing Comics Jason to Titans Jason anymore, this is me finding Titans’ logic unnecessarily stupid, they really went out of their way to write pure stupidity.

Why would they write Bruce as a caring father and as actively working so Jason can be in a better mental state so he won’t lose him as his son if they are also going to write Jason as an incredibly reckless man? Are we supposed to be on Bruce’s side? Because as of now, Bruce is the only one with brain cells.

There is absolutely no way to compare that to comics because in comics Bruce neglected Jason’s needs and refused to see that Jason had different morals even back then, and that neglect was key in Jason jumping onto the idea that he needed someone that he could call family and actually care for him. He wanted love and attention from a parental figure because he didn’t feel like he had one. Robin wasn’t everything that Jason was, he was also a kid with normal needs.

So, you build that completely different and actually give Jason the support that he also wanted in the show but for some reason, he is fiercely attached to Robin even though his fear comes from the fact that he almost died for being Robin. There is no logic to this Jason’s actions and that isn’t on Jason it's on the writers’ incredibly garbage writing. It is like they come up with ten different ideas and they put all of them but none of them are actually solid and well-developed concepts.

And you can’t tell me to get over it because “Titans has always had bad writing, there were two seasons of bad writing”. Listen, if you are happy to consume media that is badly written then that’s on you, Jason is one of my favorite characters, I don’t want him to be written badly just because that’s the show’s style. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with me wanting writers to actually care about the characters they are writing for, all three seasons have had different writers, is it really so far-fetched for me to want one of these people to write something that makes sense?

Jason's death was tragic in both comics and the show, and he was a victim in both of them, yes. But the show really pushes the limits of that, Jason wanted to take something to make him not fear, he looked for Scarecrow (not Dr. Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, and he was an already established villain) to make him this drug when he couldn’t make it himself. He trusted Scarecrow (for some weird reason) and then as a test he went to fight Joker? It’s tragic because it ended with Jason dying but it's also tragic because the writing is just bad. It just is, and that is a problem for me.

From then on, we have the “big connection” to comics, the Lazarus Pit! Wow, you guys did it, yeah, everyone loves the Lazarus Pit, every time I think about Jason, I only think about that one time in which he was thrown in a Lazarus Pit to recover his mental injuries or all of his injuries after he came back from the dead.

This Jason has no training, there is no Talia, no League of Assassins, no Ducra or All-Castle, there is only Scarecrow and his new puppet, the Red Hood.

It changes everything and I don’t like it. Once again, I understand and know the concept of the multiverse, the various earths, and the Elseworlds, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like this take on Jason Todd/Red Hood along with its horrendous writing.

I don’t have to like it, just like I understand that others do like it because it is their first contact with the character or because they are fine, as fans of the character, with a new take. I am not gatekeeping Jason Todd or Red Hood; I am just saying that my being angry at this version and absolutely hating it is just as valid as liking this version of Jason.

Red Hood in Titans is just Scarecrow’s puppet, that’s how things are, and I just think that it is too big of a change from the original reasons for Jason to become Red Hood. And I will never get tired of saying this, Red Hood wasn’t only all about the Joker killing him and Batman not killing the Joker. The Red Hood was Jason’s way to make things work, to prove to Bruce that Batman wasn’t enough for Gotham. Red Hood came back to Gotham to stop bad people from introducing children to drugs and to make Gotham’s people feel safe.

He thought that Red Hood was the better version of Batman for Gotham and its people.

But I am not blind, I can see how Titans can twist it again to give us Red Hood as a protector of children and Gotham in general. I can see the “I used to do drugs and now I will fight so no other person goes through the same”, I see it and I am aware of it but it does also bring me to my other problem with Titans and DC in general: story swapping.

Story Swapping is something that DC loves to do, they thrive when they make change people’s origins for others and when they take character traits from one character to another.

