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strrykais · 6 months ago

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(❤︎) love shot

sometimes the best feeling is the way his mouth moves against you, and other times.. its the taste of sweet sweet revenge.

cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving), drugging, bondage, foot on crotch, mentions of death, gangs mentioned, revenge, age gap if you squint (its legal like 6-10yrs idk dont think too hard about it ! just putting here to be safe!) not proof read! wc: 1.5k

requested: Idea to distract you: the reader tying Seungmin, Han, Lee Know or I.N. to a chair for sexy times and they absolutely just melt under the readers attention.

「 authors note 」 took this and definitely deviated from their plot... and i'm very proud of it.. let me know your thoughts.. for more click here !

minho almost had a heart attack when he walked into the living room to see you sitting in the dark. you have been waiting for him to come home for hours now only thinking he wouldn't be gone for so long.

"jesus baby, you scared me. why are you sitting in the dark?" minho reached for the light switch, turning it on to see your pouting face.

"you are late babe. where the hell have you been?" you say crossing one leg over the other, the gown you wear sliding down your thigh. minho couldn't help but glance down. you knew his one true weakness was your thighs. He could spend hours in between them and that is exactly where you planned to have him tonight. if only he wasn't so late.

"i know baby, but the boss needed me and you know how demanding they are." He takes off his jacket and throws it over the couch walking to you. He places his hands on either side of the chair, trapping you in.

"you should really leave that gang. it's only gonna lead you to an unfortunate end." you reach out to caress his cheek as he leans into your touch.

"don't say that baby, plus i can't exactly say my girlfriend wants me home before 11. if anybody knew about you, you cou-"

"yes min i know, i could be seriously hurt. but it would be great to you know see you more than once every two weeks." you say leaning back into the armrest. minho takes this opportunity to lean in and press a kiss into your lips. you open your mouth letting him deepen the kiss as you are melting into it.

minho places both hands on your cheeks, running them down your arms and firmly placing them on your thighs. You sigh into his lips as he gently separates your crossed legs, gently pulling you down as he detaches himself for you taking in your appearance.

Your blushed cheeks, your puffy lips, your gown slipping off one shoulder, minho loved that he had this effect on you. He never got tired of seeing how needy you begged for him and tonight was gonna be no different. He places a kiss on your temple, then gets down on his knees right between your legs.

You watch as he pushes your legs further apart, the gown slowly riding up. He takes notice of you not wearing any underwear and lets out a soft groan.

“Not wearing any panties? Since when did you become such a dirty girl.” squishing the meat of your thighs, rubbing his hands all over your legs but never rubbing the place you needed him to.

“I can’t help it when you look so good.” hips lifting trying to get him to touch you, to relieve the ache.

Minho lets out a breathy laugh at the way he completely had you under his spell. He usually loved to tease you, but the way you looked was so pretty he just needed to taste you. Minho glides his fingers through your folds gathering up your wetness, pressing onto your clit giving it a pinch between his fingers.

You moan at the feeling, getting lost in the way he was playing you like a fiddle. Minho did a lot of bad things in the field he worked but one thing he was good at was making you reach completion with his hands and mouth every time.

He removes his fingers from your clit replacing them with his mouth, alternating between sucking and licking. You were completely unraveling at the way his mouth was devouring you. Its like he was a man starving and you are his next meal.

Minho inserts two fingers into your wet hole, not giving you time to adjust as he presses against your walls in the spot he knows will make you lose your mind. Your moans were music to his ears, which only fueled him more as his fingers thrust in and out. Minho was a man on a mission he wanted, no he needed to make you come into his mouth. He sucked harder, pressed harder, thrusting harder. It didn't take long before you clenched your thighs around minhos head squeezing hard.

“I'm gonna cum. Fuck baby please don’t stop. Dont stop.” you moan out, one hand gripping the armrest and the other lying to his hair pulling hard as you start to grind down on his face. You let out a loud moan as your legs shake, cumming in his mouth.

Minho groans still deep in your pussy, fingers still helping you ride out your high. His mouth licks up your orgasm. He falls back on his heels admiring his work.

“Open up baby.” he guides his fingers into your mouth as you suck harshly, licking his fingers clean of your orgasm. He groans as your warm tongue wraps around them. He pulls out his fingers, your mouth making a popping noise as he pulls out.

“Fuck your mouth is so warm. Wanna be a good girl and let me use it.”

“Yes, if you let me have some fun now.” you say glancing up at him. He groans at the way your eyes are glossed over completely willingly to suck him off.

“Fuck baby do whatever you want, as long as you continue to look at me like that.” you smile nodding your head as you help him undo a few buttons. You kiss him, fully wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. You giggle out as he grabs a handful of your ass.

“You gotta trust me okay?” you say as you pull away from him, switching sides with him and pushing him down on the chair. He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you walk away returning with a glass of liquid and red rope.

“You are not tying me up.” he shakes his head in disbelief, in awe that you would even be into this, so dominating, minho has always been the dominant one in the relationship so he was quite confused about why you never brought it up.

“Baby, please. Just one time, that's all I ask.” you twirl the rope around, extending out the drink. “Here, this will calm your nerves.” you smile at his face. He looked at you skeptically, sighing, you brought the glass to your lips, but he stopped you before you could.

“Okay give me the drink, it better be vodka.” you nod your head handing him the glass as he downs it in a gulp. Placing the glass on the table beside the chair.

“Don't worry baby, I'll be gentle.” you go to work on tying him to the chair, starting with his arms and then going down to his legs. Minhos heart was racing, he had never been so submissive to a woman before this was new to him. He watched as you made sure the knots were tight almost like you have practiced for this very moment.

Once you are satisfied with your work you step back grabbing minho’s chin forcing him to look up at you. “Gosh it's almost a shame it has to end this way.” you softly say, voice losing its loving tone. Making your way to the radio, putting on some music.

Minho was starting to worry about the way you were staring at him. Before minho can ask what you meant, you tied something around his mouth to get him to be quiet. Minho pulls against his restraints realizing that you have tied him tightly, and he has no way of getting out. Minho watched as you made your way back to him pulling up a chair to sit across from him.

“You know we have been seeing each other for 3 months and you still haven’t recognized me minho.” you watch the sheer panic in his eyes trying to make sense of what you are saying. “Of course you don’t, I was only a child when we first met.” you extend your leg, pressing firmly on his crotch. Minho groans as the pain, mind becoming fuzzy, he was starting to lose control of his body, he feels like he was drunk, he couldn’t fight back against the tight hold of the ropes.

“You took something very important to me, and when I finally found you, I knew what had to be done. Who would've thought someone as pretty as you would be so dumb.” you watch as minho head fights to stay up right. You take your foot off of him, pulling his hair so his eyes were looking straight into yours.

“Don’t worry I'm not gonna kill you, but your boss might. You see he found me and stopped me from killing you on the spot, made me an offer I couldn't refuse. All I had to do was get you all drugged up and weak and I would be set for life. Your boss is a scary man.. But he seems to hate you more than I do. Something about playing both sides? Minho people don’t like snitches.” the ringing of a phone breaks your attention from him, letting him go, head fully flopping over.

“He’s yours. Come on up.” with one last glance to minho, completely unconscious in the chair, you grab your coat from the rack, walking out, never looking back.

permanent taglist: @hyunestrella @spicy-sawdust @charlieg1rl @gnabnahcbby @totheseok @mystverse @jisungs-iced-americano @kimseungminpabo @bookswillfindyouaway @puppy-minnie @katchowbbie @night-storm7 @auroratiseee @goldenmellow @sellomaybe @embrr0-0 @skysole

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laughing-with-god · 2 years ago

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Unsaid Vow I

(This is the first 1.7k of the 10k chapter that is available right now on my Patreon. Please join for early access plus beta content!)

Synopsis: You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a five-year-old.

Also looking for new fic art for this if anyone's interested!!

Read first: Prologue

“I’m a grown man.”

These were the words that greeted you and effectively pulled you out of your weary slumber.

You drowsily rubbed your eyes and rolled over, yawning as you took in the sight of your son staring at you bemusedly from beside your bed.

If you weren’t used to this behavior from Hugo already, you perhaps would've screamed at the sudden creepy sight of a child with a solemn expression saying odd things to you before the sun has even risen. Yet, you have grown accustomed to the old man your toddler was.

“Good morning to you too, bud.” You groaned tiredly, already searching your thick bedding for your phone in order to check the time. Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, which told you it was earlier than you had originally planned to wake up. But what was the point of having plans when you had a child? They had a talent for ruining them.

“I’m five today.” Hugo ignored your greeting, getting right into the point with furrowed brows as he held up all five fingers, each one representing a year of his life.

“Yup, I know dumpling.” You chuckled, finally pulling out your phone and opening it to see ‘6:03 am” staring back at you. “Believe it or not, the day you were born was quite memorable for me too.”

You cringed as you thought of the 20 hour labor that preceded Hugo’s birth. How could you ever forget that hellish day?

“Mom, it’s my birthday.” Hugo told you, tone serious as a heart attack.

“Yes, happy birthday love.” You smiled at your son, trying not to let him see the exhaustion you secretly felt. “I suppose there’s no way I can talk you into going back to bed for another hour or so?”

“No. You always say ‘the day starts when I first open my eyes in the morning”. Your son parroted the saying back to you with a proud grin.

Hugo once went through a phase where he wouldn’t want to leave the bed after waking up, simply wanting to stay in pj’s all day long and watch cartoons amongst his stuffies.

It took a while to get your little homebody to actually stop this habit and begin getting up to ready himself for the day whenever he woke up. You used to tell him that the day starts whenever he opens his eyes in the morning, however on days like these where he wakes up super early, he now does not see the point in lying in.

“Right, that is a good point.” You softly relented, mentally scolding yourself for yet another parenting tactic backfired. “How does some breakfast sound?��

“Mom, I have a prop-pre-preposaa-”

“Proposal?” You offered, swinging your legs off the side of your bed.

“Yeah, that.” Hugo nodded to himself, most likely taking note of the proper pronunciation of the word so he can use it again in conversation. “I think it’s time we talk about coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“You and daddy are always saying that coffee is for grownups. Today I’m five, which means I’m older, which means I should be able to have coffee.” Hugo reasoned this to you while twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit he does when he wants you to say yes to something he knows is unrealistic.

“Mmm...” You hummed, pretending to think hard about the offer. “What if I gave you a very light coffee? A beginner version to get you ready for the real thing when you’re older?”

Hugo looked conflicted, but after reading your face and correctly assuming that’s the best he was going to get, he nodded solemnly in reluctant agreement.

With one final huff you shoved yourself off the king sized bed, standing to your full height and throwing your arms up in a stretch. “Why don’t you wait in the living room for me bud? I’ll be right out.”

The freshly turned five year old happily nodded up at you before exiting your bedroom, leaving you alone once again.

You turned your attention back to the bed in which you just rose out of. More particularly, you stared at the other side of the bed, the side in which your husband was supposed to sleep on.

It was a direct opposite of your messy side, crisp and neatly made; the fluffy pillows, pressed sheets and silk duvet being perfectly in place. Yet, this wasn’t an ode to Jungkook’s neatness and attention to detail.

No.

Jungkook hasn’t been sleeping in the same bed as you for a while now.

Your husband always preferred to rise early, given he was a man who liked to follow a strict morning regime which could easily be thrown off if he slept in even a minute later. Up at 5:30. teeth brushed and face shaved by 5:40. Breakfast, coffee and newspaper consumed by 6:00.

Then right before taking his leave, Jungkook would pack himself a bag of work clothes and make a quick protein shake, given he would then head to the gym where he would get his morning workout and shower from. Then from the gym, he would head straight to work.

A few months ago, he suggested sleeping in the guest room.

You had asked why, bewildered at the request.

Sure, you two didn’t really cuddle anymore. Sex was also rare. But you figured that the least you could do as husband and wife was sleep in the same bed amicably. Had you started kicking him in your sleep or something?

“I’d notice you begin to kinda stir when I first get up and go about my routine. I don’t want to wake you up or be a bother.” He had said.

That didn’t really make sense to you.

You have always been a deep sleeper. And even if you did wake up for a second, you’d clearly see your husband getting ready for the day, roll over and go back to sleep.

It was such a lame excuse, you just shrugged and bitterly told him that he hogged the blankets anyway.

It wasn’t true, but Jungkook didn’t comment.

You trudged over to the ensuite bathroom and quickly did your morning routine.

When you came out of your room and into the living space, you saw Hugo glued to the giant flat screen in a trance-like state as he watched his usual morning cartoons. The sight tugged a small smile out of you, although the mother in you didn’t like how close he was.

“Hugo, back up from the screen! Bluey isn’t going anywhere. Your eyes will go bad.” Your son wordlessly obliged and scooted back, not breaking eye contact with his favorite family of puppies. “What would you like for breakfast ‘Mr. grown man’?”

