#but fuck there is so many shitty people in the spotlight

[ellieslittlewh0re]

ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

-

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

-

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

-

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

-

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly. 

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 18)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,762

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Masterlist]

Notes: I'm sobbing btw.

_________________________________________

The exhibition is in full swing.

There had been a speech from Thesan, gushing over how long he’s wanted to host a showing for Azriel, and then he had to give one himself. Azriel kept it punctual and short and so like himself that you couldn’t help but smile.

The conversation is loud and people seem to be enjoying themselves, couples admiring the strokes of charcoal streaked across canvas, the picturesque drawings he’s made come to life. They are so realistic that they look like black and white photographs. You can see the way that his art resonates with people, allowing your eyes to wander after you pass over a short greeting to someone that wants to speak with Azriel.

A few times has he looked at you and caught you staring at the centerpiece of his exhibition, your intense gaze watching with a predatory glint as if protective over the artwork. He can easily tell that it is your favorite, and he finds himself itching to know why you seem so drawn to it, watching the patrons at the party ogle and comment, watching their reactions.

He notices, too, how you haven’t left his side all night, as if you somehow know that he needs the familiarity around this many strangers, who he’s allowed to come to his exhibition, judging not only his art, but him, and his hands.

Azriel doesn’t have to ask you, the brush of the skirt of your dress against his leg or the whisper of your arm against his is more than enough, even if his fingers twitch to reach out to cling tightly to yours. He keeps a firm hold on his full glass of champagne, not a single drop gone. It’s the same one he hands to you when you’ve downed yours during your glaring contest with the guest currently standing a little too close to his art for your liking.

Azriel doesn’t like feeling so exposed like this. It’s another thing that he and his therapist have talked about often, his need to open up more, to allow the uncomfortable to become comfortable.

He can’t hide in his room forever.

The night is slowly winding down, which is perfect because he’s exhausted from playing host. Tired of fake-smiling and laughing at shitty jokes, tired of people staring at his hands, staring at you, all pretty in your dress. He wants to kick everyone out and then kick himself for missing your reaction to every picture he hung in this gallery, if the response he’d gleaned from you over his centerpiece was as exquisite as you.

He’s never shown off something so private before, and to strangers nonetheless. Technically, he could consider you a stranger, too, because he knows next to nothing about you, but you’re more of a comfort in this sea of people than not.

He feels like a circus animal here, so vulnerable with the spotlight on him. People see him as a strong, confident, brooding man most of the time, not to be fucked with, but it’s not who he used to be, not before the accident. There was a time where he smiled more, was more extroverted, when he and Cassian and Rhys would wreak havoc across the university grounds, spraypaint buildings and party to their hearts content, but ever since that fucking night when his world changed, he hasn’t been the same.

He hasn’t been that boy in a long time.

He peeks at you again, because the man before him is talking numbers for one of his pieces and it doesn’t sound remotely close to what it is worth to Azriel. His heart stutters in his chest at your beauty, those feline eyes watching the room as if daring someone to try something, say something.

He can’t look away from you and you can’t look away from the artwork, completely entranced by the two hands, the two sides of him, split and unsure he’ll ever really be whole again. This entire exhibition is about it, about new beginnings, letting go of the old and trying to accept the new. How hard he has had to work to build up to this point in his life again.

And maybe someday he’ll share it with his roommates, his best friends, but for now, Azriel is more than content to only share this moment with you.

The longer you look away from him the more nervous he becomes, because he wants to talk to you, wants to figure out the unknown draw that itches his body when you’re around. He wants to be able to see this through your eyes, hear your thoughts on each piece even if it takes all fucking night, he won’t sleep anyway.

“Sure,” he responds lamely to the man in front of him. Some sort of art connoisseur, he claimed. Said that he could see the next big thing before it happened, and that Azriel was going to shoot up the ladder fast, and that he had to have one of his pieces. Too bad he doesn’t know that Azriel doesn’t want charcoal to be first priority, tattooing is. “Let Thesan know I accept.”

He doesn’t shake the man's hand, doesn’t shake anyone’s hand, but he places it on your lower back and there are those stunning eyes, pinned on him as electricity zips up your exposed spine. Those eyes make him a weaker man, even more so when he hardly had any use of his hands at all. Those eyes can tear him down with one glance, break his walls too quickly, so quickly that his only defense against them is to pretend he doesn’t want anything to do with you at all. To piss you off and annoy you so you can’t see what he truly wants.

He answers your questioning look with a nod of his head. He needs to offer his thanks for those attending, even more so for the ones that purchased pieces, and after that, the gallery will close and the night will come to an end.

Neither you nor Azriel want it to, but neither of you will speak it. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I’m sorry, you know,” he says after the gallery empties out and it’s just the two of you.

Even Thesan is gone now, allowing Azriel to lock up after he had requested a few final hours with the artwork he has created before it’s all packaged up and shipped out after the exhibition ends in four weeks.

You’re both sat against the wall opposite the centerpiece, staring at it, half a bottle of champagne in. You’d kicked your shoes off as soon as the last person had left the building, feet screaming in pleasure as you got off of them for a bit. 

You’ve let your hair down from its style too, complaining about the pins holding it tight to your head. You’re a few more glasses of champagne in than Azriel, having needed the liquid courage to both numb your feet and keep you from overthinking most of the night, but now, alone with Azriel, you feel more relaxed, slumping against the wall.

You blink up at him. His eyes are a little hazy from the drink but he’s staring down at you, gold eyes honest and raw. 

“You’re sorry?” you question in disbelief and he nods. You huff, nearly knocking over your glass of champagne sitting on the floor next to you when you throw your hands out, gesturing to the room. “I’m finally getting the apology that I deserve and there’s no one here to witness it?!”

A smile cracks his lips and your breath hitches slightly. You didn’t realize how close he was sitting to you, shoulders brushing with each breath. Your cheeks burn and you hope that for once the alcohol has done its job and they were already the color of an apple. You turn back to the picture before you, trying not to focus on the rapid beating of your heart, his gaze on your face and his breath dancing across your cheek.

“I was an asshole that night,” he sighs, tipping his head back against the wall. He drains his glass in long sips, throat bobbing with each swallow. If you look at it, you might take a bite.

“Yeah,” you giggle, because how can you not when you feel on top of the world. You’ve just gotten an apology out of the Azriel Teller. You could scream it from the rooftops. You would if your feet weren’t aching so badly. “You were.”

“Would you care to know why I was such a dick that night?” he asks so quietly you almost don’t hear it. The smile fades from your face and he’s already looking at you again, something like remorse and nervousness swimming in those gold pools. 

You swallow hard. 

Azriel wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants.

“If you want to,” you answer, just as softly. You hadn’t been expecting this out of the night, especially not this, sitting in an art gallery with the one person who has made it their mission to annoy the fuck out of you from the start of the year.

You hadn’t been expecting to enjoy his company so much, either.

Azriel knows that he doesn’t need to do this. He doesn’t need to explain anything to you, but after tonight, he wants to. He wants to tell you everything, about the parking, his failed internships, the strained relationship he has with his father, his hands.

You look like you’re more than willing to listen to him, this time.

Azriel says fuck it, forgetting his empty glass in favor of bringing the champagne bottle to his lips for a deep swig. His tongue darts out to swipe a droplet from his pink lips and you lean forward without realizing it, nearly flinching back when he grimaces at the taste.

“You don’t really drink much, do you, Azriel?” you ask, and the sound of his name rolling off your tongue like that—all silky and smooth—has him shuddering. 

He wants to hear you say it again.

He shrugs instead, letting out a sad chuckle that makes your heart ache. He picks at the corner of the label with his nail, suddenly shy when moments ago he’d been ready to share this with you.

Azriel takes a deep breath, and answers. “I don’t drink that often anymore,” his voice sounds hoarse, like he’s been screaming for the past three hours straight. “It makes my hands shake more.”

He can feel the way you’re looking at them now, feel it as hot as the fires that had fried the nerve endings in them. 

