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Not to be a total bitch and not to insult my friends who are involved but like whatever hope I had for this zine is totally shot because dude.
You're totally onboard with the person whose first act in fandom was to go around to everyone they deemed unworthy and harass them and I'm supposed to support this project?
Bye.
#you rejected MY application when I dared hold out hope#because I thought this might be a good shot at harmony#a person claiming neutrality was in charge#even when antis were appointed mods I held out hope#but this#this is just blatant#because you sure as shit didn't reject ME over a skill issue in writing#this zine is the anti power hour and I want nothing to do with it#everyone who likes me and is involved: have fun#everyone who dislikes me and is involved: eat me#discourse#fandom drama#fuck this
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‧₊˚ jealous!Abby headcanons
a/n: let me act all sassy on you so you can teach me in a lesson in private ♥
-> jealous!Abby who asks for your lipstick in the middle of a big party after seeing several people trying to hit on you, so she can leave kiss marks on your cheeks, neck and shoulders for everyone to see
-> jealous!Abby who's your biggest supporter and loves seeing you be so confident in revealing outfits, but all of the stares make her feel so agitated (if looks could kill, she'd have the highest kill count)
-> jealous!Abby who proudly touches you in all those revealing places on your body in public; you wear low cleavage? she squeezes your boobs occasionally like they're her personal stress balls; you wear some short skirt/shorts? she squeezes and massages your thighs like it's the most casual thing to do in public ♥
-> jealous!Abby who's hand is always on your body like a magnet; on you lower back, your belly, your hand, your arm, your ass, your thigh, basically anywhere that's in reach
-> jealous!Abby who kisses your hands when talking to you like you're her treasure, showing everyone that she pays attention solely to you
-> jealous!Abby who teasingly traces her fingers on your inner thighs beneath the table, while you're involved in a hot conversation with a few friends of yours, struggling to pay attention because of Abby's fingers grazing your clit
-> jealous!Abby who's all quiet and observing when your acting up in front of her friends, knowing you'll beg for forgiveness with her strap buried deep inside you later that night
-> jealous!Abby who is 100% a 'fix your attitude or I will' lesbian whenever you act up
-> jealous!Abby who's makes you sit in on her lap in public when your talking to a stranger she's dislikes, as her clothed strap grinds teasingly into your cunt; "oops, m'sorry babe," she whispers in your ear as she presses you down even harder
-> jealous!Abby who drags you into any bathroom, only to eat you out in your favourite position, knowing anyone walking past the door hearing your sweet sounds and her name escaping your lips like a prayer, "who's making you feel this good? tell me, princess."
╰┈➤ masterlist
#➶ jules' anthology#abby tlou#tlou x reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson x reader#abby the last of us#abby tlou2#abby x fem!reader#abby x y/n#abby x you#tlou#tlou smut#abby headcanons#abby anderson#tlou 2#the last of us 2#the last of us part 2#the last of us part two#abby smut#abby x reader#queer#lesbian#wlw
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Prompt 79
Jaskier and Geralt have confessed and gotten together, and Jaskier couldn't be happier. It's like a dream come true, being able to kiss Geralt. Jaskier learns that Geralt isn't a big fan of PDA, a tad troublesome for him, but he'll learn and grow to be a better lover for his witcher! He just might forget and try to kiss him a few times before it actually stays in his noggin! However he also learned that Geralt.. Doesn't like talking about them in public. Or insinuating them in public. Jaskier can't even make dirty jokes or ask Geralt where they should go out on dates. Geralt hisses for him to stop talking about it and glances around. Jaskier has been longing to eat at this one fine restaurant in a crowded town for months, and they have a chance to! There's a table still open! With a vase of flowers, and candles, and a dark red tablecloth, and they're sat right next to a small stage where the performers play! Jaskier goes to sit down, only for Geralt to drag him out by the arm, saying that they can't eat there. Jaskier is of course asks if there's poison in the food, or a monster infesting the eatery, only to get a grunt. "Really, Geralt, why can't we eat there?" "We just... Can't." Jaskier just assumes the owners must be some sort of witcher-hating pricks who tried to... To sell Geralt their daughter in exchange for wanting him to kill something that doesn't need to be killed or... Or some other really hateable things. A pity, he's heard amazing things about that place.. But all is well! Soon enough, they head to an inn, and get settled in a room. Jaskier tries his best to seduce his boyfriend, but Geralt just glances around their room and shakes his head. "Not now." Jaskier shrugs, and heads down to play for some coin, and perhaps get a bit tipsy for the fun of it all. He wakes up the next morning with quite an awful headache, and a very annoyed-looking Geralt. Jaskier apologizes for going overboard with the drinks, but Geralt huffs and says that isn't what's upsetting him. What upset him is Drunk Jaskier telling people that he and Geralt are together. But come onnn! Everyone's been saying "The bard is fucking the butcher" for over a decade! Surely some villager's account of a drunk bard saying the same isn't worth all the fuss Geralt is making over it. Another night, Jaskier is sat by the campfire, idly strumming his lute. "Annnd even though today I had to hide in a tree~ I love my witcher, and my witcher loves me~" Geralt suddenly loses his focus and turns sharply to Jaskier. "That's a new song." "It's not a song, I'm just making things up for fun." "So it's not in your song journal?" "...No?" "Good." 'Good'? Jaskier could just play it off as another one of Geralt's teases about disliking his music, but something about this in particular made Jaskier feel nauseous. A week or so after that, Jaskier has finished his set and is excitedly skipping off to meet back up with Geralt when he overhears some conversation from where Geralt is sat. "Your bard sings well!" "He's not my bard." "No? I thought I heard you two were together." "No. Acquaintances at best. Hardly know him." Acquaintances at best? Acquaintances? Jaskier knows Geralt has been offput by the idea of telling people they are romantically involved, but he couldn't even muster up a 'No, we're just friends.' He's STILL not a 'friend'? That's when it clicks for Jaskier. Oh. Geralt's ashamed of him.
Is it because he's a man? Would Geralt be proud to show off his lover if his lover were female? Is it because of Jaskier's looks? He's been told he's rather attractive, but perhaps he looks quite small and delicate beside a witcher. He didn't think Geralt would care for such things, though. Perhaps it's his personality. Maybe the lighthearted remarks between the two of them were more barbed on Geralt's side than Jaskier at first thought. Maybe Geralt really hates his singing, or how much he talks, or how often he turns things into an innuendo. Is he just some quick fuck in the woods? The second they hit civilization he's not even a friend? Jaskier slips back up to their room, completely forgetting to let Geralt know where he is. Oh well. If Geralt gives a shit he can sniff out Jaskier's perfume. For now, Jaskier is going to curl up in their bed and try not to cry. Jaskier and Geralt have confessed and gotten together, and Geralt couldn't be happier. It's like a dream come true, being able to kiss Jaskier. But Geralt has to keep in mind how many enemies he has out there. Personal, blind hatred based on his reputation, blind hatred based on him being a witcher, the list goes on. Geralt worried for Jaskier enough as it is when they were best friends. Geralt would be powerless and completely devastated if anyone were to take Jaskier. Geralt would be putty in their hands if they so much as threatened the bard's life. Now that they're lovers? Geralt cringes to think at how many people would be chomping at the bit for an opportunity to kill the Butcher's one true love. To use him as a hostage for Geralt to do their bidding. For them to torture Jaskier in the hopes of learning things about Geralt. So Geralt makes a plan. He'll keep Jaskier at an arm's length whenever he thinks anyone could see or hear them. It's exceptionally hard not kissing the hell out of his bard whenever he feels like it, but he must practice restraint in order to keep him safe. Jaskier keeps making it harder on him, though. Kissing him, wanting to go eat at some romantic place, telling every soul he can how much he and Geralt are inseparable soulmates who can't live without one another, all in front of so many people. Any one of which could be just too loose-lipped. Any one of which could lead to a snowballing effect that ends in his beloved Jaskier's harm or death. Geralt just can't wait until Winter comes. He plans on bringing Jaskier with him, and they'll be able to do whatever they want the entire winter, with no fear.
#geraskier#gerlion#the witcher#geralt x jaskier#geralt x dandelion#witcher fanfiction#fanfiction prompts#geralt loves his bard!#writing prompts#friends to lovers#requited unrequited love#established relationship#misunderstandings#miscommunication#angst with a happy ending#angst#jaskier angst#jaskier whump#geralt is trying so hard but hes so dumb#Jaskier passing him a note that says 'i love you <3'#Geralt (genuinely loves him back) tossing it into the fire: 'no papertrails'
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Buddie fans, my loves, come have a seat for a moment.
I want to have a chat, from a long time Buddie lover to you, whether you’re new or have been here a long time.
It’s okay.
I’ve been in the trenches with you. I’ve been pulling for Buck and Eddie to get together for years. I haven’t given up, even as I’ve seen other fans leave because they lost hope. I don’t blame them. The Buddie section of the fandom has been powerful and beautiful and all consuming. We’ve gone seven seasons and up until this point, not one of the two men in question was even confirmed to be queer.
But we all need to take a moment and breathe. That’s it. Stop doom scrolling for a moment and breathe in.
Good. Now hold for a moment.
And breathe out.
I’m going to get real here, alright? And you might not like everything I say and that’s ok.
We need to stop being a problem. Stay with me. I’m not saying we need to stop shipping Eddie and Buck. Far from it. I will love that ship forever. I’m not saying we need to stop our fanfics or fanart or our love for these two. Our feelings are valid. Many of us have been in love with these two for a long time. The Buckley-Diaz family is a strong unit.
Our feelings are valid and we feel what we feel. But our reactions are utterly and entirely our own responsibility.
We need to stop the bullying.
Let’s face it, many Buddie fans have also been long time bullies in the fandom. Particularly in regard to the actresses who have played the female love interests in the past. Don’t get me wrong, aside from maybe Ali, I have disliked every love interest introduced. But have we not yet learned to separate actress from character? If we are going to dislike an actress, let’s do it for a valid reason. Marisol’s actress for example is problematic. But many fans have rained hell down upon any woman introduced.
I’ve noticed this issue for a long time. But now we’re dealing with the issue being even more widespread because of Buck/Tommy. Now fans are bullying each other. The fandom is divided, even in what is probably one of the better seasons we’ve gotten (in my opinion). I need you guys to stay with me here.
Buck is bi.
Let’s say that again. Evan Buckley is bisexual. A major character on a major show on a major network, previously a womanizer and still a very masculine figure, is queer.
This is monumental. This is amazing.
But so many of you are letting your feelings about Buddie get in the way of appreciating the progress we’ve made. Especially with the reintroduction of Tommy Kinard, Buck’s love interest.
Let’s clear up a couple of things, shall we? Tommy Kinard is not Sal DeLuca. He is not Captain Gerrard. While he was part of the old 118 and definitely was in the old boys club, not only is he not the major problem, but in most cases that he’s an asshole, it can be traced back to his own secret. It’s not great, sure. But let’s look at the facts. Chimney is friends and still keeps in touch with him. Hen appears to hold no animosity and was clearly comfortable with him. In Bobby Begins, they all are friends. And clearly, Tommy has undergone a massive self-growth period. You cannot try to back up your point with inaccurate facts.