“Blueberry pancakes…and don’t forget my coffee!”

“You got it, birthday boy.”

The kitchen, dining and living room were open concept, so you multi-tasked watching Hugo while whipping up his breakfast. You never were much of a cook and you still aren’t even after motherhood, but you did commit to learning your son’s favorite dishes.

The process was over quickly, you having made this recipe countless times and knowing it like the back of your hand.

You set a plate on the island table, calling Hugo over while you secretly mixed some instant hot chocolate in a mug.

The five year old jumped up and grinned at the meal, saying a quick “thank you” before digging in with all the grace a five year old could possibly have.

“And of course, your coffee.” You tried not to smile as you handed him the cup.

“Thanks mama.”

The mini-Jungkook took a gulp, then stared seriously at the contents of the mug, swishing it around in some faux detective work.

“Something wrong, dumpling?”

“It tastes…fa-fam-”

“Familiar?”

“Yes. Is coffee always this sweet?”

You laughed, now moving to the real coffee maker to make your own cup. “No, this is the kid version. It might taste like chocolate because chocolate has caffeine in it too.”

Your little old man huffed to himself but nodded in agreement, simply not knowing enough to dispute your logic.

Your old coffeemaker grumbled awake, croaking and hissing as you pressed the worn-out buttons for your usual morning brew. Jungkook always made fun of you for the ancient machine, but even after he had bought a much more expensive and up-to-date one, you stubbornly remained loyal to yours.

“So buddy, what do you want to do today? We can go get new books, hit up the toy store, maybe even visit the aquarium?”

“I wanna help set up for my party, mommy.”

Well, “party” wasn’t quite the right word for it.

Hugo had no friends. It was tough for a kid like him to make any. At this age and as a boy, most of his peers would meet and form relationships in little league or rough housing at the local park.

Your son was different. He preferred reading to sports, hated the outdoors and was generally a shy kid who tended to tear up when anyone other than his family tried speaking to him.

So this year, his birthday party was an intimate circle of family and family friends. You hoped that by next year you could host an actual kid birthday party, as Hugo would be in school and have classmates by then.

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s time to do both.” The boy looked at you skeptically. “We can go to the bookstore across the street after breakfast and I’ll let you pick out some new bedtime stories. Then we can go to the aquarium and have lunch there. And on our way home I’ll stop by the store to get some stuff for the party, and you can get a toy. Sounds good?”

Hugo frowned, then peeled back his pajama sleeve to look at his submarine-themed watch. The act seemed a little pretentious to you, given he didn’t yet know how to read clocks.

“Fine mommy, but we should be quick. Also you need to ask our guests if they have any food aler-alergeez-”

“Allergies? Yes bud, I’ll be sure to send them a text.” You rolled your eyes.

With that, Hugo quietly finished his breakfast as you sipped your coffee.

When you two were done, you both got dressed and ready for the day’s activities.

Before leaving the apartment, you were sure to send a text to your husband.

‘Be home by 6 please. Hugo’s birthday party starts at 6:30 and he needs you there.’

#yandere jungkook #bts #yandere bts #jeon jungguk #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #yandere bts fic #yandere imagines #bangtan boys #bts x reader

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fanfic-obsessed · 3 months ago

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Aging the Past

Here’s another fun one that could dip into the angstier side of things if you choose to go there.

As a reminder, expect no canon.

What we start with is, through magic, Red Hood and Red Robin are deaged to 6 years old. The deaging knocks them unconscious (because such magic should always knock the victim out), so no one knows if the deageing is only physical, or if their minds were deaged as well. They are quickly collected and brought back to the Batcave. Even the magic user, captured by Robin, was confused since that was not the magic that was cast.

Now unknown to absolutely everyone, including Tim and Jason. When they were 6 years old, they were each abducted.

In Jason’s case, Willis Todd had used Jason as collateral as a bet. Jason was taken in order to make sure that Willis would pay up. Thankfully Willis did, but Jason did spend three days in the company of a handful of goons who talked about selling him to the nearest rich pervert. Jason was young enough that he had forgotten the mild trauma by the time he became Robin.

In Tim’s case, he was abducted by his Nanny at the time and sold to one of the gangs looking for ransom. His abductors were never able to get in touch with the Drake parents. After about a week, during which much of the gang would talk loudly about selling him, one of the only sympathetic members of the gang (who felt very uncomfortable with trafficking, for all that he was ok with abduction) managed to manipulate everything so that he got Tim out and dropped him off at Drake manor. Tim, a very intelligent 6 year old, figures out how to contact the agency the Nanny came from (thankfully the nanny was simply a bad egg, the agency was not corrupt) and says that his nanny stopped showing up. The agency, which never realized they were being contacted by 6 year old Tim and not one of his parents, sent a new one. Three months later when the Drakes return they do not realize that the Nanny is different from the one when they left.

I’m sure you have all guessed that the de aging, which was mental as well as physical, brought each of them back to these respective events. They both wake up in the infirmary of the bat cave, and become instantly convinced that they have been sold by their respective abductors. They have no way of knowing that they think it is two entirely different years (Since Jason is actually two years older).

The various bats wait for the deaged duo to wake up, no one quite sure what to expect. Given how badly Tim and Jason’s first meeting originally happened they were all geared up to have to separate two frightened, fighting children even if neither remembers. They were not prepared for these two children to instantly bond and escape the bat caves into one of the tunnels.

It takes almost two hours for them to be found.

During those two hours Jay and Tim bond like a pair of feral cats. Though 6 years old, Jason is well aware that he might not be able to go back home, for fear that Willis would give him right back to his abductors. Tim, to the extent that he is able for a six year old, makes plans to bring Jason home.

To that end Tim decides that he and Jason will need to get married. Because married people live together and love each other and Tim already knows that he will love Jason. Jason agrees.

After they are found it takes another three hours or so to convince them that they have not been sold. During this time both Jason and Tim bit Bruce and Stephanie. Jason had also attempted to fight Damian, who picked up Tim. Tim inadvertently did psychic damage to Dick when he said something to the effect of ‘you look like Dick Grayson, or the flying Graysons, if Dick was old’. Jason and Tim are not told that they are de aged.

It also becomes clear that Jason and Tim are smitten with each other, as only tiny children can be. Both talk about getting married when they get older. Everyone, at different times, makes sure to save recordings for the surveillance cams to tease Red Hood and Red Robin with later.

If we want to keep it light, it ends with the spell being broken, Jason and Tim returning to their correct age. They have their memories of that time, or even if they don’t they have plenty of recordings that their family shows them, and start dating not long after. A happily ever after is had by all.

On the slightly angstier side:

The deaging is permanent. There is no way to undo the spell and if there is a way to retrieve Red Hood and Red Robin’s memories, it can only be done after they reach the age they were before (21 for Red Robin, 23 for Red Hood). Even then no one is sure.

In a way it is lucky that the boys are young enough that they do not know what year it is supposed to be. They are also young enough that they can be distracted until they forget about their original families. The decision is made to wait until they are at least late teens to tell them of their older selves. In the meantime Jason and Tim are adopted again, no hyphen to their names. Jason Todd was never declared alive again, but Tim Drake-Wayne is listed as missing presumed dead after going on a trip to South America, just one more stupid American tourist becoming part of a horror movie.

Now the Batfam as a whole is grieving Red Robin and Red Hood, while raising their younger selves. Adn trying not to let on that they are grieving. Even if they get their memories back, neither Tim nor Jason will be the same. They can’t be. They are going to have a minimum of 14 to 17 years of a different life.

Bruce is straight up not able to adopt them. He breaks down entirely one night, a few days after they realize this is permanent. He is self aware enough to know that he would never be able to treat Tim and Jason as who they are now, and would always expect them to be who they had been. This is compounded by the realization that little boys with the name Jason or Tim anywhere near the name Wayne would, at best, make it seem like Jason Todd-Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne were being replaced.

In the end, on paper, Stephanie adopts Tim while Barbara adopts Jason. In practice they do not separate the boys, who live in an apartment with Stephanie (in a building that was bought by Bruce) and Cass. Damian was actually much closer to the boys then he was to their older counterparts, feeling much more comfortable being their older brother than their younger brother. Dick was an affectionate uncle, but there was also a distance because he had lost his brothers all over again. Bruce and Alfred slotted into Grandpa and great Grandpa, respectively.

It was obvious for anyone who knew them all before the deaging and after that there was still quite a bit of awkwardness and distance with Tim and Jason. Neither of the boys really noticed until they were older.

So Jason and Tim grow up together. From the first they do not think of themselves like brothers. They decided that they would get married when they were old enough and never looked back. They never actually look at anyone else either. For those who have ever watched ‘Boy Meets World’, they are Corey and Topanga as far as all of their civilian friends are concerned. Soulmates for the word go. Their wedding is planned for Jason’s 18th birthday (Since Tim was born in July and Jason was born in August, when they were deaged it made Jason slightly younger on paper) since they were 8 years old.

Tim is just as intelligent and as observant as he always was, though his self confidence is much better. He does not need to wonder if he is loved. Jason loves him, he knows that. Tim is 12 when he realizes that all of the adults in their life act strange sometimes. When he starts to think that he disappoints the adults in weird ways. Jason and Tim had both known about their families night lives from basically the beginning, and Tim did not want to be a vigilante. Not even tech support. Though he does take to Self defence training well. This Tim also preferred fashion to photography(still very creative, but did not want to view the world through a lens) and was not interested in business or solving cases of any kind. He wanted to use his observant nature to be a fashion designer.

Jason is not a fighter. In fact any attempt to give any kind of fighting training beyond the most basic is firmly rebuffed. He is still a huge literature nerd, though his preference is sci-fi rather than Regency Romance. Jason is also interested in Mechanical Engineering. Jason does become interested in the Vigilante life, but as support like Oracle. He is also not as connected to Crime Alley as he was the first time around.

By the time Jason and Tim are 15, several of their civilian friends (and they actually have more civilian friends than vigilante friends, the vigilantes all know what happened to Red Robin and Red Hood and tend to be awkward around Jason and Tim as a result) have commented on the strange reactions or looks that Jason and Tim’s families give sometimes.

So just Jason and Tim growing, being different from who they were because of the differences in growing up (Stephanie flinched badly the first time Tim called her mom, Jason quickly following suit) and all of the Batfam and co struggling with the ways that the boys are different from who they were and the ways that they are still exactly like who they were. Particularly as they grow and start to look vaguely like who they had been. Just a whole Uncanny Valley effect over the course of years.

They plan to tell the boys when they are 18 of who they had been. Unfortunately a sixteen year old Jason overhears an argument between Dick and Kon, who was an occasional figure in their lives, about finally telling them. Every person who knew the boys before and after is conflicted about them getting their memories back. By the time the boys are in their late teens it is so very obvious that they are happier now, without those memories. But at the same time, there are a lot of good memories that they have lost.

Jason, after overhearing the argument, goes digging. When their files were locked down, not long after everyone realized that the spell was permanent, Barbara specifically locked the files down to be unhackable to Tim’s method of hacking. No one ever remembered to go back and secure it against Jason’s method of hacking. He gets in easily. He finds Red Hood and Red Robin, everything. Naturally he brings it all back to Tim, his boyfriend and soulmate. The Red Hood/ Red Robin reveal, with all it entailed, did not go over well.

Part of the file included a few hours of various arguments that were had back and forth about letting them remember, casting a spell to force the memories, keeping them from remembering. In just about every configuration of vigilantes. Unfortunately, instead of conveying the difficult and complicated feelings everyone had around what happened, it conveyed that Jason and Tim had been kept around because they one day would become Red Hood and Red Robin (Not even Jason Todd and Tim Drake, but the vigilantes).

Reacting like any other sixteen year olds, they ran to a friend's house with a story of finding out that they may have been adopted to replace people who died (they were not going to be able to explain everything and that would be the closest to what was going on). The friends' parents, who had also observed some ways that the variety of Batfam (in their civilian guises) could react strangely to Jason and Tim ( and who realized Tim was starting to look an awful lot like Timothy Drake-Wayne and Jason was looking a lot like Jason Todd-Wayne), agree to let them stay for a while. It takes six months for Stephanie and Cass to convince Tim and Jason to come home, that they loved the boys as their sons, not as the brothers they lost. Jason decides that, ultimately, he does not want anything to do with being a vigilante after finding out about Red Hood.

Jason and Tim do get married at 18, fully funded by Bruce (who was awkward, guilty, and willing to support anything either boy wanted-frankly their relationships were better with him as a grandfather than a father). They are fully civilians by this point.

Dealers choice if they get their memories back, and if they do, whether it changes anything.

#jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #batman #damian #red hood #batfam #de aging #dcu #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cass wayne #Jason and Tim Deaged

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whumpthefuck · 3 months ago

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Info for Whump Writers ~ Anesthesia Edition

Just got out of surgery, and for the benefit of any writers who want to include a surgery scene but have never themselves been in that situation. I am going to explain, in as much detail as I can, what it really feels like waking up from anesthesia.

Waking up from anesthesia is weird, it's not all in one go, it's like. Bits and pieces. I remember waking up, a few times it felt like.

Each time (I've had surgery twice) I've woken up from anesthesia, my body has felt HEAVY like it's hard to move. My body doesn't want to do the things I want it to do. It was a bitch to do simple things. Luckily, the effect doesn't last too long. But while it does, it's like moving through molasses.

Walking after waking up from anesthesia is also an Experience ™ I felt a little dizzy, my legs felt weak, and I felt very off balance. I needed a walker to get around for at least a few hours after waking up.

I also required help getting dressed and undressed. Since again, bad balance, not the best muscle control, and being just as a whole out of it, doesn't bode well for immediate independence.

After surgery, they tell you to avoid making any big choices, big spending, or purchases, since even when you're more mobile and can do stuff on your own, you might still feel just off. Like you're not all there, if that makes sense.

When they put you under, they also have to pump you full of gas, to get a better look at all your organs, or at least they did for my surgery. This causes a surprising amount of discomfort when you wake up, and for me lots of burping.

They also have to put a tube down your throat, and the dry mouth & general irritation of the throat from that tube, is HELL, it lasts a WHILE. I got out of surgery, I'd say 6 or so hours ago, and while the dry mouth is gone, my throat still is rather scratchy and irritated.

For you emetophiliacs you'll be happy to hear that it's not all that uncommon to experience nausea and vomiting as a side effect of the anesthesia.

I also have (both times) just felt kinda groggy and tired after waking up from surgery. So I've had to take a nap when I get home.

I don't know if this was helpful at all, I hope it was.

Also, if you're wondering the surgery went well, and I am feeling far better than I'd expected to feel. I expected to just be in agony, and like yeah the surgical sites hurt, but I'm not like incapacitated from pain or anything.

#whumpblr #whump prompts #whump prompt #whump #whump community #writing #whump blog #whumpee #whumper #anesthesia #surgery #it was a hysterectomy if you wanna know

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loganlermanstanaccount · 2 years ago

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Rigor Mortis (part 3)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 2, Part 4

summary: A bad day turns even worse. Miguel surprises you.

warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of grief, very vague mention of domestic violence and abuse.

recommended reading: the painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais, and the song Ophelia by the lumineers.

a/n: i lowkey suck at communicating my "big" ideas so i really really hope this makes sense!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

they were here, she says,

You’ve had your share of bad days.

Oh God , enough to fill an A4 binder with. For example, knocking out that tooth when you were twelve. A butterfly effect of fuck ups that led to a scuffle at school: blood in your mouth, a tooth on the ground, and a looong suspension. You received quite the earful at home, that day.

And then there was telling your parents you had dropped out of college. Telling them you were moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend. Breaking up with said boyfriend in your favourite diner; thus sullying Pam’s waffles and pancakes with the bitter taste of… oh-fuck-I-don’t-know-how-I’ll-afford-an-apartment-now. Oh, and heartbreak – although that wasn’t as immediate.

Scratch that, the day of the breakup had been fairly mundane. Pleasant, even. Jamie had an off day, and you only had a few lectures. He didn’t tell you, of course, so meeting him in the apartment was a surprise. You’re home earlier than usual, and you can’t quite bear to wake him up; slumped on the sofa like an old cat. He’s tired, lectures and clerkships running him ragged for the past few years. Only a year out until residency, with bags under his eyes as proof, and you see him less and less. All things considered, you’re glad to spend the rest of the day with him.

You’d spent too long after the break up analysing the days leading up to it: for a sign, something in his behaviour that would’ve warned you. And so, you remember it quite vividly: kicking your shoes off, putting your bag down, and sinking into the sofa next to him. You curl into him, looking up at his face: steady, tempered breathing. Something at your chest, solid and heavy. He looks peaceful, happy; and you haven't seen that side of him in quite a while.

When you shift against him, you knock against his shoulder. Jamie stirs, groggy, and eyes adjusting to the light. The first thing he sees as he wakes is you; romantic, in theory. His expression is etched into your subconscious; stark and stiff like a marble statue, or a tombstone. A flash of disappointment, lip drawn in what seemed like disgust – but only for a moment.

" Morning , baby." You squeeze his side, and take his hand into yours. That look ; it's gone almost as quickly as it came.

"Thought…" He frowns, fighting dregs of sleep. "I thought you would be back later."

"Nope." You give him a smile and he returns with one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He puts a hand on your cheek.

"Morning," Probably tired, he sighs deeply. You move on with the day. And he breaks up with you, not even 6 hours later.

You had had 4 years of that: good days, bad days, but most of them had been… mundane. Boring. Not quite the heat and intensity of true love, as the movies had gaslighted you into believing in.

You like the old black and white ones the best. Old fashioned, old-timey folk; declarations of love in tinny transatlantic accents. Suddenly, you’re on the floor of your childhood bedroom; eyes wide at the Sound of Music. Maria and Von Trapp hand in hand: her dress billowing, the flash of white glove on the small of her back. Love, love, love; and your lack of it.

You feel its loss all the same.

Despite all your efforts – including a dash to the station that could rival an Olympic sprinter – you were late to your first lecture. Sweaty, out of breath, and ambushed with a pen and paper; thrust into your hands on arrival. You look around to see dozens of heads down, scribbling furiously. A surprise test – and you’re late.

Hand aching, you barely finish within the two hours, after bullshitting your way through at least half of the questions. By the looks of the people streaming out of the hall; faces rumpled and grimacing; you’re not the only one. However, it does little to comfort you. You’re sure you're the only one failing so spectacularly, with the semester already half over.

You'd smacked your leg on the coffee table on the way out and a book had slammed to the floor. An art book, the kind in a model home - and you know damn well Miguel's not an enthusiast. The image sticks for some reason, leg aching as you trudge to your next class. When he gives you that blank look; the memory of men gone past is haunting – dead-eyed, and blank, like eyes cut out of a painting. You wonder if a Van Gogh would feel the same with the brilliant blue of eyes slashed out.

Nevertheless, you feel like lead. Off

to your next class, and it's going over material passed out the day before; which you didn’t have the time to look over. The professor drones on; voice monotonous and gravelly. Struggling to keep up, you sink into your seat – tapping away at your laptop, whatever you can get down. You pick at your lip, unravelling; unfurling like the tip of a slashed rope.

That's what you’re waiting for, you think: sandbags clattering down from stage left, to bring the rest of this whole farce down.

A sinking feeling, that starts at your chest and makes its way to the tops of your fingers and toes, leaves you numb for the rest of the day. Dread, like a shadow, at your heels in the corridors, across the courtyard, all around campus. Another lecture, and you make it in time for labs, barely, but there’s no time to go over notes; what you managed to scrape together in preparation. And of course , your lab partner’s sick, because that’s just the kind of day you’re having. It’s hectic, doing the work of two people with only the scraps you’ve cobbled together.

The pressure mounts. Like liquid in that flask you weren’t meant to stopper; and you just might end up like its remnants on the counter. Glass everywhere but where it should be. For a good grade, it helps to be organised: everything in its place, always. Except it isn’t, and you’ve fucked it up, again . It means the results don’t match up in your lab book, and another hour staring at liquid decanting, monitoring temperatures. Staring at stark white walls, with achy legs.

You step out whilst machines run in your stead, and shed your lab coat. It’s hot and stuffy in there but out in the corridor, you can finally breathe. Forehead on the cool wall, it all stops for a moment. The persistent buzz of your phone, sat in the pocket of your trousers, creeps into the quiet.

Absent-mindedly, you turn it on with a click. The buzzing stops. You’ve just missed a call from Miguel. It’s odd, he doesn’t usually call, but it’s the little box underneath the notification that makes you pause. A message, from a number you thought you’d blocked – that you should’ve blocked.

From:Jamie <3

Hey

From:Jamie <3

We should meet. I’ve still got some of your things in the apartment.

Your blood runs cold. Dread, like a shadow; its hand wrapped your neck. You can’t breathe, stuck under the weight of something at your chest. You can’t breathe, the walls close in. We should meet , he says. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world; just friends catching up over a coffee. Like you didn’t watch him carve out a chunk of your heart with a rusty spoon.

A panic attack, and you’re awkwardly hunched over by the wall, phone in hand. Someone will find you here, lying on the vinyl floor in Block B, spread eagle between lab 6 and 7. Dramatic timing, but if it kills you; you’ll find a way to haunt your ex's ass for the foreseeable future. And Miguel’s too, because if you’re having a bad day; then somewhere out there, he’s having a good one.

~~~

The apartment is still when Miguel gets back – unusually so. You’re not on the sofa, watching a mindless soap opera, or howling some song in the shower. And he’s had to deal with that most days for the past few weeks, a break in the peace and quiet he’s so carefully cultivated. Rigorous routine, they keep him together. He needed it; the way myth needs a martyr, the way flowers on a small grave needs a body. A tick-tick-tick in his head, that drives him a little less crazy after a morning run, or a good meal when he comes home. A countdown, he thinks, a mechanical clock whirring and puttering with a shake of its gears. He feels them stutter and start, slowing down, but not quite stopping. An ache so deep, he feels its creak with every step.

Absent-mindedly, he looks around the empty apartment, pulling at his ears.

When he was younger, Gabi would pull at his ears, to get him out of a book. Reading, always reading, whenever he could. At the dinner table, when his mamá would rap his knuckles with a wooden spoon and chuckle lightly at his little grimace. No en la mesa, Miguelito. Not at the table, Miggy. Léeme más tarde – read it to me later.

It was when he got his braces, and picked up a slight lisp. He stopped talking for a while, not completely; but a lot less, not as interactive in lessons. And it was always little Miguel, at the front of the class with his hand up to answer. It didn’t help that Gabi poked fun at him, often sneaking up to him to hiss in his ear: palms pressed together with a slithering motion, and then a strike to his ribs like una víbora - a viper , struggling to say his S’s. They’d fight because of it after, tousling on the floor of their bedroom in a mass of limbs, like pythons squeezing prey. Or at least, until their mamá rushed to separate them.

She didn’t like it when her boys fought; so they’d been forced to make up every time. He still has the scars to prove it.

Car magazines at first, and then the newspaper, whatever book he had picked up at the library that week. Even with his lisp, his mother made sure he read to her, and sometimes to Gabi as well, at least once a week. Looking back, she was never perfect; the things he knows now about his dear mamá, and her visage tumbles like Ozymandias in the sand. Her mother, married to a piece-of-shit mechanic; and his mother, elbow deep in the oil spill. That’s the funny thing about love, he thinks. Love, and the lack of it; dripping through the cracks, passed on through generations. Maybe mamá felt the gears shuddering in her chest. He hopes Gabi was saved from that burden.

A small voice at the back of his mind tells him: it’s not enough. Doesn’t explain the little boy pulling at his ears, in Miguel’s jacket and dress shoes.

A glimpse in the reflection of a shiny pan on the side table, and he looks like shit. Eyebags, a permanent scowl, shadowy lines that prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s ironic, crows feet without the penchant for laughing. He thinks you’d find it funny. The pink and purple of a setting sun spills in through windows and makes him sigh. It’s late, and you’re still not home.

God, you're strange; sticking your nose where you shouldn't. Disrupting the calm of his apartment. A sanctuary, and you've got your grubby paws all over it. Your shit is all over the place; pun-based mugs in the cabinet, chewed pen lids with no pens in sight, a blanket on the couch. The same blanket, a ratty old thing, that he usually meets you wrapped in when he gets back. A creature of habit, he folds it up; trying to ignore the whispers of your perfume, sweet and heady on the fabric.

He gets dressed, starting with dinner; knife on a chopping board cutting onions and peppers into cubes. It's therapeutic, the steady thud ringing out into the kitchen. Quiet, for a fleeting moment. But the worry, it sticks ; despite his better judgement. Before he changes his mind, he clicks open his phone to call you. It rings out – you don’t pick up.

The urge to call again is surprisingly troublesome, so he shoves it down with a piece of tortilla. It sits in his chest, regardless.

~~~

You trudge into the apartment. Squelch seems more accurate, sopping wet as you step out of waterlogged trainers. It was an inopportune time to wear jeans and forget a jacket – and you fight the urge to wring out onto the wooden planks. Miguel would kill you; the place was already falling apart, and water-warped floorboards might just be the last straw.