Slowly, gently, but with all of the intention that you have, you pry his hand from the bottle, and intertwine your fingers with his.

He doesn’t flinch at the contact, but the action makes his heart stop. He can’t breathe as he stares down at your interlocked fingers. Your hand is soft against his, so dainty and perfectly sized against his that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he no longer knows how to speak. 

“Then don’t drink,” you say, trying to take the bottle from his other hand with your free one. He refuses to let go, bringing it back up to his mouth for another sip.

“I need the confidence right now,” he mutters, still staring at your locked fingers. “But when I don’t,” he exhales harshly, throat tight. “It feels like my hands aren’t even connected to my fucking brain. Which is kind of why I was such an ass the day we met.” He sees the questioning look on your face and explains. “Not because I was drinking, but because of my hands. I was at an interview for an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor and they said that my lines were too shaky. They turned me down, and it had been the third opportunity I didn’t get because of this fucking mess.”

Azriel’s chest heaves and he glares down at his marred fingers. Anger burns his chest. He shouldn’t even be touching you, not with the disgusting flesh stretched back over his muscle and bones.

He tries to untangle his fingers from yours but you hold firm, consoling him. “Hey, Azriel, stop it.”

“You don’t get it, (Y/N),” he’s frustrated, you know. “All I wanted to do is become a tattoo artist and now my dream is completely fucked because of my step-brothers,” he spits, and your shocked gasp and wide eyes have the story spilling from his lips. He holds so tightly to your hand that it almost hurts, but he needs this and you won’t let go. “That’s right, my own step-brothers poured gasoline all over my hands in my father’s garage because they found out I was lying about being a business student like he so desperately wanted me to be.” His voice is thick, wet, and tears well in your eyes. You bite your lip to hold in your sob, but Azriel can’t even look at you right now. “They fucking lit me up like the fucking fourth of july, and now i can hardly hold a tattoo gun for a long period of time, let alone draw a goddamn straight line.”

Oh my Gods. Tears spill over because this is the worst thing you think you’ve ever heard in your life. Your stomach roils, and the champagne might make a reappearance. How could anybody, let alone his family, do something like this? It’s utterly fucking evil, and vile and…and…you can’t even think of another word to describe what Azriel has gone through. 

The centerpiece of his exhibition suddenly makes sense. On the left, his hand before the accident, unmarked and perfect. On the right, how his hand is now, shaky and destroyed.

You don’t know what to do, what to say. Your tongue won’t form a single word because your brain can’t form any. You’re in complete and utter shock at his revelation. You can’t stop the ringing of his words in your head. Azriel is shaking like a leaf, his grip tight around your hand. His breathing is harsh, loud in the otherwise silence of the gallery, eyes squeezed tightly shut as if trying to block out the memories.

Azriel’s voice is tight, a low grind when he speaks again. “Those drawings,” he gestures vaguely towards the door. You try to blink your tears away, but each droplet that falls is replaced by two more. You don’t need to look, though, you remember his art perfectly. “I drew those ones as soon as I could pick up a piece of chalk after the incident. Hurt like fucking hell,” his chuckle is wet, false, “and even more so to clean the powder from my hands. It helped to wear gloves, but when they were still healing the tightness felt like I was being burned all over again.”

He doesn’t have any trouble with them now, often preferring to wear the latex to cover the devastating scars he will have to live with for the rest of his life.

“Azriel,” you croak, but he shakes his head and you go quiet. He’s not quite done yet.

“This exhibition is about new beginnings,” he explains, finally cracking those golden eyes open. They drag over every single piece of work that he’s created. The despair, anger, agony, slowly turning into something steadier, stronger, and happier. He’s not completely there yet, but he’s hoping that someday he can look down at his hands and be proud of what he’s accomplished.

He untangles his fingers from yours and pushes to his feet before helping you up. You stand, hand in hand once again, but instead of looking at the art on the walls, you’re looking at him. His life, on display for all to judge. Azriel might not be able to see it, but you think he’s the strongest person you know. He’s overcome these obstacles, and keeps working towards that goal daily. You are in awe of him.

Finally, his gaze slides to yours and the rawness in them is your undoing. It’s fitting, you think, that his exhibition is about new beginnings, and this feels so much like one. There isn’t anything to hold against him. He’s apologized, done much more than that. He’s let you in on something that not many people know about him. He’s trusted you with his past.

Which is what makes you breathe out a hasty, “I’m sorry too,” and pull Azriel in for a kiss.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist P.1: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19 @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83

[partycatty]

dark star!johnny cage > against the world

what it's like dating the evil version of hollywood's golden boy. it's not all fun and games, even if that's how he sees it

warnings: lowkey abusive relationship like just straight up. yandere. lil smutty but nothing horrifically graphic.

notes: listened to "wrap me in plastic" and "watch me work" while writing LMFAO also please god the coat stays ON ‼️‼️‼️‼️ hes so scrummy i need him biblically

masterlist <3

part 2* / part 3* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•first of all, dark star!johnny is so incredibly emotionally immature. he's a whiny bastard fr. hell hath no fury like a white man that's in the wrong during an argument with his girlfriend

•"baaaabe what's wrong?? it was just a joke!" after he says you're a 6/10 compared to a model on his phone. ZERO awareness.

•WALL PUNCHER. IM JUST BEING HONEST. your beautiful pale pink walls have so many shoulder-height white patches from you having to fix the wall every time his water has an inadequate amount of cucumber slices.

•he's got the same upbringing as the better johnny, shitty dad and dead mom. he just never really knew how to cope with it. equally as famous as his counterpart, he prefers throwing punches in action flicks. he's just somehow more of a dick about it.

•pampered to holy hell between shots, all relaxed in his chair with his name embroidered on it while one woman tends to his makeup, another to his hair, a third feeding him water. it's how he wants it to be, he needs to be perfect. he is perfect.

•spends like two hours getting ready, most of the time is spent on his hair. you tell him it'd be more efficient to trim it down a couple inches but he likes the way it flops over. you also like the way it falls in front of his face during his stunts. he's just so effortlessly sexy.

•uses his height and physique to his advantage. he loves backing you into corners and looming above you menacingly to watch you squirm, flustered. his large sunglasses reflect your pathetic little face.

•now with you, he loves to show you off, but not enough for you to steal the spotlight. you're his favorite little accessory that hangs off his arm. he chooses your outfits when you make public appearances. INSISTS on matching all the time. misty blue dress with gold jewelry to match his obnoxiously large coat.

•the good johnny plays things up for the camera and saves the sweetness for behind closed doors. dark star!johnny doesn't know when to turn off "camera mode." bro will not be sweet with you unless it gets him brownie points after he fucks up.

•he's so unfair. women fawn over him constantly and he smiles all smugly and leans into their touches. but if a man so much as looks at you for more than a couple seconds, he's beating the guy in moments.

•hates it when you find joy in other people. he will constantly fill you with thoughts that everyone will leave you one day for one reason or another, and that you should feel lucky that a world famous actor wants you.

•will make you turn against people you hold dear, he cuts them out of your life so they can't influence you like he does. this man is a smooth talker and hardcore manipulator that'll leave you anxious when you talk to anyone but him. he has you thinking everyone's out to get you.

•"come on baby, you really think they'd love you like i do? don't be delusional. it's just you and me against the world, you got it?"

•you guys have had so many public scandals, you're the main source of income for the TMZ employees.

•sex tape here, public screaming match there

•speaking of which this dude FUCKS. HARD. :3

•johnny will literally pound you into oblivion whenever he pleases. he prefers doggystyle so he can use your hair as leverage. sometimes he reaches forward and holds your jaw, chest pressed against your back as he mercilessly fucks you. he totally gets himself off on your pathetic moans.

•records it every time. partially to jerk off to later, partially as leverage against you.

•"you like that?" he'll ask in that low growl, somehow hitting even deeper. "nobody can fuck you like i do. so don't even fucking think about leaving - ngh -"

•after an argument, you'll find gorgeous purses or necklaces on your shared vanity. not because he's sorry, but because he knows you'll forget about how annoying he can be when he shells out a couple thousand on a gift for you.