People can change. People can also be forgiven. It’s the prerogative of those involved. Enough said.
“But TK6,” you may say, “Buck should be with Eddie! Tommy is a plot device!”
Let’s set aside instant gratification culture really quick and talk about storytelling. You cannot get everything you want when you want it. You also cannot have your cake and eat it too. Buck and Eddie, if both queer, were never going to come out at the same time. Do we really want that?! Because identity is messy. Self discovery is messy. Eddie has Catholic guilt. Buck has self esteem/worth issues. Life isn’t a fanfiction. The real possibility of their relationship surviving such a transition isn’t all that high. IF Eddie is canonically queer, he’s going to have a rougher path than Buck has had.
Also, everyone is a plot device. Let’s get real. If a character doesn’t move a plot along, what’s the point? YES, Tommy is there for a storyline. That doesn’t in anyway invalidate his existence or his presence in Buck’s life.
If you want an instant Buddie storyline, visit ao3! There are amazing stories on there.
Now let’s talk about Buck/Tommy, or TEvan.
I am a long time Buddie lover. I also proudly ship TEvan. Yes, those can coexist. I don’t often multiship, but it’s a beautiful thing. I want Buddie to be endgame, sure! But I’m also okay if TEvan lasts. If they end up being endgame, will I be disappointed about Buddie? Of course. I will also be thrilled because Buck and Tommy are a sweet couple and I’m here for it.
As a queer woman, I’m happy that Buck is bi. Multisexual representation is still sorely lacking. Male sexuality that lets a man keep his masculinity while being queer? Even more so. Just take a look at the ao3 tag. Buck is emasculated in many fics. That’s why I stopped reading a lot.
We have a ship here that includes two very masculine men, who are emotionally vulnerable and exploring something new. I understand ship disappointment. But the negativity is wild. We need to stop the bullying. We need to stop the cheating storylines. We need to stop making Tommy into an ab*s*r only because we apparently can’t handle a love interest being a good person.
At the end of the day, these are fictional characters. It’s a fictional show. But these are real people. All of us are sitting here behind our screens with real feelings. We need to stop.
Buddie may one day happen. And maybe they won’t. TEvan might be endgame. They might not be. Tis the way of 9-1-1. It’s exciting, isn’t it? Waiting for something new and exciting. It was starting to get a little stagnant.
As a queer person, I’m not trying to gatekeep anyone. However, we cannot sit here and say “stop queerbaiting us!!!!” (They weren’t, we’ve always had queer representation on 9-1-1) “give us more representation” and then when they give it to us say, “NO! Not that way!”
If it was about the representation, it being Eddie or Tommy would matter a lot less.
So if you are someone using representation to shield yourself, kindly just be honest with yourself and everyone else.
In the words of our Lady and Savior Taylor Swift, “You need to calm down”.
Now, back off into the world of scrolling you go, my lovelies. Remember, keep an open mind and breathe. At the end of the day, it’s a show. But I for one will happily wait for every episode because I’m loving this.
#911 abc#9-1-1#911 season 7#911 show#tommy kinard#bucktommy#evan buckley#buddie#eddie diaz#911 spoilers#911 meta#I’m sure I’ll get hate and I’m prepared for that#however#I’d like to point out that you’ll simply prove my point#it’s two am and I just want people to get along#lgbtq community#lgbtq
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Do I have a chance?
Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Reader Words: ~ 1 600 Summary: Ace is just trying to get you to like him. Tags: he's so. ace. / Marco just sits back and eats popcorn while watching it happen
Requested by anon [Hi! Could I request male reader X Ace where Ace is nice and adorable with everyone except reader? Ace is not toxic or mean to Reader, he just acts more serious and tough around him (...)]
MASTERLIST
Your eyes observed Ace in the distance as he talked with the others. He would often giggle, showing that wide smile that made your heart flutter as he opened that wide smile. Sometimes he would joke about something, playing offended and being way too dramatic, and it was also way too cute when he randomly fell asleep. Only you knew how hard it was not to just reach out and ruffle his hair, play with his messy black strands, maybe squish his cheeks together, and kiss all over his freckles…
All of it was to be appreciated just by far, though. Marco and the others were so lucky.
“Ah, hey, (y/n),” Ace mumbled with a light wave as he approached when you sat at one of the tables on Moby Dick’s with a book in hand. “I was wondering, could you help me with some bandages? It’s kinda tricky to clean the wounds.” He pointed to the bandage on his shoulder. He didn’t smile. Okay. It was so awkward when Ace did that. It felt like he was annoyed by you.
“Sure.” You grabbed the marker and slipped it into the book before closing it. His eyes glanced down at it.
“What book is that?” Ace blinked as he observed you set it aside.
You raised an eyebrow, looking at it for a moment, and hummed. “Ah, it’s just something I grabbed from Marco.” You took the book while standing up, observing the cover for a moment. Ace always asked you about the stuff you read or watched, so you just told him about it before he asked. “It’s about a king who searches for the fragments of his dead wife’s soul. He’s the main character, along with a guy and a girl. This other guy is so cool. He’s stoic, y’know, all serious and tough. Very cool character. The king is way too dramatic.”
Despite your grin, Ace only raised an eyebrow in brief interest and nodded with a hum. “Oh, great. Sounds cool.”
Why did he always make things awkward?
You nodded with a hum. “Either way, I’m going to put it away. Where do you want to change your bandages—”
“Your cabin?” Ace said almost instantly. You blinked a couple of times before slowly nodding, and he exhaled softly. “Then let’s go.”
Ace was terribly quiet during all of that. He was serious, not reacting so much to your jokes and barely keeping the subjects going, so you just opted for silence. If he really disliked you, you didn’t want to keep bothering him. Even so; if he disliked you, why did he insist on always trying to be around you? You’d questioned Marco about that a couple of times, but all he did was scoff and chuckle in response.
You did favors to Ace once in a while, yeah—you two were close crewmates at the beginning—, and that was never the issue, just that he didn’t even thank you this time. Ace just walked out of the cabin before you could finish speaking, leaving his button-up on your bed.
Ace had sort of told Marco his plans. Marco didn’t agree at all, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to convince someone with a thick head like Ace, so he didn’t even try too much. Honestly, Marco couldn’t even wonder how you were feeling with all this mess because he would often catch you gazing at Ace with those dreamy eyes.
One of the things that went through Marco’s head was certainly about the amount of functioning brain cells inside Ace’s head. If Ace was too shy to confess to you, maybe he should try some tactic that didn’t involve making you fall for him and confessing to him instead. Or just anything that involved Ace being Ace instead of someone who clearly didn’t please you.
As far as Marco could remember, it started when Ace wanted to find things to talk about with you, and the fact you were around reading a few books made it easy for Ace to figure out two things to chat about: what kind of stuff you liked, and also what your type was, hopefully. Marco could remember Ace ranting to him about how you loved all the serious and Stoic characters from those books, admiring their coolness. It was a matter of time until Ace was changing into that said demeanor whenever around you, but his attempts at being serious honestly just made Marco want to hide due to the second-hand shame. Ace was so stupid. He was like a weird kid.
On the other hand, Marco also wanted to strangle Ace to make him confess to you already. He noticed that most of the crew was dispersed now that you stopped by an island. You were sitting alone at one of the tables on the main deck, reading your book.
“Oi, Ace-yoi,” Marco caught Ace’s attention. “I’m going ahead to the shop, so can you tell (y/n) I’ll already be there?” He didn’t actually wait for Ace to answer before he left, waving back at Ace with his other hand stuck in his pocket.
Damn, Marco. He could’ve at least told Ace something about that before. At the moment, he wasn’t fucking prepared to talk with you. Ace’s mind was racing as he looked back and saw you there, nose buried in that same book from the other day. You were the only one there aside from an occasional pirate that would walk by, which wasn’t even relevant. Marco really hated him, didn’t he?
Ace cleaned his throat and tried to seem cool as he walked over to the area where you were, hands in his pockets. He could do it. He was going to do it so well that maybe you’d confess to him today. The same things went over and over in his mind as he leaned back against the wall, letting his hat cover his face lightly. You probably were sleeping hugging the shirt that he left in your room. He probably looked so cool. He was so cool.
… Well, why didn’t you approach him, then? What was taking you so long?
You had noticed Ace’s presence there, of course—how could you not? It wasn’t even the first time he saw you after the day you fixed his bandages, but you still wished that Ace would finally come to thank you or ask for his shirt back. Despite having your eyes glued to the page, you weren’t reading a thing. You couldn’t read a thing.
This was already getting on your nerves. Did Ace think he was better than anyone? Did Ace hate you?
Ace jumped when the book was suddenly tossed at him. He gasped as he caught it before it fell to the ground, holding it tightly in his hands.
“What’s wrong with you?” You stood there, pointing at Ace accusingly. He had wide eyes, mouth opening and closing as he tried to say something, but it never came. You groaned, clenching your hands into fists and stepping towards him. “I get it that you don’t like me, but I don’t see the reason you keep hanging around! If I annoy you so much, then just avoid me, and I’ll return the favor!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took a moment; the dumbass just stood there tensely, face red. “Look, you could’ve at least acknowledged that I cleaned your wounds and taken your shirt back!”
Ace finally managed to choke something out. “But I don’t hate you!” His voice sounded weaker than he planned. Shit, he was making a fool of himself in front of you again. He groaned, looking at the book and slipping it in his pocket, not knowing what to do with it.
“You don’t have to lie, Ace!”
“I’m not lying!” Ace groaned as he pulled his hat over his face to hide it. “Ahh, I fucked it all up… I’m so sorry, (y/n)!”
A sigh escaped your lips. “Ace, it’s okay, really. You’re not obligated to like me or anything.”
Ace lowered his hat enough to look at you over the brim of it. He stuttered a couple of times but decided to take a pause—he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “Look, I’m so sorry. I actually like you a lot.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, eyeing Ace up and down. “What do you even mean by that? Like me? Ace—”
“I was trying to be like those characters you talk about! From the books, I mean.” Ace sighed in frustration. He adjusted his hat, letting it hang over his back. “I thought you’d like me more if I did it.”
“Ace…” You sighed, burying your face in your hands and then rubbing your temples. Now all the hints that Marco dropped were starting to make sense. “Okay. Terrible choice, actually, because I like it when you’re being yourself.” Ace furrowed his eyebrows, so you nodded more. “I’m always hoping you’ll be silly and playful when you’re around me because it’s so cute.” Your cheeks reddened as you confessed it, but there was no other way to fix things without talking it out, even more after a misunderstanding going on for so long. “Just be yourself, Ace. I actually like you a lot, as well.”
