#like not even sitcom level of a plot

[why-the-heck-not]

what I want is a completely plotless book/tv-show/movie with characters I like just chilling & living their lives. No plot. No obstacles. Just purely character interaction

[psymachine]

omg you probably get his comment like 15 times a day but the way you work with colours is fucking sublime. you could try to convince me you don’t see the secret shrimp colour spectrum but I will never fucking believe you. you use such bold colour palettes that I would never imagine to put together but they WORK SO GODDAMN WELL EVERY TIME. also your mind. rcg NEEDS to get you in the writers room I think you might know the characters better than they do

thank youuuu 😭😭😭 coloring is honestly my least favorite part usually lmaooooo so i try to have fun with it.

bro i wish i had the secret shrimp colors; i think about them everyday----

lmao i know the characters that I FEEL these characters should COULD be at least.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #9

It was supposed to be a normal Tuesday. Well, as normal as it got when you were the ghost king of a supernatural hell dimension that casually brushed shoulders with every known reality in the multiverse. Danny Fenton, age 19, high school graduate, part-time fast food cashier, full-time eldritch entity, had long since learned that “normal” was a concept best left to sitcoms and people who didn’t accidentally blow up space-time during puberty.

And yet, even with the sheer absurdity of his afterlife-afterlife job description, Danny had not signed up for this.

Somehow—somehow—when he officially accepted the Crown of Fire and Frost and Bones and Whatever, the Infinite Realms had offered him a dowry. Not money. Not knowledge. Not a magical vacuum to clean the endless ghost slime dripping from the ceiling. No. It gave him the Infinity Stones.

Not knockoff ones. Not replicas. Not the “Earth-199999” post-snap pebbles Thanos crushed into ghost glitter. The original Infinity Stones. And now he wore them.

Not in a gauntlet. Because, quote, “That’s been done, and frankly, gauche,” according to the Reality Stone, which had rewritten itself into a choker necklace that constantly tried to re-style his outfit into something out of a Victoria’s Secret Angel runway. Today, it had settled on a see-through green silk robe with ghost fire embroidery, and Danny had to physically fight it to let him wear jeans. He won. Barely.

The Power Stone, a chunky magenta ring on his left thumb, liked to hum. Not dramatically or ominously, no. It hummed “Barbie Girl” during tense conversations. It buzzed like a vibrator when Danny was trying to intimidate enemy ghosts. It yodeled during peace treaties. Vlad Masters once tried to monologue at him and the stone responded with a chorus of flatulent noises at full volume. Danny hadn’t stopped laughing for ten minutes. Vlad has refused to visit the castle since.

The Time Stone dangled from a chain bracelet on his right wrist. Sometimes it glowed. Sometimes it whispered. Sometimes it sounded exactly like Clockwork and said stuff like, “Oh, I wouldn’t eat that sandwich, Daniel. You’ll get food poisoning in three hours and twenty-two minutes. It won’t kill you, but the diarrhea will haunt you.” It also had a deeply annoying habit of flashing forward into the future and spoiling every plot twist in the books he was reading. Danny tried to switch to manga, but the damn thing kept spoiling those too.

The Space Stone was an earring. A single, glowing, cerulean stud in his left lobe. It gave him migraines. Not just regular migraines. Cosmic, black-hole-level migraines that bent reality around him. Once, while sneezing mid-headache, he created a baby star in his bedroom. Another time, it opened a portal in the ceiling of his shower mid-rinse and sucked him naked into a Skrull pirate ship orbiting Saturn. He beat them with a loofah and threatened to scrub their insides out unless they sent him back. They now call him “Emperor Cleans-the-Flesh.”

Then there was the Soul Stone. It had attitude. It was a sulky little thing, disguised as a glowing orange knuckle ring he wore on his middle finger, which felt very appropriate. It didn’t talk much, but when it did, it sounded like a sad Tumblr user from 2013. Constantly making vague threats like, “What if I just… killed everyone you loved… just to feel something.” Danny once told it to go touch grass and it responded by manifesting a field of sentient grass that sang MCR lyrics at full blast. Sam loved it. Tucker was traumatized. Jazz refuses to discuss it.

And the Mind Stone.

God.

The Mind Stone.

A dainty gold earring that hung from his right ear and gave the impression of class. It had developed a voice that was part Morgan Freeman, part drunk Hannibal Lecter, and it spoke in Jazz’s cadence. So, essentially: it psychoanalyzed Danny nonstop with the world-weary patience of an overachieving older sibling with access to the DSM-5 and a deep, personal vendetta.

“Ah, yes. Classic deflection, Daniel. You’re not mad at the Time Stone for spoiling your anime. You’re mad at yourself for never learning to regulate your own expectations. Also, you are projecting unresolved paternal trauma onto that sandwich. Seek therapy.”

“I can’t seek therapy, I’m the Ghost King!”

“That’s exactly what someone with a savior complex and intimacy issues would say.”

Every time he thought it was quiet, it whispered new insults into his subconscious. Once, in the middle of a UN meeting about ghost-human diplomacy, it started narrating his intrusive thoughts. Danny had to teleport out before he screamed about his fear of turning into his dad mid-poop.

Now, normally? He could live with it. Ish. He’d learned to tune them out, like roommates you couldn’t evict because they were the literal embodiment of creation. But then SHIELD, or what was left of it, showed up.

Apparently, the multiverse was cracking. Again. Something-something-Kang, something-something-fracture points. Wong came in first, looked at Danny floating sideways in a gravity-less realm throne room while eating hot Cheetos, and just sighed like a man who knew he was underpaid.

“You’re the new anchor of the multiverse.”

Danny blinked. “I’m the what?”

“The stones chose you. Probably because you’re already tethered to the Infinite Realms. You’re their new keeper. Like… janitor of reality.”

“I didn’t ask to be the multiverse’s janitor.”

“Too bad. Put on pants. You’re meeting the Avengers.”

Spoiler: he did not put on pants. Reality Stone put him in tight leather shorts. Tony Stark showed up mid-briefing, took one look at Danny, and said, “Are we summoning ghosts or attending Coachella?”

“I am literally containing the building blocks of existence inside my earlobes, old man.”

Tony raised a brow. “Sassy.”

Steve Rogers had a panic attack. Bruce Banner tried to talk quantum containment strategy, but the Mind Stone insulted his PhD and called him “Emotionally repressed Dr. Jekyll.” Wanda Maximoff muttered something in Sokovian about chaos recognizing chaos. Peter Parker asked for a selfie. Thor offered to arm wrestle. The Space Stone teleported his arm off mid-match. Thor thought it was hilarious.

Then came Loki.

“Oh,” the trickster said, slinking into the realm uninvited. “You’re the one they gave the toys to.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Do not call them toys.”

The Soul Stone hissed. The Mind Stone said, “He has severe middle child energy. Classic narcissist. Avoid eye contact.”

Loki smiled wider. “I like you.”

“I hate you already.”

And then Deadpool showed up.

No one invited him. No one wanted him. He just… wandered in through a swirling green portal, wearing bunny slippers, sipping a Ghost Zone smoothie, and immediately licked the Time Stone.

“MMM. Tastes like trauma and Chrono-Cinnamon. Delicious.”

Danny screamed. Deadpool winked.

The next few weeks were a blur of chaos. Danny accidentally rebooted a dead star, causing an entire Kree fleet to bow to him as their sun god. The Reality Stone made his socks sentient. The Mind Stone helped him file ghostly taxes, then charged him emotional interest. Doctor Strange tried to exorcise the stones. Danny coughed up an entire timeline onto the Sanctum’s carpet. Wong still hasn’t forgiven him.

At one point, the Power Stone got bored and vaporized a celestial. Danny was grounded by the Living Tribunal for three days and had to sit in a corner of conceptual space thinking about what he did.

“Why me?” Danny whined to no one in particular.

“Because,” the Mind Stone whispered gently. “You are chronically self-sacrificing, catastrophically powerful, and an absolute sucker for lost causes. Also, you taste like ectoplasm and cinnamon toast. Reality finds that comforting.”

Danny covered his face with his hands. “I’m going to scream.”

“Do it,” the Soul Stone said. “Scream into the void. Feed me.”

“I hate you.”

“We love you, Daniel,” Time Stone whispered ominously.

“No you don’t!”

But they kind of did. In their own horrible, unholy, unhinged way.

And Danny? Danny was starting to get used to it.

He wore godhood like a teenager wears a secondhand hoodie—awkwardly, chaotically, and with a deep sense of “please don’t ask me to take responsibility for this.” But deep down, across realms and dimensions and timelines, Danny Phantom was no longer just a boy with ghost powers. He was the Keeper of Infinity, the King of the In-Between, and possibly the most dangerously unqualified celestial babysitter the multiverse had ever known.

God help them all.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Dark Humor

Dark Comedy - (or black comedy) a genre of film, television, and literature that brings satire and dark humor to subjects that are depressing, frightening, unpleasant, or taboo.

The best dark comedies simultaneously entertain and expose corners of the human condition that make the audience uncomfortable.