•you could honestly probably do better, but who's gonna say no to johnny cage?

[nilly002]

Probably nobody that wants to hear this but I am so fucking pissed about reddit killing itself.

Reddit was my favourite place on the entire web. Unlike all the other social media it wasn't about putting individual users on a stage and everyone following them it was simply a shared stage with the users collectively deciding what get's to be in the spotlight.

Yes it was a shithole but it was our shithole. We decided what we got. The algorithm on reddit was utter dogshit and everyone just disabled it, the real algorithm was the hive mind filtering the best content to the top. All the while actual conversation and debate was actually possible because the comments were not arbitrarily limited in length or ordered by what can only be described as little Timmy's first attempt at a Bogosort algorithm.

We had a fucking contract: users bring the content and watch ads, moderators keep the site usable and the amount of effort reddit has to put in to not get sued down to a minimum, all reddit had to do was provide the servers, ban a subreddit once in a blue moon and be content with having a decently profitable site with the factually most worthless users of big social media

But NOOOOO "We NeEd To InCrEaSe PrOfItS! ThOsE pEsKy ThIrD pArTy ApPs ArE sTeAlInG oUr MoNeY" No you idiot they just provided a better service than you did. Why shut them down when you could just copy what they have and make them unnecessary? And then in the process they try to softban nsfw as well because "ItS bAd FoR aDvErTiSmEnT!" god how I fucking hate capitalism.

There's this beautiful thing that people have created in collaboration which brings joy, news, entertainment, education, support and community to so many people and it was ALREADY PROFITABLE but no we need to ruin it to squeeze out as much cash as possible.

Fuck all those people who helped build the website and make it what it is today, fuck all the users who contributed it and spent sleepless nights to make some dumb pixel art bringing your shitty ass website into the news all across the globe fuck all the moderators who spent countless hours doing unpaid labour to keep a community they loved alive and saving you billions in moderation costs, fuck everyone that loves this website

BECAUSE WE WANT MORE MONEY!

Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell and for reddit the diagnosis is terminal.

[wintersoldiersoul]

Filming

Summary: You convince Sebastian to make a TikTok with you

A/N: This is kinda shitty but I just thought about how cute it would be if you made a TikTok with Seb and had to write about it. The relationship in this is platonic and I was picturing that Y/N is somewhere in her early 20s.

People always assumed that working on a Marvel movie meant constant action. But truly, most of your days were filled with waiting around in your trailer for hours on end. There were so many moving parts that there were some days you would be called at 4am and have to stay until 5pm only to shoot one scene. Needless to say, you had a lot of downtime. 

It was your castmates that made it all bearable. Instead of sitting alone in your trailers, you were usually all hanging out together. Today was one of those days where you had been waiting around for hours on end to film one scene with Sebastian. You were playing Bucky’s long lost grand-niece, naturally meaning that most of your scenes were with him. 

The two of you were sitting in his trailer, anxiously awaiting for a PA to knock on the door and bring you to set. “Ugh,” you groaned, throwing your head back. 

“You okay over there?” Sebastian chuckled, looking up from his cell phone. Despite being nearly 20 years apart in age, the two of you had grown very close. You were like his little sister.

“I’m losing my mind, Seb. I’ve never been this bored in my fucking life.” 

He laughed and continued to scroll through his phone. 

“What are you even doing on there, anyways? You don’t even use social media,” you sassed. You loved to tease him about his lack of social media presence, calling him old and out of touch, even though you secretly wished you could be as brave as him and stop posting on all of yours, too.

“You know there are other things to do on here,” he held up his phone. “I’m reading an article about space. It’s really interesting.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned again. “God help me.” You opened your own phone and clicked on TikTok, hoping that the For You Page would have something entertaining enough to grab your currently short attention span. After a few minutes, you threw your phone down and sighed again. You watched Sebastian from across the room, silently getting an idea. You smiled slyly, and he looked up at you.

“Oh no,” his eyes narrowed. “You have an idea.”

“Let’s make a TikTok.” You were constantly making TikToks with the other actors and your followers loved it. But you had yet to give everyone what they really wanted. Sebastian.

“Absolutely not,” he replied.

You pouted your lip and widened your eyes. “Pleeeaseeee,” you begged. He laughed at your desperation. “It will be fun I promise. Just one.”

“Stop acting like a child,” he said playfully.

“The fans want it. They’re constantly asking where you are in my videos. People are gonna start thinking that we hate each other, you know.”

He smirked. “Oh they’re constantly asking? They wanna see me in a TikTok that badly?” His tone was playful but you knew him well enough to know that he did seriously doubt it. Despite being so successful, he would always be humble and unsure of himself and just how much his fans truly did love him. 

You snapped a selfie of the two of you and posted it in your Instagram story asking if people wanted to see you and Sebastian make a TikTok. Within seconds, thousands of people were answering “yes” to the poll and your DMs were flooded with pleading messages, begging you to get him to make one. 

“See? Now they won’t leave me alone until I do it.”

He sighed. “Fine. Only for you.” Sebastian had a soft spot for you. Even though you were so much younger than him, he really did think of you as one of his best friends. You were wise beyond your years, having grown up in the spotlight. The two of you loved each other, even just platonically. He was always looking after you, obsessively googling people that you went on dates with, always making sure that you got home safe from nights out. You reminded him a lot of himself when he was your age in a lot of ways. “But no dances. I am definitely not doing a fucking Tik Tok dance.”

“Fair enough.” You scrolled through the app trying to find a good video that the two of you could make. “Oh, I know. This will be fun.” You selected the audio from Gilmore Girls. The classic Jess “Why did you drop out of Yale speech.” You filmed Sebastian as Rory, and yourself as Jess. It took him a bit to get the hang of lip-syncing the words but eventually you had a completed result.

You posted the video with the caption, “As highly requested.” Within seconds, your phone was blowing up with likes and comments of people freaking out over you actually getting Sebastian to make a Tik Tok. 

“See? I told you they wanted it.” You smirked, hitting him lightly on the arm.

He rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you, Y/N.”

[cyberpunk-20xx]

Kerry's situation is a very painful reminder of how fucked up the game's canon society is, even to the rich people. Which is maybe my biggest gripe with the game. A game where I'm not given even the slightlest chance to change shit around me, a game that's just so pessimistic and cruel in how it treats its characters, so hopeless, is not punk. but that's smth else entirely to talk about.

Back to Kerry. He's less suicidal at the end of the game when V reached out and helped some to sooth his trauma about Johnny, even if one could argue it's maybe just, well, putting him back where he started or indulging a toxic fixation. Depends on your interpretation. But his situation hasn't actually changed, he's still held by his label in a death grip, even if at least his current manager's supposedly out of the picture. But even that i don't believe. All we know for sure is that we burned his yatch. Like. Kerry tells us that his MSM Record manager (can't remember his name and be bothered to check) makes him drink on purpose to get him to sign shit, which is blatant abuse and all we get to do is fucking burn a boat? Let me make the dude a corpse, even if you make me have to work for it jfc.

I really love when fanfic writers actually address that issue btw, because it really hurts me to think about him being left in this bullshit. And in so many endings we know his situation is less than ideal even with V.

Kerry's profound unhappiness is visible in many ways: the state of his house, his insinuated addictions, his impulsive, self-destructive behaviors, his tendency to lash out and paranoia to assume people are against him, and overall defensiveness, his fear of the unknown, his clinging to fame, his refusal to see his kids, his mentioned and hinted suicide attempts. He's a guy who, at 89, doesn't seem to me like he knows what he wants, what he needs.

Personally, it both hurts me and makes me really like him, because I find him relatable in how he reacts to despair. In that aspect, I find him very well-written, even if a lot of shitty tropes and pop star stereotypes are used. Yes, pop stars one.

(One other thing that's devastating about Kerry is that he's a rocker, but he doesn't act like one, according to his own definition (which seems to really just be Johnny's shitty macho definition altho it's a whole label that precedes both of them in the TTRPG lore). Which wouldn't be a problem to me if he also didn't find the genre inferior to rock.)

