#for the vibes. The poor and wretched vibes

[lunarharp]

stunted seeds

[batsplat]

“og 4 aliens very particular vibe in being ‘three distinct flavours of socially awkward loner and also valentino rossi’” LMAO I WAS JUST THINKING THIS!!!!!! That he has the funniest possible 3 foils in that era bc like…those three guys could not be less his vibe ~personality wise if they tried. And actually tbf I do think they WERE trying a lot of the time. Feeling very curious if you think there’s anything to the idea of how Marc was the first alien-era rival he had who was more on his level all around? Like early days Marc was kind of just 😀😀😀 all the time but I do think he can be v charming and is clearly extroverted as hell (tho like…notably also a loner but like…not by choice??). Like idk where im going w this but the contrast is interesting to me. IDK

to some extent! I'm not sure I'd necessarily call marc an extrovert, you can be charismatic and cheerful without being an extrovert - but also this is splitting hairs. the og four aliens are one guy who's on the 'roughly as extroverted as you can possibly get as a professional athlete' end of the spectrum and three guys who are on the 'roughly as introverted as you can possibly get as a professional athlete' end. now, tbh, I don't think valentino massively minded this. he's extroverted but crucially he's also got enough charm going for him that he could get his rivals to chat with him if he was so inclined. he had an increasingly friendly relationship with dani, there's real genuine warmth in how both of them talk about each other - ultimately dani might have been quite sullen and withdrawn in general, especially in his early years, but he got on well with valentino. casey and valentino had perfectly decent interpersonal chemistry, they got on well, and tbh they were still warm with each in-person long past the point where that relationship had rhetorically soured. with jorge... I mean, okay, no chemistry there, but that was also very much valentino's choice. I do not fundamentally doubt valentino's ability to charm twenty year old jorge lorenzo. I think just because they were DIFFERENT characters, that doesn't necessarily mean they weren't valentino's *type* personality-wise, like he does seem to be happy enough to be the chatty one who draws them out of their shells in that scenario. unless competitive necessity requires otherwise!! but as marc discovered, somewhat higher levels of extroversion does not protect you if that's the case

I will say I know you do put alien-era as a caveat, but it is still important to point out that marc is very much not the first valentino rival who doesn't fall in the introverted loner camp. valentino had a rival who matched his vibe!! who he had a real proper off-track friendship with, who he went on holidays with, who he had a warm relationship with for substantially longer than the marc/valentino honeymoon lasted. I think you can see the early marc era as a bit of a return to the friendlier vibes of the early noughties, but crucially it is a return. the early noughties was the last gasp before the sport came to be completely dominated by a bunch of young prodigies who had been moulded into perfect athletes and had less chance to grow into people outside of the sport - valentino is already part of that camp in everything but temperament, cf the contrast with biaggi. in the early noughties, he was surrounded by a bunch of older riders who varied dramatically in disposition... biaggi was the guy everyone had issues with, capirossi was always fond of valentino, kr jr he got on well with, he played a mentoring role for in hayden's rookie season... and of course, most importantly, the friendship with sete - now there's an obscenely friendly rivalry right until the very moment when it isn't. 2013-14 is a bit of a return to that more congenial climate, but at the end of the day that lot were still less likely to socialise than riders were back in the day. they just didn't have the time lol

so yeah, I mean. valentino clearly did take to marc on a personal level, and marc is definitely closer to valentino on the introversion/extroversion spectrum than the three other aliens are. though that is also... not difficult. there is something quite funny about how 2006-07 went from valentino's pov. the engine regs changed, valentino literally blinked and suddenly all his opps were toddlers. went from goofing off with capirossi on the sepang 2006 podium to running a daycare centre overnight. and marc is part of that! it's also a massive change in that suddenly, valentino was surrounded by rivals who had been influenced by watching him ride as they grew up and were all really, really, really weird about him. marc with his little bike collection, jorge with his dabbling in pseudoscientific schools of psychology, casey and his championship-winning shirt, dani... well, tbf, I do actually think dani was pretty normal about valentino - probably because he'd known him the longest. had gotten drunk with valentino in the days when the bloke was just an idol and not a god. which is an underrated reason why the dani/valentino relationship never got so weird imo, one that goes beyond competitive calculus - dani was the most capable of interacting with valentino as just another guy. with all three of marc/jorge/casey, that idolisation dynamic does contribute significantly to the interpersonal turmoil

but that's a topic for another day! in conclusion, marc defo the dispositionally cheeriest foil of the alien lot, albeit somewhat by default, and WAS part of the reason why motogp got a bit of a mood lift in that 2013-14 period after what had just been a dire few years vibes-wise. mediocre racing, devastation caused by the financial crisis, tragedy... motogp was feeling quite lifeless in 2011-12 in particular, and those years do have a bit of a drab energy to them. in that sense, what followed was a bit of a reversion to the mean until the vibes completely went off the cliff. have they ever recovered? who can say

[rageprufrock]

Welp I just binged all of The Pitt in 48 hours and here are my key takeaways:

Dr Shen is the kind of quietly vibing millennial trauma calm I want to see in my Asian male representation

I pumped my fist so hard when Victoria told her mom to read the fucking room I almost dislocated it

I’m obsessed with Princess; I would die for Perla

Dr McKay has never done anything wrong in her entire life and she should be allowed to punch one barely post pubescent person wearing a pink BONUS MOM tshirt per 24 hours

I would shut down a bar any day with Dr Abbot

I’m so worried about everybody shipping Mel and Langdon because he’s just—mentoring her with kindness and care the way a leader should?? What the hell is going on in your offices?? By these standards the internet would view my managing a team as having a fucking harem. Go form normal human relationships!!

That said this isn’t even going to be a long term issue because Langdon’s wife is going to kill him for getting their kids a puppy

I love Dr Robby and I was spellbound by how fucked up his handling of the David/elimination list issue was, because he’s a flawed and human person

Torres Santos is FASCINATING, and I also haven’t seen any discussion about how manipulative she is? J’INTRIGUE this wretched youth was psy-opping left and right in this ER

Whittaker. Oh my God? Oh my God. This poor sweet Mylanta, blood and rat-murder covered angel who drilled a hole in a clown’s arm………..

Dr Collins!!!!!! I, too, would choose to endure continuous trauma at work rather than go home and be forced to confront my emotions

I loved loved loved how much Mel and her sister clearly love each other, and how happy Becca makes her; thank God they have each other

Samira is a lunatic (affectionate)

Anyway this show is fucking amazing and anybody who has ever wondered what a degloving looks like should watch it.

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Chapter One (of four)

Masterpost

Danny hit the brakes hard and veered into a bicycle lane with a very Fenton sort of style and disregard for physics. He dodged the gunman in the carpool lane. He stuck his tongue out as he passed and then steered back into the right lane once he’d cleared the pedestrian. 

It turned out that Gotham rewarded the sort of drivers forged in the crucible of the Fenton tactical GAV, which was great. Jazz had gotten a job as a barista for her third year at Gotham U, so he had inherited the car that she had used as a delivery driver. She’d even somehow managed to pay the taxes on it despite the restraining orders that most government offices had on the Fenton family.

Jazz had been a pizza girl, but Danny wasn’t willing to work the late nights. He worked for three different rideshare companies. It was.. Well. It was a terrible way to make a living, if he was honest. It was wretched. But it worked! Until the car crapped out on him, this was a viable option to feed himself while he was enrolled full time at the university. He was available to drive early in the mornings and for a few peak hours on the weekends.

Danny brought an order of 17 coffees to a warehouse with serious ‘murders will happen here today’ vibes and whistled as he left. People in murder warehouses actually tipped pretty well. Worker solidarity or something. He left the early birds to enjoy their 3 am drinks and then idly checked the app to see if there was anyone else waiting for a ride or delivery. 

“Victor,” he read, and took a glance at the address. It was close! He snagged the request and turned on some bubblegum pop to enhance the ride over. 

He saw a man standing outside, haunting a storefront with metal shutters pulled down. Must be the guy! Danny pulled over, checked the app, and then furrowed his eyebrows. Huh. Seemed wrong. He fixed his face before he looked back over. 

In the app, Victor didn’t look especially young or fit. In person, he was easily over 6 feet tall and lugged a huge bulky bag like it weighed nothing. 

He also had a giant ugly motorcycle helmet with the vague impression of a caveman brow ridge built into it. Danny hid his judgmental thoughts and rolled down the window to chirp, “Hi! Victor?”

“That’s me.” Victor sounded like he was auditioning for the Deft Punks, electronics grinding out his voice to a silly robot autotune. Danny hid the way his lips wanted to tremble. You can’t laugh at clients. “Can I put this in the trunk?”

Danny hated that. “Go for it.” He opened the trunk with the button and hid his real thoughts. He didn’t like people using the trunk. Why not just put it in the backseat like a normal person? There was enough room for a person and a bag there.

‘Is there enough room for this guy, actually?’ Danny wondered, looking Victor up and down subtly. Were his shoulders padded or was he actually built like that? Bizarre. 

He had the sense that Victor was tense.

‘Ah., fuck. He caught me checking out his shoulders.’

Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.” 

Victor took him up on the front seat option and readjusted the passenger seat back with a casual ease. 

Danny waited a moment.

Victor cocked his head at him.

“Seatbelt,” Danny prompted.

There was a long moment. Victor silently buckled his seatbelt. 