Ace was pouting a little, his cheeks all red. “Can I hug you, (y/n)? Pretty please?”
A chuckle escaped your lips as you felt your face heating up as well. “Yeah, yeah, I—”
He was in your arms before you could finish saying it, hugging you tightly. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do it again.”
“Yeah, you better.” You patted his back lightly with a sigh.
“You know,” Ace chuckled a little bit as he pulled back; his cheeks were redder as he looked away. “Do I, y’know, do I have a chance with you now that I’m being the way you like me?”
You raised an eyebrow and slowly grinned wide. “Hmm, I’ll think about it,” you teased a little, kissing his cheek.
.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.
#one piece#portgas d ace#x male reader#x demale reader#gender neutral#portgas d ace x reader#ace x reader#one piece x reader#oneshot#writing#fan fic#fan fiction
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Recently noticed a ton of "booktok" people claiming that written smut is "just as bad as porn" and "affects the brain the exact same way as porn." I'm not even antiporn but any rational person can see why that's a ridiculous claim. The industries are vastly different (no one but the author is involved in written smut, so there's less room for abuse) and the stimuli are vastly different. Like porn addiction as a concept is dubious at best but videos and written text affect the brain in different ways. That feels very obvious to me. I can at least see the basis for porn addiction (but there's no good evidence for its existence). No babes, you cannot become addicted to books. Seriously, people are claiming that you're a porn addict if you read a lot of smut. & I've had several people tell me "you must be a porn addict because only an addict would defend porn [meaning smut in this context] so vehemently," which feels VERY fallacious to me but I don't know which fallacy in particular. I just...am I going insane? Shouldn't "porn addiction also includes written smut" be fucking plainly ridiculous, even to people who vehemently believe in porn addiction and people who vehemently don't?
--
I wonder how different the effect really is on, say, a person who imagines extremely vividly. I have a friend who can make herself nauseated just by thinking of food because as soon as she thinks of it, she tastes it as if she were eating it.
I don't find writing and video that different. When reading, I do often experience a playback in my head. I don't always imagine facial features clearly, but details of objects, layouts of settings, clothing, etc. will be photorealistic. The crummy production values of your average commercial porno aren't my thing, but that's not a fundamental property of the medium.
If we mean "addiction" like "thing people become obsessive about as an escape", books certainly count.
If we mean "wharrgarbl, how dare people have a sexuality?!" then any medium can count.
The fundamental flaws of the concept of porn addiction make it hard for me to agree with you.
--
But as for "Only a X would defend...", those are just cowardly weaklings who've never stood up for a real principle in their lives. Everyone with decent standards will sometimes have to stand up for things they personally dislike or don't care about.
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I love the hange head cannons could you do something similar with korra?
Yes! Also this is for everyone( I didn't put it in my last work because I forgot) please dont reblog or repost with giving me credit.
Dating Korra would be like:
When Korra first met you she was a mess. Her face was red and she was having a hard time talking.
Over time you to got to know eachother and she asked you out. You said yes and she took you to her favorite restaurant.
Korra is very protective. She needs to protect you, I mean, she's the avatar. If she cant protect you. Who can she protect?
She loves PDA, it's her way of letting everyone know you're hers. Small bites or kisses in public never hurt anyone.
If you dislike a lot of PDA she'll respect your wishes, but be PREPARED! She'll be even worse in private. She wont let you go until she feel it's enough.
She loves and trusts you with all her heart so please don't break it. Whenever you fight she gets stubborn and wont apologize.
She'll end up crying and coming back after an hour or two.
Depending on your bending abilities, or if you can bend at all, Korra will train with you. She needs you to be ready in case something happens. She can't lose you.
If you bend fire, water, or earth she's going to be a great mentor. If you're an air bender, not so much...
I'd you can't bend, Korra will train you in hand to hand combat. She loves seeing you workout with her, it's a bonding activity in her eyes.
She'll introduce you to people as her future wife, and will more than likely tease you if you get flustered. If not Korra will find other ways to make your face all pink.
Shes very trustworthy, you can tell her anything. Whatever your thinking, she'll reassure you and talk you through it.
You're her baby, her pretty girl, she'll help you no matter what. Believe me, she loves every bit of you, and she will frequently remind you of that.
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
S W I T C H if I ever seen one!
She loves it when you eat her out. Do it, just once and she's shaking.
She'll beg, and I mean beg. She cries and squeaks, begging for you to slow down. Of course when you do, she begs for you to get faster.
She'll pull on your hair and scratch at your scalp. While her nails are cut down she had a tendency to bite.
(Were gonna pretend straps exist here) She'll bite your neck, arms, chest where she can. Depending on the position, you'll either have multiple very visible marks or multiple non-visible marks.
Now for when Korra is on top? That's a whole new story. She's a soft dom, but dont think that means she wont put you in your place. It just means you'll get more chances, with her at least.
Korra loves to chase you, she finds it cute how you think you're going to win. In the end she'll have you in her arms, taking her strap, begging for more. Your little game of cat and mouse is over quite quick.
She'll either hold you down, or tie you up. It all depends on how you act, if your good, ropes aren't involved. If you're bad...
Dont think that she's going to hurt you though. After having you so many times she get to understand what you like and dislike. Korra can be very rough or very gentle, but you have to voice it.
She could degrade you, or praise you. Call you her pretty girl, or treat you like you're mud under her boot.
"Darling, I know, I know it hurts but you're doing so well. I'm so fucking proud of you! You look so beautiful with my cock buried in your pussy!"
Or
"Ugh, you cant do anything right, can you? I'm getting tired of someone who can't even take my cock properly. Fucking slut! You need me? Hm?"
Trust and believe the aftercare is GODLY that woman knows how to treat you like the princess you are. Water, food, whatever you want, she'll get it.
She just loves you so much, so believe she's going to spoil you.
I really hope you liked it!
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Girls on Film (Mickey Altieri x Reader)
Summary: As a film studies major at Windsor College, your junior year is proving to be an eventful one as the eponymous Ghostface begins targeting fellow students, some who you consider friends. You try to focus on your classes, mainly the short film project you’re working on with Mickey Altieri, who your professor inexplicably paired you up with despite the two of you having almost polar opposite views on the medium.
Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. You’re also into gross out movies because I wanted a strong contrast to Mickey’s “blame the movies” thing and also irony…as you’ll see. This is an extremely dark fic, so look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this. Also, you know and I know that Mickey didn’t kill Randy, but in the context of the fic, the reader-character doesn’t know that. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 4k
Warnings: One-sided rivalry (Mickey hates your guts). Discussions of “gross” movies and themes. Descriptions of violence. Major character deaths. Sexually explicit content which involves non/dubcon, knifeplay, bloodplay, sadism (slight masochism). Do not interact if you are under 18.
Film Theory went from okay to off the walls when Mickey Altieri decided to make the argument that movies could be responsible for people’s actions. Using the brutal murders at the early Stab screening in town as an example was in poor taste when it had just happened the night before. It wasn’t even that you disliked Mickey, having met him in your Introduction to Film History course. He was pretty funny, and the two of you had a lot of the same classes together, moved in the same social circles.
He’d expressed similar views before, but never so egregiously. You couldn’t believe a fellow film student would have such a regressive view of cinema. It was asinine to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t let the conversation go on without giving your two-cents to your peers.
“CiCi’s right. That exact thinking is what led to the Hays Code.”
“Bonnie and Clyde was one of the first post-Code movies to make it big. It showed there’s profit in glorifying crime and violence,” Mickey said. “The decade after it came out was the golden age of serial killers.”
“Oh sure, I watched one too many John Waters movies, and now I’m having sex in confession booths,” you said, earning snickers from your classmates.
“Thank you,” Randy said. “I don’t think anyone was eating dog shit after watching Pink Flamingos.”
“Maybe Ghostface got the idea for the phone calls from Serial Mom,” one of your classmates quipped.
“Kathleen Turner’s character in that was inspired by serial killers. She read true crime books and collected paraphernalia,” Mickey argued.
“I’ll do you one better and raise you John Waters himself,” you said. “The guy has a morbid fascination with the Manson Family to the point where he incorporates references to them in almost all of his movies. He hasn’t committed any mass murders.”
“No, he just makes movies that make people wanna puke,” another classmate said.
Mickey opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sidney and Hallie rushing to the classroom door, looking for Randy. Unable to keep the class’s attention after that, your professor dismissed everyone.
CiCi made her way over to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Reagan-era politics have really poisoned some of these people’s critical thinking skills.”
“Tell me about it,” you agreed.
CiCi had been in a lot of the same classes as you your freshman year, and the two of you became fast friends over your similar taste in movies and distaste for closed-minded people. She was a big Lee Grant fan, wanting to make candid documentaries about tough social issues too.
You had some time to kill before your next class, so the two of you made your way to one of the empty picnic tables outside and continued the discussion, which had quickly turned into mutual ranting. Her point about the Slumber Party Massacre movies being directed by women was cut short when you realized you’d have to book it across campus to make it to Film Production II in time.
It was one of the higher level courses for film students who were looking to make feature films rather than focus on screenwriting or making documentaries. Among the prerequisites for Film Production II were Screenwriting I and II. In theory, everyone in the class would have two or three short film scripts ready to be adapted for an advanced Film Studies class. Few films were ever solo projects, so you weren’t surprised when your professor told everyone on the first day of class to prepare to be partnered up for the project, which would count for most of the course’s grade.
When you walked into the classroom, your professor handed you a slip of paper with two names on it. Yours and–of course. You almost had to laugh at the irony. Mickey. His attitude toward you could be unpredictable. Some days would be fine, and others it was like the two of you were about to bite each other’s heads off.
Speak of the devil. You watched his reaction to the slip of paper when he walked in. Unreadable, even when his attention turned to you.
“Is Sidney okay?” you asked when Mickey sat next to you.
“As okay as anyone can be in this situation. That cop from Woodsboro’s here—Dewey, he’s keeping an eye on her.”
“That’s good.”
“So, let’s get started on this thing I guess. Any ideas?”
“Okay cool. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and my strongest script is ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”
He scoffed. “The one about the cannibal girl who gets lobotomized?”
“Well, we could take the easy route and make a porno,” you snapped. “Not that it’d be very long.”
“Knowing you it’d be snuff.”
“Whatever. We’ll do one of yours, but I get to do casting and set design.”
“Easy enough, ‘Stakeout’ has four characters,” he said, digging through his backpack for a copy of the script.
You flipped through the script, scanning the first few pages to jog your memory. An action-comedy about a group of criminals who knew that they were being staked-out by undercover cops, unaware that one was within their midst. Mickey’s comedy writing was fast-paced and genuinely funny. You’d told him so in your peer review of his script in Screenwriting II. The reviews were anonymous, but the effort was still there.
Most of the reviews for ‘The Tongue Remembers’ were positive, with criticisms of some minor plot points that helped you make the whole script stronger in the long run. The review you appreciated most tore the damn thing apart, but gave detailed explanations for the suggestions given, all of which were so good you almost wanted to seek out who the source was. A handful of people didn’t care for your script at all, objecting to the plot altogether. You quietly suspected Mickey was one of them.