But what fucks me up the most is that he's dealing with despair at all, when out of the four LIs, he's the one that has the safest, most stable life. Hell, he could even easily leave Night City and never look back, and still create, he's got the money for it, it might sound terribly materialistic of me but the man has enough money to just no longer be dealing with all this shit. But he's stuck there because even at nearly fucking nine decades of life, he's not yet felt seen, heard, or acknowledged. He's still scrambling for his roots and something to look forward at once.

Kerry is 89 and has the self-esteem of a 23 years old still.

If I just listen to my basest instincts, I blame Johnny for a lot of that, but that's the easy way, actually. If I actually think about it, Kerry's responsible of his own life too, and Johnny got nothing to do with how he feels out of touch with his Filipino roots, or him being a burnt out rockstar, Johnny is not that powerful at all, and mostly I blame Arasaka and the corps, and i blame the music industry in the game especially actually, i blame the media and the fans for how Kerry bit by bit stops feeling human in the spotlight, but the thing is, it's harder to be angry at those, even in game. Because we're not actually given meaningful ways to do something about inequality in game, and when you're unable to fight something, your brain becomes apathetic to it. It's just a survival thing. my brain does that a lot. i prize my anger a lot because of that (probably why i am so attached to Johnny tbh).

I think Kerry craves to be seen as the man he is, but his ways to try and fix that is to feed the demigod image his career upholds. I'm mad we can't do something about it, nor see the change he deserves happen. I'm mad a game with "punk" in its name is so hopeless and cynical.

[cookinguptales]

I will say, though, that sometimes you try to talk yourself out of your feelings for a long time and then you talk to someone outside of the situation and they're like "what the fuck" and you're like OH okay I have a right to feel weird and bad and stressed out.

I guess it's easy to feel stupid because you actually are affected when people are actively trying to affect you, especially when it's something like writing on the internet, which is just... always going to get harassment. Like when I say I've gotten messages about how people like me should be euthanized in the past over tumblr posts. :')

So you're like "oh, random shitty people is just something that everyone deals with, I should shut up and stop being a baby about it" and then you actually show the messages you're getting to someone and they're like ???? what????

Like I shared my inbox with my hairstylist when we were chatting a few days ago, and he was like ???? This man is not in fandom, so when he saw the kind of shit I was getting over not liking a finale of a tv show, he was shocked. Which... was kind of gratifying. It made me feel less crazy. lmao

Kind of reminds me of when I wrote this really personal essay about disability a few years ago and it won a contest. The people running the contest gave me uhhh quite a bit of money and asked me to keep writing for their site for more money. Like when I tell you I was literally on IRL conference calls with these people asking me why I stopped writing for them.

And I was finally like "...well, there's this feature on your site where you can tag other users in your essays, and after I won people kept writing their own essays about how much I didn't deserve to win, about how "lucky" I was to have a sob story that was attractive to the judges, about how whiny I was, people questioning my disability, etc. And since they tagged me, this was filling my email inbox and it really stressed me out. But if you look at the actual comments on the story, you don't see any of that. So it was kind of invisible harassment."

And the rep was horrified. She had never even considered that someone might use the feature like that. She was like WE'LL INVESTIGATE THIS and I was like. sure, okay. But getting that taste of the spotlight was already enough to make me peace out for good, tbh. Even though I knew that a lot of it was just sour grapes because they wanted to win themselves, and I knew that a lot of what they were saying wasn't valid, the sheer force of the animosity against me was overwhelming.

Like... it's not a crime to have your feelings hurt when someone is actively trying to hurt your feelings. It's natural, I guess, even if you feel kind of stupid about it.

I guess it's kind of wild to me that we just take it for granted that anyone who speaks up is gonna get yelled at online. Any prominent writer or activist you see is probably getting daily cruelty, if not outright death threats. And you just -- you have to have such a certain temperament to deal with all that. And I don't have it. I get easily overwhelmed and stressed when people are mad at me and I know it's not ideal but it is who I am. I joke about it, but I really kind of do feel like a small nervous dog sometimes.

And I wonder, sometimes, how many great voices we never hear from because of this expectation of harassment. Someone says something, gets some shitty trolly comment, then goes back in their hole and never talks again. Or they see the way other people get treated and they never speak up in the first place.

idk, I don't mean to be a martyr about this and I'm sure other people are getting the kinds of messages I am but like. God, it is so weird and disheartening to realize that a few people have been sending you nasty messages for literally months when you block an anon from your inbox and you see what else disappears. There are people who are so mad at me that they've sent me angry messages for months. Because I don't have the same opinions they do about a tv show.

It kind of makes you want to never talk about anything ever again. :(

[spellbooking]

Hey there. This is a rather private message, but I was also bullied and trashtalked publicly by one of the big BG3 blogs on here.

I was a fairly small blog (and an artist, too) so I didn't really stand a chance. It was out of my control. I reached out to people to get help but many of them eventually left me. What I'm saying is, I understand what you're going through—or at least know how it feels. People seem to blindly believe popular blogs on Tumblr, and said blogs sometimes abuse their influence and popularity by making all sorts of claims to put them in the spotlight, thinking, they know the person behind the screen even though they don't.

Back then I had to take a break from Tumblr, but I hope you won't let it get you down. Turn to your friends. The BG3 community is quite toxic. Fandom drama is always shitty, unnecessary, stressful and unfair. Take care and keep balance x

Hi anon!

Surprisingly you’re the first person to like really bring it up and tbh I’m glad bc I’ve just been ignoring it and continuing to do my own thing. I kind of just let it happen and just stuck to myself because like… this is tumblr. Im not gonna really expand on it or really discuss it because i gave it my energy for a day and moved on. That’s what i tell my clients (at least the ones I practice with a supervisor) and that’s what i do for myself. but thank you for your kind words.

Yeah it sucked for like the first 12 hours then i kind of got over it. And i agree, influence and popularity definitely is abused! And targeting strangers with no context or stories from both sides or having a grown adult talk is extremely common on the internet period. Honestly the BG3 fandom has been a solace for me but that’s only because i stick to a certain pocket of it: OC love and Gale. But i hope by now my followers realize: I’m super self indulgent. That’s my speciality.

Luckily i had a group of people and some mutuals have my back so i wasn’t alone. Also my fiance kinda talked me through it and we honestly kinda just… laughed. Because the situation was so laughable and silly. Like I’m in grad school, have a job, have to pay rent… I’m not worried about what people in a fandom have to say about me to a small pocket of people 💀 like girl I’m about to start an internship as a therapist, i have better things to worry about. I learned from it and I’m moving on.

But thank you again! Sending you my love and I’m sure your art is fucking awesome! I hope you have others to turn to as well :) if not, this goes for you and everyone else: my DMs are always open.

[dearweirdme]

Full disclaimer but this is gonna be a whole ass rant because I'm tired of the fact that even in the year 2024, people are still trying to shut us up when we call out HYBE and/or 0T7 fandom fuckery towards Taehyung.

Geffen, whose main fuckin usefulness is promotion, didn't even post for TWO whole fuckin days after Layover's release. HYBE had two months notice of estimated pre-order numbers from VBar and still managed to 'run out of stock' and couldn't fulfil the order that would legitimise him breaking and exceeding the record---then they tried to shift the blame to VBar, Taehyung's biggest fanbase and main solo support 😏, to the point where she had to show her receipts proving they had advanced notice of sale numbers with plenty of time to fulfil them.

Did we not all see those petty ass moments, even in the past, where staff bought ice creams for every member besides Taehyung so Namjoon had to share his own with him so he wouldn't be left out?

Or how about the fact that when a member's name is missed out in listings and promotional ads, most of the time it's Tae's? (With Jin also being treated in a similar fashion because I know some MF gonna pull the same old whataboutism on that)

Or how about the fact that the biggest group fanbases feel so comfortable with his mistreatment that they do it themselves openly, like posting BTS GROUP photos where he isn't even there, or posting BTS solo album photos where Layover isn't even there or even openly gloating about the fact that they screwed with his merch counts?