And Titans’ Jason Todd is just that, he has characteristics and plot concepts from Dick Grayson and if what I just predicted happens then he will have some of Roy Harper's characteristics. And that is exactly what Lobdell did, but somehow, they managed to get different results. I cannot praise Titans for giving us a new Red Hood origin because they made his characterization with the help of other character’s origins and/or stories.

This is the first time that we see a live-action Jason Todd/Red Hood, was it really that hard to just stick to his origins as both Robin and Red Hood? There is so much to explore from Jason, there is so much between his death and him becoming Red Hood, from both before and after New 52.

Jason becoming Red Hood under the influence of Scarecrow in moths is lazy, bland and an insult to Jason’s character. They could have done things by the book and then explore things that we have never seen before in a show or movie.

Jason has had so much training outside of Gotham, why did Titans think that they could do acceptable work at bringing this amazingly complex character in a show that has nothing to do with him.

They could have had him killed in the Titans show and then wait and make a Red Hood show to actually tell a good story. What is Jason Todd doing in a show that is called Titans? Where are the Titans? They chose the most recognizable Titans’ line-up and they are not using it. They butchered Garth and Donna and for what?

DC gets away way too much with selling their stupid shows and movies by telling us that x character will appear but then when you watch the thing for that x character, they are nowhere to be seen. That’s exactly what they did with Cassandra Cain and what they are doing with Red Hood.

I don’t know how this tv show is doing, I only know that as a non-American that pays the same money for an HBO Max subscription, I don’t get to see any Titans content, not even a miserable trailer.

But I know that if non-comic readers are watching it, they will love it and if they actually were to start reading comics because of the show, then they wouldn’t find that Jason there. So, either that leads to Jason’s characterization being messed up even more within comics or it does nothing for Jason or comics.

To end this post, I just want to bring up the animated movie Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010).

That movie was widely praised and loved by critics, comic readers, and non-comic readers. It was fantastic, the story was amazing (even though it had differences with the comic, one might say that the differences improved the story), the voice acting was phenomenal, everything was done beautifully. Do you know what made it that way? The writing.

And you know who wrote the animated movie? The same person who wrote the comic the movie is based on, Judd Winick.

With that I am not saying that Titans should have had Judd write for them, what I am saying is that given the fact that they are using a pre-existing character they should chat with the Red Hood’s creator or even the writer that wrote for him for ten years after the character came back to comics.

This show obviously didn’t do that though, they preferred to write Jason Todd/Red Hood as if he were a Titans original character, but the thing is, from where I see it Titans didn’t give us an OC, they gave us an OOC.

So, to sum it all up, I hate Titans’ version of Jason Todd/Red Hood, I think that it is not only badly written but there is also no real logic to what they are trying to do so far. I am also tired of their bad and lazy writing in general. And I would have liked the Titans’ writers to actually respect the Red Hood lore because if they had I would have actually been excited about a Red Hood spin-off show.

Using the material that is available to you isn’t a crime, building from that material is the best thing that they could have done, but all they really wanted to do was use Red Hood’s name to get more money from a dying show.

It makes the show look cheap and actually not interested in giving us good stories, and no, I wasn’t expecting Captain America: The Winter Soldier levels of good writing or good changes to a very loved story/characters, I was actually expecting some Lobdell writing level and the way I see it we ended up getting something worse.

These are all my opinions. You can like, love, or dislike this version of Jason and the show as much as you want but you won’t find any form of love towards the show in this blog, at least not right now.

MY THOUGHTS ON TITANS’ RED HOOD,

AFTER WATCHING THE LAST EPISODE.

Well, I will start this part by saying: Sorry. I am sorry that I believed that Titans’ Red Hood was bad, it is actually worse than bad.

I was so wrong on many things, that review really made me think that things weren’t that bad but I still hated what I read. Now that I have watched the episode because I wanted this post to be extra honest and to stop myself from saying stupid stuff, I can also say that I hated what I watched.

This show really validates the two most horrible narratives that DC has been pushing for Jason: “he was a reckless Robin that didn’t think about his actions” and “he was to blame for his own death”

Jason Todd wasn’t a victim of Scarecrow, this Jason Todd took every single bad decision that he could, and those decisions led him to his death. No sympathy for this man.