“Awesome.” Danny put on his turn signals and pulled out. He went slower than he preferred. He’d learned the hard way that most passengers didn’t like his driving. It was great for cutting time off when he was delivering food, but no good for nervous cargo like poor Victor here. The poor guy was so anxious that he kept his emotional support helmet on when a passenger in a car. 

Danny thoughtfully drove the speed limit and let Victor change music.

They didn’t have much to talk about. Danny didn’t mind much either way. He liked quiet rides and he liked chatting alright.

“Stop the car two blocks early,” Victor said. He pointed. “There’s fine.”

Obligingly Danny guided the car to a stop and shifted to park. He jumped out of the car. “I’ll grab your bag!” He called over his shoulder. He popped open the trunk and lifted Victor’s bag with a winning smile that said ‘I deserve a good tip.’

Victor had moved to the back of the car faster than Danny expected. He paused. He looked weirdly stiff. “Thanks.” He took the bag. “...Here’s your tip.”

“Have a wonderful day!” Danny said, pretending not to be interested in how much money it was. He waved Victor goodbye and pulled out. As soon as he was a block away he counted the bills. “Fuck yeah,” he hissed. Victor tipped like a crime boss. He stuffed them into his wallet and made a mental note of the account. He’d definitely try to accept requests from him in future.

He gave two more rides before he could go back to his shitty apartment and get ready for classes. Danny parked in the little underground garage near his place where he paid a monthly fee and jogged to his place. He got his bag and left on foot.

He had a pretty normal day. The only hiccup was that it was kind of hard to focus on his lectures when he could faintly hear what had to be every TV on campus playing the same news bulletin. Danny did his best to block it out, grimacing. Having advanced senses really sucked sometimes. If he heard the breaking news jingle one more time, he might cry. 

By the time he was free he felt pushed to his limit. He went back to his place and turned off all his electronics for some peace of mind. 

The next morning felt better. He turned on the tab that said he was available for work at 3 am and ended up bringing a huge delivery of breakfast materials to the same police station that he’d left Victor at yesterday. Danny hummed as he jogged up the concrete steps with three bulging bags of baked goods and coffee grounds. He handed them to a weary-eyed receptionist and accepted his tip without looking at it. He considered cracking a joke about them being busy and decided it was better not to.

He was still an illegal entity, after all. His parents were covering for him, but scrutiny was not his friend. He didn’t want any interaction with the police or the rogue band of detective freakazoids that ran this crime town.

Back in the car, he checked his tip. Danny clicked his tongue and made a disgusted sound. He hated cops. Cheap! There was nothing worse than being cheap.

His next customer tried to rob him at gunpoint as soon as he got in the car. Danny wrestled the gun away from him and ate it while the guy watched. “Just try and report me to the app,” Danny sneered between crunches of metal. It tasted like shit and the guy probably hadn’t washed his hands, so like, yuck. But it was a choice he was making for the intimidation factor, not because it was yummy.

‘Bet my iron intake is good now.’ Danny held out his hand. “My tip,” he said, and did not unlock the car door until the shaking wannabe carjacker had given him three dollars American money. Hell yeah. “Have a good morning.”

He went into the app and canceled the ride. There was another request waiting, so he drove to it. It wasn’t the name that the app’s request had shown, but- “Good morning, Victor!” Danny waved. “Call from a friend’s app this time?”

Victor stared at him dumbly. At least, that was Danny’s best guess of what was going on inside the helmet. “Yes.” He eventually said.

Cool, cool. Very weird. But he was an ok guy and he tipped well. “Hop in,” Danny said, and unlocked the car.

[willoryn]

Had a sudden craving for some possessive Lucifer and this happened...

All For My Queen~

Fem!reader, possessive!Lucifer, demon form Lucifer, alcohol mention, minor violence, sex (p in v)

~♡~

Imagine being at a club together and some guy has the nerve to start talking to you while you're waiting for your drink at the bar. The guy is obviously drunk and not at all worried about personal space no matter how many times you tell him to back off. Then the fucker has the audacity to actually put his hands on you and grab your arm, much to your shock and horror.

But his hand isn't there for long as it's suddenly wrenched from you and a couple sickening cracks are heard in your ear along with his pathetic pleading for freedom from your defender. You turn to see your beloved Lucifer. Eyes glowing a hellish crimson and his horns proudly protruding out of the top of his blonde head. He's snarling through his razor sharp teeth at the man cowering on his knees. To be honest, you were so captivated by Lucifer's beautifully demonic form that you almost forgot about that idiot for a few blissful moments.

"I think she said she's not interested." Lucifer growls, the hypnotizing way his voice overlaps on itself sends a shiver up your spine. He releases the man's hand roughly.

"Shit, I didn't know she was your girl, man." The panicked man's eyes dart between the two of you, sizing up the situation in his head to see if this was really a hill he wanted to die on.

And you had to give him credit, he chose the right option to run away with his tail between his legs. Maybe he wasn't so stupid after all.

"W-Whatever, she's not worth the trouble anyway," the man looked you up and down with a sneer. His pride was very obviously hurt. But at least now you could get some peace.

He turned to leave. And he would have been home free if he'd only done just that. Leave. But alas, it turns out he really was that stupid.

"The bitch is all yours."

This poor fucking idiot.

Everything happened so fast that if you had blinked you would have missed it.

Lucifer's hand was on his throat in a second. A loud scream and the sound of breaking glass snapped everyone in the club's attention towards the bar. Lucifer held the man by the throat against the bar table where the latter held tightly onto Lucifer's wrist with his good hand. Broken whiskey glasses littered the counter and brown liquor spilled onto the floor. The sinner's face already bloodied by the broken shards.

"The fuck did you say?" Lucifer's voice boomed over the loud music and the terrified man.

"H-Hey, c'mon, man," the guy scrambled under his hold, grabbing at it and desperately trying to push it off his throat. But no luck. Lucifer had him in a vice grip. He wasn't going anywhere. "I-I didn't mean anything by it-!"

"Bullshit," Lucifer growled, squeezing tighter and making the man gasp for some much needed air.

"P-Please, I'm sorry!" The man choked out and frantically looked over at you. "I-I'm sorry, please! D-Don't let him kill me-!"

Lucifer's eyes snap over to you as if waiting for your judgment. You were the affected party here. Whatever you wished, he would honor it. It would take him nothing to rid this wretch from your sight. Just give him the word.

As much as you knew it would please your beloved, you had to deny him this time around. You simply shook your head at Lucifer.

"He's not worth the trouble," you repeat the man's words from earlier, glaring down at him. "Just let him go."

Lucifer gave a dissaproving growl... but still released him on your command. The man skittered away from the devil as fast as he could into the crowd like a cockroach. By this point, a crowd had formed around the scene. People taking videos on their phones and talking amongst themselves about what they just witnessed.

Not that either of you cared. The message had been delivered. Dont fuck with you, and everything would be okay. They would all do well to remember that.

You and Lucifer swiftly take your leave. The vibe in the club had long since been ruined thanks to that drunk pest... you slightly mourned the fact that you never got your drink.

But you were in store for something much more intoxicating~

~♡~

"That filth had no right to touch you," Lucifer growls, licking his way up your arm where the aforementioned filth had callously grabbed you. He aimed to erase the horrid feeling of another man touching your precious skin, reveling in your sweet taste all the while. He should have broken both his hands for such a crime.

He had fully given into his demon form by the time he teleported you both into his bedroom. He sat between your legs back on his black and red hooven feet, his tail whipping from side to side as he tasted you. His flame burning brightly between his horns.

"Mmm, of course not, Luci~" a smile played on your lips as you watch your demon king worship you, urging him not to hold back. "I'm all yours~"

"That's right," he says, releasing your arm and sitting up to push you gently back on the bed. He raises the hem of your dress up over your waist and rips your poor black lace panties off your body. You rather liked those. But you'll worry about them later. Because now all the blood in your body is rushing to your core when you see Lucifer remove his pants and his thick cock stands at attention before you already leaking pretty badly and twitching for attention. He wastes no time pressing it against your entrance and begins plunging it inside your wet heat with a satisfied growl when your body welcomes him in. You cry out and arch your back as his large size stretches you. You relax your walls around him as he buries himself inch by delicious inch until you've taken him to the hilt. You moan in utter ecstacy and dig your nails into his arms, not worried one bit about hurting him. He hisses blissfully at the pain.

You are so tight and hot around him he almost doesn't want to move. Just wants to feel the way you tighten and pulsate around his throbbing member. But that would be cruel for both of you. He pulls out to the head and plunges into you again, ripping a delicious cry from your throat. He refuses to hold back now. He starts thrusting into you over and over in a feverish rhythm. His hips practically moving all on their own, driven only by the need to feel you. To please you. To make you his.

And only his.

"Mine. You're mine. No one else deserves to feel you this way but me~"

"I-I'm yours, Lucifer! Fuuuck... I'm all yours, babyyy~"

Lucifer picks up his pace, spurred on by your pleasure. His hips slam into yours with the fervency of a man desperately seeking salvation. He sits up and hooks his hands under your knees so he can push your legs further apart, wanting to strike you even deeper, if such a thing were possible. You're practically seeing stars now. Your entire body is hot and trembling as he fucks you senseless. You lay at his mercy, unable to move as he thrusts wildly into your wanting pussy. His cock hammering into a small bundle of nerves inside you that teeters you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'll make you forget that anyone else has ever touched you," he snarls through grit teeth, small feathers of flames teasing out from the corners of his mouth as he speaks with a fury that would tremble the heavens. "No one but me will ever feel you again... I don't want the stain of someone else on my queen~!"