You tried to shake the tension that had settled over you and Mickey following the exchange just a few moments prior. At least it’d be good experience for dealing with inevitable assholes as you worked your way up in the film industry. It was tough to make it without connections, and even tougher for women.
By the end of class, the two of you agreed to meet in the library the next day and start planning casting and a general production schedule. Mickey had more editing experience than you did, but you wanted to sit in on the process after initial production of the short film was over. He begrudgingly agreed, and you left the classroom for the dining hall in a sour mood.
When you walked into the crowded dining hall for dinner, you spotted Randy and rushed over to join him. More often than you’d like, he’d have to be the mediator when you and Mickey would really get into it. At least he seemed to find it amusing.
“Hey, is everything alright?” you asked.
He handed you a plate that already had two slices of pizza on it and grabbed one for himself. “Besides the whole ‘Ghostface is back and people are being murdered’ thing? Can’t complain. How about you? Get your partner for Production II yet?”
“Yeah. Mickey.”
Randy laughed. “Nice. I’m sure that won’t be a disaster.”
“I don’t want it to be! I even said we could do one of his scripts.”
“Which one?”
“That action-comedy he wrote, ‘Stakeout’,” you said as the two of you sat at an empty table. “It’s a good script. He’s a great comedy writer. I’m just pissed he wouldn’t even consider ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”
Randy nodded in acknowledgement. “I liked that one. You did a good job of making the cannibals sympathetic. Strong ending too. I’m not so sure it’d go over well at Windsor’s student film fest. Lotta weak stomachs.”
“Last year’s winner was a fucking romcom.”
“So you give the cannibal a love interest. Go a little further than Texas Chainsaw 2.”
“I’m not trying to win awards. I wanna make art.”
“You gotta sell out before you can make art. That’s the industry, kid,” he said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “Are you gonna be at the Delta Zeta whatever party tonight?”
“Delta Lambda Zeta? I don’t think so,” you said. “I gotta find people to be in this movie.”
It turned out to be one of the best decisions you could have made, because you ended up with a list of people interested in a role in ‘Stakeout’. More pressing, however, was the news that Ghostface had made an appearance at the party, after killing CiCi in the Omega Beta Zeta house. Your stomach dropped at the news. Just a few hours before her death you’d been talking to her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t connected to anyone from the original Woodsboro killings, the students who were killed at the Stab premiere hadn’t been either.
In a small college like Windsor, news traveled fast, and by the time you finished eating breakfast, you’d heard that Sidney, Randy, Hallie, Derek, and Mickey had all spent the night at the police station following the attack.
You didn’t want to ask Randy if you were a suspect. Your film taste alone would put you at the top of the list by default. As much as you understood the reasoning considering the last Ghostface duo’s obsession with horror movies, it didn’t mean everyone who watched them would be inclined to commit murder, despite what Mickey thought. Besides, who would your accomplice even be? Derek or Hallie would be too obvious. Gale Weathers was cutthroat, but not in the literal sense. Randy or Dewey would be a devastating twist if the goal was to mess with Sidney that much more. You felt bad. This type of thing was fun in the movies. You couldn’t imagine it being your life.
Making your way to the library, you weren’t sure whether or not Mickey would actually show up after spending all night in a police station, but it didn’t hurt to go anyway and get other work done.
To your surprise, he sat down across from you a few minutes after you’d agreed to meet. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, dark circles under his eyes.
“Jesus have you even slept? We can do this another day.”
“Spare me your concern.”
“Look, I don’t want this project to be miserable for either of us,” you said. “Between Film Theory and Production, I was kind of being a bitch yesterday.”
“It was really that porno comment that hit me deep. I’m no two-pump chump,” he said with a smile.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Oh, I have some people interested in three of the four roles for ‘Stakeout’.”
“Already?”
“I wanted to make it up to you.”
He was silent for a moment, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry about CiCi. I know she was your friend.”
“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to keep it together. The last thing you wanted was to break down in the middle of the library.
The two of you planned to do a test shoot in one of the theater’s empty practice auditoriums over the weekend. The main stage was being used for the theater department’s annual play, but Mickey pointed out that ‘Stakeout’ mostly took place in one room anyway. You went ahead and booked the auditorium on the library computer for about three hours, just to give enough time to work out any kinks and not worry about being interrupted.
While Mickey was going to spend the following couple of days getting props together and making any last minute changes to the script, you would finalize the cast since he approved of your choices, surprisingly. At least, you were going to, until Randy ended up dead not long after CiCi.
You spent a day locked in your dorm room, partially out of paranoia and also in the depression of losing two of your close friends within days of each other. It was getting serious. Randy had survived Woodsboro. If he wasn’t off limits to Ghostface, no one was.
By Saturday, you’d debated bailing on Mickey and not bothering to show up for the test shoot. You decided against it. Moping wouldn’t do you any good.
He looked shocked to see you when you walked into the auditorium. You felt bad your progress on casting stalled. His friend had died too, but he had his shit together enough to bring a box of props and the camera.
“Are you sure you’re good to shoot today?” Mickey asked from behind the camera, set a few feet from the stage.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice cracking a bit. “Really, it’s all good.”
“We don’t have to–”
You shook your head. “Let’s do this.”
“Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You mind locking the door?”
“Okay.” You walked back to the door, locking it. “I got two of the leads for ‘Stakeout’ down, Frank and Alex. I know Frank wasn’t our first choice, but Greg backed out.”
“No problem–shit, I forgot something in the props box over there,” he said, adjusting the settings on the camera. “Could you get it while I finish setting this up? You can’t miss it.”
“Sure,” you said, making your way over to the cardboard box Mickey had brought with him. It took a lot to rattle you, but as soon as you looked in the box, your skin crawled. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, eyes empty black holes. The same ones your friends saw before they died. “Mickey? This better be some kind of stupid joke.”
You turned around to find him less than a foot behind you. Camera set to record. Knife in his hand. Dangerous gleam in his eye as he took a step toward you.
“Last minute change—unprofessional, I know—but I decided to go in a different direction for our short film,” he said, a sadistic grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna be the star. Too bad you won’t be able to see it.”
Just as you began to scream, he put his hand over your mouth, holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t be a diva on me now. You just say what I tell you, okay?”
You nodded frantically, vision blurred by the tears that flowed freely from your eyes. In your desperation, you accidentally nicked your own skin against the knife, whimpering at the small cut you’d self-induced. Mickey snickered, his gaze shifting from you to the camera lens.
He moved his hand from your mouth, though his thumb rested on your lower lip. Slowly, he pushed it between your lips. Fuck this. Fuck him. You bit down until you tasted copper, earning a sloppy slash across your chest that made you cry out in pain, releasing his thumb.
He looked at his hand in disbelief and then at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna fight back, huh? You wanna play that game?” he said, an unnerving laugh escaping his lips.
Feeling bold, you spit his own blood in his face. In his moment of distraction you grabbed the knife, managing to pull it from his hand. You stumbled back, holding out the knife with a shaky hand.
Despite you having the weapon, he still seemed smug, amusement in his eyes as he lunged toward you. You wildly swung the knife, cutting his abdomen as you crashed to the ground. He climbed on you, grabbing at your flailing arms as you tried to keep him away with the threat of being cut again.
“I’ll kill you! Fucking bastard!” you screamed. “You killed my fucking friends!”
“Do it!” he taunted. “C’mon, I wanna see you try.”
In your struggle to stab him, you lost your grip on the knife, and it slid across the stage. The both of you froze. You used this moment to push him off of you, scrambling to retrieve it. He threw a punch to your back. The wind knocked out of you, violent coughs clawing their way out of your lungs. He took the opportunity to stand up as you lay on the ground in pain.
Still, with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grabbed for the knife, hissing as your fingers wrapped around the blade and cut deep into your skin. It didn’t matter. You had to do the most with it while you had it in your grasp.
You held the knife up in a weak defense as he kicked your stomach. When he moved to kick you again, you slashed his leg, pulling the blade from his flesh and watching as blood quickly stained his pants.
The wild look in his eye intensified, and he dropped down, his hips straddling yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your core as he shifted. And he said you got off to fucked up shit.
With one hand, he applied pressure to your throat as the other held down the arm you were holding the knife with. You released your grip on the knife as black spots clouded your vision. You could vaguely hear it fall to the ground when his hand released your throat, and you sucked in a much-needed breath. He picked up the weapon, a triumphant grin on his face. You were fucked.
He sat up, lazily dragging the knife down from your chest to your hips. “You probably should’ve killed me.”
“You think I wasn’t trying?” you wheezed.
“You put up a good fight. I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
“And you don’t? I saw the thrill in your eyes every time you raised this at me.”
“It’s self-defense!”
“You tell yourself that, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, only for him to stop to whisper, “Try something, and I swear to god I’ll knock your teeth out.”
You were having trouble breathing. He probably crushed part of your trachea. At least you put up a good fight. You lay still as he kissed you, not making an effort to kiss him back until he pressed the blade against your throat. Even then, you let him take the lead, your lips passively responding to his as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Shame he was a serial killer. It took everything in you not to bite down on it like you had his thumb. You didn’t have the energy to fight back. Knew he wasn’t bluffing about your teeth either.
He pulled away from you, a string of bloody saliva hanging from your lips that he swiped with his injured thumb. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it. You grimaced at the sight.
“C’mon, babe, I thought you were into this kinda thing,” he teased.
“That’s all pretend. It’s not real,” you argued softly.
You gasped as he cut through your top and bra, digging the blade into your abdomen. He traced the tip of the knife around your breasts, watching in amusement as you began to cry. The cool air in the room and metal brushing your nipples made them hard. He used his free hand to pinch and pull at one, eliciting pained whines from you. Your teary gaze was fixed on the knife, though.
“Why don’t you give me a big smile for the camera and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you?”
“Screw you!” you shouted hoarsely.
He scoffed, pulling the knife away from your breasts and holding the blunt side between his teeth as he unzipped your jeans. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled the denim down your limp legs, leaving you in only your panties. His index and middle finger pressed against the cotton, rubbing a bit at the wet spot in the fabric.
A pleased noise came from his throat. “So you are into this kinda thing.”
He snapped the elastic waistband against your hips. You moaned. Your eyes shot open, face heating up in embarrassment.
The knife was back in his hand, though the gleam of the blade lowered, down, down, until you felt it pressed against your inner thigh. He dragged the blade across your sensitive skin until the only thing between it and your pussy was the thin fabric of your panties. You felt like your heart was going to explode from your chest.
“Stop. Mickey, please don’t—oh my god—“ you babbled. “Please—Mickey, I’m sorry—“
“You gonna do what I say?”
“Please fuck me, Mickey. I want you to fuck me so bad.”
“That’s better, baby,” he cooed mockingly.