They make their derision so blatant and despise hin so clearly but 0t7 'fans' still wanna roll out in droves to defend their asses when they stay making 'mistakes' and those 'mistakes' coincidentally stay fucking Tae over

Who do y'all think these losers are taking their lead from?

Maybe it's the same company that in one of the festas gave all of the members fortune slips and only Taehyung's was used to shit on him; warning him that if that if didn't beat to HYBE's drum terrible things would happen to his career and his future would be dire?

Yes, all members have moments of shitty treatment from fans and the company but there is a CLEAR double standard on the fandom when it comes to Taehyung. The big '0T7' accounts do not move for Tae the same way they do for others and way too many are actively working against him and they get away with it because that's the line that has been normalised by HYBE.

Go look at any comment praising Taehyung specifically and damn near guaranteed that you'll find @0T7Becky underneath it talking about how we gotta praise all the guys all at once---at a rate that doesn't happen when it's the other guys getting singular praise.

Maybe we can even take a look at official content like Run eps where editors run a consistent 'joke' of Taehyung being dumb or selfish or how about the way they tooks shots at him through Tata or in one of their shitty games?

This shit is there to see and it speaks for itself but people still want to play dumb make their false equivalence and use whataboutism to shut down any discussion of it.

Anyone who says they're active on Twitter or in these fandoms, especially those who have been fans for a while, and doesn't see or remember the difference in how Tae is treated by the company and the fans is straight up lying. 400+ antis were exposed forming a group chat to hate on Taehyung and the 0T7 fandom was 🙈🙉🙊 Its not just a couple of haters talking shit; it's actual campaigns against him; ignored, enabled and even helped by the accounts that are supposed to be representing the fandom and sharing info.

One of the other members wear a hat with braids and the fandom wants to close ranks and protect them. Taehyung wears a durag and all of a sudden we're taking a 'let's spotlight that shit and correct his behavior' stance?

Like, yeah, maybe we should be letting the guys know what's up but there's no damn consistency and the collective only want a call to action if it means shitting on Taehyung.

How many times does Taehyung have to make his 'fuck you' policy towards the company clear before we actually listen to him? Not long ago, he pretty much told us that the only reason he re-signed was for the guys. It was outta his own mouth that he implied that HYBE was an 'aint shit' company.

Something in the water is obviously not clean when it comes to Taehyung's relationship with HYBE and it hasn't been for a while.

There's a reason he has so many solo stans and it's because these people have been pointing out the weird behavior towards him for a while and they've been shut down and shut up with any mention of HYBEs passive aggressive behavior towards him for years and the fact that the 0T7 fandom suddenly take a collective leave of absence when it comes to defending him, promoting him or hyping him.

So I'm not here for any motherfuckin complaints or comparisons when this fandom has operated for YEARS on a policy that Taehyung needs to be punished, held back and deserves to eat shit because at one point he was, according to them, getting too much attention, making too many famous friends (yeah, this shit really took off after Hwarang. They didn't like that Tae was being 'singled out' for acting roles) and they 'had to make it fair'

I'm sure there'll be some wanting to play delusional in response to thise but if you look for it you can find whole ass complications of how shitty HYBE has been towards Taehyung in particular and Jin. Their mistreatment towards Jin has been dismissive and disregarding. With Tae its headed towards pettiness and spite (coincidently the two members known for being the most stubborn and assertive with the company seem to be treated worse. Funny, right? but people still wanna say there's no smoke or no fire 😏)

The difference being that it's not only HYBE who treat Taehyung like shit.

You can find screenshot after screenshot of '0t7' accounts repeatedly 'apologising' and getting passes for making the same 'mistake' 20 fuckin times over and it's always about Taehyung.

Hi anon!

You put quite some time and effort and heart into this, so that’s why I’m posting this.. and also because I do agree with parts of your ask. I’m gonna cut the conversation short after this though, because from experience I know my asks are gonna be vile and messy 😑.

[shittyclive]

brief overview of my post UF/LF comic idea. thing. if people were interested. sorry if this is hard to follow i have disorders !!!

basically. i wanted to give extra character development to flora (and clive!) (i really like clive! sorry! you cant. you cant avoid him. i made this blog ABOUT HIM.) because as many people are aware. floras writing. is Bad.

i thought i could probably fix this by having flora and clive butting heads for an entire investigation (with flora actually pretty mad at him and clive feeling guilty but unwilling to drop his shitty guy facade) and also in general giving flora a spotlight! luke is in america but he sends letters to the professor and flora (and clive. i guess.), and he also gives them a phone call from time to time now that layton finally got a god damn phone in his office.

"why is clive not in fucking jail???" uhhh shenanigans. what if he just got sentenced to 2000 puzzles (this is more than all the puzzles in each mainline game combined) and layton volunteered to keep an eye on him. thats pretty much what i'm rolling with and i think its funny. clive Hates this arrangement, he thinks its Stupid and that he should be given much harsher punishment. which is true. i can give him so much guilt. anyways. basically he does jobs for the professor (paperwork, going through letters, tidying up) with flora.

the professor is There. i would like him to realise hes been hurting flora by leaving her out (even if thats technically for her own benefit). he has been pressured into letting her go on his latest mystery solving trip to Snowsburgh, a little town in laytonverse scotland that i made up. theyve been having weird robberies and the police (incompetent) cannot figure out whos DOING this. so someone sent a letter.

layton also brings along one of his students, my oc/self insert vincent (pretty much uses any pronouns). WHY? vincent is from snowsburgh and layton would rather not be a lost little bitch on this particular outing also i have to introduce gay people to the laytonverse with my blue hair and pronouns ass guy. okay. vincent is majoring in psychology but is also taking layton's archaeology class. for fun! vincent is really interested in this trip because its been a while since he's been at his hometown, and he is fascinated by the professor's autism. he is Also a fan of trying to get into the heads of known criminals. which is a cool and scary surprise for him when he realises "ohhhhh. ohhhhhh thats fucking clive dove."

while layton focuses on the main mystery, that being the snowsburgh robberies, flora begins to notice. some strange things about the town. footprints that dont lead anywhere, the sillhouette of a very... ratlike? figure? slinking away without a trace. anecdotes about some people who recently moved away, and someone who's been missing for a few months now. and that vincent is Really Weird.

she figures she should Probably bring up her concerns with the professor but... would he even listen to her? she had to get CLIVE, A CRIMINAL, to vouch for her to even GO on this trip. she figures that she'd probably have an easier time figuring out the Secrets of Snowsburgh on her own :-) (clive and vincent would later join her investigation because they kinda figure itd be a bit fucked up to let a 15/16yo wander around in an unknown environment on her own (but they largely let her lead the investigation))

do i have character designs? yes. i have to redo them digitally. give me. some time to do that... though we Have drawn vincent on this blog before!

[revengeismygender]

Okay I know I bitch about season 4 a lot so here are some things I actually liked:

I like the basketball/dice rolling mash-up. Felt like classic ST. I like that they remind us that the highest stakes in the kids’ lives should be D&D and winning the big game rather than interdimensional war.

I like that the big bad comes directly from the opening campaign like season 1.

I like that Max gets a lot of the spotlight bc she deserves it.

I like that this season gives Lucas more to do and that he’s amazing at it. Ditto Erica.

I like Jonathan having a little buddy since he’s literally had no friends since S1.

Same goes for Nancy. She needs a friend and Ronance friendship is one of the best things ever. Bonus if they fall in love later but honestly having a platonic friend won’t hurt her.

I like that Jonathan joins the Mike Wheeler hate club.

I like that Murray gets to keep his little Russian pal this time #justiceforalexei. I hope they’re very happy together.

I like that they brought back the bikes and added bonus older kids on bikes. I literally squealed at the shot that flipped upside down and mirrored all eight of them on the bikes. More bikes plz.