It’s thundering outside; a torrential downpour you’d just been dragged through. Dragged, half-running through streets-turned-streams, with nothing but a tank top and hoodie on your back. And you must look a sight , eyes bleary and slick with rainwater. The bag heavy on your back goes first, slipped off your shoulder and on the floor next to the coffee table with a thunk . You’re unzipping the flimsy canvas, inspecting its contents. A soaked through textbook, clumps of loose paper. You’re ready to cry when you see what's happened to the pages of your lab book; bleeding ink that’s only half-legible. But it’s the state of your laptop that makes your chest really heave and knees weak.

It’s slick with rainwater, and the sandwich you’d forgotten to eat, smeared across its fans. Caked on, more accurately; an odd sludge that you try your best to wipe away. You put it on the coffee table and your hand shakes as you press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead.

You sink onto the floor, head in your hands between the coffee table and the couch. Everything was on there: photos from senior prom, end of semester projects – your whole life. You have to dig your teeth into your bottom lip to bite back a scream.

Miguel peers from the kitchen, watching your silent breakdown. Quiet, and so still, with only the slight shake of shoulders to tell him that something is wrong. He glances at your half-opened laptop. He’d eaten already, clearing up what remains of his dinner and this is the sight he’s greeted with: the lady of the lake, lain between the reeds.

He shakes the image out of his head, and walks over. You feel a tentative prod, and look up.

“...I called you,” He says lightly, scratching at his neck.

You blink up at him. He thinks you look like a painting, watery and forlorn, framed in the yellow light of the soft bulbs.

“I was busy,” It’s not said with malice, nor as lilting as your usual sarcasm. Plain, simple. Busy. Your head slumps back into the little hollow you’ve made with your arms.

And so he sits, shoulders brushing against yours. He’s frustratingly patient, presence warm and comfortable despite… well, despite everything.

You can’t help it. Popping back up, you state, “You never call, though.”

“You’re never this late home.” Home. The word is heavy, knocks you onto your heels.

“So?” You shrug. “Could’ve been out with friends, or at a club–”

Laughter slips out like apples loose in a bag, spills onto the floor. Crisp, sweet; but you glare at him all the same.

“You don’t have friends.” He says it with the remnants of a smile, teasing. A challenge, and you’re more than happy to accept.

“ Not true , fuckface.” It is. You'd lost track of most of your friends after moving – and all the ones you made here? Your friends were Jamie's friends, and they chose him in the divorce. " You don't have any friends."

"I do ."

"You don't." It's your turn to scoff. "It's a Friday night and you're in here, washing up and planning to go to bed at a reasonable time."

"I'm an adult, doesn't mean I don't have–"

"The ones you fuck don't count." And then you pinch the bridge of your nose. "God forbid, if that's how you treat your friends…"

He laughs, properly, and you feel it in your chest too: the kind of laughter that bubbles like little breaths rising to the top of a lake.

“M’serious.” He says it in between gasping breaths and you try to steady your own giggles. "And, I have a friend who could take a look at your laptop, if you wanted."

His eyes flick over to the crime scene besides you. It's sweet, but.. "It's gone, Miguel, I know. You don't need to… try and make me feel better."

" Chula ," He flicks the deep lines forming at your brow. You look up and he says, softly, "I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to get you off of the floor so I can mop up that puddle."

With the way he says it, with that little smile, you don't believe him.

Now he's got your attention, he says, "You could've skipped that 9:00am. Or just been late. Don't think it would've mattered."

"Maybe." You shake your head. "M'not the best student. I'm blindingly… average. Just wanted it to be different, this year."

Your voice crackles, leaves something in the air he can't quite name. Quiet, again, except this time it's thicker. Smoke, ash, rolling clouds of melancholy in the little front room. For once, he doesn't know what to say.

You've got your head back on the sofa now, with a deep sigh. You look at the ceiling, and he's looking at you. It's the first time he's able to really study your features, trace the outline of your lips and sloping cheekbone. Your lashes, damp with little droplets of water, look crystalline in the light. Sparkling. Like the paintings depicted in the hefty book sat on his coffee table. He's read that one, twice , cover-to-cover in a fit of… insanity, maybe. He's not a man of frills and fancy, didn't really get it; nor why Gabi had given him the book in the first place. It felt like a filler piece, something to put on the little table and forget about, or to prop up a wooden leg. But that's not how his brother works, frustratingly convoluted. It's stupid, Miguel thought. Everything had to mean something , or what was it good for?

But looking at you, here, like this ; it clicks. Reaching over for the book, he leans it against the flat of his thigh. And you see it in the corner of your eye, watching as he flicks through the pages. Filled with art, it's the kind of thing on a table in a model apartment: a space-filler in a false home. When you first came here, the starkness and severity of the space had stuck. To you, the book had only reinforced it. Who was Miguel? A serial killer for all you know, stocking fluff pieces and coffee table books; only pretending to be human.

Finally, he stops, finger over a specific place. A double page spread, of surprisingly good quality.

He clicks his tongue. " This one. "

You follow his finger. A woman in a lake doesn't do it justice. It's beautiful, but it doesn't mean anything to you.

" Ophelia, John Everett Mills, 1852 ." He reads out the little label at the bottom of the image. "Like from Hamlet."

You shrug. "I don't…?"

"Well, she's in love with Hamlet, and then her father's murdered, Hamlet fucks off; and she's left heartbroken, goes mad because of it , arguably–"

"I've taken tenth grade English, Miguel. I don't get what that has to do with anything."

"She drowns herself. Also arguably, to be fair," He chews his lip, thinking. "Slipped off the bark of a willow tree, into a brook. Incapable of her own distress, or something. Drowns. Do you know how horrible drowning feels? How violent? And yet–"

He taps the page, and you come a little closer. Beautiful. She's beautiful.

"I'll admit it, I'm not a big fan of Shakespeare. Gabi – my brother – is way better at this stuff than me. Drama and intrigue and–" He gestures vaguely. "– love . That's why he likes it, apparently. And I… I know someone who really liked this page; I think it was the colours, or the flowers…? She said it looked like a photo, and that the woman looked so pretty in the water."

He pauses, dead-eyed. He's rambling, only taking a breath to compose himself." I… didn't have the heart to tell her that Ophelia, in this painting, is dead. Dead as a fucking doornail. Dragged through still water, sentenced to death by her passivity and grief – but you wouldn't know it."

Unconsciously, you trace the outline of her hair with your finger; swirling locs that blend into muddy reflections. She's on her back and fully dressed; a beaded skirt billowing out into the water. On her back and looking up, like you were on the sofa just a moment ago. Oh. Oh . You blink at the image. Flowers, peppered around to frame Ophelia in her watery grave. It doesn't look like a grave from where you're sitting, but there's a body in the water all the same.

There's a lump in your throat. Grief; the loss of 4 years of your life in a middling relationship, the aftermath of dead eyes and brilliant blue slashed from a canvas frame. Grief, rising to the surface like a bloated carcass. You thought you'd bound its ankles to cinder blocks and tossed it in a river long ago.

"I'm probably overstepping. For that, I'm sorry, and I mean it. But I think there's something else. I..I hear you rattling around at night; and sometimes, when I look at you..."

Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill over. You’re hearing him but you don’t quite understand. Does he know? God, does he know?

"...it reminds me of this painting. You remind me of Ophelia .”

He sighs, turning to you.