You heaved a sob of relief as you felt him pull the knife from your panties. Closing your eyes again, you reckoned your impending doom with yourself, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper. The rustling of fabric. The air on your bare pussy.
“Time for the real show.”
Mickey played with your clit while he leaned down to kiss you again, devouring your involuntary moans with a triumphant smugness.
“The rest of them were messy and painful, just like in the movies,” he said softly, confusing you for a moment before you realized he was talking about his other victims. “I didn’t hate them, though, so I’ll blame this one on violent porn.”
“Mickey, I won’t tell anyone,” you tried. “This can be our secret. I—I like it, really.”
He groaned, pushing his hard cock between your folds. A pained cry escaped your lips as his length filled you. He hardly gave you any time to get used to him inside you as he began thrusting at a brutal pace.
“Keep going,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“You feel so good, Mickey. Your cock is so—fuck—I don’t want anyone else.” You struggled to get words out, your brain overrun by the pain and pleasure that competed to cloud your senses.
“You’re not getting anyone else.”
Your eyes drifted to the knife in his hand as he pounded into you, nervous about what he was going to do with it next.
“Look at me, baby,” he ordered.
Your fearful gaze snapped to his, cruel and unforgiving. He kept rubbing circles on your clit, so fast it was almost too painful. That’s what he wanted, though. For you to hurt. Made him feel better, get off quicker if you hurt. It was almost too easy for him, the way your body betrayed you so quickly, wet with slick so he hardly had to do a thing before claiming your cunt.
Your pussy squeezed his cock, a silent encouragement with each thrust against your will. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he showed no signs of letting up on you. Bleeding, aching, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the abuse.
“I want you to ruin me, Mickey.” You meant it. If this was how you were going to meet your end, it might as well be as brutal as the dark scenarios your mind sometimes wandered to after watching a particularly bloody film. Maybe he was right. Maybe the movies were to blame. “Fucking wreck me.”
He shuddered, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck–Jesus fucking–”
His grip around the knife handle tightened as he came, knuckles white as he stabbed it into the floor, mere inches away from your face. You jolted, fear and adrenaline sending you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body, muscles tensing, the sensation pulsing through your wounds, making them feel like they were on fire.
You nearly blacked out, but you held on long enough to feel him bottom out inside you. His head hung over yours as he caught his breath. Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed him. Softer, more intimate, hopefully enough to throw him off.
You reached for the knife next to you, but he pulled it out of the floor before you could.
“Nice try,” he said, breaking the kiss.
He stood up and walked away. For a moment, you thought he was going to just leave you there. You weren’t so lucky. He returned with Ghostface regalia in hand, looking down at your bloody body beneath him with a grin.
Mickey brought the voice modifier to his mouth. “Now, who wants to die for art?”
#mickey altieri x reader#ghostface x reader#slasher x reader#ghostface#mickey altieri#scream 2#scream#slasher fandom#slasher community#scream franchise#scream movies
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champagne bottles littered on the floor
it’s new year’s eve and you and matty don’t get along.
wc: 2.3k
warnings: mature content/dialogue, alcohol consumption, enemies to lovers, a little angst, reader doesn’t let people in easily and it’s painful to watch
note: thank u anon, i took this idea and ran! also this is unedited and not even finished so i can’t legally be held accountable if it’s terrible.
Tired and self-conscious about the dress you went with for the evening, you sip your champagne in the corner of the room. It bubbles down your throat and makes your face warm, but most of all convinces you that going back to your apartment would be the best idea right now.
Because there really wouldn’t be that much you’re missing out on. You’d miss the expensive liquor you’re nursing and the people watching but you’d prefer being alone because New Year’s Eve tended to be depressing anyway. By the end of December, you’re always exhausted and on edge.
So this is Christmas. Well, not anymore at least.
Your name being called across the room breaks you out of your getaway plot.
You turn and see your friend quickly making her way over to you, gushing along the way with words that you can’t make out until she says, “Come sit with me, yeah?”
She motions to the other room and you’re ready to decline until she purses her lips.
“Please, please, please,” She says, “You can’t go home at 10:30. That would be embarrassing for all parties involved.”
Delayed mumbling is all it takes for her to grab your hand, pulling you along after her while you say a silent goodbye to your corner. You debate shaking her off and shouting out a quick apology before making your way to the exit but her stumbling steps give you a reason to follow her. If anything to make sure she makes it to the next room.
You trudge behind her, speaking over the crowd, “I’m out of my limit here!”
She giggles but you’re not completely sure she heard you: “You’re silly. You’ve always been so silly.”
When you arrive at a bar table, she greets everyone with the exclamation of your name. You scan the group of her friends and realize that you know the majority of them. Smiling politely at their slightly glazed-over expressions, you fiddle with the glass in your hand–until you see Matty.
Your smile drops but he just beams in his classic shit-eating-grin way that makes you want to hurl the pregame snacks you partook in hours ago. His tie is loosened around his neck and his collar unbuttoned slightly, a clear indicator that he’s at least few rounds ahead of you. At the sight of him, you become mildly interested in the tabletop.
You top off your flute (the last of your liquid courage) and squeak out “Hi” to everyone. When you look up again, he’s still looking at you. Matty raises his glass toward you in a sardonic manner.
Fucker.
You can’t explain it. You’re sure you would come across as overdramatic if you verbally expressed how insufferable you found Matty Healy. Because he was never explicitly cruel to you. A dick at times sure but he was Matty. You’ve always figured it’s just how he was and either people adored or resented him for it.
“Found you at the right time,” Your friend drapes her arm over your shoulder, pressing her cheek against yours as you take a seat beside her. “I couldn’t let you slip away easily.”
You answer quick questions about how you’ve been and how your new job is going, all while keeping your eyes away from Matty who keeps shooting you looks of amusement; like he sees right through you and your dislike towards him.
“Nice dress,” Ross compliments in the midst of your conversation.
You smile earnestly, looking down to examine the dark blue cocktail dress that you were so apprehensive about earlier: “Thank you.”
“It’s not your usual style,” Matty chirps from the other side of the table. You glower as you make eye contact but he delights at your attention. “Makes you look like a proper lady.”
You blink. “What?”
He takes the last swig of his auburn-colored drink slowly like he intends to make you wait as long as possible before clarifying. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he makes a show out of wiping his chin clean.
“I’m complimenting you, love.” He deadpans,
Your cheeks burn. “Oh.”
He’s still looking at you intently as you brush down the sides of your dress. His staring problem and your nerves don’t partner well, but he nods and then says: “Blue is your color.”
You don’t respond, pretending to be mildly interested in your friend’s story that you missed half the details for. Yet, you nod, smile, and avoid looking at Matty.
And this works until out of the corner of your eye, he pushes his hair back and you notice the streaks of gray for the first time. His hair has grown longer since you last saw him. Stray curls slip forward through his fingertips and he catches you looking at him.
He winks.
You hate him. You loathe him. You could eat him alive.
You cough into your napkin and your friend looks over. She searches your face with a furrowed brow: “Alright, love?”
“Just warm,” You omit and her hand shoots out to feel your temple. You giggle while batting her hand away. “It’s the alcohol.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” Matty asks you and you look up startled. He motions to the mini bar across the room. “Roy Rogers? Apple juice, if you’re feeling a little dangerous?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” You say as coldly as you can.
You turn back to her and her eyes were now flitting between you and Matty with a curious expression. She side-glances you with an amused look and you shake your head sharply at her silent accusation: Oh?
He relents, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I’m at your call.”
You wipe your hands down on the hem of your dress again and shift in your seat.
Minutes pass by slowly and you’re at your breaking point with how much small talk and strained smiles you can put up with. You brave another look at Matty to see him chatting with his friend, his glass raised as he converses about an unknown topic. You almost have to fight a smile the way his brow furrows when he goes on a tangent for a long period of time.
You press a chaste kiss to your friend’s cheek, before whispering: “I’m off.”
She turns away from her boyfriend to protest your early departure, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back into your seat.
“Not until midnight!”
“I’ll talk to you soon,” You say apologetically, though thankful she’s in the company of others while she rambles on to you in her past-tipsy state. “You’ll have to tell me all about it later.”
You shift out of your seat, murmuring a shy goodbye to anyone noticing your premature exit. Matty stops his conversation at once when he notices you getting up from your seat.
“Where are you going?” He prods as you turn to go. His eyes crinkle as he shoots you a toothy grin. “Going to prowl for that New Year’s kiss?”
You turn on your heel, muttering, “Don’t be an ass.”
He whistles lowly as some your party lower their eyes uncomfortably. You turn to leave before he gets the chance to quip back.
The outside air is brisk, just as you expected, but you marvel at it when it hits your face. The patio is deserted and you lean against the railing as you sigh. Thankful for cold weather that cools your face, solitude, and a Matty-less environment that doesn’t make you collapse into a nervous wreck.
“Funny seeing you here.”
Your eyes shoot open at Matty entering the patio deck with two fresh glasses in hand.
Fuck your life.
You eye him defensively, “What do you want?”
“I’m just being courteous.” He shrugs, handing you the beverage.
You take it with only a bit of reluctance. “Don’t pull a muscle.”
“My God,” He laughs, setting his glass on the railing. He looks out towards the skyline, his head shaking slightly. “You just can’t help it.”
Your eyes wander to his finger that circles the rim of his glass, before snapping out of it and realize what he’s said.
“Can’t help what?” You ask, frowning slightly.
You smell the beverage before taking a sip, and you’re greeted by the same almond-flavored bubbly as earlier. Matty looks at you with knowing eyes, raising his brows towards you like you’re supposed to read his mind. Like he thinks you two are always on the same wavelength.
You raise your eyebrows in confusion: “I just can’t help what?”
He shrugs, “How bad you want to fuck me.”
You almost spit your champagne out but settle for mildly choking on the liquid, bringing your palm to your mouth as you cough. You shoot him an incredulous look.
“You’re crazy.”
“No?” He bites, clearly amused. “You’re just mildly agitated all the time?”
“That doesn’t mean I want to–” He stares at you and you can feel yourself beginning to burn again. “–fuck you.”
He hums, considering your words and doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t refute or agree with the sentiment.
“It’s just,” You say, thinking over the words. “You’re never nice to me.”
Matty frowns and he looks puzzled for the first time, “I’m not... nice?”
You cringe at the way it sounds from him, but you’re in too deep now to back down from it: “You never are just nice. There’s always an ulterior motive with you.”
“Ulterior motive,” He repeats, drawing out the syllables like he’s trying to piece everything together.
You’re not sure if he’s being incredibly patient or just taking the piss out of you.
“To tease me,” You explain, “You’re never serious about anything when talking to me. I never know how to interact with you.”
Matty falls silent and you know you sound paranoid to him. So you swirl your champagne flute in small motions, opting to watch the bubbles fizz rather than look him in the eyes.
He steps closer to you and you think you’ve stopped breathing.
“I can be serious with you.”
You shake your head and attempt to laugh but it comes out shaky.