Then all at once you are coming undone. Your mouth agape and gasping for air as you finally reach your climax. Your pussy tightens and convulses as you cum, slicking his cock in your juices and making the most vulgar sounds as he continues to pound into you relentlessly.

"Fuck- FUCK~!" Lucifer bears his weight down on you, pushing your knees down against your chest and fucking you harder, desperate to join you in that state of euphoria. He watches your beautiful face, you look completely fucked out and lust-drunk. His beautiful queen. All his to love and worship. All his to give such sweet pleasures~

Lucifer's grip tightens on the back of your thighs as his own coil unwinds and he's finally filling you with a mix of moans and pleased growls. His cock twitches and throbs as he empties his hot load inside you. His hips push into you deeply as he does so, making sure you take it all for him. He can't let any of it go to waste. It's all for you. Everything he does is for you and only you. His love. His light.

His queen~

[11queensupreme11]

I need more Baldurvæn content. He's just so cute 😭

i'll do the same thing that i did with luisne (give a list of random facts)

his sacred animal is the rabbit! i chose this because they symbolize innocence and purity so yeah

he's the only poki kid that loki doesn’t mess with cuz he just feels bad 😭😭😭

the last time loki pranked his son was when they were having flying lessons, loki pretended to lose his grip and baldurvæn plummeted down. poor baby cried A LOT and percy got so pissed she gave loki the cold shoulder (hurting him would've only turned him on 💀)

because of this, baldurvæn now has a fear of heights. GOOD GOING LOKI. dad of the year right here 😒

so yeah, loki feels bad so he doesn't do it as much now 😭

he knows how to bake because he often helps his mommy bake!

his absolute favorite food is carrot cake and percy taught him how to make it from scratch

when he first met dory, dory gave him candy to lure him away and tried to feed him to cthulhu 💀 kymon caught them and stopped it before their mom could find out 😭

baldurvæn didn't understand that he was nearly murdered by his psycho half-brother, he genuinely thought they were just on a bonding trip and dory was being nice by feeding him candy 😭

dory also put him in a trash can 💀 baldurvæn thought they were playing hide and seek 😭😭😭😭😭

he's one of the few kids that likes to sleep, mainly because when he was younger, his daddy would give him these super cool bedtime stories and he'd use his magic to make the scenarios come to life! since he enjoyed them so much, he gives himself a bedtime so he can hear more stories from his daddy 💖

he has been to midgard before, but doesn't like new york 💔 he thinks it's too loud and the people there are scary 🥺💔💔💔 he prefers small villages/towns in norway and nature attractions

when he first met poseidon, he tried to formally greet him but poseidon straight up said "your mother should've aborted you, you wretched creature 😠🔱" 💀💀💀💀

when he first met beelzebub, he wanted to formally greet him too, but he got scared off... beelzebub just gave him really scary vibes so he couldn't do it 😣

odin built a ten story library within the palace all for baldurvæn and it consists only of children's books and EVEN children's books from MIDGARD because baldurvæn pleaded for it 💖💖💖💖

thor lets him play with his hair 💖💖 he's a mini hairstylist now!

PERCY INTRODUCED HIM TO POKEMON AND MYTHOMAGIC! HE OFTEN PLAYS MYTHOMAGIC WITH HIS BIG BROTHER GROVER 😭💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

he has a lot of pokemon plushies and mythomagic action figures in his room 😭💖💖💖💖💖💖

he is very sad that his mommy doesn't have a mythomagic card or figure "but mommy, you're a greek goddess too, so why don't you have one? 🥺💔"

[allastoredeer]

[cupping my hands like a starving victorian orphan]: Please m'lord, more dark Lucifer?

Just any random thoughts or half formed ideas you'd be comfortable sharing, I'd eat up with a spoon! Like, do you have any headcanons you're going off of?

Hush, poor wretched child. I have scraps upon which I may bestow.

The big parts of Lucifer's character in this AU is his abandonment issues, touch-starvation, loneliness. From those, comes a heaping of protectiveness and possessiveness.

For now, Charlie is the focal point of his attention. He's protective of her, and, yes, a touch possessive of her. He doesn't want to share, least of all with Alastor.

But if someone were to, say, garner his interest, while he wouldn't just forget Charlie, some of that attention would turn to his person of interest. He lost his family in Heaven, he lost his wife, for a while he lost his daughter, if he loses one more person, he is going to snap. He can't handle another loss.

He craves care, love and connection. He wants it with every part of his being. Getting a taste of it after who-knows-how-many years is addicting and he has no intention of stopping.

Alastor, on the other hand, is too curious for his own good. He started picking up strange vibes from Lucifer the moment they met. He already didnt have the best opinion of him when they first met, but that dislike turns into unnerved curiosity.

He's also not scared easily. He's too prideful to admit when he is. The closer Lucifer gets, the more determined he is to meet him head-on. And maaaaybe he gets in a littttle over his head. But he's a manipulative little shit, and just like he did with Charlie, he can use Lucifer's insecurities against him.

[wwooyology]

You're Mine Baby | K.YS

「pairing」 : ex bf!yeosang x fem!reader 「word count」 : 3.2k

「synopsis」 : you and yeosang had been broken up for at least a year now, but when you come back to town and saw him with another girl it sets you off. he was only supposed to be yours and this time you were going to make sure that he understood that.

「genre」 : psychological horror/thriller, angst, dark romance, slight gore

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, DARK THEMES!!!, cussing, tiny bit of kissing, stalking, reader has SEVERE mental illnesses (she's just straight psychotic), gore, blood, murder, stabbing, use of a weapon (knife), name-calling (skank...), manipulation, threats, hitting/slapping, blackmail(?), reader is in love obsessed with yeosang, mentions of a therapist/mental hospital, EXTREME violence, petnames (my love, baby…), yelling/shouting, fighting, anger issues, gaslighting, reader lowkey gives off 'if I can't have you no one can' vibes, kidnapping, implied use of drugs/sedative, possessiveness, lmk if I missed anything bc I feel like I did…

「now playing」 : kill bill by sza

「notes」 : this is some dark shit so I HEAVILY advice you to carefully look over ALL of the warnings before you proceed with reading!! also if this isn't your type of thing that is perfectly fine, but please keep your unnecessary comments to yourself, thank you.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself sitting outside a cafe, an iced coffee sitting on the table in front of you as you stirred the ice around with your straw. However, your eyes were focused on the couple laughing away with each other on the other side of the window. Your eyes narrow as you watch the girl lean onto the male, anger coursing through your veins. That was supposed to be you, not some worthless skank.

How long has it been since you last saw Yeosang? Oh, right…it has been two years, six months, two weeks, and four days since you were coldly ripped from his arms. You could even recall the seconds, hours, and minutes as well. 

You had hoped that whenever you were released that you would get the chance to reconcile with your ex-boyfriend. Yet as you learned of his new girlfriend the more that bitter taste in your mouth grew. So much so that you wanted nothing more than to get her out of the picture.

The straw in your hand made a pathetic sound as your fingers tightened around it, absolutely destroying the poor thing as you watched Yeosang lean over the girl and capture her lips in a kiss. Rage started to cloud your vision and you stood from your seat, the chair scraping the ground roughly.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The sound of the worker's voice drew you out of your intense haze, and you looked over at her with doe eyes. Seeing her glance down at your hand, you noticed that with the force of your abrupt standing, it caused some of your coffee to slosh around before splashing onto the surface of the table.

Swallowing thickly, you recalled your therapist's words, ‘Remember, y/n, don’t let your anger consume you. It will only cause you more trouble, and I would hate to see you back in here again.’

Letting out a shaky breath, you apologized to the girl before using a few napkins to clean up your mess. Whenever you were finished, you looked back over your shoulder only to find Yeosang and that wretched girl was gone. Grumbling lowly, you threw the soaked napkins away before grabbing your drink and storming off down the sidewalk.

“Of course, they just had to leave when I wasn’t looking. No worries though, I can find them.” You assured yourself as you took a sip of your slightly watered-down coffee from the new straw the worker had offered you.

That’s exactly what you did. You found them later that night at a movie theater. Then it was the food stall that was just right down the road from the school you and Yeosang had attended years ago before finally Yeosang took her home. You watched from across the road, hiding just beyond the shadows of two houses.

Disgust settled deep in your gut as you saw Yeosang pull her into a deep kiss, his hand against her lower back to pull her closer. Rage once again started to bubble in your gut the longer you watched until he finally pulled away, wishing her one last goodnight before walking off.

Eventually, this led to you following Yeosang around, no matter where he went or what time it was. You were there. You wanted to speak with him, tell him to leave that thing he calls a girlfriend so he could be with you once more, but you knew you couldn’t. He would run the moment he saw you.

 So you needed a plan… A plan that would surely make him yours once again.

Then, one day, while you were walking a good distance behind them, you started to recognize the familiar path that they were taking. You hoped that he wasn’t taking her to the spot that he once showed you and promised to never bring anyone else. Yet when he rounded the corner to an all too familiar alleyway, you just knew.

You stopped dead in your tracks, fingers curling into fists at your sides as rage boiled over, flooding every single part of your body until you saw nothing but crimson red. Then you knew… knew it was time to put your plan into action.

It was such a simple plan, really, and your poor, sweet ex-boyfriend was just as clueless as always. He didn’t even bat an eye whenever he received a gift of an all-paid vacation rental from his ‘friend.’ You watched from afar like you’ve done for the past two months, watching as he happily packed all his bags with his happy-go-lucky girlfriend. The sight made you sick, really; how could he be so happy with something like that? Only you truly knew what he deserved, and that was you, of course.