“I know how it feels. And I think this shit is going to kill you, if you're not careful."

~~~

He doesn't talk about it. He runs off to start the shower, bundles you into towels and leaves you reeling. God, it's like you've been shot – barely a 10 minute conversation and he's cracked open your ribs to root around in what's left of you. He sees you; wades through the undergrowth and cuts through the bulllshit - he sees you.

You couldn't even answer. That's what stings the most.

You’ve settled on the sofa, cross-legged and still fresh from the shower. There’s a documentary on the TV; mindless background to Miguel clattering in the kitchen. He’s putting together some leftovers, even though you insisted that you weren’t hungry, that you’ve already eaten. Well , he had pointed to the gunk caked onto your laptop, wasn’t that the problem in the first place?

He’s good at it; wraps you up in the blanket you always keep draped on the cushions, and hands you a full plate. Wordlessly, because you suppose he’s said everything he needed to. Dutifully, he takes care of you, without a word; the strain of cutting you open on the coffee table clearly too much to bear.

You thank him, and he settles on the armchair opposite, mug of coffee in hand. The gloom of the TV bathes him in light, cuts his cheekbones and jaw just so. One of your mugs in his lap, and he's in a thick knitted sweater. His hair kisses the tops of his lashes, but he brushes it away. You swallow thickly, and when he turns, you look away.

“...You okay?” He asks, confused.

You nod, unable to speak. He gives you a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled up like crepe paper. You return it with one of your own.

He sees you. Finally, you see him too.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #angst #lots of angst #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara angst

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hellyeahsickaf · 1 year ago

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Abled people don't fucking get it.

You don't get to imply I'm living some kind of "forever vacation". It's perpetual pain. If you see me doing something I enjoy, it's not because it's what I'd rather be doing than being "productive". I fucking miss the gym but things like video games are just a much more accessible activity these days. I'm not "lounging", I don't get a break from the pain just that sometimes I'm able to take my mind off of it

Unemployment isn't some kind of break or excuse to not participate in society (capitalism is garbage but being disabled=/=unemployed for the hell of it). For reasons, I fell behind in school, bad. But I got myself a diploma equivalent and finally felt I'd chosen the line of work I wanted. I had connections, opportunities. I had fibro and some fatigue (unknowingly CFS as that was manageable) but I was getting PT and managing it as best I could. All I needed was to take courses and I was ready for that even with the difficulty of my then undiagnosed ADHD.

And then I got sick, really sick. Worst mono infection my doctor had ever seen due to medical neglect, Shoutout to those shitty CVS minute clinics. It made my ME/CFS so much worse, I was stuck in bed all the time before getting put on Adderall for my then newly diagnosed ADHD. Then I thought the fatigue was finally healing and a side effect of Adderall was a huge crash and wave of fatigue. No it turns out when it wore off I just felt the fatigue again lmfao

I was told I'd be better within 6 months. Okay so I can opt for the Spring semester, no big deal. 8 months go by, a year, a year and a half. I waited and waited. Hoping that "when I get better" I could be caught up with everyone else I knew my age. That was over 7 years ago. Do people think I wanted that all taken from me? To get progressively worse and worse?

Do they think loss of agency is something I enjoy? Needing help, being unable to drive, to enjoy my old hobbies, cook for myself regularly? I've been accused of enjoying this and not wanting to get better as if this hasn't put my head in very dark places. Sometimes I feel like I see a way out of this and it isn't recovery. They don't get it. I don't enjoy being heavily medicated but I know I need to be. I don't enjoy having things purchased for me because I want more financial independence. I don't enjoy feeling like a leech, actually.

It's not a vacation, it's hell. You can go on about how much more exhausted you are because you work or whatever but the thing is I don't need a job to feel what you feel after working. I feel like I worked a 12 hour shift after taking a shower on some days, no exaggeration. You can't compare your able bodied exhaustion to the effects of a chronic illness that fucks you up without you needing to work a full time job. This is my full time job and it wasn't the one I was hoping for exactly

#chronic pain #disability #chronic illness #fibromyalgia #cfs #chronic fаtiguе ѕуndrоmе #actually disabled #spoonie #me/cfs #cfs/me #long covid

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midniqhtt · 1 year ago

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miguel o’hara

masterlist • oscar isaac characters • 11/22/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 snow spider I @ichorai

you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

𑣲 infected I @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

𑣲 i’m loving you from a distance but the road is getting longer I @improbable-outset l

It’s been over a year since you split up, but unfortunately for Miguel, things are still taking a toll. Even after going your separate ways, you still have to see each other everyday. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Miguel’s turmoil is taking effect on his performance as Spiderman and his role as a leader. Having you work under him is proving to be harder than he originally thought, especially when you both are put in situations where you’re forced to be together.

𑣲 meet cute I @/improbable-quest

You didn’t expect the mysterious man that you met at a wedding to change your whole trajectory of the night

𑣲 moved by devotion and prestige I @/improbable-quest

During a company dinner party, you find yourself humiliated by your current boyfriend. Seeking some escape, you confide with your boss, Miguel, whose support reveals some hidden emotions you’ve buried.

𑣲 roleplay date I @slushycoookie

You and Miguel do some roleplay

𑣲 cloud nine I @fxllfaiiry

convincing miguel to do the spiderman kiss with you.

𑣲 you haven’t kissed me all day I @luveline

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side

𑣲 firefighter!miguel part 2 I @bluesidez

𑣲 its always been you I @xbellaxcarolinax

Jealous? Jealous? No, absolutely not. (Or the one where Miguel can't admit he's jealous)

𑣲 futile devices I @/xbellaxcarolinax

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

𑣲 grumpy x sunshine I @forever-rogue

𑣲 baker!reader I @bruisedboys

𑣲 shy!reader I @/bruisedboys

𑣲 I get mean when im nervous (like a bad dog) I @silkscream

you go too far in your defense of miles when you give miguel an ultimatum.

𑣲 civilian!reader headcanons I @certainlynotasimp

𑣲 not for us I @spideyheart

miguel o’hara found the face of the woman he had loved (and lost) in his office, donning a spider suit with a warm cup of coffee in hand for him. he knew there were no second chances, not for the both of you. still, he couldn’t help longing.

𑣲 secret relationship I @sunflowersteves

𑣲 webs of opacity I @inknopewetrust

what if Miguel didn’t learn the first time around? What if he keeps jumping to new realities to experience the life he deserved but never got?

𑣲 convergence I @/inknopewetrust

you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

𑣲 what a mess I @runa-falls

𑣲 thought i dreamed her part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 I @asimplearchivist

you had already lost him once, and you couldn’t bear the thought to lose him again. little did you know, he had lost you twice.

𑣲 too slow I @ronwestbreeze

the both of you would come back from this. you would...right?

𑣲 dear reader I @beezusvreeland

Miguel took the reader’s love and friendship for granted. Something he learns reading her column, when it’s too late…Or is it?

𑣲 rule no. 19 I @neo-nomatrix

You were Miguel’s wife in another universe and he just can’t come to terms that you’re not his.

𑣲 misunderstanding I @ivystoryweaver

𑣲 after hours I @eyelessfaces

he's here again, like so many times before, standing in your living room in the middle of the night; you're not sure you can do this again, but he needs you to.

𑣲 nonviolent communication I @greensagephase

You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment.

𑣲 stupidly yours I @marroonwitch

you found your roommate stupidly annoying, from the girls he brought home, to the way he never cleans up. so why, all of a sudden, was he trying to get into your good graces?

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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pinazee · 4 months ago

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An Evening With Mr. Yang

In the infamous words of one Shane Madej:

Who doesn’t love this episode? Are you kidding me?!?!?! The tension is great, the acting is great, Mary Lightly is so much fun, ALLY SHEEDY! There are so many great things in this ep i got a bit overwhelmed haha

Mary Lightly is an amazing character! Jimmi Simpson is such a great actor that i started watching films/ tv shows because he was in them. Like, i watched Westworld just because he was in it (well, and also because james marsden was in it and i love him as well) and he did PHENOMENAL in the black mirror episode the USS Calister! With Cristin Milioti??? Its my favorite black mirror episode (cause I’m also a star trek nerd. That ep was tailored to me specifically)…i went on a bit of a tangent. Anyways, Mary Lightly is one of the top guest characters in all of Psych hands down.

Apparently Yang struck in 95, and we know shawn graduated in 96, so we know in 95 super cop Henry was still a detective. Which begs the question, why wasn’t he chosen by yang?? Im so curious what happened the first time that 6 people died. Was he originally supposed to have been chosen by yang but it was kept secret for some reason?? Ooooo or what if henry had been chosen originally but refused to play the game because he didn’t want yang to come after his family so yang had to go with another cop or simply killed ppl because he refused so henry holds some guilt for those deaths too and thats the real reason he quit??? Or maybe because his marriage was on the brink of collapse henry wasn’t at the top of his game when yang came around. Mmm grasping at straws i suppose, but really though, he should have been chosen (and ill discuss yang more as we get through the trilogy).

Maddy is the worst lol why is she so bad at communicating with her own child??? Shes a psychologist!

I have to call this out because it makes me cringe but bernsens line reading here was not great haha

James though, man he killed it in this! It was understated and heart breaking at the same time!

And Ally Sheedy was in what, like, less than 5 minutes of the whole episode, but goddamn she made an impression! I mean, what an amazing introduction to a character! I have endless praise for this whole scene with her and shawn! What a freaking get.

Lastly, juliets confession. What a great scene too! I like that she called out her sending mixed signals (i almost pointed that out earlier in the season) because uh, yeah, she was confused and thats okay. And like i mentioned before, if im in juliets position id be confused too. She doesn’t know hes a fake yet so all she sees is a highly effective goofball which can be fun, but yeah, maybe not the best if you need someone reliable- which she does considering who her dad is. But this really is terrible timing lol like, bro just saved his mom from being killed by a serial killer and having the most stressful 24 ish hours of his life and shes like, you know what he needs? Romance. (Btw she kind of framed it like, you deserve a treat, i.e me, which in my world means hanky panky lol)

I thought the kiss on the cheek was very sweet (though kind of messed up since hes literally on a date with someone else haha)

What more can i say? Its a near perfect episode and a great introduction to a great killer with a memorable side character and a solid mystery. Gus was actually solving quite a bit of it too so major kudos to him. All around fantastic episode! So uh, yeah 👍

#psych #psych rewatch #psych tv #shawn and gus #shawn spencer #burton guster #james roday rodriguez #james roday #dulé hill #dule hill

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hbprophetie · 7 months ago

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I'm selling little Snape goods with my art to support my daily life!✨

My fellow Snape fans! Long time no see, I hope you've been doing alright. I'm back once more, after what might be my longer absence on here so far.

I owe you an apologize, and even if I won't develop very deep on my personal situation, I wanted to give you some kind of explanations. I've been leaving far from home in Japan for more than 2 years now; last year, I started to work as a 2D animator for the anime industry in Tokyo, and got through a very difficult experience. Working culture in Japan is far from the one why might have in Europe or in the rest of the world, and the anime industry makes no exception; insane working schedules, very bad working conditions, no consideration of personal life and low salary are basically considered as the norm here. Sometimes I was shamed for only working +50 weekly hours and not commiting to work for free on weekends.

As I couldn't stand the toxic environement anymore, I finally moved to the Japanese countryside where I managed to find a little animation studio that works on my favorite series of all times: Pokémon. My collegues now are all very nice peoples, I feel accepted and respected despite the very rought working conditions; But above alI can now realise my dream and work and be implied on my childhood favorite anime.

However, I get close to no money from my long 6 working days week. I hardly pay the rent, and I rely on my savings for paying bills and food. I'm happy and I'm not in immediate danger: I have been saving money in preparation for this kind of cases for years before moving to Japan; However, I want to continue to pursue my dream and know that in the long run, I cannot afford to leave a life that doesn't allow me to move more freely and meet my family even if it's only one time in two years.

That's why I'm now trying and hope to develop a little side hustle to help cover the daily life expenses while developing my skills for creation and illustration. I have little to no visibility on social medias and it's difficult, but I want to trust time and would be extremely grateful in even a few of you could consider checking my work if interested. Of course I don't exclusively draw Snape, but I'm putting all of my heart in my recent illustrations including Pokémon fanart, food illustrations and sketches on the daily life in Japan. My main tumblr is https://lucie-foselle.tumblr.com/ , I also have a IG page called "tenma_draws_pokemon".

However, I have a little treat for you Snape fans: I recently come up with the idea of making postcard and stickers with some of my Snape fanarts. I'm pretty happy with the result and would like to propose you to get them if you want to either get a little Snapey decoration, want to share your love to another Snape fan, or support me and my work!

Everything is printed, signed and stamped on demand! Note that the colors and result might therefore look slightly different than the pictures. My stamp will also appear in the 2 darker background cards, as featured in the visuals bellow.

Everything is made by me, I print in a small local shop and look for the best quality as possible for the illustrations! I can ship worldwide from Japan, and it would be made with love, care and an immense gratitude.

✨ Poscards (4 patterns available now, can be seen on this Tumblr) ✨

Price: 3$/3€/3£ /pc, worldwide shipping included! ✨ I can make little discount if several items are bought.

Size: 10x14.7 (~3.9x5.7 inches)

The little pumpkin is part of a collection I have on my main illustration Tumblr, you can check at https://lucie-foselle.tumblr.com/)

✨ Stickers (Snape crest pattern) ✨

Price: 3$/3€/3£ /pc, worlwide shipping included! ✨

Size: ~5x6cm (~2.5 inches), might add holographic effect. ✨

You can contact me via DM here or on my IG, and payement is made via Paypal. I plan to launch my kofi page soon and might consider selling other goods and take commisions in the future if I feel like it could interest some of you! 💚 I can either draw and animate, still have to sort it all for 2025! 🤗

Note that I would do my best but I'm just starting to print and ship my art, there might be a little delay in the shipment and the goods might take up to 3 weaks to reach you. Plenty of non Snape pattern are also available so if you are interested do not hesitate to check or ask, my DM are open! 🤗

Even a little like, comment or share gives a lot of support. 💚 A huge thank you to all of you who would have read until now, and would show a little bit of support! ✨ Have a good rest of your week-end, fellow Snapers. 🐍

#harry potter #severus snape #fanart #pro snape #severus snape art #harry potter fanart #my merch #snape #severus rogue #professor snape #art #drawing

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blackberryshortcake · 1 month ago

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"A Quest"

Chapter 4: Fireball Fixes Nothing.

Sebastian Michaelis x Femreader <3

Master List