I like that they found Reefer Rick via video rental archives. Very classic ST, very Scooby Doo. I like that the show points out that these kids figure out mysteries not because they have resources or money or adult help (which they don’t) but bc they’re clever.

I like that it was pretty. For the most part all the shots were really visually stunning. There were def times when cinematography outshone writing by… a lot.

I like that Dustin went from no dad in season one to two dads by season four.

I liked every single moment the actors improvised and honestly all of their performances were top notch. No notes.

I like that one of Hopper’s useless deputies is now the chief. It was a good choice since he is slightly less useless than the other one.

I like that El blows up a helicopter, continuing the grand ST tradition of not being afraid to kill people who suck/are trying to harm children and having no moral back and forth about it. Blowing up a helicopter full of military child killers is morally good.

I like that the writers were like “you’ve seen Steve and Dustin dynamic, now get ready for Steve and Max dynamic!” I like that he fills the role of the big brother she should have had rather than the shitty one she got.

I like that Papa dies and there’s absolutely no question about it this time. He is dead 5sure. I like that El doesn’t forgive him or give him absolution in death. One thing this show really gets right is that one sacrificial act doesn’t erase a lifetime of abuse. The show gets that with Billy and with Brenner. Five stars.

Similarly, I like how complicated Max’s grief is. Of course you feel survivor’s guilt over someone close to you who died for you, but of course you have mixed feelings when that person was a racist and abusive asshole to you, your friends, and your boyfriend. Of course you feel a little relieved that your tormentor is dead, and of course you feel guilty for feeling that way. So many shows are guilty of “redeeming” a character through death without any actual change or accountability and I’m glad we don’t get that here.

I like Robin. She is everything to me.

I like Eddie. See above. I am not immune to white boy of the month especially when he’s like *gestures at him* that.

I like Jopper. I feel it has been extremely well handled from the first hints in season one to the unrequited pining from Hopper in season two (that he never makes her problem, he supports her) to their sexually charged bickering in season three to her saving his fucking life this season… it’s amazing and I’m so glad the parents of the group are finally together.

Aaaaaaaaaand that’s it. But honestly that’s more than I thought there would be when I sat down to write this list.

[astraltrickster]

Thing is, AI is a nuanced topic. Most big tech advances are. I think the only one I've EVER been super close to that was almost 100% cut-and-dry was NFTs and the "metaverse" sucking ass, and even THAT...well, the former at least originated from an extremely poorly thought-out implementation of a potentially good idea (i.e., an anti-attribution loss registry to counter the damage of unsourced reposting, since convincing people outside of artist communities that YES that shit is rude as fuck BECAUSE it has the potential to be actually damaging is like talking to a wall).

There are good uses of it. There are horrible uses of it. We made the necessary breakthroughs in calculation at one of the WORST possible times, socioeconomically speaking. That doesn't mean we can unmake them. It's putting nearly every single common ethics violation in the world of tech as a whole into the spotlight, from the lack of protections against datamining to the abuse of outsourced labor in moderation work and much more. It didn't invent any of them, and in fact is BETTER about some of them than many other things we just let slide (and shouldn't). Technology marches on, in this form or any other. It changes industries and workflows. It CAN be for the better. The BOSSES always push to make it for cheaper and worse. This isn't the first time it's happened - not even in your lifetime if you didn't have to lie about your age to get here - and it will not be the last. It's just the most visible relative to its absolutely horrendous timing.

I'm in agreement with...some of the more technically-oriented circles I work with irl that it can be genuinely useful. I PERSONALLY do some hobby work in trying to make it more human-positive, for both accessibility and safety, as well as where that overlaps with just...fun. I'm in agreement with both the popular attitude among actors and commercial artists that the way corporations want to use it is absolutely fucking disgusting, and the recognition that a lot of people out there (especially on the fucking bird site) are being total fucking assholes with it. I'm in agreement with labor organizers that we need to place contractual and cultural limits on how it can and should be used. It's a complex subject!

Because of that complexity, I don't mind AT ALL if someone comes to a different conclusion about using it for small-time funsies than I do.

I DO mind when people resist the shitty usage via reactionary sentiment ("this tech is LAZY and DEGENERATE and ANYONE who uses it for ANY reason is a GREEDY ENTITLED SMOOTHBRAIN PARASITE!" - let's play "count the dogwhistles" btw!), blatant ableism ("there's NO ONE in the WORLD who's SO disabled they ACTUALLY need this to help with anything from basic communication to self-expression, or if there are it doesn't COUNT because the COMPUTER did it, not THEM!"), misinformation about how it works (e.g., the copy-paste myth - if that was how it worked ChatGPT papers wouldn't be absolutely full of fictitious citations and AI hands wouldnt look Like That, you realize this, right?), missing the forest for the trees (please do call out asshole usage of AI but not to the point of just forgetting that people were stealing other artists' WIPs to "finish" and making hoaxes and deepfakes and lean-staffing and cheating people out of credits LONG before we had this way to do it and they WILL continue to do so with OTHER new tech as well, an asshole will be an asshole no matter what tools they have; fighting the tech instead of the assholery will only let it happen again as soon as the method changes), using frameworks to fight that asshole usage that are ACTIVELY counterproductive (if it's legally declared that using your work as less than ONE BILLIONTH of my starting point, or developing a style too similar to yours, is infringing on your copyright, this will have WAY more negative impacts than positive; I sure hope the author of your favorite thing isn't the type to go full Anne Rice or JKR; plus even when ignoring the assistive usage of AI as we very much should not, GPT detectors throw a lot of false positives at non-native English speakers, so crackdowns against its usage end up hurting a lot of very vulnerable people far more than they hurt the people using it to do actual tangible harm), or just plain using it as an excuse to bully random other people who individually have about as much power to impact The Issue as dropping a soggy pea on the floor does.

...I also mind when people go full There Is No War In Ba Sing Se about it, but that's not a problem I encounter as much here on tumblr.

[wiltingwoes]

welcome to a lore dump of pre-turned and some notable turned betty facts that explains why she’s this bad

🐀

- First and foremost, literally everything I write about her pre-turned verse derives from the LARP I attend and act out in person while playing her character. It’s a weekend long, I’m actually going this coming week (that’s when her brother dies and she officially becomes a vampire lol), and anything important that happens there is written into her backstory here. I play her future verse here. Both her past and present are constantly being updated, as whatever occurs in LARP directly influences her present, making her the only character I have that will be consistently updated for years coming.

- Leathe is the hometown/world she comes from. She is a Shavali — a spiritual and Slavic based group that are very, very tight knit and essentially act like a mafia. Family and freedom means everything to them. They are externally performers, jesters, entertainers, wear a shit ton of colorful clothing and bells and sashes to gain the spotlight. Internally, they are very perceptive, keen, eavesdroppers, sly, and can even be murderous as all fuck should someone harm one of the family.

However, their two-sided reputation eventually caught up to them and towns often view Shavali in a negative light — murderers, thieves, liars, etc. They’re often the first blamed for town crimes, even if they had nothing to do with it. Shavali are constantly fighting to prove their worth.

To lose a family member is to lose your entire self.

- Betty as a human used to have a personality similar to Charlie. Save your people under any cost necessary, redeem the misunderstood and damned. She loved so hard, cared very deeply, and was always on guard to protect. She was a heroine — a front liner, a fighter with a two-sided battle axe the same height as herself (5’7). She was also a bard and performed under the stage name ‘Lullaby Betty’ — and all of her bardic spells dealt w mind manipulation. She was very persuasive and charismatic, occasionally sultry and seductive to get information out of someone.

This bled somewhat into her turned days — her axe isn’t used as much and her bardic spells were entirely forgotten, replaced with her vampire powers as well as blood magic. She’s even more conniving in her persuasion and charisma and she’s even worse with being seductive to get what she wants. Before it was usually for fun, but nowadays it’s used with malicious intent. Her turned days are chaotic evil. Her pre turned days were chaotic neutral.