His right hand comes up to toy with your chin, pinching the tip of it so your head tilts up and you have to look at him.
He grins when you meet his eyes, “‘Can be so serious.”
With his other hand, he plays with the end of your dress and you surprise yourself when you reach out to grip his forearm. His eyes wander down to watch himself trace the hem of the material.
“I was serious–” Matty glances up to gauge your reaction to the word choice but you’re too preoccupied with how the distance between you both grows smaller to give him the look he’s looking for. “–when I said you look like a proper lady in this dress. You look beautiful.”
His eyes bore into yours and you don’t want to look away in case he cracks a smile and tells you he’s full of shit. But he doesn’t and you’re leaning in to brush a lone curl out of his brow line, pushing it back against his forehead.
Matty watches you and you let him.
He feels up your lower waist and you fight the urge roll your eyes back at the simple touch. You wrap yourself around him, shifting against him in a subtle motion as he buries himself in your neck. His mouth presses underneath your jaw and your fingernails dig into his arm, pulling him into you even more. You hear his breath audibly hitch when you push your hips into his. His fingers dig into the fabric of your dress making it bunch up at the waist.
He presses his lips to the shell of your ear: “Can’t touch you like that right now, love.”
Your eyes fly open and he holds your hips in place against him as you stare at him incredulously.
“Why?”
He smirks at your reaction, “Why? You expect me to bend you over the railing in front of everyone?”
You blink slowly, looking around to see the vacant patio you’re occupying.
Is this ‘everyone’ in the room with us right now? You want to say but think that may come across as too much.
You concede with a huff and disconnect your limbs from him. He chuckles at your disappointed expression, trailing his fingertip up to your cheek as if to say to be continued.
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Good Morning
This is a story designed to catch all of you up on recent events. And is told from the perspective of the duality that is Duraxxor. Please enjoy!
A phrase that I have not known for some time. There was always this bittersweetness in basking in the rising of the day star. The myriads of hot colors that are often shown through in the atmospheric reflection that is our skies. It’s like… an ozone autumn one may say. It always reminded me of the Sin’dorei homelands. Wait, why does it also remind me of… someone?
“A dragon. It reminds us of that dragon of Azeroth’s blood. Delicious blood as it is, Azalora is a fresh slate. Much like we were. Or should I say… I was. Fate has dealt her a chance, unlike I. “
Hmmmm. A fresh dawn, one might say that one is. That’s right, meeting her was an interesting turn of events to start off with returning to Azeroth. Life always seems to find a way, in the strangest of places. That includes unlife. As logical as her mind is, she still has a lot to learn in her experiences.
“And that isn’t just about how she likes her cut of meat and flavor? Everyone knows there is only one way to eat a steak. Hahahaha… “
Ha! I do hope that we meet again soon. It was a most pleasant experience to have a new face to look at you as helpful and not entirely a threat. Although, that may come back to bite one in the tail. Wait… Why am I talking to myself?
“Really? We have fought against aberrations and had voices in your head so many times and you are surprised to be speaking to yourself of all people? Oh Alphus, you really haven’t been yourself for some time, have you? I suppose that comes with the fact that we haven’t been whole for so long. It reminds me of the current conflict between the Gravekeeper and the Courier. Oh, that was a most painful night, one I won’t soon forget. “
Ah. I take it you are the part of me that is Duraxxor, the name we have gone by for the past what? Decade?
“It’s been a little over fifteen years, old friend. “
Old friend? Look, we aren’t exactly separate entities like the two involved. You aren’t a leftover of my past; you are every bit as part of me as much as I may dislike the notion of me being a blood sucking monster. Why do you think you chose to meet with the Courier and hear her story out if she so wishes to share it?
“On the contrary, I have my pessimistic opinions that she won’t fully share. Remember, while Annaliese Handhour is a death knight, she was also a warlock in life. And with warlocks come complicated stories. Complications that they wish to not share. That is how we wound up absolutely getting our shit rocked when we tried to bargain with the Gravekeeper. We overstepped a boundary line, one might say. “
As if you really hoped to care about overstepping boundaries. That’s always been your specialty in these desolate years of conflict. Let us hope she at least forgives us for doing so in the future. Then again, you already plan to tread in waters that could already place her on our bad side by meeting with the Courier.
“Now see here, I have betrayed no one’s trust. If anything, there have already been a few betrayals already. When one doesn’t quite share their details, it is already a sign of bad faith and trust. And after we worked so hard to bring her back from her second death. “
Didn’t we also have a second death? . . .
“That is highly exaggerated. That was merely a setback, and we are fortunate enough to have had the Lady in Red as a dear friend. An ally who understands the raw potentials of what it is we have tried to accomplish! An evolution that will secure our birthright to no longer be a curse! A monster fraternizing with another monster. “
Is that really what you tell yourself? You and I both know if she had to choose between herself and us, it would always be herself. Even so, I can’t help but feel like I know her from the past. A deep, forgotten memory that goes all the way back to my childhood? Why do you think that is?
“That is precisely the point I wish to make about your confusion in speaking amongst yourself. Though the name Duraxxor may have come from the Scourge itself, I have always lived within you, Alphus. I am as much Alphus as you are. And yet, I am your shadow within your soul. “
. . . The darkest thoughts that were born from our curse. The beast of rage and the chaos that swirls within our heart. You mean to tell me you are exactly what was learned within the Shadowlands? You are that fragment of my soul that is foul and destructive?
“I suppose if you wish to look at it that way? Yes. Except I am the beast, as you put it, that has kept us ongoing ever since you crumbled into tiny, little shards of a mirror that were once your core memories. Memories that have only returned because we finally. . . “
You are trailing off. You realize it too, don’t you? The woman before us at this moment. She was the key, and she has always been that key even before I died. I wish I had known sooner who I originally was in life. I wouldn’t be sitting here, holding her hand with a severed ring finger. My beloved wife. . .
“It’s not entirely your fault, Alphus. What could you do? If anything, it was my fault. It was I who chose to believe in the bitter rumors that were plastered into the minds of even our blood children. Ravlynn and Aiden couldn’t know. The legacy of that foul man was nothing more than a children’s bedtime story in their hearts. Instead of investigating that claim all those years ago, I bitterly snarled and refused to acknowledge the emotion that is love born of understanding and kindness. That is why I made the mistake of trying to wed one of my own kind. A lie in a lie. All this time, I had been chasing pieces of your wife because of old emotions I didn’t quite understand. Because as much as it pains me to admit, I am quite the malevolent thing when it comes to what makes Duraxxor. “
We both have our sins, Duraxxor. I have over five hundred years' worth of questionable morality. It’s not about the wrong and right we do. It’s about how we choose to live. To fight. People live and they also die. For what purpose, that is up to them even if another force chooses to intervene. And this lady. This woman. She chose to continue to live even in the worst possible conditions because she chose to hold onto hope. Hope that WE will come for her.
“Hmph. You mean YOU come for her. This isn’t some fairy tale that w- “
Cutting yourself off again, I see. You know that was always a nasty habit. Tell me, how did the story go again? The one she told the kids. You heard it once from them, right?
“. . .Once upon a time there was a monster, most feared by all in the land. It was a terribly angry thing, all teeth and claws. Where it walked, death followed close behind. There was also a very sad princess, who lived in the land. They say she cried so much that she put the rains to shame. The king and queen wanted the princess to marry a grand duke, but he was ugly and wicked. Rotten straight to the core. The princess cried all day and all night, because she didn’t love the duke. She could never love a man like him.”
And with good reason. Ostidal Tindervale always was quite the pisspot of a noble.
“Now that I have had the luxury of meeting that excrement, quite so. Anyhow, she told the man that she didn’t want to marry the duke, that her parents were leaving her no choice. The man took her hand, stared deep into her eyes, and told her she -always- had a choice. “
Oh, that sounds vaguely familiar. It almost sounds like something you have said once before. That WE have said before. There is always a freedom of choice.
“Are you going to keep interrupting me? The man told the princess that she could run away. He took her far away… and even though her family sent many men to retrieve her, the man killed them without mercy to protect her. that he would protect her, help her get far away from there so that she could finally be free. He was so brutal in his efforts, that it was only a matter of time before the princess realized that the man who saved her was also the monster that everyone else feared. It didn’t matter to the princess though, because by then she’d realized that she’d fallen for the monstrous man… and he was with her. “
Here comes my favorite part of the whole thing. . .
“They ran away together, married, KISSED… and lived happily ever after! ~ Mwah Mwah Mwah Mwah!~ “
It’s a wonder you and I haven’t died more than twice with how insufferable you can be, you know that? Do you understand now what I am getting at?
“Of course I do! Duke the puke was a horrid pisspot that never let things go. History has a tendency to repeat itself and the monster in the story was always. . . Me. “
It was you and I both, wasn’t it? That numb feeling even before death where one after another, we killed people that threatened our livelihood. Her livelihood. It didn’t matter who they were, what their status quo was, or even if they were the Regent Lord himself, we fought for what we felt was the right choice to make. We didn’t let others dictate it. The shadow that turned monster because the world labeled us the moment we came out of the womb.
“And speaking of Arrydhalia, I believe it’s time I let you have the floor completely. I have… certain, internal affairs to take care of. I’m sure you will intermingle really soon. “
The timing was always impeccable for us both. But, as usual, he wasn’t a dishonest creature by any means. I looked upon the face of the storyteller that had passed my legacy onto our children through story. Sunken eyes with discolored skin begin to crinkle and stir as the light of the daystar bled through the window. The grasp onto the hand that lacked a wedding finger tightened. Where said finger would interlock like, the tips of chew nubs pressed against one another like some sort of a pact. No other would have this finger, just as she promised in her own, darkest hour. And yet, as the light caressed her dark curls and brought those azure eyes to creep open, I felt this desire to sing an unfamiliar song about the day.
So Good mornin’ Good mornin’ Sunbeams will soon smile through. Good mornin’ Good mornin’ to you and you and you and you.
[ Tagging for direct mentions: @azalora-the-azerite-dragoness , @gravekeeper-anna , @safrona-shadowsun , @sanguinesorceress , and a special thank you to @nyyght not only for Arrydhalia's character but the fairy tale story that started it all. ]
[ Art credits also go to the following: @frrrozi for Azalora, @handhourgalleries for Gravekeeper and Safrona, and @caladhel-iarian for Malakortana and me for the shot of Arrydhalia sound asleep. ]
#dura#batdad#alphus#the duality of duraxxor#catch-up#rp amongst friends#life wife#Gravekeeper#Azalora#Malakortana#Safrona#Arrydhalia#story rp
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Snippet: Homeroom Miruko x Red Flag (Deus MHA AU) Part 6
(UA Staff chatroom)
Caerbannog: @Everybody Bakugou Katsuki should NOT be allowed to enroll into any hero school. Ever.
RatOverlord: So he isn’t secretly good at manipulating the staff into giving him glowing reviews?