Synopsis: With nothing else to turn to this demigod does what she can do best, get shitfaced.

Warnings: This fic will contain mature content such as foul language, alcohol consumption, smoking, general inappropriate behavior (MDNI 18+), mentions of blood, weapons, and death

If you are sensitive to any of the above warnings pass this one up.

It was 6 a.m. now. The sun had already begun to rise in the east, almost fully effaced beyond the horizon. Sebastian had begun the day's preparations nearly two hours ago, and the servants had already arisen to greet the day. He had spotted her running outside the manor when he arrived in the kitchen at 4 a.m., silently watching her from the shadows and the kitchen window.

She was fast, even if she wasn’t running at full speed. He observed the way her toned legs flexed when her foot planted itself on the ground. He saw the way the demon dog matched her pace evenly at her side. She looked nothing short of athletic, like a true Olympian. Sebastian knew that the master wanted to keep her around to use in his game. However, what the master had yet to see was that she was a loose cannon, she was a liability.

The gods were completely silent. Not a sound, a sign, nothing. Perhaps it was her fault. After all, she wasn’t living in the woods for no reason. Maybe this was a punishment, a personal nightmare crafted by Dionysus himself. She’d always been a bit of a nuisance to the gods. It wasn’t until everything happened with that Poseidon kid that it all boiled over.

The bottle of Fireball wasn’t going to last very long; it was already half empty, and she felt nothing. Maybe that blonde guy she saw in the kitchen might know where to find something stronger. Wine and whiskey just wouldn’t cut it.

She tiptoed silently around the manor, bare feet making gentle contact with the ground. She had her heart set on making it to the kitchen without running into anyone, especially that demon. After the first day, she had settled on treating him as just another warm-blooded, thinking creature like everyone else in the manor. That was until yesterday.

The way he reacted was out of character for him or at least the character he presented himself as. She remembered the day she got here, when she reacted purely on instinct, bringing her sword to his throat. He didn’t flinch. Hell, he didn’t even blink. But yesterday… he reacted like a caged animal.

Maybe she went too far. After all, she didn’t even have a complete understanding of what HE really was. What she did to him wasn’t even that bad… right?

Sebastian remembered it differently. To him, it was awful. He had never really been intoxicated before. Sure, he’d seen the effects alcohol and other hallucinogenic substances had on humans. He even had the power to make mortals hallucinate. But what she did to him made him feel weak.

In that split moment, he saw a glimpse of the Underworld its bleak, stony environment bathed in cool black tones and the sound of the River Styx's rushing water. Listening closely would reveal the moans and cries of those trapped along its banks, unable to enter the afterlife.

Then he saw a grand city from the highest point, bathed in gold and carved from marble. The sound of an argument could be heard behind him. The language spoken between those arguing was one he hadn’t heard in millennia.

The third and final thing he saw was a tree on the hill. The roar of a Minotaur being slain could be heard in the distance, but that wasn’t what overtook his senses. It was the smell of dew in the grass and the faint, smoky aroma of a campfire in the distance.

Why was he seeing this? How was he seeing this? He was a demon, a creature of old. One whose sole purpose was to tempt humans and consume their souls to ensure they had no right to enter God’s kingdom. Why would she do this to him? How did she do this to him? The whole situation drove him mad.

It wasn’t the power she had over him that made Sebastian feel weak. It was the fact that in those brief moments—those minuscule glimpses of chaos and locations that were mere fiction in this world, he felt mortal… human.

She had made it all the way to the servants’ ward in the basement of the manor. Her hair was wet and cold from the icy bath she had taken merely thirty minutes beforehand. Her feet made almost no sound as they made contact with the concrete below.

Her head peeked through the kitchen door and she surveyed the room before her. Sebastian was nowhere to be found—only the blond man who stood at the counter with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“You know you have to light those for them to work.”

He jumped slightly. “Hasn’t anyone told ya not to sneak up on a man with a knife?”

She pondered. “I’m pretty sure I was taught to always sneak up on the person with a knife. You announce your presence and that’s how they getcha.” She made an abstract stabbing motion in the air.

Baldroy—as she came to know him—took a second to take in her appearance. Her hair dripping wet, shoes nowhere to be found, and a nightgown Sebastian had given her that she had modified slightly to account for the summer heat. She had cut the sleeves into straps and most of the length off so it now sat at mid-thigh.

The cook blushed slightly as he rubbed the back of his head, clearly the only one in the manor truly put off by her provocativeness.

“Is there anything I can do for you, ma’am? Breakfast won’t be ready till 8.”

“Well, don’t call me ‘ma’am,’ and yeah, I need a favor.”

He narrowed his eyes at the woman. “What exactly would you need from me?”

“Have any booze by chance? Something stronger than wine.”

Baldroy widened his eyes a bit at her question. “I dunno if Sebastian would like that, seeing as you're a guest and all.”

“Well, Sebastian isn’t here. And as far as I can tell, he’s not the boss of me.”

“He is the boss of me.”

“Fair point. However, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

Baldroy sighed, clearly sensing her desperation. He jerked his head to his right.

“There’s a bottle of gin up there, but you didn’t hear it from me. Got it?”

“Got it.”

................

A soft knock on her bedroom door went completely unnoticed to the now-intoxicated demigod. The combination of gin, cinnamon whiskey and wine is made from a pitcher of water taking full effect. The sheer amount of booze in her system would have probably put a normal person in the hospital,considering the ‘bottle’ the cook gave her was nearly a entire handle. The discarded bottle now completely empty.

The knock rang out once more. For most, it was entirely unacceptable to be drunk at 8:30 a.m. in the middle of the week. However, for the daughter of the god of wine, it was a regular Tuesday.

When Sebastian received no answer, he took it upon himself to enter the room. The previous day’s events sat unwell with him. At first, the presence of the girl was entertaining, to say the least—having found her unconscious with a large black dog curled into her side. He had assumed this would bring him some form of entertainment in the long haul of this contract. However, when she beat him in a trivial arm-wrestling match, he came to learn a new emotion: worry. Or perhaps doubt.

Would this girl become an issue?

He knew all too well the young master wanted her around not only for his own amusement but rather as a pawn. Having a demigod on one’s side could prove rather useful, especially when said demigod could cause intoxication with just a look in the eyes. Against his better judgment though he found himself with a strange infatuation for her. She was a divine being but raised as though she was human. He should know better than to trust or even keep her around yet he agreed with the master she could be very useful.

And when the master finally did call upon her, he found said demigod face down in bed, empty bottles of gin and Fireball at her side, and a noticeable smell of booze and cigarettes in the room.

The demon punched the bridge of his nose, frustrated at the sight. He reached a gloved hand for her shoulder and shook it violently.

She merely groaned and turned to the other side, away from Sebastian’s hardened gaze. Odysseus seized the opportunity to jump off the bed and walk calmly out the door, most likely in search of Finnan, as the two had grown close in the past week.

“How unbecoming of you,” Sebastian sighed once more before advancing to the other side of the bed to violently yank the curtains open.

Sunlight poured into the room, causing the girl to flinch and draw the covers over her head.

“Madam, I suggest it is time you arise from your slumber.”

“Sebastian, leave me alone,” her words slurred, hardly intelligible.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a child of Dionysus.”

“Keep my dad’s name outta your mouth,” she peeked out from the comfort of her bed, merely to stare down Sebastian.

“Oh, I am quite certain your father was renowned for stumbling around Olympus drunk and rather rowdy, if I do say so myself.”

If she hadn’t been so wasted, perhaps she would have realized Sebastian was baiting her.

“Yo-you don’t know shit about mah dad.”

“Hmmm, I see. Well, I suggest you sober up. The master has requested your presence. I suppose I’ll have to inform him the meeting must be pushed back to this afternoon.”

She merely hummed, sinking back into her sheets.

Sebastian glanced at his pocket watch, then made a quiet exit. He had more pressing matter to attend to then a geeked out demigod passed out in her own slobber. He stopped in his tracks, though, just outside the door. The distinct sound of her vomiting made him grimace.

Even immortals can’t hold their liquor sometimes.

................

Here she was, just outside the door to Ciel’s study, a pair of sunglasses she had found in her bag upon her face. She was dressed in the leggings and crew neck she had awoken in. With no access to a typical hangover cure like ginger ale or advil she had to tough it out like it was the Stone Age.

Ciel was honestly baffled when she opened the door without even announcing herself. He had requested her presence nearly four hours ago, and here she was late and hungover.

Ciel scoffed as she sat in the chair across from his cluttered desk.

“I requested you hours ago, and here you are, four hours later, smelling of booze and rife with bottle-ache. Sebastian tells me he found you passed out drunk at 8 o’clock in the morning.”

She winced at the volume of his voice. This was going to be a long day.

“Can you keep it down?” she groaned as the dull ache in the back of her head took hold.

“I suppose I should not be surprised, considering your lineage,” the boy scowled.

“Oh, whatever. What do you need?”

She hardly noticed Sebastian entering the room not until he set down a cup of hot tea in front of her. She picked up the cup gently, inhaling the aroma of ginger it brought forth. The smell alone calmed her nauseated stomach.

Ciel spoke as he handed her a file. “It has been brought to my attention that, over the past week, five girls from a small village just outside London have disappeared under rather concerning circumstances.”

She took the sunglasses off her eyes and brought them to the top of her head, waiting for Ciel to continue.

“All the disappearances happened in the late hours, with little to no witnesses. In addition to that, a message was found inscribed on a stone wall nearby.” Ciel looked at her expectantly. There, in the middle of the file, was a crude reconstruction of a language she truly hadn’t expected to see.

Her heart thumped in her ears as she attempted to transcribe the text. She drew her eyes up from the paper to Ciel, then over his shoulder to Sebastian. Surely, he also knew.

Her voice caught in her throat as she attempted to speak.

“It’s Greek. No—not the kind you’ve probably seen before. It’s Mycenaean Greek, the language that would have been spoken around the time The Iliad took place,” she rambled. Her head swam with thoughts that these girls were most likely missing because of her.

“Can you translate it?” Ciel’s voice was sharp, like a knife. He knew she had some hand in this. And although Sebastian had a faint idea of what it said, he wanted to hear it from her.

“W-well, it’s hard to make out, but I can read the word Zagreus. I think this is ‘child,’” she pointed to some characters. “I’m pretty sure this is ‘sister’... and that’s ‘murder,’” she trailed off, refusing to make eye contact with the pair.

She felt like a child being interrogated in the principal’s office—perhaps for something dumb like recording a school fight.

“Who is Zagreus?”

“My father. It’s an epithet for Dionysus.”

“Do you know who did this?” Ciel’s voice was stern, clearly unhappy to be handed another supernatural case from the Queen.

“Sort of… Quite a few months back I got attacked by a group of harpies just outside of camp. I killed two, but one got away—not before digging her claws into my side.” She rubbed the now phantom wound just below where her ribs ended. “She muttered something before taking off. Ody chased her but couldn’t catch up.”

Ciel was honestly shocked how fast she had straightened up, having practically stumbled her way into the study just moments earlier.

“And you believe this harpy is responsible?” He could hardly believe that not only was she here in the first place, but she may have brought a monster with her.

“Well, I mean… a few weeks after that, there had been quite a few reports of missing girls and women around New York, but it was the rumors that threw me off, really. I had overheard a few satyrs talking about some ‘deformed-looking bird monster,’ as they put it. But hearing about this makes me think… maybe this one got her hands on some Circe-level magic and is turning girls into harpies?”

The idea alone was practically absurd. Sure, there were stories of harpies kidnapping folks and telling prophecies of death, but actually turning mortal women into monsters? That was insane let alone plausible.

She flipped more through the file. A photo of each missing girl along with a short summary of who they were was inside. But perhaps that wasn’t the worst of it.

There, in black ink, were the details of the suspicious deaths of four men from the same village. The cause of death…. blood loss due to excessive lacerations. Claw marks.

The harpy wasn’t just kidnapping girls but also mauling men.

She dragged a hand down her face.

This is fucked.

Sebastian hadn’t said a word this whole time, merely studying the demigod’s words and movements. He had now come to believe she may pose a threat to his master, his contract.

“I believe you and Sebastian will be able to handle this, do you not?”

“I mean, yeah. Harpies are low on the threat list. But this… this is a Pandora’s box. In my world, monsters and mortals do not mix—or at least, they’re not supposed to. The gods make sure of that. But the gods aren’t here. Who knows what could go wrong?”

“I see. However, there isn’t anything Sebastian can’t do, and I believe he will need your help with this one. I suggest the two of you get to work. Now leave me. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Can I take this with me?” She held up the file.

“Very well.” Ciel waved her off, already nose-deep in the stack of papers on his desk.

The door had barely shut behind her for she was choked slammed into the wall. Sebastian had his gloved hand wrapped tight around her throat. He squeezed hard before leaning in unnecessarily close to her face. She struggled regretting letting the alcohol wrap its intoxicating tendrils around her grey matter. The pounding in head was worse than before and the unwelcome smell of brimstone flooded her senses.

“So help me if this little ‘quest’ of yours places my master in harm's way I will not hesitate to gut you where you stand.” he seethed.

He released the pressure on her throat slightly allowing her to speak.

“We just have to lure them out.” She croaked wrapping her hands around his wrist.

Their eyes were at a stalemate never breaking contact.

“Yes however if one monster could get her so can others, the master's soul is mine.”

So that's what he's worried about a monster stealing Ciel's soul.

“I don't think monsters are into that sort of thing just you”

Her whole body was on fire and the sheer amount of malice leaking from him was suffocating. The way his eyes had shifted nearly lighting up the hallway with their crimson glow.

“Do you believe you can handle these creatures?”

Sebastian had never seen her in action; he wouldn't know if she could really kill one of these things let alone 6 of them. His hand had shifted from her throat to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He was exhausted, for many years he was able to avoid all the fuss of other demons and grim reapers and any other supernatural freak who dared to cross his path but in a few short years he's had more runs than he'd like to care for. And this was really just the icing on the cake: a demigod, her monster dog and now winged creatures that were mauling humans to death. The whole situation gave him a headache.

She took a moment to look at him. He was clearly depilated and desperate at this point. She didn't even know that demons could feel emotion or anything really. She just assumed that the way he acted was because of the odd Faustian deal he made with Ciel. How could she not feel for him she'd seen even the cruelest of gods crack ever so often what made him different.

Sebastian didn't really comprehend that fact that this godchild didn't know much about demons or what they were capable of, she wasn't raised in an environment that taught her to fear them and their tempting ways. He had recalled the Greeks as being rather morally grey, less heaven and hell more respect the divine and you'll be fine.