After the lights turned off in his girlfriend's apartment, you made your trek back to your car. All you had to do now was wait for that perfect moment to strike, then he’d be yours again.

—

Yeosang awoke with a groan. The back of his head was throbbing. However, upon trying to reach for his head, he noticed that he couldn’t move his hands. His eyes flew open as he pulled at his restraints after noticing that he was tied to a chair.

‘What’s going on?’ Was all he could think as he tried his best to recall what had previously happened. He and Yoonmin were sitting in the living room, watching a movie, when suddenly the lights went out. He couldn’t remember much of what happened next, it was far too dark, but he did remember feeling an excruciating pain in the back of his head before everything went black.

His eyes then wandered around the room until they fell on the unconscious girl who sat tied to a chair just a few feet in front of him. Panicked, he thrashes around in his seat, but the knots in the rope are far too strong and way too tight for him to break free of. Not only that, but his limbs all felt like jelly, and his muscles were not working the way they were supposed to.

Hearing noises from the other room you sat down the mug of warm tea that sat in your hands, a borderline psychotic smile spreading across your face. Walking into the next room over your steps, light but happy, this is what you’ve been waiting for after all.

“Well, lookie who decided to finally wake up.” You greeted the male happily, making slow strides into the room.

Yeosang’s head snapped in your direction, his eyes blown wide and pupils dilating in anger and fear. Seeing you again was as if he had woken up in his own personal hell, one that he knew he wouldn’t escape from, but he would be damned if he didn’t try. 

“Y/n, what the hell is wrong with you? Let us go!” He shouted, arms still roughly pulling at his restraints. Hearing words caused you to stop dead in your tracks, your smile completely wiped off of your face. 

He should be happy to see you, not angry. Not with so much hatred in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense, but then you heard a small groan from the other side of the room. Your eyes narrowed into slits as you looked over at the girl. She must have brainwashed him. That had to be it. There would be no other reason Yeosang would even dare to look at you with such contempt.

The clicking sound of your tongue breaks the deathly silent room, the floorboards creaking with each step you take toward the girl. Once she was fully conscious and saw you walking towards her, she started thrashing around in her chair, trying to escape, but to no avail. Yeosang shouts and pleas for you to stop filled the room as you roughly grabbed the girl’s hair, yanking her head back.

“Why are you doing this to us? We did nothing wrong!” The girl weeps as she looks up at you, silent pleas filling her eyes, but you can’t help but scoff at her words. 

With a scowl, you yanked her head back until she was looking up at you fully. “Nothing wrong? Nothing. Wrong?” A crazed laugh fell from your lips as if she had said the funniest thing in the world. After a few short moments, your laughter stopped, and your face fell stoic. 

Yeosang watched in fear and disbelief as you leaned into the girl's face until you were merely inches away. 

“You’re anything but innocent.” The words came out in a growl, your grip on her hair tightening causing her to cry out, more tears streaming down her face. Your wide eyes then studied the girl's face, taking in every little detail that you could possibly find. However, the longer you looked, the more aggravated you became.

What in the world could possibly be so good about her? 

Yeosang’s breath hitched, and his yelling stopped as you turned your head to look back at him. A violent chill ran down his spine at the crazed gleam in your eyes. He knew this look all too well after spending years with you, the very look that meant disaster would strike if nothing was done to stop it.

The corner of your lips twitched as you maneuvered yourself next to the crying girl before yanking her head up so she was looking at Yeosang. “Tell me Yeo… What's so good about her? Huh?” Your voice gradually grew in volume, “What does she have that I don’t?” Yeosang shouted at you to stop once more as you pulled on the girl's hair eliciting a pained cry from her lips. “What the fuck makes her so much better than me?”

You couldn’t possibly understand. He had promised you that he would wait until you were released so you could be together again. ‘Why did he go back on his word? Why would he lie to you like that? Why? Why? WHY?’  Thoughts started to cloud your mind, and your sanity slowly started to drift away as you teetered on the edge of the deep. 

Yeosang opened his mouth to speak, hoping to calm the situation like he had so many times in the past, but before he could even utter a word, his poor little girlfriend beat him to it.

“Because I’m not a fucking lunatic like you!” She shouted, spitting in your face and causing your whole body to freeze. At those words, that last little push was given, and something inside of you snapped, a small laugh leaving your lips.

Noticing that something wasn’t right, Yeosang pulled against his restraints, “Wait, wait, y/n! She didn’t mean it!” He tried to reason with you as you slowly stood straight, your hold on her hair slipping until your hand dropped back down to your side.

“Of course, I meant it, Yeosang. Do you not see her?!” She shouted at the male, who pleaded with her to stop talking, but she, of course, didn’t get the hint. “I don’t know why she was let out. I mean, look at her, she’s a total fucking nutjo–”

Before she could even finish her sentence, your hand collided with the side of her face, damn near knocking the chair over. A shrill cry of pain left the girl's lips as you slapped her once again, sobs raking her body. Yeosang screamed and thrashed in his restraints, begging you to stop, but you just glared at him.

“Pulling on those restraints is pointless. You can’t get out.” Your eyes were wide as a smile spread across your face, an idea coming to mind. Walking away from the sobbing girl, you make your way over to the table with a slight skip in your step.

“Yoonmin, look at me. We’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Yeosang tried to comfort the girl, who nodded, her hair a mess as she looked over at him. His words pulled a laugh from your lungs as your fingers wrapped around the hilt of a large kitchen knife.

“Oh, Sangie, you should know better than to give empty promises.” You pouted, dragging the blade off the table, allowing the sharp scraping sounds to echo around the room. Yeosang looked over at you with a glare until he saw the knife in your hand, his whole body going rigid. “There’s no one coming to save you. You are on vacation, after all.” A small chuckle fell from your lips as you neared Yoonmin, her whole body trembling as she shook her head profusely, “No one is going to find you… At least not for a while.” You covered your mouth as a borderline psychotic laugh racked your body.

You rounded the girl's seat, pointing the blade dangerously close to her face until you stood behind her. Then, in the blink of an eye, your hand was tangled in her hair once again, yanking her head back until her throat was fully exposed. Yeosang’s eyes widened as he lurched forward, begging you to stop and put the blade down as he tried once again to get out of his restraints, but just like all of the times before, he failed. However, as soon as the blade's sharp edge made contact with her skin, you stopped, a sinister smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Y/n, please.” Yeosang cried out, tears of his own blurring his vision. He knew that one wrong move could easily end Yoonmin’s life, and he also knew that he had very limited time to act. “You’re here for me, right? Let her go, and I promise I’ll go with you. Just let her go, y/n, please.” 

Your eyes narrowed into a glare as you pressed the blade further against the girl's neck, choked sobs racked her body as she tried to shy away from it. However, your grip was far too strong for her to go against.

“Oh my love,” You tilted your head, expression changing to one of pity as you looked at him, “we both know I can’t do that. You see, as long as this skank is alive, you’ll never fully be mine, and we can’t have that.” Your words alone were enough to send a chill down the male’s spine, but he wasn’t going to give up as he continued to try and negotiate with you, but it proved fruitless. “Can’t you understand it, Yeosang? I’m the only one you need. I’m the only one who loves you, who is truly right for you. Not some watered-down rat you found on the street.” You growl, pressing the blade just far enough to break the first layer of skin; bright crimson-red blood seeped out, running down her heaving chest. 

Growing even more aggravated, you told Yeosang to just say goodbye before starting to drag the blade across the girl’s skin.

“No, no, please y/n! NO!” Yeosang shouted, but it was useless; with precise movements, you had sliced the girl’s neck wide open. Blood sprayed out of the gaping wound as she struggled to intake any air. Your hand became covered in the thick liquid as you laughed maniacally.

Yeosang could only sit there in shock, tears streaming down his pale face as he watched the life drain from his girlfriend's body until she fell limp in her chair. “H-How could you?” He choked out, looking up at you as you wiped your face with your forearm but only managed to smear more blood. “Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?!” Sobs fell from his lips as he shouted at you, but you could only shake your head.

You slowly walked over to him, your hands behind your back as you playfully swung the knife around. “One day, you’ll understand Sangie, but she had to die. That’s the only way you would be mine and mine alone. I didn’t want to kill her, but that was the best way to do it.” You pouted as you finally reached him, bending at the waist to look at him.

“This is wrong, y/n.” Yeosang’s voice shook as he stared at you in nothing but unadulterated fear. He knew that you would never physically hurt him, but you definitely had your way around it. 

A pained expression fell upon your features as you reached out to him, cupping his cheek in your hand despite him trying to back away. “I just love you so much, Sangie, I can’t stand seeing you with other people. It just hurts me so much, and I’d rather die than be without you.”

“That’s not love, it’s an obsession.”

“Oh, but Sangie, you know deep down that you belong with me. Even your sweet mother knows that.” You spoke softly as your fingers tightened around his chin, “I would absolutely hate to see something happen to that poor woman.” 

Yeosang felt his blood run cold at the mention of his mother, eyes growing wide as you pulled your phone out of your pocket. After a few taps, you turn the device around to show Yeosang the screen. Even though the smeared blood on the screen, he could very clearly tell that it was his mother, humming to herself in the kitchen while she cooked dinner.

Fear sunk its claws even deeper into his bones as he took in the unsettling smile that was on your lips. He was trapped.