Also, this Jason is like 19? He doesn’t look younger than that, but that’s not the point, what I am trying to point out is that this Robin is extremely underprepared, he lacks training and the mental capacity to stop acting like an edge lord every time he opens his mouth. He is annoying.

And I was wrong about Titans erasing the plotline of Jason’s mother dying of an overdose, she did die that way and this Jason spoke of her as if he hated her. What is going on? This Jason really doesn’t make me feel an ounce of sympathy for him. This attitude of “no one understands my pain” when everybody is trying to help you doesn’t make you look cool or anything of the sort, it makes you look annoying.

It is even worse because this Jason is so immature and reckless that he made his friend Molly (that is just a normal teen with no training) go after a thug with him, while he was not mentally well. He made that decision for them and put himself and her in danger. If that scene had gone any other way, then Jason could have been guilty of getting his friend injured or killed.

Jason Todd is so incredibly dumb; he is not a child but he acts like one every step of the way.

Nothing makes sense in his whole ass interaction with Bruce in front of the theatre, it’s like Jason refuses to listen to what Bruce tells him, well not that he refuses to listen it is more like a “Telefono descompuesto” I don’t know if you guys have that game but you basically have to tell something in someone’s ear and then the person repeats what they understood to the next and so on, what you said is heavily distorted by the end of the game. In this scene that is exactly what happens but it’s between two people.

When Jason accuses Bruce of not taking away Robin from Dick, Bruce says something along the lines of “I learned from my mistakes” and Jason says “so, I am a mistake now?”. Jason, use your ears, if Bruce says that he learned from his mistakes when talking about Dick, then his mistake was what he did with Dick. The writing is so bad, it's actually painful and it is even worse because the acting is bad, but I can’t blame the actors, it must really be hard to make a scene work when the writing is that bad. (Also, the unnecessary pauses, and the sounds that they play after they say something stupid, it is too funny).

Do you know what made me cringe? When they were having the chat in the theatre, in my mind all I could hear was “if you are nothing without the suit then you shouldn’t have it”, not me quoting Tony Stark in my head! I haven’t even watched that movie! But it fits perfectly for that scene.

The interaction with Scarecrow was more than dumb, if Jason was already acting like a child, now, he is basically acting like a toddler. Scarecrow saw right through him in seconds and just as fast decided that he was going to have fun with his new toy. He gave him a formula that wasn’t quite correct even though it looked like he knew exactly how to make the reverse version of his fear gas. This Jason has zero detective or survival skills but we already knew that when he made himself get captured and tortured by Deathstroke.

Anyway, all the interactions with Scarecrow were allowed to happen because this Jason can’t put two and two together. He convinces himself that everyone is out to get him, dude, Bruce is a detective and he also has eyes, Leslie didn’t tell him anything. If I were Bruce, you wouldn’t be able to be Robin anymore either.

I understand that Jason is not in a good mental place and that he wants to make his fears go away, but he had support, people around him were trying to get him help, trying to make him understand that he was hurting himself. His over-the-top anger and recklessness are unjustified when you refuse to take the help that is being offered to you.

He made terrible decisions for selfish purposes and that got him killed.

This is one of the last things I want to say, Scarecrow either didn’t need Jason at all to get out of Arkham or the writers made an oopsie because at the end of the episode he had someone helping him put Jason in the Lazarus Pit and then he was out of Arkham and he had a suit ready for Jason and everything. How did he manage all that? No idea.

The Lazarus Pit, yeah, I am sorry to be that person but the Pit can’t bring back people from the dead, it can only restore or heal physical and mental injuries (however grave they were), but Lobdell messed that one up already and Titans really didn’t have time to write a single good scene so what was I expecting?

Anyway, the last thing I wanted to say is that I know why Jason or Red Hood seems to not be affected by the drug when he sees Molly at the end of the episode, it is because the executive producer of the show is Geoff Johns! He loves making Jason fall for girls and get all mushy and dumb, do you guys remember how dumb he got when he left with Rose?