NightOwl: Nezu, don’t scare away our new staff before the school year has started.
NightOwl: Miruko, deets. Now.
Momnight: Hey that’s my line! Where did you learn to talk like that?
NightOwl: You, Midnight.
Momnight: Understandable, please continue.
Caerbannog: Well, the tldr version is that I was walking towards the school, chilling while eating my icecream, when I just hear an explosion and see a blackened notebook fly out the window.
Caerbannog: And lo and behold, I hear a kid ranting about a quirkless kid for even daring to apply to UA like him. (No prizes for guessing who the 2 kids in question are.)
NightOwl: Sounds like a problem child already.
Caerbannog: And I hear the most fucked up thing from the Katsuki kid. And this is a quote that I’m typing with such anger that I’m surprised the phone screen isn’t cracked.
RatOverlord: You can thank Power Loader for the modifications to our hardware and software, but please continue.
Caerbannog: “If you want a Quirk so badly, I got an idea. Just dive off the roof and pray for a Quirk in your next life.”
Caerbannog: He’s basically everything the Table hates with a passion. Not sure if I dislike Endeavor or this bully more.
RatOverlord: … All who agree to help perform an unpleasantness, say aye.
NightOwl: Aye, I’ll help Miruko gather info about him and the school.
Momnight: Aye, need help to detain (read: abduct) someone, u know how to reach me.
Alucard: Aye, I’ll check online for others in the area with weak or villainous Quirks that have faced discrimination from him or the school.
Bunshin: Aye.
KingBumi: Aye.
Exosuit: Aye, I’ll hack their servers n see what dirt I can dig up.
Macarena: Aye, I’ll keep an ear out during my radio show for such stories that’re submitted, get the word out.
Mercy: Aye.
SPACE!: Aye.
BigGoodDoggo: @RatOverlord If they get in, I want Midoriya to have a session with me. Preferably immediately after orientation. Please let your class attend @NightOwl, at least let them know I’m here before giving the kid (and any others like him) trauma. Also aye.
ShokuKing: Aye, I’ll make bento boxes for all your stakeouts. Miruko gets extra carrot soup and Eraser gets stronger coffee.
NightOwl: There’s stronger coffee? And no one told me!?
Cowboy: Can’t I just shoot him? Aye.
RatOverlord: @BigGoodDoggo Granted. @NightOwl Consider this an order, attend orientation with your FULL class of 20 students. Your expulsion scare can come after. @Cowboy Snipe, no.
Cowboy: Snipe, YES!
RatOverlord: At least let me make a plan to hide our involvement first.
Caerbannog:…
NightOwl: And we’ve scared her off. Great.
Caerbannog: You guys are the BEST! Where have yall been all my life!? I’m so in!
NightOwl: Nevermind, this is worse.
onePUNCH!: What is going on with this chat group.
Mercy: Word of advice All Might. If you can't beat them, join them.
Mercy: Welcome to hell, fellow demon. We like to have fun here.
///
First/Last/Next
And here's part 6, in a chat fic format. And now Deus's Red Flag AU has the original idea where Katsuki's red flags are shown and the consequences that occur.
I had fun thinking about the nicknames everyone can use in the chat.
I'm up for suggestions for how the other teachers can help bring Katsuki and Aldera down.
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when you have the time and energy id be very interested to hear why you dislike the punisher (2017)......... because i also dislike it but can never put into words why or even point to a reason. its always "frank's vibes are off" or "the general vibes are off" or "its painfully unfunny" or "it just annoys me". if you have anything more specific or analytical id love to hear it
Where to even start…
Ok. I'm going to be focusing on just the first season where it’s at it’s "best" to be generous, because all of the most egregious issues get so much worse in the second season so it barely counts in my mind.
It’s got all of the trademark Marvel Problems. The cringe dialogue, the convoluted plots, the nationalist propaganda, the aggressive heterosexuality, sacrificing an interesting story in favor of an American-dream-Apple-pie-and-motherhood ass-plot… etc. etc…
I’ll split this up into a miscellaneous laundry list of complaints for structure, so this doesn’t end up turning into a rambling essay.
• Incoherent messaging/Bad politics
First off, It’s US military propaganda, but we all know that. That impacts its ability to tell an authentic, thoughtful story. Propaganda is always full of contradictions and exceptions to its own rules, which exacerbates problems that already riddle corporate media.
The most glaring problem I think most Marvel properties have is lack of a cohesive message and themes. Daredevil suffers from a similar issue, which is as much of a "too many cooks in the kitchen" problem (too many contradicting ideas) for what they wanted as it is with the producers being spineless hacks who were unable to decide what they wanted their story to be.
They wanted to have their cake and eat it too, in a lot of respects. They wanted to tell a story about trauma, vengeance and the brutality of war but they also wanted a All-American Badass Gun Guy to get young people interested in enlisting, so it constantly jettisons back and forth in tone and makes for shitty television.
• Stupid Plot
The conspiracy-thriller plot feels off-base for a Punisher story, and is jarring if you saw season 2 of Daredevil. It doesn’t even feel like it takes place in the same universe (none of it feels cohesive, which as stated is a running problem)
The series begins with Frank "finishing" his mission to eliminate everyone involved with the murders of his family and symbolically burning his Punisher vest. This is beyond stupid for a variety of reasons. From a continuity perspective, a storytelling perspective, a character motivation perspective… it just doesn’t make sense. This means the writers have to scramble to come up with a new conflict, which is absurd to me when they could’ve just… had him keep going.
• General Characterization
You’re entirely correct in that Frank’s character just feels off. Like I said earlier, going into the Punisher fresh off of Daredevil season 2 is jarring, even before I knew anything about the character from the comics. There’s a sense that there’s something missing with Frank’s motivations and it definitely has a lot to do with the aforementioned stupid Government conspiracy A-plot in season 1.
Imo, Jon Bernthal, despite everything, plays Frank pretty well considering the material he’s been given, but there’s still something off. @cabfarewell says that it’s because he plays him too much like a cop, which I think is true. There’s just air of… Bootlicker throughout the whole show that undercuts the fact that Frank, at his core, is a character who gets fucked over by his government, which is vaguely gestured at but never satisfyingly addressed.
• Sexism
It goes without saying that Marvel is dogshit at female characters and the Punisher is no exception.
It’s tragic because Karen Page, Dinah Madani, Sarah and Leo Lieberman (and to some extent Maria) all have potential but are woefully underutilized. It’s very clear that the writers are using stock archetypes as a crutch (Potential Love interest, "Virtuous" Cop, Mother, Daughter, Dead Wife etc…) and never expand on them more, because clearly they do not see them as people, but like I said, this is par for the course for Marvel, nobody’s surprised.
• The Liebermans
Then there’s my beloved Micro.
I adore Micro as a character for a variety of reasons and I think Ebon Moss-Bacharach plays him fantastically, BUT it has to be said that he embodies a lot of antisemitic stereotypes.
The narrative aggressively pushes the audience to view him as an unathletic, cowardly effete intellectual who’s reluctant to get his hands dirty. He’s scheming and not entirely trustworthy, he’s simultaneously hypersexual and impotent. Literally the only way they could’ve made it worse is if they made him a cheapskate with deep-seated mommy issues.
It’s kind of bizarre because there are things David does that directly contradict the stereotypes, he’s clearly very capable, and not a coward, but Frank and other characters insist that they’re true. It’s just bad writing.
They kind of half-ass a suggestion of a character arc, but it ultimately ends with a restoration of the status quo which MAKES NO SENSE for David as a character.
Sarah’s an even worse case, not even getting an arc and barely changing as a result.
Like I said earlier, Sarah is neglected by the narrative which makes a lot of the things she does not entirely make sense taking into account how a real person might respond in her situation. Sarah and her kids are more plot devices than people, which is disappointing, because I feel like giving her more character would have enriched the story a lot. She’s positioned as a mirror to Frank, being also recently widowed and coping poorly, and like most things in this show this is never addressed fully.
#that’s all I can think of atm#I definitely have more but#if you have questions or want to listen to me yap more feel free to dm I love complaining about this shit#I can see people being mad at this so to be clear THIS IS ALL MY OPINION#you don’t have to agree with me#if you want to argue feel free! just be normal#the punisher#⚖️#anti mcu#anti marvel#breaking out the discourse tags for filtering purposes
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I don't see many people talking about Patricia's character anywhere, so I'll talk a little (give my opinion) here.
I personally feel VERY sorry for her. Okay, many of Patricia's attitudes and actions are not justifiable, but you can't help but feel empathy for her at least at some point throughout the story. She was never a saint because several times she was not strange when it came to manipulating/seducing to get something, she never thought before humiliating people among other things that make her a bad person.
But despite all this, you can see that several times she showed herself to be a naive person, she filled herself with expectations, deluded herself and lied to herself, (like for example the whole story with Mário, which she faithfully believed he was would marry her and keep her), and as you said, she always thought she was in control of everything and all the relationships she was involved in, but she never was.
She tried to use everyone and always ended up being used, she tried to manipulate everyone and they easily manipulated her, situations that show that she was really a vulnerable and naive person. I believe that her being so materialistic and wanting to find a rich husband is not only to solve her economic problems, but also to fill a void, because what she really is, is a very lonely person. She's so empty that she'd rather go to the gym than buy food, she'd rather not give up things she doesn't need than live poorly. These things only show that she is a person who lives by appearances, who tries so hard to be someone she is not, rather than showing the reality: that she is alone and does not have someone who loves her to the point of caring about her.
She was so at the bottom mentally (stopping eating to try to look like a life she can't keep it’s not normal, also other things she did) and economically that she had to humble herself to people, like when she went to Daniel because he had become president (that's all he wanted, and we know that sooner or later he would tell her the worst possible way how shameful this situation was and how much she fell to get to that point), or when she tried to seduce Mario to get a ride home.
Anyway, Patricia could be selfish, materialistic and a lot of other things, but that just reminds us that she is a REAL person like so many others out there.
I know many will definitely disagree with me, but as I already said, I know that she is no saint throughout the entire novel, but she suffered as much as those who were called and considered the “good guys” in the story.
Hiiii! Loved that you shared some of your thoughts! Here are some of mine too🥰
Patricia's character was definitely... a topic. It's no secret that to me she became a wasted potential and I dislike the decision to make her purely comedic relief when at first she was honestly pretty much in the same camp as characters like Armando and Marcela: very entitled and blinded by their own gigantic ego, to the point of hurting others for their own benefit even though they didn't realize it. I'm not saying she should have gotten a redemption or anything of the sorts. Characters like Mario never got them but they were still super well worked with. Patricia just became a joke.