“Now… are you going to be a good boy and listen to me? I’m only doing this for your own good, baby; I hope you understand that.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet as you cooed at him, your phone placed back into your pocket.

Yeosang knew that he didn’t have any other choice but to agree with you. It was the only way he could guarantee the safety of those around him. His pain-filled eyes flickered back over to the dark-haired girl's lifeless form before shifting his gaze back up to you.

“I’ll go with you, but you have to promise that you won’t hurt anyone else.” He begged, tears still spilling down his face, now mixing with the blood on his chin from your stained hand.

Shaking your head with a click of your tongue you brought the blade up to your face, waving it from side to side, eyes trained on the crimson cover metal. Then your eyes moved back over to meet Yeosang’s.

“That will all depend on if you can behave, my love. Be good, and no one else will get hurt.” Your tone was kind, but there were undertones that indicated that your words were anything but a bluff.

His heart pounded in his chest as he swallowed thickly, “I’ll behave, I promise.” He told you reluctantly, and he felt goosebumps litter his skin when a bright smile spread across your face.

Reaching forward, you cupped his face once more before leaning forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “We’re gonna be the happiest couple in the world, Sangie, I love you so much!”

It was then that it finally set in that he was trapped with nowhere else to run. His most terrifying nightmare had actually come true, but unlike those wicked dreams, he couldn’t wake up from this one.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉����𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[oacest]

hi scholars, i'm sorry this is not a fun topic. the new r*ssell brand news got me thinking. apart from a few exceptions, why does noel have such horrible taste in male friends, and has it been always like this? since when he started hanging out with those creepy male comedians? is he friends with them because he’s just a poor judge of character or is there more to that? what do you think?

noel was also friends with johnny d*pp but i believe he was more like his (and meg's) bestie’s bf rather than his friend. i’m sure he doesn’t talk to brand anymore but it’s so baffling to me that they're the people he willingly associate(d) himself with. maybe i’m biased but noel doesn’t have the creepy vibes his mates have and looks out of place to me when he's with them. i've listened to one of the matt morgan podcast episodes where noel mentioned some of the comedians he liked and all of them turned out to be cancelled it’s not even funny. so i guess they have similar sense of humor and morals...even though I don’t like to pick sides, i think liam is 100% justified for slagging off his brother’s circle of friends.

i'm sorry to say that cancel culture is not a realistic way to engage with or make meaningful observations about human behaviour! unless you live in a deeply asocial manner (and even then...), it's not possible to get through life without knowing, befriending, or even loving and being intimate with a wide array of people who do terrible things. pretending otherwise isn't healthy or constructive. for better or worse, noel is a man (supposedly) who was born and enculturated in the 60s in a very particular socioeconomic circumstance, and then moved on to a very different socioeconomic circumstance, both of which are.. shall we say.. Known to be hotbeds of all kinds of wretched activities and ideologies. if anything, we should be astonished he's as conscientious as he is. by which i don't mean we should fall down in gratitude at his feet for sometimes being respectful of others lmao, only that we need to think holistically about how people's lived experiences inform them. by definition he understands the world differently than an online american 19yo in the year 2025. he's not choosing his friends or who he finds funny by applying the same metrics you might. the man (in)famously was delighted to hobknob with tony blair ffs lmao, be real.

otoh, while he maybe doesn't use the wording that people in leftist spaces these days like, to his credit he has repeatedly and consistently over the years been quite forthright in condemning misogyny and racism as he understands them, and seems generally to do his best to act in accordance with those beliefs.

but he's a famous rich white guy who hangs out with other famous rich white guys, and shares a lot of the same ideas and beliefs! odds are very good a high percentage of that demographic is going to end up being sketchy. (although for what it's worth he'd already distanced himself from russell brand years ago due to prior instances of shitty behaviour.) no one can accuse noel gallagher in particular of being performative about his opinions and choices lol, he's an idiot in a lot of ways, but this urge to make celebrities virtue signal harder than anyone else due to their "platform" is pointless at best, and i would say downright dangerous in general. i know you've sent this ask in perfectly good faith and im not trying to preach or wag my finger, but i can tell you that the instinct to hang your hopes and emotions on a celebrity you like behaving to your particular specifications is asking for disappointment at the very least. he can like whatever shitty comedians he likes, it's not our business or responsibility to approve or disapprove of that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(and for the record there is no world in which liam is LESS sexist than noel or somehow more "woke" lol, all his complaints about noel's friends are based on personal jealousies and agendas and have nothing to do with moral superiority.)

[mmigrainee]

Unfortunately, more than Six Song Soundtrack Game

Thanks to @mogruith for tagging me. <3

Tagging @residueradiation @minilev @lokorum @monsterlimbs , but no pressure, obviously.

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following...

—

I had to cheat a bit and use more songs because it was too difficult for me to choose. 😭

I got too carried away, and then it was too late....

Event that defines your character's past:

Those Poor Bastards – Old Pine Box

We inherit the sins of our fathers

My daddy was an evil, evil man

I'm proud to say I never really knew him

But I can feel his awful presence in my skin

[...]

Brother I have never not been lost

The apples on the tree have turned to rot

And all around I feel the Lord's eyes watching

If you think I'm gonna whimper well I’m not

I think that if we talk about Lothaire's past and background, then there is no way to do without the eternal problem of personality crisis among the bhaalspaws. In the end, it affected him too, just in its own way.

Initially, this was among the factors contributing to his estrangement from other mortals, which subsequently developed into his conviction of being the most exceptional individual.

How your character sees themselves:

Nine Inch Nails - The Wretched

Just a reflection

Just a glimpse

Just a little reminder

Of all the what abouts

And all the might have

Could have beens

Another day

Some other way

But not another reason enough to continue

And now you're one of us

The wretched

The hopes and prays

The better days

The far aways

Forget it

Ludovico Technique - Absence

Disdain has led me to be distant

Until this mind is tattered and torn

Beneath this endless motion of times progress

I don't know who I am anymore

I'm giving into the absence that has become my life

Has become my state of mind

I'm giving into the absence that has become my life

Has become what I could find

Existence from my indifference

Sentiment to apathy

Consuming a past moving all too fast

As it's slowly consuming me

[...]

I went searching for something inside

I needed all of this time

I went searching for something inside

I went searching for something inside

I needed all of this time

I went searching for something inside

And never returned

Well, the first option was even too obvious.

Somehow, the vibes of this song give me associations with Lothaire in general.

The second song is still the same theme about his detachment from the others.

How others view them:

Coyote Kid – Good Intentions

You can run but you can't hide

The lies you tried to bury

Six feet underneath the tombstone

Where you pretend to grieve

Hold your red hands high

Don't you even try to hide it

I know all your lies

I won't let you get away this time

You move your mouth just like a weapon

You shoot your tongue just like a gun

You're only firing loaded questions

So you can hear yourself talk

You only got those good intentions

But you never walk that walk

Your worst words are your only weapon

Come on and take your shot

What's it feel like to be the king

Of the castle built like a mortuary

Filled to the brim with the victims of your so called morality

You've got a lot to say about a whole lot of nothing

Walk this way and you've got it coming

Up from underneath your feet

The dead demand your reckoning

And One – Tell Me Lies

Down and lonely, your eyes are broken

Another day depends on your hate

What a low, hate to know

Angel in disguise

Tell me lies

Nine Inch Nails - The Hand That Feeds

Got your chin held high and you feel just fine

Cause you do

What you're told

But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold

Just how deep do you believe?

Will you bite the hand that feeds?

Will you chew until it bleeds?

Can you get up off your knees?

Are you brave enough to see?

Do you want to change it?

Nine Inch Nails – Ruiner

You had all of them on your side

Didn't you, didn't you?

You believed in all your lies

Didn't you, didn't you?

The Ruiner's got a lot to prove

He's got nothing to lose and now he made you believe

The Ruiner is your only friend

And he's the living end to the cattle he deceives

Ruelle - Madness

I've seen that look in your eyes

It makes me go blind

Cut me deep, the secrets and lies

Storm in the quiet

Feel the fury closing in

All resistance wearing thin

Nowhere to run from all of this havoc

Nowhere to hide

From all of this madness, madness, madness

Madness, madness, madness

Well, the truth is, there are a lot of options for how others perceive him. Everyone knew or knows their own side of Lothaire. But I decided to choose the songs that are closest to how others perceive the image closest to the real Lothaire.

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic):

Shayfer James - Where We Belong

Do you recall the day when we went wrong?

Time is flying

Ease your weary mind, we'll be alone

Where the skies are grey

Where we belong

Time is flying

Ease your weary mind, we'll be alone

Where we belong

[...]

I recall the day when we went wrong

Time is flying

Ease your weary mind, we'll be alone

Where the skies are grey

Where we belong

Time is flying

Ease your weary mind, we'll be alone

Where we belong

Midnight Divide - Say You Believe

Broken bones

Couldn't keep me from your side

War machines couldn't break us or divide

As the world is imploding

We'll dance on the pyre

While towers are falling

We'll sing like a choir

On a road where you are mine

Say you believe

That the sky could turn red

The cities could fall

Despite all the ashes

We'd still have it all

Say you believe

That when all's said and done

That we'd stand above

United, defiant as legends of love

Obviously, Cyric is the dearest and closest person to Lothaire. Is it worth mentioning once again the depth of his affection and unwavering devotion to the Prince of Lies? I have a lot of songs that are somehow associated with the two of them, but I had to choose...

Special mention to this little snippet from The Perfect Drug, because it describes them very well.