The air around them shifts from one of anger to that of understanding, or perhaps one-sided empathy. He saw the way she had been looking at him. He should feel sick or perhaps amused that an immortal being was gazing at him with a sullen gaze, yet he didn't, he couldn't. He shouldn't feel anything let alone shame for choking her less than two minutes ago.

She glazed up at him, eyes flicking down from his eyes to his lips and then back up. Surely, she wouldn't. She hated him, for the way he treated Ody to the way he was clearly taking advantage of everyone around him but why did she feel like this. Why was she feeling sympathy for him? He was very good at hiding it but she could see just beyond that face he wore around. But something in her told her that maybe he wasn't all that bad. Or maybe it was the fact he truly looked perfect, a picturesque version of a man.

He had taken note of her wandering eyes. He hated the way she was so crass and brutish most of the time but the way she warmed his very being drew him right back in. She was everything he could never be— divine. Without a second thought he surged forward meeting her half way with a kiss that wasn't as sinful as he was used to. It wasn't one made of love or lust but truly supernatural. The way she moved her lips against his was captivating. He couldn't pull away if he wanted to and neither could she. They were caught in a dance that they both new well however this time it felt different. This time it felt like he had hung the moon just for her and she gave him the sun. She was the one who had pulled back first, every bit of air stolen from her lungs.

Where the hell did that come from?

She stumbled over her words “I uu-mmm gotta go make up a plan for how were gonna catch these thing”

Smooth Y/N real smooth.

Sebastian released the death grip he had on her hip stepping back allowing her to make her less than graceful escape.

I can not believe we just did that.

................

A Quest had finally unveiled itself, yet it seems this little gods mind is elsewhere. Whatever shall she do.

Stay Tuned

................

Another chapter on the books, keep an eye out for chapter 5 soon things are really gonna start ramping up ;). Love, Shortcake <3

#fanfic #black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #ciel phantomhive #sebastian x reader #sebastian x y/n #sebastian x you #demigods #kuroshitsuji #fem reader #dyonisus #x reader #black butler sebastian x reader

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fereldanwench · 10 months ago

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A Personal, and Final, Reflection on A Certain Fandom

Having spent the past week and a half away from the Tumblr side of the C*b*rp*nk community after a resurgence of old wank (not hashing out the details–IYKYK), I heavily weighed the pros and cons of saying anything else. Ultimately, I decided for my own peace of mind and ability to fully move forward, I do want to say a few things (or a lot of things, given how long this is). This blog is my personal archive first and foremost, and I think writing a “final chapter” will help me find closure. I’m also choosing to publish this because, at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I think my mistakes and subsequent revelations might be good learning experiences for others, too.

Like many of us, just by the nature of when this game was released, I entered this fandom during a very fragile, tumultuous time in my life–Well, sort of, let me back it up a little: I actually initially entered it during a great time in my life. It was July 2021, I had just enjoyed about 6 weeks off from work after quitting a demanding job that had sucked the life out of me for almost 10 years, and I had started a promising new job. I even bought the game with the first paycheck from said new job!

Unfortunately, while I had been told that this position was temp-to-hire, not only was it not a path to a permanent role, but because I completed all the work in my contract over a month sooner than they anticipated (early September vs late October), I was being let go early because they had nothing else for me to work on. I was literally told over the phone, “You did amazing work, you got us caught up through November, but we don’t have anything else for you.”

Cue about 6 months of recruiters ghosting me, exhausting interview processes, demoralizing rejections, and scam upon scam upon scam, all culminating in me returning to the job I had been so happy to leave a year earlier. And while my old coworkers were ecstatic to have me back, I couldn’t help but feel like a complete failure. I took what I thought was a calculated risk, I thought I could do something better for myself, and I couldn’t. It’s something I’m still struggling with today, honestly.

On top of this, I also experienced a debilitating physical health episode in January 2022 which led to me being effectively bedridden for about 3 weeks. [CW: Menstruation, sexual health] I’m not sure of the exact cause–maybe a bad reaction to emergency contraception, maybe unsafe menstrual underwear, but it resulted in menorrhagia so severe I fainted from blood loss. My insurance had literally just ended, another wave of COVID was hitting, and I didn’t want to risk getting infected sitting in an ER for hours only to rack up a few thousand in debt to get a blood transfusion. So rest, iron supplements, and lots of meat and spinach and orange juice was the best I could do.

All of this led to my world becoming very small. I wasn’t working, I could barely do my hobbies or see my local friends, and simple everyday tasks like showering drained me of all my energy. When I was stuck in bed and could barely keep my eyes open for more than a few hours at a time, gossip was a welcome, low-effort distraction from the physical pain and fear that I might either have to put myself in thousands of dollars of medical debt or risk lifelong damage (or worse) from the blood loss.

I also found myself having groups of friends in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’m extremely introverted (even online, though less so than IRL), I have social anxiety, and the handful of times I have been “in” a group I was never really in it. I was always on the outskirts and usually just close to one or two people, max.

Regretfully, this set the stage for me to get caught up in the culture of rumors and speculation that permeates this fandom more than I think it has any other fandom I’ve been a part of.

Academically, I know about things like groupthink and tribalism, and I could see how those influenced the groups developing in the fandom, but I had no direct, personal experience with those phenomena. I think in conjunction with the other struggles I was dealing with, I ended up being incredibly susceptible to an us-versus-them mentality, which led me to feel justified in being unkind to people I knew had been unkind to my friends, even if deep down I knew what I was doing was antithetical to who I strive to be.

I don’t share any of this for sympathy points or to smear anyone else or to avoid accountability–I still chose to act like an ass on a couple of occasions, and regardless of what I was going through, that was still inappropriate. I’m still responsible for my own behavior no matter what’s going on.

But I do want to contextualize my fuck-ups for two reasons:

The first reason is ego-driven, full-stop. Not even gonna gloss it over. I can’t defend being an asshole nor do I want to, but I think it’s normal and healthy to look back on your mistakes and go, damn, why the hell was I acting like this?

Even on my best days, I can be very stubborn and self-important and pedantic and judgemental, and I certainly can’t say that I’ve never inadvertently offended someone–Sometimes a joke might not land as I hoped. Sometimes I get tangled up in my own thoughts, burdened by an excess of nuance and details, and I express things poorly while I try to account for all sides of things. Sometimes I can get a little too opinionated about blorbo stuff. Sometimes there might just be a full communication breakdown or an insurmountable personality clash–But I can also confidently say that I have acted with good intentions in this fandom far, far more than I have with spite or because of petty rivalries.

And when I did get caught up in the drama and gossip and the wank? I was literally at the lowest point I’d been in a very, very long time.

Again, because I feel like I can’t say this enough, that doesn’t make acting like a dick in a Discord server any more excusable, that doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt anyone, and that doesn’t mean that someone I hurt during that time has to forgive me or stick around for me to grow. Hurting someone because you’re hurting is still not okay. But I’m pretty sure every single one of us has had a bad day (or two or three or 365 or–) and made an isolated bad decision (or two or three or–) because of it–None of us deserve to be wholly defined by those moments or denied a chance to learn from those mistakes and be better.

And I think the most important takeaway for me personally is that I have learned from these mistakes and I have not repeated them. Some of these mistakes even helped me realize that I needed professional support for my mental health, and they played a role in my seeking medication and therapy last year. I still have a lot of work to do, but the silver lining to all of this is that I am in a much better place today than I was 2 years ago (even if this year also fucking sucks for non-fandom reasons and I would still very much like a goddamn break.)

The other reason I wanted to share my journey of navel-gazing and healing a wounded ego ~*self-discovery*~ is I think there’s a very good chance my story might sound familiar to others in the fandom. Maybe someone else can learn from my hardships and mistakes, too. Maybe you too were dealing with chronic fatigue or mental health issues or financial stress or isolation or all of the above and then some, and it led you to fixate on things that were harmful to you, to form unhealthy relationships with equally hurt people, and to act in a way that you know doesn't reflect who you are. The past several years have been so hard on so many of us, and I think we’ve all brought a lot of pain and misery into the community even if we weren’t trying to.

A somewhat shameful realization I had last year was I could recognize that kind of behavior in other people, but I completely missed it in myself. I could see how people were making this fandom their whole world and how it was so damaging to them, but I was doing the exact same thing and I just let it go completely unchecked because I thought I knew better. It was a brutal lesson in the pitfalls of pride.

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So I was initially thinking at this point, I would take the time to address a few specific lies, rumors, and insinuations that have been said about me over the past couple of years. Because while I was a jerk in a couple of situations, most of the things said about me are exaggerations, if not outright fabrications.

And I did start writing a lot of that out, but as I was doing it, I was just overcome with a huge feeling of OH MY GOD I just don’t fucking care anymore. As one of my dear, long-time fandom friends has pointed out, there’s a great line about just this kind of thing from one of my favorite characters in one of my favorite games: “Why should it [bother me]? They don’t know me. I know me.”

I also really don’t want to run the risk of pulling anyone back into the fray (especially if they’re not even in the fandom anymore or if we’ve talked privately about certain issues) by even alluding to shit that happened years ago.

Instead, I would like to offer three of my big takeaways from the experience of being falsely accused of awful things:

You do not know nearly as much as you think you know about people’s fandom relationships. The one semi-specific thing I will mention is that I had been explicitly named a few times as being in cahoots with people I don’t think I ever even spoke to or that I had already drifted away from–Just because you saw two people existing in the same public space doesn’t mean they’re besties, bestie. Also, friends don’t always have to agree with each other, nor should we be expected to participate in a public spectacle of shaming if we do have a disagreement. People are allowed to resolve their differences privately.

Not all conflicts/disagreements are inherently abusive or toxic. When you are hurting or dealing with unresolved trauma or starting to confront uncomfortable truths about yourself, the slightest disagreement can feel like a personal attack, but that doesn’t mean it is. Sometimes differences might be irreconcilable, but sometimes they might not be if you don’t automatically assume the worst of someone with a different perspective than you. Sometimes we just need to give the other person a little grace and the benefit of the doubt that they’re doing their best. And sometimes we might need to consider that it’s actually our own behavior driving the conflict and not the other person.

Even in situations when someone has clearly been unfairly targeted/victimized, that doesn’t mean they can’t also be a perpetrator of harassment/abuse to someone else. Victim and abuser are not mutually exclusive roles. I would wager a lot of us are familiar with the cyclical nature of abuse, and to quote a line from one of my favorite movies (admittedly a bit of a flippant line in the context of the film, but it still rings true): hurt people hurt people. Accountability for shitty behavior is never conditional, regardless of the pain we’re experiencing.

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I titled this my final reflection, and I want to clarify what that means:

First of all, I’m not leaving this fandom (don’t everyone clap at once ha ha ha). I’ve been in various online fandoms since the early 00s, and while this has been one of the more challenging communities for me to navigate, it’s not enough to make me give up something I love this much. My blorbos are my perpetual muses, and I feel like virtual photography is the creative outlet I’ve been searching for my entire life. I love this game and hobby too much to stop creating and sharing.

I’m also not leaving Tumblr. While I’ve had this specific account since 2016, I’ve been here since 2010–Tumblr is not just this fandom for me. I have many friends (some I’ve known since my original account in 2010!) from other fandoms, and I’m not losing the best place to hang out with other people who are special to me just because one fandom got a little unpleasant. (I mean, look, I weathered the DA fandom here circa 2012-2015–This ain’t my first rodeo.) I also have a lot of hope for the Tumblr Communities feature, and I’m really hoping the VP community we’ve set up can continue to grow and flourish.

But I am no longer addressing any of this wank. If you have a problem with something I’ve done or said to you and you want to address it with me directly (preferably in a private space just so we don’t keep putting this shit on people’s dashboards), I am open to conversation and apologizing where needed.

Otherwise, this is the last time I’m talking about it anywhere. Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, publicly, privately–I’m done. I’m washing my hands of it. I don’t want to hear anything else about what other people have done or who they’re friends with or who they’re following or what they’re saying about me or my friends or any of it. This bullshit has taken up too much of my time and energy, and I have very important smutty shots to take.

And I am probably going to continue to be less active in the fandom on Tumblr, at least for a while. You probably won’t see me here much until September at the earliest. This time away has been really good for me, and I think I need to continue with limited Tumblring and making the time I am here more structured. Plus, with some of my other fave video game series returning this fall, my blog will probably shift back to a more well-balanced multi-fandom space.

I’m also going to need to diversify my dash a little bit more, which means I will likely end up unfollowing some mutuals, particularly if we don’t interact often, if you don’t tag, or if I see any mention of fandom drama–It’s nothing personal, but I know breaking mutualship can hurt a little, so if following me after that makes you uncomfortable in any way, please don’t feel like you have to stick around. I totally get it. Similarly, if it would make you uncomfortable for me to continue to interact with your posts after unfollowing (because I probably will if you post in certain tags), please feel free to block me.

Okay. Christ, that was long. Shut the fuck up already, right? This is why I can't do social media with character limits. ghdfjgjhkfdgkfdg

Seriously, though, that's it. People are welcome to comment on this post if they want, but I really have nothing else to say about any of this so please don’t be offended if I don’t reply. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just… Well, done.

#btw in case youre wondering why i censored the name--im trying to minimize this clogging up the main tags/searches #t: wench on fandom

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roachsideblog · 8 months ago

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GORETOBER DAY 7: INSOMNIA

Hiiiiii I'm back with another drabble <3 I'll probably post these on Ao3 once I write them all. If you're wondering where day 6 is, it's on my nsft alt @sideroachblog here (no minors or I'll put razorblades in the halloween candy i hand out this year)

Thanks to @nonsenseafterdark for writing the prompt list <3

Words: 364

TWs: forced drug use, LSD, torture, panic attacks, bad trips

Summary: Makarov has fantastic method for sleep deprivation. No ships/romantic pairings.