I've also mentioned before that I too feel pity for her, or at least, I feel for first-half-of-the-novela Patricia. She was never kind, polite, humble or endearing, sure, but she seemed much more human. She was truly excited to think Mario fell for her, and seemed truly disturbed by that firdt encounter with Daniel. I feel for that Patricia because up until that point, her story felt real. I wouldn't say she was naive, but rather, too egocentric to realize there are bigger fish on the sea. She thought she could do anything to anyone and she'd always triumph. Uo until there, you feel she is a real person clinging to appearences because her life is so empty she literally has nothing else. Eventually it just became comedy and exagerated whining that made you forget that she's actually a person with real suffering, even if she's causing it herself (most of the characters cause their own suffering, too).
I couldn't pinpoint exactly when she became a parody of herself. At some point her role was just to throw venom, be comedic, and complain. That's it. She didn't even cause much trouble like at the beginning, and her extreme poverty was merely the butt of the joke. This last part particularly is where I feel the potential was the most wasted. I would have loved to see more of Patty's real struggles, and, if we had had a but more time with the novela, perhaps we could have even seen this for character development (or character regression, whichever you choose!): for example, how poverty is keeping her from eating, which is leading to headaches and dizziness and lack of energy. How poverty is landing her homeless. How she's forced to rely on, for example, Nicolás. I could totally see their love story having formed from this, like her falling so badly that she has no choice but to rely more on Nicolas now not only for frivolous things like the car and the cellphone, I mean real things like food and shelter and seen in a more real light.
Anyways, Ik why they couldn't develop more their "love story" (I think they probably were meant to be together, as in Gaitan probably had that goal, but we all know all the problems that theproduction went through), so it's just an idea.
I do think Patricia was probably mentally ill, tho. Her obsession with appearences is so bad, like you said, that she's willingly STARVING herself. She's starving and yet she doesn't miss a single day at the gym. She's willing to risk going homeless but doesn't stop buying new clothes or hair dye. She's willing to shower with cold water and go back to a pitch dark apartment where there's no food or entertainment as long as she can still look and act like a rich person in front of everyone. I think we often forget how insane Patty's situation was because we remember more her funny/malicious sides, but honestly, her whole world view was crazy.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and sorry this took so long!😂❤️
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Got to finish Percival's Interlude and as usual seeing the Knights of the Round Table shenanigans got me to thinking, so here is a long, rambling post about Percival, Tristan and of course Bedi!
So as usual, Percival's Interlude ends with him going big brother mode and telling Mordred, Gareth, and Ritsuka to eat up, and you can agree or disagree with two reactions...
And if you chose (Avert eyes), kind, sweet, childishly innocent Percival says in reply:
Which is funny, but you know what's funnier?
The fact that this is the 2nd time that a "usually kindhearted platinum blond Knight of the Round Table has offered Ritsuka food in a way that borders on threatening during an Interlude."
The 1st time, of course, being with Bedi and his "let's eat that monster we caught!" moment.
Though, it should be noted, according to Bedivere's remarks Ritsuka actually ate the whole meal, so this Interlude indicates he actually cooks very well, ingredients aside.
One of the story ideas I have brewing is Bedivere taking Beni-Enma's class and actually passing some of the courses, because I think Bedivere would actually love the chance to improve his skills at serving Ritsuka...
Anyway, I just think it's funny both Bedivere and Percival, who are probably the kindest members of the KotRT, have their own aggressive moments that occurs around food. So after this is where I ramble with some more thoughts I'll put under the cut. And I do mean ramble - it involves some thoughts about Bedivere, Percival, and Tristan.
Anyway, seeing as Bedivere and Percival had their similar moments, and honestly are very alike in a lot of ways, I got to thinking.
When it comes to being nice, I think Percival might be nicer in some aspects compared to Bedivere - probably sounds weird coming from me, Bedi-brained as I am, but here's what I thought -
Percival is noted to get along with just about every Knight of the Round Table - he's the only knight to not feel any annoyance with Merlin.
By contrast, Bedivere has explicitly stated he once hated Agravain like his fellow Knights, and that he's "never been really good with people" like Sherlock Holmes, whom he was commenting on in this particular screenshot, and by extension the same sentiment goes for Merlin. I take this to mean Bedivere is also annoyed by Merlin ahaha.
So I think, that while Bedivere and Percival are both among the most upstanding and kind members of the KotRT, the way that they show it is in different ways and so they never come across as copies of one another.
Percival is described to be innocent, and the only harshness in his his demeanor comes out in combat, but he never fights out of anger. He gets along with everyone.
By contrast, Bedivere is kind, yes, but he definitely has people he can't get along with. He still has a tendency to see the best in everyone (say, his My Room comment on Mordred is him acknowledging what a good knight they make) but he can also honestly say there are people whom he dislikes. (That being said, I think Bedivere has gotten over hating Agravain when he realized he was in a weird way holding the KotRT together.)
All that said...
There is one person Percival is seen scolding, and it's Tristan.
Which I do find funny, because otherwise Percival is so happy to greet everyone else, but with Tristan, he's immediately "stop cheating" lol.
Gareth actually gets into it too in her My Room line for Tristan:
However - Bedivere never actually brings this fact about Tristan up, and I think this is where the game shows without telling that Bedivere and Tristan are good friends who understand each other.
I usually do focus on BediGuda interactions on my blog, so I've been really slacking off talking about Bedi's relationships to fellow Knights, but here is how I've come to see Bedivere's view on Tristan on the matter of the Iseults.
I think that while Bedivere disapproves of the whole "going behind Iseult's back to cheat with Iseult," he never accuses Tristan of cheating because he understands it was a difficult matter for Tristan - and while Bedivere CAN push Tristan's buttons on some issues, Bedivere doesn't bring it up because he understands it's actually a hurtful topic as a whole for Tristan.
When I look at interactions with Bedivere and Tristan and how they talk about each other, Tristan frequently mentions Bedivere is strict with or hard on him (say, during the Summer Fest Bedivere was quick to remind Tristan owes him a lot in cash) but, I don't think there is ever any time Bedivere ever call Tristan a cheat.
During Tristan's Interlude, Bedivere does tease Tristan about being a whale-man - and it does hurt Tristan a bit that even Bedivere uses an animal to be a metaphor for his personality, but he does agree the comparison was correct on that note (friends do be like that).
I don't think Bedivere meant for his comment to hurt Tristan, it kinda just blows up into this mess with Tristan having a bad day and the whole "possibly Morgan messing with Tristan" later on in the Interlude.
Notably, Bedivere actually is the first to tell Tristan in the confrontation that whatever is bugging him, they could work through it:
And I know Bedivere is very sincere about what he's talking about, he knows all about sins and atonement with everything that happened in Chapter 6.
Ultimately what brings Tristan to his senses in this Interlude is a combination of Mordred calling Tristan out, LArtoria bonking Tristan on the head, and Ritsuka telling Tristan he is capable of love.
But I think Bedivere actually also understands Tristan has always been conflicted because he loved the two Iseults - if you play Bedi's Interlude and stay quiet when he suggests you listen to the waves, he says this:
The phrasing "torn between the two" seems to indicate Bedivere knew about Tristan's struggle with love, so the long and short of it:
Bedivere never calls Tristan a cheater because as his friend, he understood that it's a painful topic for him. Which is much more respect than the game actually gives Tristan most of the time lol, being a butt monkey in just about every event who still chases skirts.
Soooo tl;dr Bedivere and Percival are the nicest members of the KotRT, and while Percival is a bit nicer than Bedivere, Bedivere does understand Tristan in ways the other Knights might not on account of their friendship.
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Hi! I was wondering if you could provide any recs for stories that show Draco being redeemed with character growth and unlearning all of his biases (also with slow burn Drarry, and Harry starting out disliking him for being canonically terrible)? I have already read all of lettered's and astolat's works, which I really enjoyed as good examples of this.
Hi anon! Ahh yes love me some Lettered and Astolat, especially the fab duo By the Grace & Heal Thyself — both have incredible Draco arcs. I think these 2 stories (and authors) explore the immediate post-war/ Draco redemption combo flawlessly, and it’s really hard to find similar fics. Aideomai focuses on 8th year but is also great at writing young, traumatized and emotionally stunted Drarry navigating the post-war reality and their feelings. Here are some other fics that came to mind:
Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by punk_rock_yuppie (T, 16k)
Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.
Vortex by @xanthippe74 (T, 20k)
Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.
Here Be Dragons by birdsofshore (E, 22k)
Harry doesn’t want to waste his time investigating illegal dragonhide trading, whether it involves a fetish club in Knockturn Alley or visiting a remote island in Wales. Why the bloody hell does Malfoy always have to be up to something?
Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (T, 29k)
Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.
measures of our days and nights by flimsy (E, 40k)
Draco returns to London to help the Ministry decipher a spell, but things aren’t quite as simple as they seem.
Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)
Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"
Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)
Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.
Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)
“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”
Such Great Heights by aideomai (E, 93k)
Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”
What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (M, 131k)
Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.
Thank you @amindamazed for adding:
The Man Who Lived by sebastianL (E, 254k)
Draco breaks a cup, and one thing leads to another. A story of redemption, tattoos, dreams, mistakes, green eyes, long conversations, and copious amounts of coffee. Set in New York twelve years after the war.
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its not fash behavior to not like something and not wanna be involved in it. literally this was the type of mentality i had w that poll "hey hacknineirl, do u want coconut cake?" "no thank you, i dont like that" "hey hacknineirl, do u want to see two people boning?" "no thank you, i dont like that" like, i dont like coconut and i dont want to eat anything with coconut in it. its not bc coconut killed my grandma or whatever. its bc i cant stand the taste and texture of it. other people are allowed to eat it and i wont stop them if they do, but i dont want to eat it. the same goes for public sex. i dont care if other people enjoy it, but i dont want to see it. its a kink im not into. thats it, i promise its not deep at all. i wont deny the existence of puritanical weirdos that limit what other people do w their bodies. but its gross to act like everyone who wouldnt want to see a sex act that theyre not into is a fash. literally go learn what "your kink is not my kink and thats okay" means bc thats the mentality i have. like kink at pride is fine bc like. if im going to pride, id expect there to be people dressed in kink gear. i know what id be getting into, so id be fine with it. but i wouldnt be fine w people fucking in the vegetable section of walmart bc i just want my spinach and carrots. and then the response to the poll was so fucking entitled like. if i dont want to see a sex act, then i shouldnt have to be exposed to it. i dont like shit like inflation, so im not gonna go browse that tag on FA . i dont like genshin impact, so im not gonna go on youtube and watch people play it. same thing w public sex. "hurr not liking public sex means you think sex is a violent traumatic act" i had no idea that asking people to have basic decency regarding boundaries is the same type of mentality behind anti gay/trans laws. had nooooooo idea that simply not wanting to see something that i dont like is fash behavior. yeah my bad, i should be perfectly cheery and happy to see something that i dont like actually! in fact! im not allowed to simply dislike things! quick op, tell me what would you do if your partner didnt want to have public sex. bc if ur so up in arms about someone not wanting to see strangers having sex in public, then what would you do if your partner didnt want to have sex in public?
#im begging u to touch grass#not everyone is a puritanical fash that wants LGBT people dead bc they *checks notes* dont want to see public sex
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