Films in this subgenre of comedy create catharsis by heightening the absurdity and irony of painful subjects, imbuing them

Tips for Writing a Dark Comedy

If you’re writing a dark comedy script, there are several screenwriting tips that will help you transform your dark sense of humor into a great dark comedy.

Start from the truth. A great dark comedy approaches its subject matter with truthfulness, and the best comedy offers absurdity based in reality. No matter how uncomfortable your subject, emotional honesty is necessary if you want the story to resonate.

Build three-dimensional characters. Many writers populate comedic films with two-dimensional characters who exhibit funny quirks but rarely experience growth or change. That works for farces and slapstick, but given how bleak dark comedies can be, it helps to have three-dimensional characters who tackle serious subjects in human ways. Of course, you can still write these characters into situations rife with black humor.

Push boundaries. Even if you're committed to grounding your story in truth, you can still push boundaries into the plausibly ridiculous. Sinister subjects and gallows humor make for a memorable genre film, and you can write dark comedy within the realms of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror and still maintain a sense of authenticity.

Know your ending. Even the funniest comedy writers need space to brainstorm comedies with serious topics and dark subjects. Even as you explore plot twists, make sure you always know where the story is going. If you stack a dozen dark humor jokes on top of each other, you might write yourself into a corner with no satisfying way to reach a conclusion. So make sure you have a plan. Indulge in funny ideas as they come to you, but leave yourself a way to bring all the funny threads to an organic resolution.

Examples of Classic Dark Comedy

Hollywood has produced a wealth of dark comedies, the highlights of which include:

Dr. Strangelove (1964): This dark satire from director Stanley Kubrick skewers the arms race at the heart of the Cold War. Though the subject matter (impending nuclear annihilation) couldn’t be more serious, the tone of the film is characterized by slapstick and silliness.

Fargo (1996): Perhaps the most celebrated of Joel and Ethan Coen’s many films, Fargo is a sometimes hilarious, sometimes very dark tale of a kidnapping gone wrong. The Coen brothers handle unsettling subject matter in this film with a level of understatement that, at times, is jarringly funny.

Pulp Fiction (1994): Like the best dark comedy movies, this genre-bending Quentin Tarantino film deals with touchy subjects like drug use and violence yet maintains an upbeat energy that keeps it from ever getting too bleak.

M*A*S*H (1970): Robert Altman’s comedy later inspired a TV sitcom. Set in a military barracks during the Korean War, the film debuted in 1970 at the height of the Vietnam War and touched on the absurdity of war in a time when Americans were actively being conscripted into military service.

Harold and Maude (1971): On the one hand, director Hal Ashby’s Harold and Maude is an unlikely and odd tale of an intergenerational romance. On the other hand, it's a stark meditation on death. As a dark comedy, it succeeds in both its aims.

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Dry Humor

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: november 2024

*arrives halfway through december with a hot chocolate in hand* WHO WANTS TO KNOW WHAT I READ IN NOVEMBER

this is not going to be my best or most thoroughly written roundup but I want this shit posted so you get what you get

Sharks Don't Sink: Adventures of a Rogue Shark Scientist (Jasmin Graham with Makeba Raisin, 2024) - as a shark enjoyer who was too dumb to go into marine biology, I was really looking forward to Graham's book about her experiences as a Black woman working in this very white field. while the book's a bit dry it's also a fun, quick read, with an infinitely likeable narrator whose passion bursts out of every page and will delight anybody who also loves sharks. Graham's determination to forge her own path and make spaces for herself and other women of color makes for an inspiring story, and though this book isn't specifically targeted at younger readers, I'd happily recommend gifting it to any girls looking at getting into any kind of animal-related field so that they can find a worthy role model in Jasmin Graham.

Bite by Bite: Nourishments and Jamborees (Aimee Nezhukumatathil, 2024) - I feel bad, but I was disappointed! I was so smitten with poet Nezhukumatathill's previous collection of short essays, World of Wonder, in which she extolls the virtues of various animals and plants. while I always enjoy a lush description of a good food, and the illustrations were very charming (the shave ice in particular had me YEARNING to blow my savings on a trip to Hawaii), it Bite by Bite lacked the substance of its predecessor. the connections drawn in each essay felt a bit more contrived this time around, with many feeling like thinly veiled justifications for Nezhukumatathil to pontificate on her sons growing up rather than celebrating the foods she spotlights for their own merits. I ended up feeling as if I was rushing to get it over with, which is always sad.

Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age (Annalee Newtiz, 2021) - this was one of the most unexpect delights of the year. I know borderline nothing about archaeology and anthropology, but Newitz paints such vivid images of their subjects that I found myself getting genuinely emo about disaster relief efforts in Pompeii. idk what it was, man, but they took their right turns stupid just like we did! humans is the same after all this time! it's been a while since I picked up a book about something totally alien to me and got to settle in for the pure joy of learning from a talented writer, and this book hit the spot tremendously. if anyone is planning on doing my 2025 book bingo challenge and needs an idea for the nonfiction about a topic that's new to them, consider this a recommendation!

The Truth According to Ember (Danica Nava, 2024) - maaaaan. I wasn't, like, blown away by the synopsis of this romance novel, in which the titular Ember lies about being white rather than Chickasaw in order to land a job only to immediately find herself crushing hard on a Native coworker, Danuwoa, and getting increasingly wrapped up in a web of lies. while the plot's not exactly original, I was excited to check out a book by a Native author about Native characters getting a pretty big release, something I hadn't yet encountered in romancelandia. but honestly? the biggest disappointment in this book wasn't the unoriginal story or Disney Channel sitcom-levels of hijinks to maintain the various lies, but it's the fact that lying about being white isn't even really the crux of the plot. Ember doesn't get fired for that! that's not actually the thing anyone has an issue with! she gets in trouble for lying about having a degree that she doesn't have to get a job she's wildly underqualified for, which is a significantly bigger issue! but all of the marketing is based on her lying about being Native, which feels... idk, it feels misleading? also the romance takes, like, a loooong time to show up; Danuowa is very secondary for like the first third of the book while we learn about the ins and outs of Ember's life, family drama, and new job. I don't know if I've ever been begging for a romance heroine to interact with love interest more, but this book made it happen.

The MAGA Diaries: My Surreal Adventures Inside the Right-Wing (And How I Got Out) (Tina Nguyen, 2024) - on the one hand, I really fuckin' feel for Tina Nguyen. what started out as a college flirtation with libertarianism spiraled into a deep immersion in the burgeoning alt-right thanks to her then-boyfriend, including a brief stint working under Tucker Carlson himself. Nguyen ultimately comes to realize the extent of batshit insanity the republican party is descending into, jumping ship well before the 2016 election thanks to an increasing sense that something is deeply amiss among the right's journalism core. (one especially chilling anecdote involves Nguyen, the daughter of Vietnamese immigrants, discovering that her longtime mentor, a man she had trusted for years to help advise her career, had been caught discussing a desire to curb America's population of immigrants.) although she spins her firsthand knowledge and exhaustive list of contacts to start reporting on the right for liberal outlets, Nguyen remains skeptical of what she perceives a critical lack of organization among the Democrats, which I can certainly forgive her for. I have a bit more side eye for Nguyen's reluctance to fully condemn some of her old colleagues; in particular, she goes to lengths to emphasize that Carlson was a pretty chill boss. idk, maybe it's hard to cut ties that completely, even with people who turned out to be monsters. overall the memoir is lacking any especially artful prose but is a bitchin' gossip piece with some decent insights into how the right organizes.

Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning (Cathy Park Hong, 2020) - it's always so momentous when a book actually lives up to the hype. Hong blurs memoir and essay for a resonant and painful examination of all the ways Asian American identity gets tangled up in shame, including her own. this book is potent, and by far one of my favorite nonfiction reads of the year. I think @zaricats recommended it like 700 years ago so thank you for that!

Crazy Rich Asians (Kevin Kwan, 2013) - it's. fine. it's literally just fine.

The Nightmare Before Kissmas (Sara Raasch, 2024) - not fine, this one sucked shit so bad it gave me a headache multiple times. how do you squander a premise as silly as "the Christmas Prince and the Halloween Prince are in secret gay love"? how do you make that boring? why was this mostly just a book about workplace politics with a little tinsel on top? unfortunately I WILL be reading the sequel in March, but only to complain.

Doppelganger: A Trip Into the Mirror World (Naomi Klein, 2024) - a dizzying work that ties together an astonishing number of ideas, beginning with Klein's own frustrations with being mistaken for disgraced feminist writer turned vaccine conspiracy hack Naomi Wolf to the chaotic and reactionary political landscape that so many of us find ourselves struggling to make sense of. it's a heavy and heady book, dense with well considered observations and expertly articulated thoughts despite Klein's own acknowledgement that her "research" often veered into unreasonable levels of obsession. despite Klein's long career this was my first time reading her work, and now I am Listening to anything and everything she has to say.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 12 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2023) - I truly genuinely can't say anything about Volume 12 without saying that, by the time I'm posting this, I have also read Volumes 13 and 14 and finished the series and man. man man man. this story is just so GOOD. genuinely I love Dungeon Meshi so much.

Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy (Hallie Lieberman, 2017) - a very fun and interesting history of the sale of sex toys in the US, including some very appreciated love for unsung heroes of the sex toy field like Jewish ventriloquist Ted Marche, Black disability activist Gosnell Duncan, and all of the women who pioneered sex stores that prioritized woman as their clientele. granted, that last group of second wave feminists comes with all the accompanying second wave bioessentialism you'd expect, and I'd be remiss not to note that the book also takes a frustratingly cissexist approach in the way it talks about man = penis and woman = vagina. I don't think Lieberman sought out to be deliberately transphobic (there is, briefly, a mention of a trans woman taking over one of the sex toy companies the book follows, and she is recognized as a woman even if her transition is shoehorned in rather awkwardly) but simply out of her depth with knowing how to address trans people in the very binary historical narrative she constructs. it's grating, but also unsurprising for a book published in 2017. if you can handle the cis weirdness and you, like me, are interested in how sexuality and pleasure are litigated, I'd really recommend checking this one out; I've already added it to the official sex witch library. it's worth the read for the surprising history of Adam & Eve alone.

[em-harlsnow]

difference between the first seasons of shameless and the last seasons imo

read beneath the cut, it’s pretty long

what i think really changed about the last seasons of shameless compared to the first seasons is how they tried to incorporate the audience. i’ve seen writers/producers say that they tried to set up the cameras in a way that made it feel like the audience was a part of the family, or a visitor confused by all the chaos.

i think that idea was lost in later seasons and you stop feeling like a part of the show, but even more than that, the audience becomes very detached from everything.

further, i think the characters began to lack the same weight that they did before. as they all start to grow up and become steadier as people, the show also loses its chaotic appeal. by the time the characters were all adults, the writers seemed lost on how to add that gritty dark element that the show had initially without becoming repetitive. there’s only so many times that frank can have some ridiculous storyline that hurts his kids where fiona has to pick up the pieces. it gets boring.

so to try and stop that happening, they ran with old comedic devices that i felt shameless had always deviated from, or at least exaggerated. but no, in the last seasons the show fully leans into them. it becomes more like a sitcom, like modern family or friends.

with tami and lip, it was tami getting insecure about lip possibly liking someone else and lip coming up with all these schemes on how to spend less money and hide that he was going for cheaper options from his girlfriend.

with debbie, it was the show leaning into the whole milkovich/gallagher thing and trying for a new pairing which honestly was entirely lacking. we had more development on her and mattie’s storyline (which was gross) than her and sandy. they turn debbie into a caricature and leave her without much emotional development, taking away any of the audience’s compassion towards her.

with carl, it was the whole police thing, where he struggled with his annoying boss and then his second annoying boss.

with liam, it was him becoming very mature very quickly, but lacking the same depth that debbie and carl got at his age. that’s just my opinion of him, bare in mind i haven’t watched his scenes in season 10/11 recently.

with ian and mickey, it was them becoming that TYPICAL comedic couple, with the show taking away a lot of what made them different. So many of their storylines were full of pointless arguments and unsatisfying resolutions. they tried to make them almost middle class, removing mickey’s skill in crime and making him look lazy. taking away all of ian’s emotional development and making him seem pissed off constantly. they don’t seem to understand each other the way they did before.

don’t even get me started on kev and v. they were one of the most interesting storylines at the beginning, and they suddenly became boring.

fiona left, so i can’t comment much on her.

shameless also lacks the connection the show used to have between storylines. every character was somehow connected to another character at the start, all the different plots influencing each other. that quality was lost later on.

at the beginning, the show made great points about poverty and politics without needed to obviously explain each one. it was metaphorical, an example of poverty and of people and relationships and life. In later seasons, it becomes too obvious for me. the messages the show is trying to convey are much more clear and surface level, which means the impact of these messages is reduced.

it’s like the difference between someone giving you an example of a specific person who has been abused, let’s say. You can either tell an emotive story about that abuse or you can say, they were abused, this is wrong. shameless originally was emotive, giving you connections to characters and therefore adding weight and meaning to their stories. It becomes shallow when the show gives its messages in plain ways. like the conversation that ian had with that woman in the furniture shop about the election results in season 11. sure, ian was right, but it doesn’t have the same impact when delivered in that way. if they’d done the show the same as they did in the first seasons, i’m sure the message would have been conveyed more passionately and effectively.

now, this is just my opinion. i don’t hate the last two seasons, but it wasn’t very shameless-esc. I also don’t write TV shows, so i don’t know exactly how to fix all those things

i do enjoy the last seasons, it wasn’t all bad. but it was different to the first ones, and that is something to comment on.

[kalinara]

So as someone who immensely enjoys disliking Charles Xavier, I have to admit, I was utterly delighted when the X-Men Unlimited Infinity Comic (in Krakoa age, one of the rare times it did not involve Nature Girl murdering people) decided to do what is, essentially, an "It's a Wonderful Life" plot for the guy.

So if even if you've never seen the original movie that the plot comes from, you've undoubtedly seen a parody or homage, (at least if you're American). Sitcoms particularly like to use the idea, but occasionally even serious shows will do it too. A character goes through some shit, is dreadfully unhappy, and is shown what life would be like without him.

Now the thing about X-Men, is that we did see what the world would be like without Charles Xavier in the Age of Apocalypse storyline. And admittedly, it's pretty bad. Scott has long hair. Enough said.

And of course, the gist of this story is that Xavier ends up in the Age of Apocalypse world (or maybe just dreaming about it), and introduces them to the Krakoa concept and gets a big ego boost.

It is what it is. The part that amuses me is what drives Xavier to the point of needing this ego boost. And it is an AMAZING level of petty.

Since there are a lot of scans, I'm going to put them behind a cut. Enjoy! (These are all from X-Men Unlimited Infinity Comic #62, by the way.)

So we start off with Xavier's daily schedule:

It's a pretty busy itinerary, admittedly. So now, let's see how Xavier's day actually goes.

We actually start off with Xavier waking up, disgruntled, at 6:00 AM. I'm not actually going to show this, because I am not a morning person either and can't make fun of him for it.

Also, he's shirtless, and not being named Max or Erik, I am not into that. Sorry.

But, let's look at the rest.

6:30's resurrection of Rusty Collins

Xavier was apparently a bit slow, and Hope decided to resurrect the dude without him. That happens. You can hardly blame a teenager for leaping at the chance at grown-up responsibility.

Also, she's a Summers. So it's pretty much inevitable.

--

So then we get the 7:45 meet and greet.

A small child adores Kitty. Kitty is a little meta here, but not wrong. After all, part of what the Marauders do, at this point, is rescue people.

Now, Xavier looks kind of neutral here, but given that this is part of the litany of disappointment, contextually, one must interpret this to mean he is disappointed.

But here's the thing, Chuck. You're not an "X-Man". You're the dude who sends them out from the shadows. You didn't even publicly admit to being a mutant for decades. And while, yes, you did have some physical issues that made being a field operative impossible, it's not like you're going out on rescue missions NOW.

Sorry, I shouldn't rant. There's more to mock.

--

So how does the 9:15 teaching session go? We don't actually know. Presumably it's not notable. Despite the fact that teaching is the one thing Xavier can claim he actually does.

Instead, we skip ahead to the 11:05 parole hearing:

I mean, you can't actually be surprised by this. I'm not even sure that Sabretooth is still IN there. But he's busy torturing people, if he is. So no, he's not getting out.

You could let the kids out though. Poor Idie.

--

This bit makes me laugh:

Got stood up by the guy whose mind you forcibly wiped. You can't be shocked by this, Chuck. That was a fucking dick move and you know it.

(Especially since you decide that Franklin isn't a mutant after all.)

--

How about the X-Corp Review?

Huh, who'd have thought that multi-millionaire business people would have the business shit handled?

I mean, to be fair to Charles, he does seem to never lack money, so he likely has business sense himself. But meh. I can't blame Warren and Monet for wanting to go off and canoodle or whatever.

--

I admit to some sympathy here, just a bit:

I've mentioned that I'm not a really a fan of the Arakko focus on Omega mutants, and how that kind of spoils my enjoyment of Storm basically being amazing up there. (I feel like it'd be more satisfying to have a non-Omega show them that sheer power isn't the only measure of awesome. I did like watching her use teamwork to kick Vulcan's ass though.)

That said, why did you not realize this would be a thing, Xavier? Arakkans make no secret of how their society works.

--

Now, sadly, we skip the legal conference about the X-Babies. Presumably it goes well and no one mocks Xavier, but I'm kind of fascinated by the idea.

But then we get the official Treehouse lighting ceremony:

...are you really feeling left out because your two former child soldiers are getting honored as "mutantkind's greatest heroes".

Fucking REALLY?

Are you living among humans and saving them from various threats? Heck, are you sticking around to help hand out meals, as the mayor mentions? Because you're not down there, and your itinerary says you'll be having a meeting about Orchis with Beast in like an hour.

It presumably goes well, because we skip ahead to sparring with Logan.