~~~

“Can’t sleep, Sanderson?” Makarov asked.

The enemy sergeant sat chained in the corner of a prison cell, hugging his knees like a child hiding from the boogeyman. Considering the amount of LSD they pumped him with, it isn’t unlikely that that’s what the man thought was going on. Makarov zoomed the outdated camcorder in on his petrified expression and laughed. Sweat and tears poured down his cheeks as he whispered, ‘no, no. Please. Please, no. Please,’ on repeat.

Lysergic acid diethylamide. A psychoactive drug that intensifies one’s senses and thoughts. At high enough doses, auditory and visual hallucinations occur. Each time Makarov forced a tab in Sanderson’s mouth it caused another eight-hour trip at the very least. Was it possible to enjoy the high? Maybe. But the fate of a trip hinged on one's mental state, and the sergeant was already run ragged from previous torture. He was dehydrated. Hungry. Beaten. Lonely after a week of solitary confinement.

Makarov didn’t want to kill him, but was far from done playing with his toys. Luckily, LSD is relatively physically safe. It’s damage lies in psychosis. However, Makarov’s favorite side effect, was the insomnia. LSD didn’t afflict all his prisoners with an inability to sleep, but it had Sanderson in a chokehold.

The poor thing shook like an animal, sweated like a pig until his hair was soaked, sucked in shallow breaths at a rapid pace. His pupils dilated and his eyes were open as far as they could go despite obvious exhaustion. Makarov could practically hear his heart beating out of his chest. This was Sanderson’s third dose in a row; nearing fifty hours awake in total (yes, the upper end of a trip length nears twenty hours). Makarov would be kind and give him a break after he came down from this trip. Eat, drink, and sleep in order to do it all again the next day. If only it didn’t build a tolerance so quickly and Makarov could keep this type of torture running long-term.

He couldn’t wait to get this video to that bastard MacTavish. To show what became of his pet project. If only Makarov could see in Roach’s head and record what horrors put him in such a state—he’d be the happiest man alive.

#gary roach sanderson #mw2 roach #vladimir makarov #tinyduckies goretober 2024

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

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Word quantity: high. Word quality: low. You have been warned.

Goo Kim x Reader: School Days with Princess & the Delinquent

Chapter 8 - Please read chapter 1 first!

Tiptoeing around anything doesn’t come naturally to Goo, not when he doesn’t need to, and definitely not when there’s no cash incentive.

He likes to stomp in, loud and sure-footed with a dramatic flourish.

So then, the near misses, the yearning and longing gazes are killing him.

He understands himself enough to know that if he didn’t leave soon, if he stayed any longer, if he took anymore of you which you would happily give, he would never be able to go.

Goo tries to withdraw, to add a little distance and to keep his hands to himself.

You become the one chasing after him without even realising. Previously, he had never been self conscious in seeking you out, and you subconsciously followed his lead and followed him.

On the rooftop alone, Goo sits and stares until you join him, taking his silence for melancholy.

He should pull away but instead leans in, pressing his shoulder against yours until the heat from your body sears him.

Unpleasantness surfaces with harsh words, becoming every bit the juvenile he’s known for and spitting venom at you.

You flinch at his malice, knowing this Goo Kim only by reputation rather than experience and storm off.

Good, he thinks, a bare-faced lie. Good riddance.

Is it that everyone is born with a conscience? Maybe Goo had one when he was younger before he learned to silence it.

Hasn’t heard from it in years. Not when he uses unscrupulous methods to get rich, not when he beats someone that looks at him the wrong way to within an inch of their life.

Due to you, today it rears its ugly head after lying dormant. Screaming at him, ear-splitting and shrill until all he feels is regret.

Tail between his legs and not even an hour later, Goo looks for you.

He doesn’t apologise, but you recognise the remorse at his outburst from the way he touches his glasses, the slump in his form, the contrite look in his eyes and forgive him anyway.

“Princess,” Goo purrs, giving you a dashing smile when you throw him a furious look instead of teary eyes. When you stay instead of running away.

So much for that then.

Like a joke, Goo also starts reaping karma for all his past wrong-doings.

He cannot miss the way your eyes drop to look at his lips, your tongue darting out and wetting your own as he talks.

Notices how when he leans close, murmuring something to your ear, your skin prickles with goosebumps at his proximity.

The way you gulp as he stretches, shirt lifting and revealing a sliver of inviting skin, is impossibly loud. And when the blush creeps from your collar up to your hairline, your ears burning crimson, it has him crawling out of his skin from how much he wants you.

Goo Kim has a terrible effect on you. You make no secret of it.

It’s a very cruel and terribly timed joke.

He’s not sure how much longer he can hold out. If he has any restraint left so the words won’t just gurgle up and slip out, shouting and declaring how much he likes you.

You’re the flame and to his moth, and he thinks maybe it’s not so bad to burn.

To make matters worse, because truly things do come in threes, you become ever brazen with him.

Emboldened by the months of having Goo Kim being at your side, his shamelessness rubbing off on you and dirtying your previous squeaky-clean disposition.

Hands squeezing his waist as a way of greeting. Or ruffling his hair, fingers running through his blonde tresses when the urge takes you.

Turning the tables, whispering into his ear, sharing inside jokes, hot breath ghosting his skin as he tries not to pant.

Lecherous grins as innuendos and entendres that are so Goo spills from your lips and he also tries not to imagine you in compromising positions.

You tell him he looks good, casual niceties and compliments that you have learned from him, and his brain stutters.

Goo really has made a rod for his own back.

Worst of all, Goo notices, is the way you wait for one another.

A familiarity of routine that comes from lives being intertwined and always wanting to be in each other's company.

The few classes you’re not in together, you can always find one or the other lurking outside in the corridor.

Waiting to spend more time together. Waiting to spend lunches together.

Either in empty rooms, libraries or in the cafeteria as you both laugh, you still somewhat demurely and Goo like a hyena, ignoring everyone else giving you nervous looks.

You never really know what Goo gets up to after school, but he still accompanies you when he can. You wait for him to walk you home from extracurricular clubs or in the evening from your job.

If his schedule doesn’t allow it then Goo is the one waiting. On the other side of the phone, he waits to hear from you.

Trouble finally arrives.

There’s nothing special about the day. An ordinary Thursday sitting in classes together. Almost the weekend.

There’s nothing special about the trouble either. It doesn’t announce itself with a bang. It’s a special kind of trouble that has been years in the making, seeping into everything it touches. Of yours and Goo’s life path diverging for good.

Goo receives a text. He should be elated, instead finding he needs to school his face to hold back a frown.

Oh well. What’s done is done.

Hand in pockets, whistling, he leaves the classroom, not caring about the class he’s disrupting or the teacher's lecture on a Physics theorem.

(But he doesn’t look in your direction. He can’t.)

No-one bats an eyelid. Typical Goo shenanigans.

Yet he doesn’t return 10 minutes later. He doesn’t return for your next period. You don’t see him for the rest of the day.

Or for the next week. Or the next month.

Taking a page out of his own playbook, you bombard him with calls and messages. Double-texting, triple, whatever to get a response.

Initially, he leaves you on read, and your calls ring out.

Eventually, the number is not in service.

You keep trying and keep hearing the same automated voice.

In your desperation, you ask around for anyone that knows where he lives.

They don't. He's been a stranger to everyone but you.

#uhhhhh #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #school days with princess and the delinquent #wannaeatramyeon

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despair-inc · 5 months ago

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Thinking about every movie I saw in theaters (or remember watching in theaters, anyways) in 2024. Kind of a ranked list but the criteria is how much I liked it.

1: The Substance. The unchallenged lead for both "best movie I saw all year" and "favorite movie of the year". The beautifully grotesque child of New French Extremity and USAmerican style Elevated Horror, it has the best performances of the year, oodles of extremely impactful and pointed imagery, and amazing special effects. Just amazing stuff all around.

2: The Wild Robot. Undisputed champion of "best family movie of 2024”, it has beautiful visuals and makes quite a lot out of its simple and heartfelt story about family and community. Can't judge the original dub's performances because in Mexico it was only released in theaters dubbed into Lat Am Spanish, but hats off to the dub cast, they were killing it the entire film.

3: Robot Dreams. Technically a 2023 release, but in Mexico it played in early 2024, so it goes on the list. Amazingly heartfelt and melancholic, I was bawling on the theater. Once again, also just beautiful to look at, an amazing work of animation that functions entirely without dialogue.

4: Inside Out 2. I will always be biased in favor of Pixar because, like most people on this website, I grew up watching their movies, and those movies from 2010 and before are all universally good. That being said, after the stumbled releases of Lightyear and Elemental, this was a surprise by being actually pretty good. That being said, it's held back by having a plot that's basically a retread of the first movie (Riley experiences a stressful life situation and emotions that shouldn't be solely in charge of her mental state take over and fuck shit up), so overall it's a bit weak on that regard. Still, very solid and fun movie, and if The Wild Robot hadn't come out in the same year, it would be the strongest family release of a major USAmerican studio of the year. Possibly the best non-Toy Story sequel Pixar has made.

5: Wicked. It was pretty nice to have a live action musical film that was overall well made and performed and that people actually went to see, unlike shit like Cats or Dear Evan Hansen, or Spielberg's West Side Story which was actually good but no one went to see. People on here have ragged on the lighting and it is kinda bad in some scenes, but when actually watching it, I didn't really notice it, because the rest of the stuff was very compelling. Here's hoping that Part 2 lives up to the hype.

6: Dune 2. Not much to say about this one because I went to see it first thing in the morning after only sleeping like three hours, so I'm pretty sure I slept through like a quarter of the film. The stuff that I do remember was pretty good though, like that one fight scene in Black and White. I need to rewatch this one to give it a fair shot.

7: Deadpool & Wolverine. I'm like 90% sure that this was the only major USAmerican Superhero movie released in 2024, but it still probably would've been the best superhero movie of the year if others had released. I'm kinda hoping that they keep this movie as the final Deadpool movie because while it is pretty good at what it does, the shtick is too worn out. Like, where can Deadpool 4 go? It's not gonna happen, cause DP sells well and Reynolds has developed an allergy to appearing in movies that are creative, but dreaming is free.

8: In A Violent Nature. This is the movie that surprised me the most this year, even if I was already aware of the concept of "a slasher film from the killer's POV". The very sensate and deliberate aesthetics of having no non-diegetic music and constant scenes of our killer walking in the woods seem boring on paper but work very well when you're actually watching it, and when it goes for more traditional slasher film aesthetics, like the kill scenes, it does them exceptionally well. And the extremely tense monologue scene at the end is an amazing finale to cap things off. That being said, it can get pretty slow and I think that the concept only really works for one movie. I read that they're gonna make a second one, and I really hope that they think of a different aesthetic style for it because reusing this one will probably turn part 2 into a slog.

9: Next Goal Wins. First movie I saw this year, and it is thoroughly unremarkable and forgettable. Pretty standard white savior sports story where the main white guy learns to loosen up while the Samoans get good enough at actual football to reach their meager goal of scoring at least one goal in the climactic big game. It had some laughs, and it is the only movie I saw in theaters with an openly transgender character in it, but it's really nothing special or noteworthy. Hell, the most memorable thing about it for me is that the guy who sat in front of me when I watched it spent the whole movie playing games on his phone and blasting my eyes with its light. I wonder if Waititi will make movies worth watching again, or if he's gonna be pegged as peaking with Jojo Rabbit and then falling off.

10: We Live In Time. This movie was surprisingly good. I went to see it on a whim because I had to go pick up some stuff and there was a promo on the ticket prices at the time (30 MXN ticket at Cinemex Fashion Drive, it's a steal even if they recover the money with the popcorn), and I rather enjoyed the non linear structure and the very good performances. Honestly, it just gets a low spot because I've never been into pure romance films so it's a bit unmemorable for me, I ain't gonna watch it a second time.

11: Venom The Last Dance. I guess I didn't count it as a major USAmerican Superhero Movie because Sony's "Spider-Man minus Spider-Man Movie Universe" never felt like major releases, and the Venom movies, regardless of how much I have enjoyed them, are a bit like the cheap knockoff of Deadpool. And just like DP, the third entry is the weakest of the series. Unlike DP, at least we know that they're not gonna milk the series dry because in between the Symbiote dying at the end and the failure of Kraven the Hunter, I'm pretty sure that Sony is just gonna give up. The movie itself is a kinda subpar action film, and while it got me a few laughs and it has a few standout scenes, like Venom dancing with Mrs Chen or Otto Hightower's UFO Conspiracy Theorist family, it's nothing remarkable. It has a very "Movie that plays on Canal Cinco on a sunday morning" vibe.

12: Joker Folie A Deux. I don't need to tell everyone that this movie is bad. It flopped and everyone hated it. I'm actually in the camp that this movie is a bit better than its reputation makes it out to be. If nothing else, I'm giving Todd Phillips props for trying to make a movie that spits on the face of the misaimed fandom of the first one, even if he thoroughly fucked it up. Still, the attempts at making a diegetic jukebox musical fall completely flat, and the performances of Gaga and Phoenix can't save the script like Phoenix did on the first one. I can only recommend checking this one out via the magic of online piracy, it ain't worth money.

13: The Apprentice. This is the movie I hated the most out of all the movies I saw this year, mostly because the things I heard about it made it sound a lot better than it was. It's a political movie that, ultimately, only has the message that Donald Trump is Bad with very little examination of the systemic issues that made him rise to the position he rose to. It is overwrought, the performances can't save the script and it honestly wouldn't have been in theaters if it wasn't an election year. Worst movie I saw in 2024, not even worth pirating.

#movies #movie review #the substance #the wild robot #robot dreams #joker folie a deux #dc joker #venom the last dance #the apprentice #we live in time #dune movie #wicked #inside out 2 #deadpool and wolverine #next goal wins #taika waititi #in a violent nature #honestly the autistic guy really put the two movies about robots and animals bonding on his top three

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