I've got my heart, but my heart is no good

And you're the only one that's understood

A major fight scene:

Fear & Hunger 2: TERMINA OST - Denied The Light

Hmm, actually, this is quite a difficult question. But I believe that if Lothaire were an enemy in some game, the vibes of this soundtrack would be very suitable for his boss fight OST, at least in my understanding.

End credits song:

The Rolling Stones - Paint It, Black

I wanna see it painted, painted black

Black as night, black as coal

I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky!

For some reason, this song immediately came to my mind. I do not know how to explain it, but still...

His endeavors are perpetual, as well as his attempts to paint everything black.

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I will finish this show tonight or it will finish me! 💪💪

But now that Gu Tingye is back and we are past that stupidity of the last few episodes, I am looking forward to the final showdown!

***

LOL, I couldn't get a decent screenshot of this because everything is dark and moving too fast, but I love that Minglan's head torturer just killed two people by sitting on them 🤣🤣

***

Was there really a need for her ass to be out on the battlefield?

She can't fight, if things go sideways, and they easily could, she will just get herself killed.

Getting strong Jiang Yanli vibes from her right now, ngl.

***

Oh, Minglan, baby 😢

I would honestly divorce his ass after this stunt.

***

Yes, my guy. Yes, you did.

Such a failure to plan.

***

Minglan, kill him 💀💀

***

She spat in his face, LMAO. Thank god for small blessings.

***

I would write him one right now and go marry He Hongwen, smh.

***

Ancestor of the fox 🤣🤣

I can't stop laughing! I love Chinese so much 🤣🤣

***

LMAO

Resurrected, my ass 🤣🤣

***

Also, I love that the Empress Dowager is now refusing to get involved. "Just an old woman," yeah right.

***

I almost feel sorry for them. Somehow I doubt they will be getting an easy death.

***

Oh.

***

I am not Chinese so the full context of this is really going over my head, but I can't help to think that this is such a petty reason to stage mutiny over.

***

LMAO, I can't believe she threw her under the bus just like that 😅

What a giant snake.

***

I don't know why, but I never expected him to execute her.

I always assumed her punishment would be a simple retirement.

***

Thank you!

Please get on it ASAP, then! I am so tired of your wretched bullshit.

***

LMAO, it is her turn to go fully insane.

***

Tried murdering people, you mean.

And of we look at it that way, you are also a person who could never be successful.

***

Ah, so that is her problem. Finally, we get to the crux of the matter.

You can always trust classism to rear its ugly head.

Poor Tingwei, I disliked him this entire show but I now feel sorry for him.

***

This actress is fantastic!

Madam Qin, I think I am a little bit in love!

***

Weren't you the biggest blood-sucking devil of them all?

***

What a fantastic sendoff to a fantastic character!! 🔥🔥

This drama is fully forgiven for the shitty last however many episodes. Madam Qin, you are a legend!!

***

Well, you fucked around and found out.

[queenlua]

what if naesala/sephiran nonsense … what if we were both beholden to forces greater than ourselves, attempting to manipulate circumstances to our own ends/advantages…… and we were both birds (although only one of us knows it)……… and we kissed. I guess that’s not really a prompt just a vibe

i tried very hard to make them kiss.  alas that would take another couple thousand words.  but hey i had fun with the first few k, so hey here's some Sephiran and Naesala nonsense

*********************************

The new raven king is nothing like his predecessor.  An improvement, likely, Sephiran thinks, though time will have to tell.

The old king Kilvas had had a harried, hunted air that clung to him like a shadow, everywhere he went.  He'd showed himself in Begnion rarely, and when he did, he was always looking over his shoulder for the door.  Oily-haired, sallow-skinned, and curiously ungroomed, given how vain ravens usually were about their appearance.

(Or, at least—how vain they had been in Lehran's time, centuries prior.  Maybe that had changed, along with so much else.)

When that old king had taken ill and passed, some thirty years prior, no one suspected foul play.  They'd all met the man, and sensed the air about him.  Born under a bad star, a heron might've said, if there were any left to say it.

(Sephiran had witnessed all that before he had made himself into Sephiran, of course.  When he'd borne peasant disguises, to stand among the men at these parties, as a servant or a scullery-man or a butler, biding his time in the beorc world—watching, waiting, learning all he could before he entered into the fray himself.)

This new king, however—Naesala, he's called—stands at ease in this crowd of beorc nobles.  Plucks canapés from trays passed by servants and eats them as delicately as you please.  Seems to care little whether anyone here likes him or not, which, of course, is a sure way to draw people toward you.  One after another, senator after senator goes to chat with him—some merely curious, some suspicious, some outright hostile—but all walk away smiling, pleased, flattered all the right ways.  That laguz king, the muttering admirers say here and there, how clever! how articulate! who knew the like!

(Though, curiously, none of those senators seem to learn much about Naesala himself.  It suggests he's the sort of man you can chat with for an hour, and go home to tell your spouse all about him—only to realize he said almost nothing about himself the whole while, that maybe the whole reason you liked him was because he listened so well.

(Sephiran knows the type, and knows the trick.  He's done the same, many times.)

It's in the midst of all this merry chatter, while Tanas is chatting up Naesala, that Lekain sidles up besides Sephiran.  The vice-minister nods toward the little ring of admirers around the raven: "His nation is very poor, you know."

Sephiran inclines his head slightly.  "Kilvas, you mean?"

Lekain nods.  "I had an audience with him just this morning, as it so happens," he adds, with a tone that suggests salacious gossip.  "Begging for scraps from our table."

"You don't say," Sephiran says, with a smile that is sad rather than sneering—though he knows Lekain will think it the latter, and will think them allies in this, sneering at the humiliated royalty of yet another lesser nation.  And Sephiran will let him think that, for now.  He's has lived too long, and has too many memories all muddled up together, to believe he could sustain straightforward lies for long.  But half-truths, little nudges, misleading gestures like a conspiratorial smile... those can go a long ways.  Particularly with a beorc as ingratiating as this one—he's never seen the like before.  Could almost mistake him as servile if you hadn't seen him on the senate floor, earlier this week, overweening and entirely assured as he struck a blow against Sanaki with that wretched speech he gave, right before the floor vote—

But that vote is past.  Sephiran is still smiling.  He hadn't known Naesala had anything to do with Lekain.  Maybe, if Sephiran keeps smiling, Lekain will say more.

"Of course I turned him away—hardly the time for it, with the harvest we're having, and him with so little to offer in turn."

"He is to be pitied, then," Sephiran says lightly.

Lekain stiffens, and Sephiran knows at once he said the wrong thing—though he's not sure how.  (He is to be pitied is the thinnest sort of sympathy, so trite as to be almost an insult.  But apparently even that thin sliver is too much for Lekain to hear.)  "Sephiran," Lekain says, "I'm aware we have different ideas about the place of the laguz in Begnion.  But Begnion must put her own citizens first.  You understand."

(Sephiran still imagines, sometimes, that he can feel other hearts.  But he can't, and it's caused him to misread a room more than once—hey may think he he feels some hidden surge of pity or generosity from the heart of a senator, only to later realize that that feeling was his own, and the senator had felt no such thing, judging by their callous speech the very next day.

(He's made that mistake with many senators, these past two years.  But never with Lekain.)

"Of course," Sephiran says, and he could mean anything, anything at all.

*********************************

Sanaki is rather taken with the raven king, as it so happens.

She arrives at her own party fashionably and tactically late, as she often does.  (A choice Sephiran at first allowed as a concession to her childish moods—she didn't want to go now, fine, but they must go later—but then he encouraged her tardiness, when he noticed the effects it had on their court.  How they watched and waited for their arrival.  How deferential they were, when she finally came to them.)

When she does finally arrive, Sephiran goes to walk alongside her.  And as she makes her rounds through the crowd, he nudges her toward dignitaries of particular import, the ones she must speak with—but he catches her eye slipping toward Naesala, many times, as the night carries on.  Watching him in some animated conversation and furrowing her brow.

Or maybe it's just his wings she's taken with.  Naesala's audience with her this morning had turned on that little detail, near the end.

The whole meeting had gone nearly perfectly.  He bid her his belated congratulations for her ascension as Apostle; she paid him all the compliments befitting a foreign king, and hoped for peace between their nations.  He wanted to trade; she wanted the same.  They'd secured some rudimentary terms, to be worked over by councils on each side.  And they avoided all talk of piracy, for now.  (No need to fuss over a few ships here and there  Not when they were just getting to know each other.  Not when Begnion could likely pay whatever price was needed to turn that raven looting elsewhere, when the right moment came.)

Then, near the end of that meeting, Sanaki did something Sephiran didn't anticipate: "I like your wings, King Kilvas," she'd blurted, with the sort of impulsive frankness only a child could have.  "I have never seen the like."

Well, Naesala would be the first bird laguz she's seen, wouldn't he.  Hawks, never keen on Begnion to begin with, have altogether refused to grace the nation's shores ever since the massacre, and of those few ravens who chose live apart from Kilvas, scraping together a living in the streets of Sienne—well, none could ever hope for an audience with an empress.

(And the herons, of course, were gone.)

"May I touch them?" she added.

Sephiran's mistake.  She couldn't know how rude that question was; he ought to have warned her.  Sephiran was about to step forward, then, to apologize on her behalf and smooth things over—a thing he'd had to do less and less, as of late, but she was still so very young.