This goes pretty straightforward. They have a heart to heart, which I appreciate, because I'm still utterly boggled by that bit in X Lives of Wolverine where he claims that, despite their respective ages, Logan sees Chuck as a father figure.

By the way, Logan doesn't act like a "son" in this scene at all. He does give some legitimately good advice though and asks the question that's the point of all this:

And for FUCK'S SAKE, Xavier. The fact that this is apparently an armor piercing question, after a day where the WORST thing that happened to you was having a few appointments go on without you, getting stood up by a dude who's got every reason to dislike you, and seeing Kitty, Scott and Jean get SOME MEASURE of weak recognition.

THAT's what leads to the "It's a Wonderful Life" moment?

I mean, presumably, the interview with Trish Trilby which happens before the sparring match goes well. Meaning you're going to be on the fucking news as the face of Krakoa again. But that hardly matters because the Mayor of New York considers your SURROGATE CHILDREN to be the greatest heroes.

You couldn't even be HAPPY for them?!

(I also can't help but note that upon meeting AoA Cyclops, who assumes Xavier is an escaped clone and tries to kill him, we see no sign of the ACTUAL character's complexity or depth. He's just a random villain here. Because in the end, it's all about Xavier's ego.

He does refer to Scott as "the most pragmatic man I've ever known", which is a really interesting description that I'm not sure I agree with. But that's an analysis for another day.)

Anyway, as mentioned, the rest of the story is basically just fueling Xavier's ego. I mean, Age of Apocalypse IS a hellhole. (Though a friend of mine suggested once that possibly the only thing Age of Apocalypse proved that Xavier was necessary for is preventing Mr. Sinister from regaining control of Cyclops. I think I'd have to reread the story to see if I agree, but since I hate Xavier, I DO like that thought.) And he does bring them Krakoa and joy.

But I'm just going to bask in the fact that Xavier's deepest pain on Krakoa is that someone occasionally recognizes other people instead of him. I bet he hated Scott's Rolling Stone cover too. :-D

[mywitchyblog]

Why do so many witches don’t believe in reality shifting? I’ve met so many witches that don’t believe in that rather than believe. Do u have any idea why that is?

Why Many Witches Don’t Believe in Reality Shifting: A Tea-Spilling Breakdown ✨🌙💅

Short Answer: It scares and invalidates their practice. Long Answer? Sit tight, babe; we’re spilling all the cosmic tea. 🫖🌌

1. Fear of the Unknown 😨💀✨

Okay, babes, let’s spill this witchy tea with some extra sass and sparkle, shall we? ✨💅 For many witches, the notion of reality shifting is like trying to hold a séance on a roller coaster that’s zooming through a neon galaxy—it’s just too out there. Witches usually thrive within cozy, well-defined spiritual frameworks, you know? They’ve got their candle magic, their herb correspondences, their lunar calendars, their intricate spellwork, and their carefully crafted altars. It’s all about stability, tradition, and working WITH the energies that already exist in THIS reality. 🌱🌕🔮

But shifting? Shifting is like slapping on a pair of cosmic stilettos, snapping your acrylics 💅, and literally hopping from one universe to another as if you’re scrolling through Netflix. Instead of respectfully nudging the energies within your familiar plane, shifting says: “Hun, why are we even here? Let’s just poof somewhere else entirely!” It’s a dazzling, quantum-level plot twist that screams “we’re not in Kansas anymore, witch.” 🌀✨ And let’s be real: that’s downright destabilizing for folks who’ve spent years cultivating control and consistency. Imagine telling a master chef, who’s perfected soufflés after decades of practice, that you just got a five-star meal delivered by wiggling your nose like a 1960s sitcom witch. 🤷‍♀️💫 Honey, they’d be shook. Completely. Utterly. Shook.

Witches who’ve spent countless moons learning the subtle interplay of rosemary and rose quartz, the sacred timing of solstices and equinoxes, the whispers of elemental spirits, are like, “Hold up—did you just say you can bypass all that complex cosmic choreography with a few affirmations and sheer willpower?!” It’s not just a new practice; it’s a fundamental overthrow of the entire magical ecosystem they’ve come to trust. Shifting doesn’t need incense blends, special tools, or elaborate ritual spaces. It’s pure mental muscle, babe. 🧠✨ No wands required, no covens needed—just your fierce intention and a heaping tablespoon of belief. And that’s scary as hell for witches who rely on structure. It’s like trading a well-tuned orchestra for a wild freestyle jazz improvisation… in zero gravity. 🎶🌌

Then we have the deep terror of surrender. While witches often ground themselves before ritual (casting protective circles, calling corners, lighting the perfect blend of candles), shifting is like stripping naked and cannonballing into the astral ocean with no lifeline. 🌊🌌✨ You’re not just grounding, honey; you’re launching yourself into unknown realities, letting go of all your safety nets, and trusting that your consciousness will find the right landing pad. Terrifying? Understatement of the century, babe. 😱✨

And let’s not forget the existential crisis this all triggers. Most witches believe reality is malleable but still kinda anchored in certain universal laws—like gravity or energetic correspondences that you can count on. Shifting says: “Awww, that’s cute. But guess what? There are infinite realities, all flaunting their own custom rules, cosmic quirks, and narrative vibes.” If shifting’s legit, then the reality witches have spent their lives understanding is just one measly channel in an infinite Netflix lineup. That’s a lot to swallow, even for someone who’s danced naked under the full moon (no judgment, babe, get it!). 🌕🩰🔥

At the core, the fear is this: shifting is too big, too wild, too damn unregulated. It challenges their entire spiritual foundation. Witches may pride themselves on open-mindedness, but when something asks them to ditch their known magical map for a cosmic GPS with infinite routes, it’s a big ask, darling. It’s shaking the bedrock of their beliefs, and who wouldn’t be spooked by that? 😨✨🔥

2. ShiftTok Ruined the Reputation of Shifting 💀📉🔥

Ah, ShiftTok. The wild, messy, dramatic cousin who shows up to the family reunion and makes everyone regret getting together. TikTok put shifting on the map, sure—but like, at what cost, sis? 😬 The platform’s infamous algorithm craves chaos, extremes, and hot takes. Meaningful spiritual discussions? Zzzzzz. Too boring. Instead, we got “I shifted to Hogwarts and married Draco Malfoy! 💚🐍✨” going viral at warp speed. Suddenly, shifting looked less like a metaphysical exploration and more like a teenage fanfic come to life. 📱💫💁‍♀️

For witches who’ve fought tooth and nail to be taken seriously in a world that still stereotypes them as “crazy old crones,” this was the ultimate cringe-fest. Just when they’d carved out a respectable niche, along comes ShiftTok flooding the timeline with questionable claims and zero nuance. It felt like a clown parade marching right through their sacred forest. 🤡🌳🔥 So, naturally, they distanced themselves, saying, “Not today, Satan—we are not about to be lumped in with that nonsense.” Witches need credibility, hun, and ShiftTok’s circus vibes threatened to snatch that credibility away faster than you can say “Wingardium Leviosa.” 🙅‍♀️💃✨

But here’s the twist: it’s not just about preserving a good reputation. The tidal wave of misinformation and dramatics turned shifting into a caricature, overshadowing its true spiritual potential. Instead of seeing shifting as exploring consciousness and tapping into infinite universes, the public saw it as “teen fantasies about dating fictional characters.” And that put off not just witches, but a lot of serious spiritual folk. They were like, “If this is what shifting is about, I’ll pass.” ✋🛑🔮

This divide has caused legit damage. Spiritual communities often embrace new metaphysical frontiers, but because ShiftTok presented shifting as some kind of Hogwarts LARP, witches and other spiritual veterans turned their backs. Shifters got left out in the cold, isolated from the spiritual communities that might have supported and enriched their practice. It’s a master class in how viral trends can twist and taint a legitimate spiritual concept. 🤦‍♀️📉🔥

3. Gatekeeping Spirituality 🚪🔑✨

Oh, honey, let’s talk about gatekeeping—the spiritual community’s dirty little secret. Witches (and other spiritual folk) love to brand themselves as enlightened, open, and loving. But as soon as something doesn’t fit into their curated definition of “real magic,” the rolling eyes and side-eyes come out to play. 👀💅✨

Shifting is a prime target for this gatekeeping. Since it doesn’t rely on the traditional toolkit—no fancy robes, no wands, no herbs, no hours-long rituals—some witches scoff. They brush it off as “just lucid dreaming” or “weird daydreaming on steroids.” Um, excuse you? 😒✨ That’s like telling a quantum physicist that particle entanglement is just “fancy air.” Dismissing shifting so casually is hella disrespectful, especially since shifters are delving deep into consciousness, exploring the MULTIVERSE (yes, multiple freakin’ realities, babe), and challenging the very nature of what we call “real.” 🌌🔮💥

Why the dismissals? Fear, darling. Pure, unfiltered fear. If shifting is real, it’s a spiritual free pass—no gatekeepers, no hierarchies, no “I’ve studied for 30 years, so I’m more legit than you.” Shifters waltz in and say, “Watch me hop timelines with just my mind,” and that makes the old-school spiritual crowd itch. They’ve invested years—decades even—in elaborate systems, coven politics, and sacred traditions. Shifting basically says, “You can press skip,” and that’s too much for some egos to handle. 😤✨🌙