She slowly forgot about her good morals and regards for others the more the vampiric disease festered. Love became obsession, the plethora of traumas and losses turned her into a selfish and closed off creature coupled with unbridled rage and bitterness, and her respect for the Gods went out the window. Any hope to be a heroine was trashed due to how badly it hurt and how horridly the expectations of the townsfolk damaged her, leading her to entirely discard the optimistic look on anything that walked the earth. Obsessed with freedom and getting to do whatever the fuck she wanted with no repercussion, she became a villain, never wanting to feel the pain of loss and rejection again after failing too many times to save her people.

- People don’t necessarily die in Leathe. They die often in AWFUL ways — but are usually sent back to the living with no memory. If your luck is particularly shitty, you could not come back though.

Yeah, that fucked her up pretty badly. That meant she would have had to watch ALL of her family and friends die CONTINUOUSLY and never know if they’d return or not. Too many times had she watched her loved ones perish in some freak accident or failure in battle, sob out, then wait in the freezing cold for them to come back in fears they wouldn’t. Her father figure once was turned to ash right in front of her. Her older brother was poisoned slowly. She once was eaten alive by a zombie lord herself. The dead may not remember, but she sure as fuck does.

Over and over and over and over again.

- Her older brother, Dimitrius, taught her everything. He raised her, protected her, taught her about the culture, taught her how to honor the spirits, how to get around town, etc. She looked up to him like a fucking God more than a brother — she wanted to be like him when she was older. He was a role model and her last saving grace.

However, he turned his soul over to an infernal many moons ago to save some of the family — which means when he dies for the last time, his soul doesn’t get to reincarnate or go anywhere. It goes to the infernal’s lantern — and used as ammo against the celestials, ceasing to exist. Nothingness.

He was killed in front of her. She screamed, begged, tried to attack the infernal, her father figure had to hold her back — and nobody could do anything. All she had left of him was his bell of healing, which she still wears on today centuries later. Despite the countless years passing, she never forgot about Dimitrius.

It was the same day she too died and became a vampire — and it was that very day the original Betty died with him.

She was never the same again upon respawn.

- The townsfolk eventually split into unsure gossips when they found out she was a vampire amongst the living.

On one side, she DID continue to fight for her people — albeit a lot more violently and mercilessly now. She was BRUTAL with her axe and carried the rage of a barbarian (her father figure was in fact a barbarian lmao) and was taught lethal blood magic by the same vampire that bit her. She was melded into a winter soldier by the church of Drevarria — a goddess that created the undead and taught her followers necromancy and lessons through unadulterated agony. Meaning she would be trained so violently that she nearly DIED relentlessly. Broken limbs, punctured organs, open lacerations, violent spellwork, etc and still forced to fight and endure to become numb to the agony.

All of this made her a fucking TERRIFYING opponent to deal with became she was immune to common physical bludgeons, mind alterations, and fear itself. She often carried about an aura of intimidation and a spell that caused others to cower in fear, only to decapitate them once they fell to their knees.

The other side feared her so much for being undead that they actually tried to kill her. Her own friends did in fact turn against her and tried to kill her despite her trading in mortality in order to protect her people better.

And thus, the anger and bitterness grew.

- When I tell you this bitch became a force to be RECKONED with after she left Leathe on nothing but HATRED, ANGER, BETRAYAL, AND A DISGUST FOR ANYTHING THAT BREATHED OR EXISTED LMAO

Thus, the lovely Ubersreik (Warhammer End Times) days commenced ✨

The era of self experimentation to see how far she can push her immortal body, getting appointed as a war commander for these giant ass mutated rat men, claiming part of an abandoned castle to train her men and herself, raiding clans, mass genocide on both other clans and humans, interrogation and torture, black market business with her elixir brewing, etc. This resulted in a LOT of deaths — but due to her immortality and never ending spite for the Gods, she kept coming back. Which made her power trip all the more insane.

- And then FINALLY, on her tenth death, the Gods went god fuck this bitch and shot her down to Hell to punish her for the novels worth of crimes.

and she just set up shop in the hotel with her elixirs and thrived with the chaos, not regretting a damn thing GFGDHDHFHVBB

[carterashofficial]

Things that have happened in my BG3 play through (headcanons and actual things) with my bard Tavi, full name Octavia. This is mostly Act 1 nonsense

-her flute is less a flute and more shitty-elementary-school-recorder but somehow she can make it sound good (and she can passably play just about any instrument)

-Tavi’s ‘flute’ is made of metal and she absolutely has brained people with it before. Sometimes she plays Scratch’s belly like a drum and the dog is just so happy b/c belly rub. She thinks she’s a terrible singer but she’s actually pretty good. Her old boss wouldn’t let her sing or be in the spotlight b/c boss thought Tavi wasn’t pretty enough (cheek scar from a tussle as a teen)

-Tavi is always tapping out a beat with her feet or hands. Laezel threatens to cut them off if she doesn’t stop. this does not stop Tavi.

-Scratch decides his sleeping place is curled up with Tavi, preferably inside the sleeping bag with her. Multiple times she’s found a bone down by her feet b/c Someone wanted to protect it (and then Withers is on a rampage b/c the dog stole one of his tibia again)

-Astarion accidentally kills her via using Tavi as his personal juice box. Scratch sits beside her (friend is sleeping!) until Gale realizes she’s bloodless and he is absolutely heartbroken for poor Scratch b/c second friend in as many days died. so Gale revives Tavi (also: he might have a crush on her but sshhh)

-She wakes up to Scratch 3 inches from her face and he immediately drops a disgusting leather ball next to her head and begins licking her face b/c he’s so happy she finally woke up! Must have been a good sleep. Astarion is now on her shit list. Gale is on her “I sorta trust you” list.+

-Tavi and Karlach have a tap dancing competition which ends with Wyll showing them both up. Both Laezel and Astarion pretend it’s the dumbest thing ever but are secretly watching.

-Halsin accidentally scared Scratch while in Bear Form and doesn’t know how to explain to the dog that he sometimes turns into a bear b/c then the dog will think all bears are friends. His new strategy is to hide a new bone in camp for Scratch so the dog’s distracted. Withers goes on a rampage b/c again. his tibia. and now a rib. its insulting

-Tavi grew up an urchin in Baldur’s Gate and never had books of her own so Gale watches her read anything she can get her hands on and is definitely completely catching feels (she may be reading the books aloud to the kids at the grove). Except he is anything but normal about it and gets down on one knee and presses her hand against his chest so she can feel the curse. Ya know. As normal well-adjusted people do who haven’t been in a tower without contact from the outside world. Very normal.

-Scratch "I brought you a present! It made me think of you" and proceeds to drop a dead frog in front of Laezel. She's flattered. this furry creature hunted down vermin to show her that he is a useful member of the group.

-Tavi gets eaten alive by mosquitos/bugs the first night in camp and is miserable. She looks like she's got some contagious plague b/c there's spots all over her.

-Gale is the only one who calls her 'Octavia' in private b/c he's just Like That. Sometimes he says it while looking very serious and Tavi certainly Feels A Way about that. and he calls her Octavia while showing her how to do magic, and since their minds/souls are entwined, he feels her Reaction to that, she realizes he felt her emotions, so Tavi is bright red in the face while he stammers out that her thinking of him like that is a Surprise (but a welcome one). She can barely look him in the eye, while he can't look away from her.

-The group completely misses the fact that Gale and Tavi have an undercurrent of Something going on between them b/c Laezel and Shadowheart's rivalry is The Subject of Gossip (Astarion is taking bets on how long until they hate-fuck). Wyll and Karlach have taken bets. Halsin wants nothing to do with it.

-Tavi and Gale fall into the 'white people in a horror movie' category and are 10/10 trusting of Auntie Ethel. Tavi never had a maternal figure in her life, but read a lot of books with them. Auntie Ethel being overbearing reminds Gale of his mother. The rest of the group thinks Ether is Sus. Tavi and Gale think she's a lovely lady who can help them with the tadpole problem up (how can anyone evil live in such an adorable cottage?)