Jason being written as the kind of guy that acts like a love-sick puppy with a girl but also screams at her when he gets mad is peak Geoff Johns. So, if you were wondering where that came from, well, there it is.

Yeah, that is all I had to say, honestly if you have read this whole post then you are one strong individual, I am sorry I put you through all my thinking and rambling. You didn’t really deserve that.

I didn’t want to delete the first part of the post because I talked about so much more than the show and my thoughts before watching the episode still stand. I hope this post isn’t too confusing. As always you can think the complete opposite of me about the show or anything, I am just writing my thoughts.

Having said all that, I hope all of you, Titans’ lovers, haters, and people that simply do not care, have a wonderful week!

#jason todd #red hood #titans s3 #titans #anti titans

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angelguk · 5 years ago

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you guys remember that video of jaykay walking around with his chain swinging from his neck... yeah anon said that video but make it jock!jk. oc is horny and who can blame her. we’re in university now folks. jk being a good friend. not edited (but tbh when is my work ever edited). 1k. listen to art class by beabadoobee.

You cannot recall a single word that has left Jeongguk’s lips in the past five minutes. You should be concentrating though — he’d been kind enough to explain thermodynamics to you. Somehow, despite your widely different majors, you’d both been thrown into the hell that was Professor Kim’s chemistry class. The only difference between the two of you right now was that Jeongguk understood what Gibson's Free Energy meant while you, unfortunately, did not.

“See,” he says, honey gaze locking on you. “It’s not that difficult.”

The huff you release is laced with fury. “Easy for you to say. You understand his horrendous teaching method.”

“Kim isn’t that horrible of a teacher,” Jeongguk returns. You don’t blink as he runs a stray hand through his chestnut curls. He’s overdue for a cut but after your persistent badgering, he’d agreed to grow it out again. The problem was that he looked good with his hair tumbling into his face. He always looked good, to be frank, but the consistent sweeping of his hair back was doing something funny to your stomach. Not that you were willing to acknowledge that.

There’s a fast and dangerous swoop in your gut the second Jeongguk leans into your space, crowding over your huddled figure. “Look,” he says, deft tongue swiping over his petal lips. His finger traces an equation from your textbook but you’re not looking at that. You really couldn’t give a shit about chemistry right now. All because Jeongguk’s chain is dangling before your eyes. It’s a pretty silver pendant, glinting in the harsh fluorescents hanging above, and engraved with something you can’t decipher as it gently sways before your vision. His cologne hits a second later, swathing around you like a warm lazy hug. You nearly give in, eyes fluttering shut as your thighs squeeze together beneath the library table. He’s so close, just one inch forward and your face would be buried in the hollow of his neck. A neck bulked up by years of consistent gym routines and playing match after match of lacrosse. You can’t help the wandering gaze. Even underneath the billowy material of his sweatshirt, you can see how broad he is, wide shoulders and thick biceps encroaching into your space.

It happens too fast for you to muffle the fantasy out. How nice he would feel on top of you, his chain cold against your warm skin as your bodies met, delicate metal swaying gently to the sound of him inside of you, his wide palms pinning you down tight until you felt the phantom of them there tomorrow, the —

“Hello? Y/N? Did you get it?” Jeongguk’s voice is alien, slicing through the core of your longing unforgivingly.

“What?” And just like that it’s gone, evaporated into nothing as your vision clears, Jeongguk staring at you expectedly as the faint ticking of the library clock reaches your ears. “Huh? Wait — yes I got it. Um, yeah it makes sense now.”

There’s a pause as he stares at you, brown eyes brimming with that tender doe-eyed gaze of his. The one that has seen through every charade you’ve ever attempted to trick him with. He must know.