But the saddest part of gatekeeping? It slams the door on real discussion and growth. Instead of having meaningful dialogues—like, “Wow, how can we integrate shifting with existing practices?” or “What can we learn from these new cosmic explorers?”—it’s all snark and dismissal. That’s a huge loss for the entire spiritual community, cutting them off from potential evolution and fresh perspectives. 🚪🔑💔

4. Jealousy and Insecurity 😤🪞✨

Let’s call it what it is, babe: jealousy’s in the mix. Witches who’ve spent half their lives perfecting their craft might feel a little pressed when they see shifters casually strolling into alternate dimensions like they’re popping into Starbucks. ☕💅 “I’ve been working with these herbs and crystals for YEARS,” thinks the witch, “and you just manifest a new reality by focusing really hard? Talk about a cosmic shortcut!” 🌿🔮💫

This can feel like a slap in the face. The witch might’ve spent hours prepping a prosperity spell—herbs, candles, moon cycles aligned, calling on spirits—and the shifter’s over there like, “BRB, shifting to a reality where I’m already a millionaire.” Ka-ching. 💸✨ Of course, not all shifters do it for material gain, but the sheer potential can spark envy. It’s like seeing someone win the lottery right after you worked overtime for years. It stings. 🏆🔮🙃

Insecurity often breeds dismissal. Instead of owning those feelings—admitting that maybe they’re a tad envious—some witches double down on skepticism. They label shifting as “fake” or “dangerous” to maintain their own sense of superiority. It’s easier to tear down what you don’t understand than to face the cosmic FOMO. 😏🪞✨

But here’s the tea: shifting isn’t undermining witchcraft; it’s just another path. There’s room for everyone at the metaphysical buffet. Witches can keep rocking their spells and potions, and shifters can dance through dimensions. Both practices have their place and beauty. Let’s stop pretending like the multiverse is a zero-sum game, hun. The cosmos is infinite; there’s enough magic for all of us to eat well. 🍰🌟🔮

5. Generational Divide 👵👩‍🎤✨

And now, let’s talk about the age gap in spirituality. Older witches might see shifting as flighty, trivial, or too pop-culture-infused. “Hogwarts DRs? Really?” they scoff, clutching their besoms. “We invoke ancient gods and speak with ancestors, not fictional wizards!” 😤🦉✨

But let’s face it: younger spiritual practitioners are remixing the mystical playlist, blending fandoms, anime, K-pop vibes, and metaphysics into a crazy, colorful tapestry. They’re treating spirituality like an open-world video game, pushing boundaries and experimenting with style. It’s fresh, it’s vibrant, and it’s challenging stale ideas. 🎨💫💻

For elder witches, this can feel disrespectful. But babes, times change. New generations always rewrite the script, bringing their own flavors and aesthetics. Shifters are showing that the spiritual journey isn’t static—there’s no one “right” way to access the divine or explore cosmic truths. It’s like spiritual evolution in real-time, and while it can spark eye-rolls and tension, it’s also a sign that spirituality is alive, dynamic, and ever-expanding. 🌱🔮✨

Final Thoughts: Shifting Stands Strong ✨🔥

At the end of the cosmic day, witches getting their broomsticks in a twist over shifting doesn’t make shifting any less valid. Whether they fear it, gatekeep it, misunderstand it, or feel threatened by it, shifting remains a legitimate spiritual practice with its own depth, challenges, and unimaginable possibilities. ✨🚀🌌

If witches want to stay perched on the sidelines, side-eyeing your every astral leap, let ’em. You’re busy charting new territories, babe—hopping timelines, exploring infinite worlds, and forging a path that’s as limitless as your imagination. 👑🪄💋

So keep slaying, keep shifting, and let the doubters watch as you rewrite the rules of what’s possible. After all, the multiverse is waiting, and you’re the star of your own cosmic show. 🌟🔮💫

personally sweetie i think that it is possible to blend and mix both, im a witch who beleives in shiting.

I reccomend you check the tumblr of @theshiftingwitch exemple of you can mix both babe.

Hope this posts answer your question !

P.S : Im about to post soon my essay about antishifters who they are and why they beleive the shit that they do.

[podcastenthusiast]

Severance Fic Recs

Some Mark and Devon sibling stuff, a little Mark/Helly and a lot of Mark/Petey. Mind the tags on some of these. Will update as needed. Here we gooo

ephemeral green by fractions

just another wretched pawn by fauchevalent

Mark never learned how to take care of the plants. It wasn’t really something he’d thought much of. He’d glanced at Gemma spritzing the leaves, and sometimes, he’d been in the room while she trimmed or repotted them when they were ready. To him, she possessed some sort of connection to them that he didn’t understand. She had some mystical knowledge about what they needed and when they needed it. She was a caretaker. He is not. -- Mark tries to take care of Gemma's plants after her death. Pre-main series timline, informed by the events of 2x07.

An Item of Comfort by Honeybee_Bub

In the aftermath of ORTBO, each time Mark leaves work, he has been noticing tremors running through him. It's always brief and stops before the elevator even rises to the main level, so he pushes it off as a side effect of reintegration. Until one day, he finds himself quickly wiping his eyes from tears he never cried before Judd can see when the elevator doors open.

Suddenly, without prompting, Cobel speaks up. “To get in,” she says matter-of-factly, “you’ll have to pretend to be pregnant again. There’s a sweater under your seat, you’ll tuck it under your shirt.” “Are you fucking with me?” Devon asks, breaking out into sharp, surprised laughter. “Our plan is a fucking sitcom plot line? That’s how you’re getting us into the Lumon-branded fucking birthing cabins?”

apropos of the wet snow by wreckageofstars

[By the way: facing the wall, such gentlemen—that is, the “direct” persons and men of action—are genuinely nonplussed. For them a wall is not an evasion, as for us people who think and consequently do nothing; it is not an excuse for turning aside, an excuse for which we are always very glad, though we scarcely believe in it ourselves, as a rule. No, they are nonplussed in all sincerity. The wall has for them something tranquillising, morally soothing, final—maybe even something mysterious ... but of the wall later.]

The Hellebore Tonic by aelizel

Soon after Helly R. regains awareness, she nearly loses her body to a new threat.

Star Child by brilliantly

When Helly fucks around, Helena finds out.

Each Time I Think I’m Close To Knowing by five_rat_lore

“I don’t want to play those stupid, fucking games. I don’t want to list all the shit my outie knows, I don’t even want to think about it.” Dylan can’t remember his kids… but he also can’t forget how to be a father.

what remains is perfectly scattered by Princex_N

Mark is lucky, he knows it. He holds the thought in the center of his mind and tries not to forget it. He is here because he got lucky, because his sister loves him, and things could have been so much worse. Knowing that things could be worse, though, doesn't really change the fact that they're still really fucking hard.

replace/repair by kuragin

“I’m not your new Petey,” Helly says, turning to leave. Mark catches her by the wrist; feels her tense under his grasp. “Hey. Wait.” (or: before the goats, Mark and Helly actually have a real conversation)

Goodbye Party by ReneDherbley

Mark doesn’t really know what it’s supposed to be like, but he guesses his outie’s been to a funeral before, and for some reason he can’t shake off the feeling of wanting to run away. Why did they even have to make such a big deal out of Irving’s dismissal? It’s not like he’s actually dead. Or: Mark realizes what happened to Petey through reintegration sickness

between where we are and we've been by Princex_N

"Hey, kid," Irving says, voice pitched down soft in the dark. "How are you holding up?" A moment between Irving and Mark, after Mark gets out of the break room in Half Loop

april, come she will by passingafternoon

Life finds a way, even on the severed floor. Seasons change and plants grow. Even Lumon can't stop flowers from blooming. (In which Dylan solves a mystery, Mark finds a leaf, Irving falls in love, Helly makes a list, and Petey dreams of spring.)

Don't Swallow The Cap by WhovianB

After Helly attempts to get a message to her Outie, Mark recalls an unpleasant experience. “Hey, Mark? Could you answer a question?” “Sure.” “What the fuck did they do to you?”

Why Are You Saying That Like You Hate It? by EightMinutesToSunrise

Helly asks who she's replacing. No one really wants to answer her.

compress/repress by kuragin

He wished his innie was there so he could choke him to death. Wished he could thank his outie for doing what he could and break his nose for doing it wrong. But it didn’t matter anymore, he realized, because they were both just him. Mark gets reintegrated. There's a lot to catch up on.

Carried Over by Kaeyes

Mark's friendship with Petey gets off to a rocky start.