But Naesala seemed unbothered.  "Well, you shouldn't ask that of just any raven, empress," he said, striking that subtle note between indulgent and ingratiating.  "But, yes, just this once.  You can touch."  And then he knelt down to proffer a wing.  Spread it wide, so she could touch the primaries, and the downy bits, and the other feathers in-between.  Which she did, fingers gentle, looking over at Naesala every few seconds to make sure she was doing it right.

"You should come to the banquet tonight," she said, after she pulled those fingers away.  "It's a party in my honor.  On account of my having been apostle a whole year."  She strikes a haughty pose for a moment: "Ordinarily these parties are very boring, but you may make it interesting."

Naesala's lip quirks.  But his eyes do glitter—he's considering it, and not just out of politeness.  "I'll have to leave before midnight," he says after a moment.  "Duty calls.  But yes, empress.  I'd love to join your feast."

And so he came; and so he's here.  And so she's watching him, now, though she's other, more urgent matters to attend.  (Naesala's nation is poor, and of little import—Lekain was right about that much.  Their chat this morning was more than enough time spent on the matter.)

So she's the first to notice, when he tries to make a quick exit—and the first to follow.  Which, of course, means Sephiran follows her.

When they find Naesala in the foyer, he's already traded out his fine eveningwear for traveler's clothes.  (Eveningwear that must've been procured on short notice, come to think of it—he must know Sienne well.)  He's nearly ready to go, from the looks of it; the only thing left is tying his boots, which he's presently occupied with.

(The other nobles leaving around this hour, of course, make no such change.  They came here in carriages, attended by servants, who would sooner throw down rugs before letting their masters mar their shoes with a single puddle.  But Naesala has no such coddling.  Laguz leaders travel by wing and claw, by their own two feet.)

"Kilvas," she calls, after he's finished tying the first boot.  "Surely you are not leaving in a storm such as this."

(There is a storm outside—loud, relentless, sheet-thick rain.  Easy to miss in the shelter and fuss of the party; less so, out here.)

Whether Naesala allows her brusqueness because of her age, or because of her high office, isn't clear—indulging and acquiescing look rather the same on his visage.  "We fly in rain all the time, empress," he says, smooth as silk, leaning over a little to look her in the eyes.  "The water rolls right off our feathers, you see."

It's a lie; Sephiran knows it to be a lie.  Heron feathers are oiled, and thus bear up against water, but raven feathers soak right through.  If Naesala goes out now he'll be drenched within minutes.  But Sephiran can't exactly say that, can he.

Then: a flash lightning, with the roil of thunder right after.  Even Naesala winces at the sound.  They all do—Mainal has all those chambers and vaults that echo the sound within it, and the thunder seems to snap within every single one.

"Your feathers won't help if you get struck by lightning," Sanaki deadpans.  She raises a brow as though this raven king is a mite slower than she'd expected.  "You should stay."

"I'll take my chances," Naesala says, with rather uncourtly snappishness.  He pulls the other boot on and rises to leave.

Then: "King Kilvas," calls a voice from across the chamber.  Lekain's smiling hugely as he enters the foyer.  "I could convey you to my own abode, here in the city, there's plenty space in my apartments for a guest, and this storm's expected to last all night—"

"No," Sanaki says, her little eyes narrowing to slits, "I offered first.  He'll stay here."  She tilts her chin upward, imperious.  "Won't you, Kilvas?"

Naesala looks between the two of them with a faint air of exasperation.  But he does relent.  "As you wish, your highness," he says, nodding toward Sanaki.  "I'll be gone at first light."

*********************************

Sephiran rises early the next morning, as is his habit—or his gift, or his curse, depending on your perspective.

Sephiran is an early riser because he hardly sleeps at all.  It's something about Ashera's blessing on him, he suspects—ever since that battle with Yune, he's hardly ever been able to sleep more than a handful of hours at a time.  He'll lie down well after midnight, wake well before dawn, and he'll feel as rested as though he'd slept twenty hours instead of two.

And that curious new tendency had been only a curiosity, a source of amusement, when the blessing had first been bestowed upon him.  It gave him a few hours' rest aside Altina, then a few hours to watch her sleeping form, in the quiet, by lamplight—the best of both worlds, he thought.  Thought it an unmitigated gift.

Of course he'd think differently, later.  Bad enough, he'd been denied death for so long.  To be denied its nearest thing—blessed sleep—when he hungered for those scant hours, savored them as a man dying of thirst savors water—the thing he only ever had for a few hours at a time, no matter how many sleeping draughts he swallowed, no matter how much he wanted to simply not wake up—

But there's no escaping it, whatever it is.  So he's awake, well before dawn, and so he's wandering the halls of Mainal when he runs into Naesala.  Catches sight of him when he's poised over the ledge of the ramparts, just about to fly—

"King Kilvas," Sephiran calls, from the other end of the ramparts.

Naesala pauses.  He's still poised, ready to leap.

"Sanaki will be very unhappy if you don't at least stay for breakfast, you know."

Naesala flexes his wings at that, angling them to catch the breeze.  "Pass along my regrets, then.  I don't mean to disappoint, but I do have a kingdom to run, you know."

And Sephiran thinks he's lost him, then—things he'll spring over that railing and fly straight away—but he pauses, just long enough to give Sephiran a passing glance.  Then another.  Then he tucks those wings in.

"Not sure I've ever seen you without your charge before," Naesala says slowly.

Ah.  So that's what's caught his interest.

He crosses to Sephiran's end of the ramparts, and says in a low voice: "That was an interesting maneuver of yours in the senate, the other day."

"Beg pardon," Sephiran says, his smile unmoved.  "I don't know what you're referring to."

"That motion to offer Begnion citizenship to laguz on equal terms as that of the beorc.  It can't be too popular among your peers."  He tilts his head.  "That is, if they still count as your peers.  Does prime minister mean you're above them, now?  The finer points of Begnion politics escape me."

"That motion was the empress's alone.  I am but her advisor, and her voice within the senate."

"The empress," he says flatly, "is six.  I understand beorc years are reckoned a bit differently than laguz, but by any measure she's a hatchling at best."

"You've spoken with her yourself.  I think you'd agree she is quite self-possessed."

"She's precocious, sure," he says with a dismissive snort.  "I've got a nephew who does sums and figures better than half my so-called bookkeepers.  Doesn't mean he runs the country."

Sephiran lets that statement, the implicit accusation, simply sit there.  Stands in silence so long that Naesala's wings twitch a little, that anxious tic so many bird laguz share.

And then he shakes out the whole wing, as though after a long stretch, to hide that little twitch.  "That's what your senators would say, at least."

"By senators, you mean Lekain, I suppose?" Sephiran ventures—and when Naesala's eyes flicker, Sephiran ventures even farther than that, a little bluff: "I did notice your departing his offices yesterday morning.  Are you his dogsbody, now?"

And that bluff strikes too—too true, truer than Sephiran imagined.  For a moment there's a flicker of the old king on Naesala's young face: harried, hunted, pale as bone.  He looks at Sephiran as though Sephiran has stabbed him, and Sephiran can't make out why.

Can't make out why Naesala would beg favor from Lekain in the first place, come to think of it.  The man's notoriously stingy when it comes to his own subjects, let alone some foreigner's.  And if it's money he needs, that Tanas has more than enough, and seemed charmed enough by him last night.

And Sephiran feels a stirring, then—unbidden but wanted, the way you can want to press on a bruise or tear at a scab—the same possessive impulse that stirs him whenever Zelgius comes mewling.  Because if Lekain has some hold on this foreign king, some pull that can make him go haggard and harried in a breath—then maybe Sephiran can grasp it, too—grasp him, wring something from him the same way—

"Please," Naesala says, with a dismissive wave, a half-second too late to be convincing.  He's still a little pale, but that easy smile is back, fixed in place.  "Lekain and I talk sometimes.  That's all."

And like that, the stirring's gone, replaced by an inchoate sort of shame.

"Ah," Sephiran says, with an easy smile of his own, easier than Naesala's by far.  "If that's all, then.  I assure you again: the will behind Sanaki's initiatives is her own."

"And how long have you been in the senate, Sephiran?" Naesala asks after a moment.  "Two years?"

"Two years next month."

"Well," Naesala says darkly, "you'll learn.  They all do."

Sephiran's not sure what he means.  But staring at him now, he feels a different sort of stirring.  Sees Naesala, his wings once again angled into the breeze, and thinks of the little girl, still asleep, who likes wings and feathers and doesn't like how Begnion treats them.

He should harden his heart against such a stirring.  There can be no peace, from what Sanaki is doing.  No justice.  He has lived a hundred of her lifetimes—quite literally over a hundred—and has seen how this plays out, time after time.

But then she'll declare what she will do, in one of those impetuous little fits of hers—and for a moment, precious minutes, once the length of a whole and sacred hour—Sephiran will believe her.  That the world can be fixed, maybe, and so can he.

Never longer than that.  Still not even as long as his scarce little sleeps.  But not nothing.

[deviiancetv]

Where Am I Now That The Sun Has Rose?

2025 has been quite the year, and I’ve noticed that my main challenges all revolve around the same cycles of repetition. It’s as if I’m a chinchilla running on a hamster wheel, a misplaced creature, trapped living in the present conscious space of the now. Doing the same things and repeating the same cycles; wake up, go to work, eat, come home, be around my parent who constantly fusses about something, take a shower, eat, get ready for bed and go to sleep.

Monotony and suppression of a reality that I’ve become a victim to for entirely too long. Who’s gonna be the Flynn to my Rapunzel, or the Shrek to my Fiona? Rescue me from this wretched existence and allow me to exist in creative excelsis… but yet, I guess I’ll have ti be my own knight in shining iridescent armor.