“You sure?” He says as he cocks his head. Something violently blooms and dies inside of you simultaneously. He knows. He knows and you don’t know how that makes you feel. He must have seen the distance in your eyes, saw how you looked at him. You’d never been good at hiding things, especially from Jeongguk. But your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, brain incapable of forming a believable lie. What could you say to your best friend when you’d been fantasising about him right in front of him? What is there to say? Sorry for thinking you’re really hot? Sorry for wanting you as more than a friend?

It’s stupid and you know it yet your mouth is falling open involuntarily. But he catches you, his words blocking yours diverting the path of your relationship from a dangerous ending.

“I know you’re used to teaching me stuff,” he softly starts, tone cautious. “I get that. But it’s okay not to understand things, Y/N. You don’t have to know everything. I can help you out whenever you don’t, you know that right?”

If you could scream in the middle of a library you would. But that would get you kicked out and honestly, you need to study. But here he was, thinking your hesitation and lack of focus was from embarrassment. If anyone had a golden soul it was him. And that’s what makes it a million times worse. Because Jeongguk was everything you could never be. Everything and more.

You bite your tongue, head bowed in a shame that he misreads.

“Y/N?”

It takes a minute for the thought to form, a lapse of time in which you think your heart shatters a little bit. “Jeongguk,” you murmur, eyes rising to meet his. “I’d never doubt that you wouldn’t be there to help me. We’ve been friends for too long for me to ever think that. I’m just really frustrated with myself. But I’ve got the concept now. Thank you for explaining it. I appreciate this.”

The smile he gives you could make a cloudy sky clear. “You really sure? I know it’s rushed but I gotta head to a society meeting in, like, ten minutes.”

You nod, clicking your pen because for some reason this hurts. “Yeah, yeah I got it. You should go. Thanks, Gukkie.”

He shrugs, plucking his backpack off the table. Another sweep of his fingers through his hair, a bright smile still gracing his perfect lips. There’s the hint of his dimples peeking through his cheeks. You wish he didn’t look like that.

“Anytime, bunny. You know I got you.”

And then he’s off, waving you farewell as he weaves through the shelves and out the library doors. You don’t miss the murmurs that follow, the silent whispers of his name. Jeon Jeongguk. The university's star lacrosse player. The president of the Student Sports Committee. The hottest guy on campus. And somehow, the best-friend you might have a crush on.

It’s with a heavy sigh that you return to your assignment, the grip on your pen taunt. Maybe you should look into ordering that vibrator Sieun talked about earlier today. Maybe.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #im posting nd going to sleep #if this is bad im SORRY my head is empty its 2am #au: jock!jaykay

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ghostdrew22 · 4 years ago

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Déjà vu? || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x ex!fem!reader Warnings: Idk if this is angsty or not because I initially thought it was but it feels a bit like soft sadness to me? Summary: Y/N getting deja vu as you watch Draco with his new girlfriend (H/N - her name)