Waves by ProfessorTumblesworth

"We're friends. I'm the friend with the least to lose."

inside out, outside in by hiljainen

He can talk to Petey in a way he can’t talk to the others. He can tell Petey just about anything and trust that he’ll get it. Or at least won’t be weird about it. Maybe that does make him Mark’s favourite. That’s okay, though, isn’t it? It’s okay to have a best friend. It’s normal. He’s lucky to have a best friend. ——— A what-if/fix-it-ish canon divergence, where Petey doesn't die.

he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother by cassiandor

”If anything happened to you,” Devon mumbles into his neck, “you know I would just have to invent time travel to bring you back, right?” Mark lets out a watery laugh, his arms tightening around her. “I know you would,” he says. “I know.” Devon and Mark, through the years.

when the sun hits by Anonymous

Devon looks at Mark and, for a moment, she sees a six-year-old sniffling miserably as she carefully cleans his scraped knee; she sees a seven-year-old weeping over the makeshift grave for their dead dog; she sees a ten-year-old proudly showing her the handful of worms he dug up from the front yard. And then she blinks and the world refocuses to the present: adult Mark, wan and motionless on the couch.

incandescent by beamkatanachronicles

"How many Lumon employees does it take to change a lightbulb?"

undying flower by brutalizer

Gemma Scout is alive.

when you met the new you (did someone die inside?) by Princex_N

The bad thing isn't coming for him from somewhere outside of the office, it's already found its way inside of him. The rest of Mark S.'s workday, after the nosebleed stops.

the spins by jam (discojams)

Mark S. opens his eyes and steps out of the elevator onto the severed floor. He cocks his head. The room is slowly, slowly tilting. His stomach is a bit sour, but he feels happy, giddy, warm. He’s excited to see his coworkers, and he suddenly has an overwhelming urge to apologize for being such a dick these past few weeks. He really does like them. Mark Scout knows better than to drive to work drunk. He does it anyways.

remember when you and i would make things up? by Princex_N

His outie, his other self, whatever — he's not a good liar, he wears everything on his sleeve, flaunts it even, and forgets to pay attention to who is over him, watching it all, and what they could do to him. He's not a good liar, but Mark is; it's an important skill, and by now Mark can do it on instinct. Even like this. Especially like this. Mark is fine. He's barely even dizzy, this time. 

open invite by jam (discojams)

Around 11:00AM, Mark clears his throat, stands up, shoves his hands in his pockets, and locks himself in the supply closet. Mark S. gets an erection at work. Petey helps him out.

aftermath by eclipsj

“Mark,” Helly breathes. A wave of revulsion knocks over her, the thought of her body doing things that she wasn't there to witness. “Did you... did she…” She swallows, forcing herself to finish the sentence. “Did you kiss me? When I was her?” Mark finally looks up at her, something straining at his face. His eyes are tinged red, wet. The muscle in his jaw pulls, twitches. He opens his mouth. Closes it. “Worse,” he chokes out. A part of her already knows it's true. "Oh god," Helly says. //after episode 5, Helly and Mark deal with the fallout of him having sex with Helena. Helly tries to reclaim her body in a possibly less-than-healthy way

To Feel Many Other Ways by five_rat_lore

Mark S. experiences the effects of reintegration, haunted by Mark Scout’s memories, suffocated by his outie’s grief and anger. Luckily Helly is there to keep him grounded.

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[wherethegoldenleavesfall]

gihun headcanons???

Well first off, I have this headcanon that Gihun was born premature. That since birth, Gihun has been fighting the odds. That Gihun was a fighter from day one.

Others are miscellaneous:

-Gihun's fear directly turns into anger. His fear fuels it in other words. He will fight, freeze, or fawn once he is in danger. He has no care if you insult or hurt him, however he will physically fight any gods or get into argument with them. Or both will happen if they go after his loved ones.

His anger has multitude of levels. 1. Self blame. 2. Wrath is based on injustice and unfairness. 3. Fury is based on being complelety done with people. Like a look that says I am tired, you are being stupid, leave now or else. 4. Is when Gihun goes completely silent, stewing in rage, about to explode.

As the wise prophet Shrek once advised.

-Gihun has a strong, powerful death glare. You have 5 seconds before I go feral. To kick your ass or verbally dominate you in an argument. The strongest is the I will end you twice over, take up necromancy, and end you once again.

-Gihun is neurodivergent. I see him having ADHD, autism, BPD, C-PTSD, depression and obsessive compulsions. I can provide evidence for each, even for the one not mentioned above. Not a cis person by any means. I fully see pansexual Gihun. But Bi Gihun is still valid.

-Gihun upon seeing Sangwoo for the first time thought I will protect this boy and be his hyung. Just picture baby Gihun with I do not care how you feel about me, but you will love my Sangwoo look.

-Was considered a slacker, not any teachers favorite by a longshot, class jester, clown, and scagegoat.

-Gihun struggled in school big time. Had no support or accommodations at school. Was heavily stigmatized in school when younger and still is well into adulthood years.

-Is an engineering genius, dabbles in all engineering fields, excellent mechanic. Pity that Dragon Motors exploited and overworked Gihun so bad.

-self taught themselves engineering and all relavant fields that engineering correspond with.

-Being blacklisted from all Engineering fields devasted Gihun. To the point Jungbae was desperate to get Gihun out of the house and well you know how that went.

-is a surprisingly good at drawing and sketching, keeps so many blueprints around the house.

-can be very hard to read at times during their quiet moments in season 1 and 2.

-is a motor mouth typically, in their calculation mode, Gihun would have the quiet moments mentioned above.

-as Jungbae can attest too any soap opera, sitcom, or any law and order shows will be ruined as Gihun nails every character beat. Who fathered Susie's baby, not her husband Mark for sure. Who is the murderer, its the kid next door. As a result knows the plot twists a mile away. Gihun will take all the fun out.

-can read people's auras and their emotional states well. Knows who to trust, who to avoid, and how to read the mood in a room fast. Is very loyal to people unless proven otherwise; that loyalty blinds them to betrayal though.

-Gihun's faith in people and humanity is an ever twisting, burning, serrated-metal clawed-out heart that still remembers past betrayals but refuses to remove the knives. Refuses to let any ghosts go as well. Gihun is already fully aware of how bad people can get. Gihun is under no illusions despite what a certain someone -cough inho cough- thinks.

-when asleep, heart rare and pulse go so low that Gihun is frequently shaken awake by a worried Sangwoo, his mother, or a concerned Jungbae. Does sleeptalk on occasion. Is prone to sleepwalking as well.

-loves to cuddle and sleep by other people as Gihun seeks heat out in their sleep.

-is a very tactile person and learner.

-can learn fast, will ask stupid questions to see what the person would say or what they omit. Can catch people in a contradiction fast. Can calm down situations fast. People let their guard down around Gihun like spellcraft. And is underestimated constantly. However, Gihun believes they are completely stupid and grossly incompetent.

-Gihun is a scrappy, adaptable, emotional, fierce, messy, and loving disaster of a person.

-did not win their squid game by plot armor, pure dumb luck, or both.

-was and is a complete mama's kid. Even though Malsoon in younger years was always on Gihun's case, was a tiger mom, and was always working. So Gihun, was mostly left alone to own devices.

-Gihun's extracurriculars were ballet, gymnastics, and figure skating. Point being that in iceskating circles, Gihun was referred to as the "Ice Royal".

-growing up took great pride in eating all their spinach and other green foods so they can grow up big and tall. To Malsoon's pure amusement.

-Gihun learned basic vet skills to care for any injured, starving strays. Gihun also knows how to groom them; to take care of them for a short term until they are well again. You can pry that headcanon out of my cold dead hands.

-Malsoon does not know but Gihun has resorted to prostitution and escort service in the past.

- Gihun's favorite colors are pastel shades. Especially the rainbow. Pastel Princess always. Invented the term drama queen.

After the games though, the rainbow 🌈 and pastel colors are gone. And his smile is gone.

-Gihun's favorite animals are kangaroos, elephants, hippos, horses, lions specifically lionesses, tigers, echidnas, the platypus, and wolves.

-Gihun names all the horses he bets on and I like to think he also looks them up.

-as a demigod, Gihun has adhd and dyslexia. Demigod dreams was how he knows what the Frontman looks like.

-after Gihun won the 33rd Squid Games, the aftermath of the final game was dubbed by the workers as the Bites of 2020. As 20 workers were attacked, mauled, and bitten in many places from them trying to pry off Gihun from Sangwoo's body. Put his body in a gift wrapped coffin to take him away. All while Gihun lunged and screamed at them to stop.

-Has many paradoxical character traits. I have found a post with unique character traits. Gihun has 2, 4, 6, 12, and 13 in my eyes.

-entered the squid games already traumatized before, a stepford smiler.

-Trauma post games involve Gihun trying to not take up space by limiting food intake-possible eating disorder. Gihun's room is so painfully bare.

-Gihun has so much insecurities, that if they were money, Gihun would be rich 5 times over. Gihun's insecurities have insecurities. I suppose you can say that they have layers like onions and ogres.

-can be oblivious and callous, rude, or sharp with people. Can be literal minded. Can be violent, deranged, and way too fired up.

-sometimes forgetful, loses focus easily; has skewed priorities at times. Has a limited mouth filter. Can lose the big picture to only see. Can be too food obsessed at times; as demigod big three children have supercharged metabolisms.

-out of box thinker. Loves to keep wires along with a small toolkit in their pockets.