My biggest challenge last year was being able to defend myself in a very difficult work environment at Ross, with my managers and the store coordinator consistently demanding that I work at a higher pace than what I'm used to, let alone what I'm paid for. There were many issues at the job that eventually led to the territory of favoritism and racial microaggressions.

However, through it all, I was able to find my voice and report those problems to higher-ups. Found a job that was better suited for me and gave me more hours... although that shifted me back into another situation of poor financial circumstances my mom and I fell into. We moved in with a family friend for a brief period, and that situation went awry with the family friend sending my mom threats and us having to relocate to another hotel at the end of February, this year. As of now, I’m still at my current job, but I am looking for full-time employment elsewhere. This job is more stressful than it needs to be due to our corporate overlords forcing us to do things we could care less about, not even seeing a pay increase for it.

From the consistent moving to financial going broke, my mom's health issues, and growing frustrations with how I feel as if my life isn't going as well as I planned for it to be by the time l entered my mid twenties. My biggest takeaway this year is, life sways like a pendulum, you have your good days and your worst bad days - life can get worse before it gets better and you will feel as if nothing is going the way you'd hope.

With the upcoming Jupiter in Cancer astrological transit, it could be the much needed vibe shift we as a collective need for the next year. With this transit, will be in my 6th house of work, wellbeing, duties, etc. And it seems like this period will be a good time for a new job, better work opportunities or changes in my career path — as well as potential romantic desires being met… will all this happen? I’m not getting my hopes up but I’ll try to be optimistic about whatever is to come out of this year to next June.

What's important for me is to remember that things will eventually get better and to enjoy the small glimmers in my day. Whether it's a sweet treat for myself, buying something I want, thinking of a funny memory, or talking to a pleasant stranger. Let those be the anchors that keep you going each day so that you don't stray away into that dark place or feeling like life isn't amounting to anything.

Enjoy the day, the month, the year for what it's worth!!

[decafbat]

dunno if this has already been asked before, but have you ever thought about what your ocs would text/type like Or what their hand writing would look like? very curious

i worry that by doing this i'll imply that characters only speak in one tone or that the general vibe of conversation would be punchy and comedic (which just kind of feels encouraged when i write small excerpts of dialogue without context, and because im not that great of a writer). but obviously i think all the characters would talk in very different ways depending on the situation and mood. i dont really imagine a super distinct way of typing for any of them besides just how their personalities come through in interaction but i think what i have here might work as an exaggerated case to give you an idea of their patterns and personality at its most extreme, but which you might see hints of in general conversation.

cath: exaggerated, truncated, lots of hyperbole and poor spelling. cute emoticons. when typing long messages she writes run-on sentences. her hand-writing is ok. she cant read cursive or even some fonts, or long paragraphs. she might have dyslexia. hellooooo. . .?

(”O_O) think im so fucked

HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEE

update i quituple-checked the cabinet we dont have bread or rice or anything at all

leica: kind of theatrical, sarcastic, arcane, proper spelling and punctuation unless she loses her composure which is often. handwriting is small, scratchy and unreadable.

In the material world, it's generally frowned upon.

I climb the Tree of Life to find and devour the Fruits of Yuri. Nothing less could ever satisfy my wretched heart.

ILL MURDER WHOEVER SENT HER THOSE PICTURES ILL TEAR THEM APART

I sincerely apologize for how I acted and I wont do it again.

erin: uses lots of acronyms, types in her typical boisterous tone. her handwriting is pretty much perfect.

So a LOOOOT happened between us its kind of a lot to get into LOL dumb drama but things are g now dont worry!!

YOU'VE SEEN THAT ONE? I LOVE THAT MOVIE!!!

WOW LOL SOUNDS TOUGH HOPE THAT GOES GOOD!

[synthapostate]

any director's commentary on "Here Begins the Land of Phantoms"? since i reread it the other day, i havent been able to stop thinking about vampire hermann...

Oh boy oh boy, I get to talk about vampires!

So there’s this very clear throughline in modern vampire fiction, from Anne Rice to Buffy to Twilight, of the beautiful, brooding vampire consumed with angst over his wretched, irredeemable, monstrous nature. Oh, woe is the poor brooding vampire! At war with himself, lest he give in to his darker side and harm those bright, innocent creatures who surround him!

And there’s nothing wrong with that kind of story. I love an angst wallow. Feed that to me on toast! But it gets a little old when they all keep moaning about how dangerous they are, but never show the slightest inclination to hurt anyone. Edward Cullen may have the skin of a killer, but you know damn well Bella and the other teenagers are in no real danger from him.

I read a story years ago. I don’t remember the details of it now, but there was a man being corrupted by some evil influence that also gave him magical powers. He went out to brood on his cruel fate, and ended up using his powers to save a woman from a mugging. His initial thought was, “What a relief! My powers may be evil, but maybe I can find a way to use them for good! I’ll be a hero!” And then before he can stop himself he’s trying to eat the woman he just saved. That’s the vibe I wanted here. I went through a lot of revisions, drawing on various bits of folklore at different times, but most of all I wanted to write a vampire who genuinely was a monster, even if he was also a human being doing his best to be good.

(Spoiler: In the sequel, we’ll see what happens when his human willpower is insufficient to control the hunter’s nature.)

Thanks for asking!

@goldengrub

[nefariousfool]

brat review under the cut bc no one on here gaf

It agonizes me to do so, but I'm gonna structure this in comparison to Taylor Swift's new album, not because we must "pit two bad bitches against each other" (taylor is not a bad bitch) or that everything must be about that wretched blonde woman but because their careers actually mirror each other quite well in some aspects that show both charli's weak spots on this album that follow what seems to be the trend for millenial pop artists, but also her strengths. also I never got to bitch about TDPS as much as I wanted to

Speaking of strengths, I'll start with those. Compliment sandwich to make the rest go down easy. She makes what is undeniably a fun album. Much easier to digest and more cohesive than CRASH, ultimately a wonderful example of her command over visual advertising matching auditory experience. I can easily imagine the best way to experience Sypathy is a Knife, Everything is Romantic or 365 is best heard loud as all hell in a club you don't remember arriving at and won't return to again for a few months for what it does to your body. As promised its a return to her public "prime" but cooler, sexier, a little wiser.

So I is maybe the only Sophie tribute that doesn't feel theatrical or subtle or in very poor taste. Rather than sheer worship over a woman who now is unable to live in the minds of many as a complete human being, charli admits she took her for granted. She doesn't mythologize her death but rather opens up that the wound of losing a friend you wish you spent more time with is still there. it might scar over, but the pain remains.

Now to where the comparison begins. Both artist imo had their best year the year of lockdown. The forced introspection made their work calmer, better. Taylor's was definitely in some aspect her trying to find herself after her absolute flop of a comeback album while also attempting to legtimize herself as an artist to the more critical pop crowd. Playing with narratives that don't involve her personal life was, while a bare minimum mark of a decent artist, something people weren't sure she was capable of anymore. It was a calculated move that birthed two albums that live as her best in her discography. Charli was, as far as I can tell, less calculated and far more authentic but netted the same results. The Cool Girl version of Taylor, she too achieved success in the late 00s as a teen, but rather than doing all American sweetheart gigs about how precious and lovestruck she is, she was 14 performing her songs at illegal raves. Her rising career was based off a very cool, distant persona. For this reason, she previously was not nearly as personal in her songs but took the lockdown time to open up about her feelings as well as her relationship with her long term partner at the time. They were songs that spoke personally to her audience, allowing them intimacy at a time when everyone was very vulnerable. Cringe exposing my emotions but party4u still brings tears to my eyes. It seems, in the latest albums of these two, they have "come home" to what is comfortable for them. You do see slivers of incredibly personal moments slip through, especially in Rewind and I Think About it All the Time (and of course So I) but overall rather than fond nostalgia for her roots this album gives the vibe of someone desperately trying to keep on a mask that used to protect her but doesn't anymore. Taylor, too, has slipped into her old habits of overexposing her personal life in uninteresting, spoken word lyrics that I hear in Brat as well. The lyricism feels lazy, attempting to act nonchalant and casual while abandoning a rhyming scheme completely for many of the songs. Some fans delight in this, but I know both of these women can do better.

Maybe this is all best exemplified in a song that wears the identity of the album the best, Mean girls. This mindset is ever present in the album, but this track is embarrassingly on the nose. Slapdash and pandering, it shows Charli has acquired a specific audience other than poppers addicts and people who wish they could have worked at an American apparel in 2010, and that audience is the fleabag type. A loser. You're showing your love to the losers and the haters. Maybe it's because im in this album and I don't like it, but it shows how much she too has attached herself to the persona of the late 20s shit head woman who is fun at parties if you're also drunk, but in the daylight is liked by no one who really gets to know her. the self victimizing "just being honest" woman with the soul of a wet rat, an intensely online woman, sex and the city's Carrie for Zelennials. miserable. This was where it was going to end up, wasn't it? This is the modern Cool Girl, after all. This is what she wants us to believe she is. She's so Julia. This is so Charli, I guess. It evokes pity in me.

I don't have much a compliment to end this with actually. Overall I do really enjoy it on a sound level, I'm likely to listen to it on repeat for a while yadda yadda. Whatever I was really critical of Crash upon release which I softened my opinion of as time passed but idk, millenial women cannot stop being messy and weird about it and it's embarrassing.