WORDS : 1950

Lyrics from “Deja Vu” by Olivia Rodrigo (but I got lazy and only used certain parts)

~~~

Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream, one spoon for two And tradin' jackets Laughin’ 'bout how small it looks on you (Ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha)

“Draco stop!” A voice exclaims before being followed by laughter. You know that you shouldn’t turn around, that it’ll hurt too much, but it’s been said many times that curiosity killed the cat.

He’s holding the very same ice cream order, strawberry and pistachio, and sporting that familiar warm smile that used to comfort you when you got a brain freeze from the ice cream. It had been your idea, ice cream in November, and he’d hated it at first but grew to love it just because it made you happy. That very same order that you’d made him try, strawberry and pistachio, but not for the two of you this time.

It’s difficult to know what you were expecting, something new? Different? A part of you had always known, even while you were the one in H/N’s position, that your moments with Draco would soon be documented and used for a modern remake. If your relationship had been a book, theirs is the movie adaption. If your relationship had been a song, theirs is a cover band’s rendition. Maybe, deep down, you were expecting just this- to see him treating her the same way that he’d treated you.

Those pale hands, that used to fit so comfortably in the expanse of your own, are now tucked safely in-between hers. Oceans of blue that used to run over your shivering figure every November when you made this exact Hogsmeade trip, are now tracing the lines of her face and committing them to memory. Lips, cold and slightly chapped, that were once coaxing laughter from your lungs with horrible puns and crude observations, are now completely and utterly consumed with the sole objective of entertaining her the very same way that they entertained you.

It’s a bitter sight, one would think, but you can’t bring yourself to be jealous. It’s an odd sort of feeling, deja vu, to know that once this moment belonged to you, and now you have to watch it play out in front of you. You know what’s going to happen, down to the footprints that’ll stain the path back to Hogwarts, but this time it’s not you. This time, even though you know what’s going to happen next, it’s not your laughter that’ll be filling the silence as he walks back to school.

Watching reruns of Glee Bein’ annoying, singin’ in harmony I bet she’s bragging to all her friends, saying you’re so unique, hmm

“Draco’s obsessed with this muggle show called Glee. He makes me sing along with him every time we watch it.” She says with a small laugh and a shy smile.

Why, in God’s name, did you decide to study in the library today? Sitting on the other side of the bookshelf behind you, with Millicent Bulstrode, is H/N.

“That’s horrendous.” Millicent replies with a laugh. Maybe if you’d tried harder to be friends with her then she would’ve told H/N that Draco used to do that with you too, that you’re the one who introduced him to muggle tv shows in the first place.

“It’s cute, he’s so… different.”

You swallow hard and try to pour your focus back into your books. That tone, sweet and infatuated, was the tone you used only months before when you spoke about him too. Once again you’re on the other side of the looking glass, staring back at a distorted reflection of yourself. It had been you bragging, drowning quite innocently in your adoration for him and feeling the need to sing your praises out to the world.

Way back when, you were the one forcing him to learn the lyrics to all of your favourite songs. The two of you would lose track of time singing along with the actors and complaining about the unnecessary drama, it was this little world that the two of you created. But now that world, that you built on love and trust, can no longer afford to accommodate you both. Now it’s his world with her.

Without even realising it you start to wonder how it must be when he’s with her. Does she sing off-key too? Does he pepper her with kisses after and make fun of her singing? Do they binge watch episodes or only do one at a time? Does his laugh still drown out the talking whenever something ridiculous happens? Is his favourite character still Sue?

How many pieces of your time together did he take from the puzzle, to form a new one with her?

So when you gonna tell her that we did that, too? She thinks it's special, but it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you

“This alcove is where I come when I want to be alone, no one really comes here.”

No one but me, you think to yourself as you stop in the hallway and overhear Draco whispering to her. Of course he took her to your alcove, why wouldn’t he?

A part of you wishes that he’d tell her that it was you who found this spot, that it was you who’d trudged along the castle one night in a desperate search for some peace and quiet. You want her to know that this was your safe space, that you were the one who invited him there and allowed him to relish in the safety that it provided. It was you who laced your fingers together with his own and dragged him behind you until you’d landed in the spot, you who had to listen to his complaints about how small and cramped it was until he finally got comfortable and fell in love with it. You were the one he used to wrap his arms around and make promises to in the silence of the night, when nothing beside the two of you existed in that alcove.

It’s all blurring together, then and now are nothing but two sides of the same rusted coin. How can you possibly distinguish between your memories and reality when the boundaries keep crossing?