-in a smore competition with Jungbae, Gihun lost to fire 🔥. Jungbae forever holds it against Gihun.

-Gihun and Jungbae's combined antics are the talk of their hometown and neighborhoods. Especially the incident that shall not be named so help me Jungbae.

-once when they were young, Jungbae asked Gihun to promise him. Bros before jerkasses allowing Jungbae to have veto powers over any freaks or non freaks Gihun will date in the future. Especially if they will be Gihun's future spouse or romantic partner.

-has Cloudcuckoolander tendencies and intentionally acts stupid sometimes to get a response, information, or further info ie probing someone's mood. Sometimes is just oblivious to their impacts on other people for good or bad.

-Loves chocolate milk because of the sugar. And well Gihun is lactose intolerant to regular milk.

I hope these are good enough. Sorry for the long wait. 😅

[hellslayersomething]

I feel like I should write out some proper thoughts about my opinions on Veilguard, or at least an outline for the much longer essay that is currently calcifying in my heart. It's a mixed bag of a reaction, and I'm not going to compliment sandwiching any of it--this is all just stream of consciousness, so I'm probably going to snag on the negative and spiral down that pretty quickly. Spoilers, obviously:

I liked the battle system. For the first time in a DA game, it actually felt satisfying to play and had its own identity. I do wish the Pokemon element aspect was a little better balanced among the companions, but overall it was great.

That said, considering the length of the game, they needed way more enemy diversity, especially with the bosses. Eventually I was just fighting dragons, and every dragon had essentially the same moveset, one of those moves being "the dragon trips over her own dick and face-plants on top of Rook", which sure doesn't make the fights feel epic. Even very unique characters, like the Gloom Howler, were just reskinned basic demons when it came time to fight them.

The decision to tie companion approval to companion levels was a mistake. A massive and extremely obvious mistake. No wonder there are no disagreements or tension among the group--the game can't let you lose affinity with your team members, because then it would have to account for you leveling them down. The gameplay design here strangled the narrative design in its crib.

Speaking of narrative design: while I appreciate that the modular approach to companion arcs was experimental, it was extremely weird of them to take that approach in the only DA game where all companions are required. The story doesn't have to be written to account for the fact that you might not recruit some of them or they might die early--so why didn't they write one story about Rook and their seven friends instead of one story about Rook and also there are seven smaller, unrelated stories of extremely varying quality shoved in next to it?

The hyperfixation on the companion quests paired with their complete compartmentalization from each other means that each companion basically has nothing going on outside of their own quest and very few opportunities to engage with other characters' quests.

I was so starved for conflict in this game that I went from Solas-neutral to Solas-positive because he was the only character who the game allowed to be a bitch to me, and I respect him for that.

I do like all the horrid little sons the game gives me. I think I would appreciate them more if there was anything bad or tense happening in the story on a personal level that required some comic relief, but I am a sucker for a funky little guy none the less, and Manfred, Assan, and Spite are the perfect trifecta of funky little guys, as far as I'm concerned.

"We're only going to do character cameos if it's important to the plot." *does what they did with Isabela* Okay, devs.

"We aren't importing player choices but we won't override your decisions either." *several codex entries overriding player decisions later* Okay, devs.

I like the companions, generally. I see their potential. Fanfic will do right by them. Harding, in my mind, is the weakest of the bunch, just truly having no personality to speak of and talking like she was written by a Boomer who thinks that Millennials are still teenagers. (Everyone responsible for her uttering the phrase "Awkward..." like she's a character in 2011 quirky girl sitcom should be tried at the fucking Hague, istg.) And while I like Bellara, it was extremely frustrating to have a character that's just "Merrill, again, but with the edges sanded off". Taash and Emmerich are also glaringly the last additions in the writing process, each belonging to one of the two most underbaked factions and neither of them being tied to any of the game's few "big choices". There's promise in this cast, but I don't think any of them came close to realizing their potential.

Davrin and Emmerich's companion quests felt appropriately scoped to the size of the questlines, had good emotionality, good antagonists, and expanded on the lore of Thedas in ways we hadn't seen yet.

Lucanis's companion quest had potential, but it was too unfocused with three antagonists, too much attention to the boring Venatori shit, and not enough examination on Illario's motives or Lucanis's relationships with either Spite or Illario.

Harding's companion quest was fine, I guess (the people are starving for dwarf lore), but Harding could have been swapped out with literally any other dwarven character who wasn't Sandal and nothing would have been different. (Also weird that the whole quest was basically about Sandal while simultaneously fully removing Sandal from the narrative.)

Bellara and Neve's companion quests were just nothing. Just a whole lot of nothing. And Neve's also suffered from what I like to call "machete editing", where it is glaring obviously where things were cut, changed, moved around, and added at the last minute.

I say, from the bottom of my non-binary heart: Taash's companion quest is total ass. Real nice of Mae to come out of hiding and risk being found and executed by the Venatori to give Taash a Queer Theory 101 class, though, I fucking guess.

Is Lucanis's romance bugged? Apparently I'm not the only one who had that thought while I was playing it, so now I'm wondering. Like, there's no way they made it Like That on purpose, right?

Why and how are the Venatori still a force in Thedas, never mind a force with numbers so great (in spite of lacking a central leader) that they were able to simultaneously occupy the two largest cities in Thedas?

They literally didn't even try with the Antaam. The Venatori are at least theoretically still working to try to restore Tevinter to its former imperial might. The Antaam are just invading countries for literally no reason except ill-defined power grabs. Given the racial coding of Qunari, this writing choice sure is...something. (And that something is racist.)

That said, the revelation that the Butcher did a military tour in Europe and fell in love with the culture and just wants to drink wine and visit art museums now is fucking hilarious.

What the absolute FUCK did they do the Crows. I like the Crow characters from Tevinter Nights/the comics, and Zevran is my favorite character in the whole damn franchise, but they completely whitewashed both TN's mafia take on them and their original portrayal in DA:O. But it also doesn't really retcon anything, making it instead seem like the human trafficking and torture and sexual abuse that Zevran suffered at the Crows' hands A) only happened to him individually, and B) are fine, actually??? Even the very few times that characters express reservations about working with Lucanis because he's an assassin, if you play as a Crow, those concerns get immediately backpedaled, so the Crows end up being so ironed out that the game doesn't even let characters say of the Crows, "Murder is bad," lest it hurt a Crow Rook's feelings. That is how conflict-averse the writing is.

So I guess everyone in southern Thedas is...dead now? Several characters survived long enough to get a mention from the Inquisitor, but by the end, it sounds like Orlais, Ferelden, and most of the Free Marches are pretty much donezo. When Epler said the events in southern Thedas didn't matter, I didn't expect that to mean they were going to nuke the damn place. Even having generally enjoyed VG (in spite of all my criticisms here) that, uh...doesn't leave me enthused about the future of the franchise, ngl.

The layoffs of several writers (and other Bioware employees) before the game's release was obviously heinous. But after that secret ending, I'm now of the mind that of the writers that remain, at least a few of them need to be demoted. Like literally what the fuck was that. That was the dumbest plot point to ever appear in a Dragon Age game, and that is a high bar to clear. If you're not going to acknowledge our past choices, then keep Loghain's name out of your fucking mouths.

[arsenysworld]

Dungeons, Pancakes, and a Plot Twist

The vibe in Abed’s apartment was chill. Y/N, Annie, Troy, and Abed were deep in their Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Troy was half-paying attention, Annie was in full-on strategizing mode, and Y/N? Well, he was just trying not to ruin their stealth roll.

Abed: “Roll for stealth. The goblins are two feet away. Your next move determines if you live or die.”

Y/N gulped, clutching the dice like it held his soul.

Troy: (leaning in) “No pressure, bro. Just, like, don’t mess this up. For real.”

But before the dice could hit the table, the door flew open with a bang. Britta barged in, holding up an empty pancake box like it was evidence in a courtroom.

Britta: (yelling) “Alright, which one of you thieves ate my pancakes? Huh?!”

The room froze. Even Abed stopped narrating, which never happened.

Troy: (pointing at Annie) “I feel like it was probably her.”

Annie: (offended) “Excuse me?! I don’t even eat frozen pancakes. Too many preservatives.”

Abed: (calmly) “I respect boundaries. Pancakes are sacred.”

Britta’s gaze landed on Y/N, who was sweating like he was about to face a dragon. He awkwardly raised his hand, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N: “Uh… yeah, that was me. I ate ‘em.”

Britta marched over, glaring. The room tensed. This was about to be a Britta-level meltdown. But then, she stopped, smirked, and leaned down to kiss Y/N square on the lips.

Britta: (grinning) “Eh, you’re lucky you’re adorable.”

She spun around and strolled off toward Y/N’s room like nothing happened.

The trio sat in stunned silence, jaws practically on the floor.

Troy: (blinking) “What… just happened?”

Annie: “Did Britta just reward him for stealing her food?”

Abed: (nodding) “Classic sitcom trope. Unexpected romantic forgiveness. It works.”

Troy: “Man, I need to start stealing pancakes.”

@amphibiahawks321 @jacenradio7 @6rookie-writer0110 @fandomnerd9602

Hope you guys vibe with.