-Gale is absolutely enchanted with all the imperfect mortal things Tavi does. Like being sweaty in Grymforge. the wrinkles around her eyes when she squints in the sun. tangles in her hair. the scar on her cheek and how she doesn't always look enticing and takes a good half-hour to wake up in the morning. He'd forgotten how imperfection can be perfection in its own way. He doesn't feel like an inadequate mortal like he did with Mystra.

-Tavi absolutely adores children and plays hide-n-seek with the tiefling kids in the camp. Laezel 100% joins in b/c she thinks its to teach them tracking and hunting skills. Wyll and Karlach are terrible at hiding (on purpose) and help the younger kids look for the others. Gale is pulled into the game by Tavi and he whispers in her ear "you've made me hide, don't make me come seek you" and Tavi, who has never been on the receiving end of flirts like that, is left speechless b/c how do you even react to that.

[caffeineandsociety]

White cis gay men are often seen by mainstream society as the default face of The LGBTQ+ Community; this is both caused by, and feedback loops into, the way white cis men are privileged by society. When it comes to representing The LGBTQ+ Community, white cis gay men are often relatively privileged over other subgroups.

HOWEVER.

Gay men, regardless of race or AGAB, are...you know, still oppressed by society at large. In fact, many homophobic tropes about gay men have a uniquely gendered bent to them, from the "effeminate limp-wristed fruit", to the "burgeoning predatory bear", to the "devious AIDS vector" (which is also frequently aimed at trans women, thanks to popular bioessentialism and proximity to transphobic "deception" tropes), to the "greedy decadent hedonist who would destroy society as long as he gets his quickie at the club"-

And cisheteropatriarchal society FUCKING LOVES IT when people end up parroting these tropes in the name of "feminism" and "uplifting other queer subgroups".

Now, I want us all to think back to the ToddInTheShadows video about James Somerton for a moment. Remember what that video was calling out - the way Somerton's very limited original content was, primarily, repeating common misogynistic and transphobic tropes, but spinning them not as misogynistic and laterally queerphobic stereotypes, but as Very Common Bad Behaviors By Privileged Subgroups Of Oppressed Groups.

I want us to recall - he got away with this for years. He got well-meaning people, who nominally knew better, absolutely eating it up. He probably very sincerely believed it himself! How does that happen?

Consider the trope I highlighted. The "greedy decadent hedonist who would destroy society as long as he gets his quickie at the club".

Consider for a moment, how important it is to recognize how white cis men are relatively privileged over other queer subgroups - and how that kind of relative privilege can serve as a blinder to the suffering of other queer subgroups - and how, as a result, there are prominent white cis gay voices who don't see the problem with gentrification, or with highly censored rainbow capitalism; how that relative privilege can turn into throwing people under the bus...

And I want you to consider just how easy it is for criticism of that pattern to slip right into repeating that trope. Into an implication that every white cis gay man is Jeffree Starr or some shit. Into an implication that Jeffree Starr's flamboyant aesthetic is inextricable from him, personally, being a shitty I-got-mine sellout, especially if you can tie it to a critique of the misogyny in the makeup industry. Oops! We're now on a runaway train straight into homophobia town!

And the thing is, just like the example with James Somerton, you usually won't even notice it's happening. Look at how many people watched Somerton's videos. Again, he probably believed everything he said himself. We Live In A Society. We live our lives simmering in this toxic brew of stereotypes. We internalize them. After ToddInTheShadows pointed it out, of course, so many of Somerton's former viewers became thoroughly unable to unsee it - but before that? It was background noise. Of COURSE women fetishizing gay men is more of a problem than lesbophobia and misogyny! Of COURSE the presence of a single-digit number of wlw couples in children's media proves queer women are super privileged over queer men! Of COURSE trans people are being divisive by trying to distance themselves from their AGAB, that's TOTALLY inherently the same thing as denying the shared history of the communities! Because the assumption that women are just that airheaded and reckless and frivolous, and trans people are just playing pretend, is such a common set of beliefs in mainstream society, that it was just taken for granted until someone came along to shine a big, bright, glaring spotlight on it.

The lesson we need to be taking from that is not James Somerton Is A Bastard; it's the importance of being CAREFUL when criticizing lateral aggression from an oppressed group to make sure that it's not looping right back around into its own flavor of lateral aggression.

In the case of gay men, for example, we need to be careful NOT to reinvent the same old stereotype that's been around...presumably since the first time someone decided that the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah were the gay sex more than the closed-off cruelty.

[knowlesian]

my last post and the shameless mountain goats reference i threw in there got me thinking about one of my favorite story beats, because it combines a lot of character work and thematic oomph in one: ed being a victim of his own legend and ability to protect himself by hiding in plain sight + codeswitch into the version of himself that best suits the company/situation he’s in, in many ways but often most visibly through his interactions with izzy.

my take on “is blackbeard real or fake” has always been “yes”; blackbeard is pieces of ed filtered and strained and assembled and pruned down in ways that scarred him even as they kept him safe, in ways that are very sad and often stretching the definition of safe as far as ed’s personal definition of murder. nonetheless: it got him to the place he's at, still alive. could he have done it another way? who knows! that was the way he did it, it's the way he knows will work because it did work.

or: he thinks he knows that. but the legend was never all of ed and in fact demanded he spotlight pieces of himself he doesn't like so much a lot and repress a lot of the things that make him feel good, it’s not helping/hurting anymore. it’s just dragging him down.

so ed is sick of the blackbeard schtick; and here’s the rub. if he’d been worse at the art of personal fuckery alongside the pirate type, maybe none of this is happening. the world never knows his name; or worse, once he gets spotted as a man who won't kill they mock it. 

that version of ed does not attract izzy ‘ask me about my boner for the sunk cost fallacy’ hands, or does not keep him. because izzy has built his identity around ed’s legend; who is blackbeard’s first mate, if there is no blackbeard? who the fuck even is izzy hands, if he’s not seated at the right hand of edward teach?

now. you would hope, in a better world, that izzy would be like you know, edward, the thing here is: you wanting something different involves emotional consequences for me. i would have to figure out my whole life over again and i am simultaneously con o’neill’s age and emotionally sixteen like the real world me was, so you can see that would be super complicated. i have so fucking much baggage and you are just adding to it, and i do not like that. also: this fucks up my work situation and my home life at once, it makes me feel sad and abandoned and itchy in ways i do not wish to label with words because they would be gay ones like ‘please don’t leave me, i love you and i thought it was mutual’ so like... world rocked, thoroughly and in ways that make me want to rant until past last call, in conclusion this sucks and i think it's twenty mistakes in a trenchcoat, some of them maybe life threatening! i wish you would not.

and then he would step back and let ed make his own fucking choices anyway and either do the work to figure himself out in the same space or finally grab those cds from the car and find his own place to do the same, because a shitty fact of adult life is sometimes people cannot be what we want or need. sometimes that is because they suck: sometimes, it’s just because they can’t or don't want to, and that isn't them being mean or withholding. they don't owe us more than the basic kindness and dignity we all owe to each other just because we put in our hours longing for them to do so. that’s some toxic, entitled shit. understandable! an impulse i share at times! but we should never be That Guy (gender neutral) because the friendzone doesn’t actually exist and nobody deserves to win someone else as a prize for hanging around long enough and driving them to the airport. that’s just called being friends, etc.

izzy is sadly currently stuck on being That Guy. so instead of realizing ed is an adult man and can make his own choices, even if izzy thinks they're bad ones, he fucking panics and starts swinging around and finally runs to big daddy england to make stede bonnet stooooooooop (messing with ed’s brain).

and of course he does something like that! he thinks a relationship is when you metaphorically own each other and when you can only be tender after putting your right foot in and then putting it out before once again putting it in and then proceeding to shake it all about, violent rituals unlock love style. he’s a desperate man in a hell entirely of his own making.

and so is ed, in this entirely different way but stuck in his own fucking orbit as firmly as izzy, only ed is trying to claw his way up and out to see what else he can be, while izzy would do juuuust about anything (including lick the king’s boots) to stay the same forever.

that’s some tragic shit. i love this writing team, the end.