You almost want to laugh at how identical your relationship was to the one they have now. Jokes that you came up with in the sludge of sleepiness, when the two of you used to hide out here on nights when you both felt sad, are now being repeated into the very same air that you breathed only months ago. Promises that you’d both agreed to back then, are being remade in the safety of the night that now belongs to them.

“I love you.”

And

“Forever.”

Are being whispered between the two of them, assurances and pacts to be together till the end of time.

But now you wonder, how long is forever?

Do you get déjà vu when she’s with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?

The smell of toast and freshly scrambled eggs wafts through the Great Hall and you struggle to resist the urge to moan out in excitement. Breakfast is your favourite meal and, really, the only meal that’s worth anything. As you plop down in your seat and start to pack your plate in your food you fail to notice, in your sheer joy, that Draco’s sitting across from you with H/N by his side.

It’s not until you’re done piling up your favourites, like an Olympic gold medalist in training, that you notice the couple sat across from you. You observe discreetly as Draco outstretches his hand all over the table to get whatever she wants to eat, and you have to struggle to focus as a wave of déjà vu washes over you.

When had you stopped being the one he arranged plates for? When had he started saving a spot beside him for her, and not you? Literally you know that the answer is roughly around 3 or 4 months ago when the two of you had broken up, but he’d stopped being yours a long time before then and you’d both known it. Little moments of love, that had been the basis of your relationship, had fizzled out into distant memories way before you’d both decided to call it quits.

“Butter or jam, Y/N?”

You’re about to answer, on instinct really, when you realise that he’s not even speaking to you.

But he said your name. Didn’t he?

Do you call her, almost say my name? ‘Cause let’s be honest, we kinda do sound the same Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type

“It was mortifying!” You exclaim as you recount the events of earlier to your best friend.

“How bad could it have possibly been?” She asks with a laugh as she settles into your bed comfortably.

“He looked her dead in the eyes, and called her ‘Y/N’, and to make it one hundred times worse, I was sitting across from them when he did it so they both immediately turned to look at me!” You cry out in embarrassment as you drop your face in a pillow. “I’ve never prayed so hard for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.” You mumble against the fabric and you hear her laugh again.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It wasn’t your mistake.”

“It’s not about that, it’s about how easy it would’ve been for us to return to our roles as boyfriend and girlfriend. I almost answered him!” You sigh. “It’s been what? 3? 4 months? And my mouth still acts on muscle memory. We’re so familiar to each other that we still act on instinct.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because your names sound so similar?” She raises her eyebrows at you and you scoff. “Really? Y/N and H/N sound nothing alike?”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Okay, if you say so.” She shrugs, “But deep down I think all three of you know that there’s more similarities present than you’d like to account for.”

You huff in response and cross your arms. Is she right? Does Draco have a type?

Even worse, are you just Draco’s type? Nothing more and nothing less than just another girl who ticks all of his favourite boxes?

I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu

It’s on one morning, on one of your good mornings, that it happens.

Months of watching the two of them recreate the love that you’d had with him, suffering in silence and scolding yourself for thinking such awful things about them, finally come to a halt when you receive the acknowledgment that you’ve been so desperately craving.

She walks onto platform 9 and 3/4 in a dress, a purple dress that looks eerily similar to the one you’d worn two years before on this exact platform. She’s smiling brightly, excited for the new school year, and Draco’s waiting for her by the door with a smile that’s just as bright. When his eyes catch her own and she slips her hand into his, he stumbles backward in shock slightly. He immediately looks away from her and searches the crowd, scanning over people climbing into the train and saying goodbye to their families, in a desperate attempt to find you.

It’s too much for him, to see her standing before him and looking like a replica of you, and he needs some sort confirmation to know that he’s not imagining this similarity. The dress wraps around her waist the same way that yours had wrapped around your own waist, and it compliments her skin in a way that’s hauntingly memorable. He knows that he’s seen all of this before, and he knows that it wasn’t with her.

You’re standing a few paces away from the door, watching the scene unfold, and when his ocean blues finally meet yours, you know.

He smiles at you, the first time he’s done so since you broke up, and mouthes exactly what the two of you need to hear.

“Déjà vu.”

And then it’s over- the moment, the agony, the months of confusion- it’s all packed up into a neat box and stored away. He turns with her and they walk into the train together, happily.

You remember this, being the one in her position and walking by his side. You remember the feeling of utter joy that had consumed you, it’s all the same really.

But maybe this time when he promises forever, he’ll mean it.

~~~

This was meant to be way angstier but I got lazy and ended up just wanting to write it out before I ran out of love for the idea.

Anyway, I kind of like it...

love you all,

jean <3

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