[ilikekidsshows]

about 'Derision' , it's the episode that I can't understand. But what's makes it bad was the fact its part of s5. Maybe... If, say, it happened in s1 I think it would be much better episode because s1 Chloe can be nasty, like what happened in Dark Cupid and Kim is still a 'delinquent' kid as shown in Stone Heart where he bully Ivan. But also make it so Marinette not easily shut Chloe up and don't make her be friends with Kim in Origin episode because of her trauma.

Because the weird thing about Derision is the fact it showed us Chloe and Kim is such a nasty character that caused Marinette trauma yet she seems fine to talk to them in Origin, and in Kim case, she even want to help him and talk to him like she talk to her friends.

I know s4 and s5 is a product of retool, it's even obvious in Derision because the math just not mathing there. At least when they want to retcon something make it so it won't be dissociated much from the older episode!

Derision should show us why Marinette is reluctant to be friends with Kim and make her hard to trust Chloe but instead it's the episode about 'why she's so tongue tied around Adrien who's actually has nothing to do with the bullying that happened before but get the burn out of it'

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‘Derision’ really is such an utter mess of an episode. Chloé and Kim were created as archetypes. Chloé was the McKenzie clone, I mean, mean girl bully archetype, and Kim was the jock archetype. But they hadn’t really put any thought into the pasts of these characters, because middle school drama shows usually only go into backgrounds when it’s to explain a new inclusion into the cast, like they did with Socqueline. The reason ‘Derision’ doesn’t work with the rest of the show is that it wasn’t thought out at all.

There is one thing that makes sense with the episode, though. I can see why it was made, and it’s all part of the show’s new priority of excusing any criticized writing decisions. Yeah, the episode explains the current arc of why Marinette can’t be as close with Adrien as she wants to in order to keep milking the love square for plots that don’t require the writers to actually change anything or develop characters, but it’s also there to counter the “stalker allegations”.

Marinette’s stalking of Adrien has always been as much of a hot button topic in the fandom as Cat Noir’s constant flirting. How seriously and realistically are we supposed to take it, how much of it is just exaggeration for light-hearted appeal and how much these behaviors should be frowned upon in-universe were always questions that were kind of up to fan interpretation since the show didn’t commit to any specific angle on them. So, in the season where Cat Nor apologizes for being in love with Ladybug and easily falls out of love with her afterwards, we also have Marinette go through a traumatizing experience that makes her obsessed with knowing everything about any boy she likes (ignore how this behavior is only directed at Adrien when she’s had several other crushes she was fine about).

‘Derision’ couldn’t exist before the retool, because the writers weren’t trying to backtalk parts of the fandom before the retool. And that’s what ‘Derision’ is, backtalk. It has the characters saying stuff that is obviously aimed at the audience just as much as ‘Simpleman’, yet ‘Derision’ is less hated because it’s angsty, dramatic and Marinette stans gobbled up the excuses, because they live for excusing their fave.

‘Derision’ really proves that the writers care very little about things other than Marinette and vindicating Marinette. Chloé is never this much of a menace again, not even in ‘Miracle Queen’ or ‘Queen Mayor’. Chloé is a sitcom-level threat that the show outgrew in the second season, yet ‘Derision’ is trying to convince the audience that she’s secretly always been a villainous mastermind who no one has ever dared to talk back to, who everyone’s scared of, who got rid of Marinette’s only defender, and that the characters are aware of this. Chloé goes completely undefeated in the past story of ‘Derision’, yet, all it takes for Marinette to completely defang the great evil that is Chloé for the rest of the show is Alya saying: “You need to stand up for yourself” and then standing up to Chloé once, in ‘Origins’, the original chronological starting point of the show. Except we are still supposed to consider her a big, active threat to Marinette and cheer when her neglectful dad sends her to live with her abusive mom.

Also, what they did to Kim with ‘Derision’ is character assassination. Full stop. The episode had Adrien almost Cataclysm him and it was treated as a cool moment because we’re meant to hate him for what he did to Marinette and cheer when Adrien is willing to kill someone for hurting her. And yet, despite his crime supposedly being this bad, Marinette treats him as a friend and teammate throughout the series and Kim gets easily forgiven at the end of the episode. This is another one for the pile of episodes where the Miraculous crew can’t keep their story consistent through even a single episode. In one moment we’re meant to want Kim dead and soon after we’re meant to cheer when he and his girlfriend make up, all because he said “sorry” to Marinette one time.

This episode wouldn’t even have worked as a season one episode, that’s how inconsistent it is with even the most basic ideas presented in the show.

[nightcolorz]

I’m gonna watch community now bc I didn’t know abed was canonically autistic!!!

HE IS!!! I’m so glad ur gonna watch community anon bcus it’s SOO GOOD!!

If it wasn’t just apparent in the way he behaves, abed often refers to himself as being on the spectrum. And there r a lot of jokes and plot lines about it (there r multiple episodes I’ve seen dedicated to abed having autistic meltdowns and the group trying to help him) and it’s so surprising to see a sitcom where a character is weird and autistic and none of the jokes about that r making fun of him for being autistic like, all the autism comedy is just super relatable and funny to me bcus I never see my experiences being presented in a relatable and likable way I can laugh with, instead of a scornful embarrassing way for ppl to mock.

For example, there’s an episode where abed becomes a stereotypical mean girl bcus his friends find out he’s really good at making hyper specific observations about people and perceiving details that aren’t super obvious (autistic trait) which makes him great at insults, so they start asking abed to insult people who annoy them 😭😭😭. There’s an episode where Abed has a meltdown because his best friend in the group is on a date which makes him feel like the group dynamic is going to change, and he copes with this by maladaptive dreaming in this daydream room he has in his house to try and process his feelings. There’s even an episode where Abeds friends assume that he needs help getting dates because he’s socially awkward, but they eventually realize that abed is asked out and hit on all of the time bcus autistic ppl can be charming and attractive actually, and the reason he’s single isn’t bcus his disability prevents him from getting girls, it’s bcus hes not interested in dating.

These r only two examples, but it reflects how his character is written always, and what I love about it is how even tho abed is explicitly autistic, instead of being presented as stupider or lesser then the other characters, he is often portrayed as the most level headed and rational person in the group. Not only that, but they don’t end up leaning into the “autistic people are robotic genius’s who are more advanced then normal people” “autism isn’t a disability it’s a super power” stereotype, bcus abed is also presented as being very disabled by his disability, and the show paints this very realistic picture of an autistic person who’s both smart and capable and charming, and struggles with socializing and self regulating and experiencing change. I just love to see an autistic character who can be a funny comedy character and a realistic and nuanced portrayal of an autistic person

(Also ps if ur following me I assume u love Armand and if so u def will love community and abed bcus abed is sooo similar to Armand lol)

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: Head

Star vehicles for musicians are hardly a rarity in Hollywood—after all, creatively bankrupt studio executives are perfectly willing to exploit pretty much any intellectual property that might be marketable, artistic integrity be damned—but even within that niche genre, Head stands out. Whereas A Hard Day’s Night (The Beatles) and True Stories (Talking Heads frontman David Byrne) are ultimately sincere and earnest despite their surface-level whimsy, the motion picture “adaptation”—more like antithesis!—of popular sitcom The Monkees is deeply cynical beneath its absurdist humor and psychedelic visuals, mercilessly deconstructing the superficiality of the entertainment industry, the elusive (and illusive) nature of the American Dream, and the manufactured public image of the band around which it revolves (exemplified by such sanitized, inoffensive lyrics as, “We’re too busy singing to put anybody down”).

The satire is as caustic as it is deliberately unsubtle. In an early scene, Micky Dolenz stumbles across a Coca-Cola vending machine in the middle of a barren desert—a condemnation of rampant commercialism and mindless consumerism that is subsequently reinforced by a rapidly edited montage of roadside billboard advertisements. Later, Peter Tork briefly breaks character mid-take to fret about how slapping a woman, even within the context of his work as an actor, might damage his reputation (“The kids won’t dig it, man!” he complains to the indifferent director)—lampooning the inherent egotism of celebrity. In the movie’s most scathing sequence, a concert is intercut with archival footage of the Vietnam War; as the performance ends, the frenzied audience storms the stage and literally tears the group apart—exposing them as nothing more than hollow mannequins. The medium itself can barely contain the filmmakers’ moral outrage: metafictional conflicts frequently disrupt the narrative; flashbacks within interludes within digressions overlap and interweave, making the “plot” borderline indecipherable. It can only be summarized in terms of its individual episodes and the loose thematic associations between them—which is akin to trying to explain a fever dream (or a drug-induced hallucination) to your pet cat.

Featuring cameo appearances by Jack Nicholson, Frank Zappa, and Timothy Carey and punctuated by stylistic flourishes that anticipate such cinematic classics as Raging Bull and Skyfall (no, seriously), Head is a fascinating countercultural artifact. Even amongst its New Wave contemporaries, it remains defiantly unconventional, incomprehensible, and unclassifiable; it must be experienced firsthand to be properly understood—though your mileage may vary in that regard.