#man existence sure is great!!! ( /sarcasm because NO THE FUCK ITS NOT. NOT when there’s all this bullshittery going on!! because it HAS to

[the-mxster]

Tensimm + Donna incorrect quotes (Pt 5)

Pt1 Pt4

Doctor: What are you up to?

Master: Boiling eggs

Donna: Those are ping pong balls

Master: Im not sure, it just feel like I’m living in the past.

Doctor: Awh :(

Donna: We literally traveled back in time

Master: *laying on the floor, covered in blood*

Donna: Omg what happened to them?

Doctor: They got run over by a car again

Donna: Why aren’t they in hosp-AGAIN?!?!?

Donna: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

Master: Every zoo is a petting zoo unless you’re a coward.

Doctor: I’m worried about you.

Master: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Donna: Master, please!

Master: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

Master: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

Master on Monday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh.

Master on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!

Master: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.

Master: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

Donna: I made this friendship bracelet for you.

Master: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.

Donna: You don’t have to wear…

Master: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.

Master: Maybe the true treasure was friendship all along. But I hope not, because I can’t spend friendship on new clothes

Doctor: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Master: It was me...

Doctor: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Donna : I intend to stay pissed at you forever.

Donna : Even if I seem helpful.

Master: Then you're in luck.

Master: Because you don't.

Master: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?!

Doctor: ...

Master: Oh, right. The lying.

Donna: You're violent.

Master: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Donna: You know, people treat me like a god.

Doctor: How?

Donna: They ignore my existence unless they need something.

Donna: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Donna: Can we go to a haunted house?

Doctor: What’s wrong with the one we live in?

Donna: Wh-what?

Doctor: Goodnight, Donna.

Master: Gatekeep, girlboss, and what's the other one again?

Donna: There isn't another one. You're crazy.

Doctor: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins?

Master: Can't relate.

Donna : Why would my brain release a bunch of dolphins?

Doctor walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Master, I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK.

Master, sipping coffee happily: I love you too :)

Master: Donna, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Donna: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Master: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask the Doctor.

Donna: Wait- Master, no-

Donna : Would you take a bullet for me?

Doctor: ...yes?

*Master angrily burst into the room*

Donna : *running away* Great, thanks!

Master: I want to be like a caterpillar.

Doctor: Explain.

Master: Eat a lot, sleep for a while, wake up beautiful.

Donna : You know they have a lifespan of a week, right?

Master:

Master: That's just another highlight!

Master: Thanks for not telling the Doctor what happened.

Donna , dumbfounded: I wouldn’t even know where to begin trying to explain this.

Donna : But what about the Master?

Doctor: Don't worry about them.

Doctor: I once watched them fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating their hotdog like nothing happened.

Donna: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture.

Doctor: Awwww-

Donna: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything."

Master: Oh.

Donna: What’s the straightest thing you’ve ever done?

Master: *sighs*

Master: I killed a man.

Doctor: It was difficult, so you’ve just given up. You might fail, so why bother trying?

Donna : Exactly.

Donna , to Master: I told you they’d understand.

Master: I can be your partner for the next race.

Donna : Sorry, Master. It's a sibling race.

Doctor: Maybe there's a contest for lonely children after this.

Donna : It's only children, Doctor. A lonely child is what you're gonna be when I sell you!

Master: I'm allergic to death.

Doctor: The ritual. To preform it requires a sacrifice.

Master: Sacrifice? I nominate Donna .

Donna : Wait, what?

Master: Because you're little, you'll fit on a barbecue.

Donna : I'm 5'5, it's like average height for women in most of the world!

Doctor: Its not that kind of of sacrifice guys!

Donna : Hey, Master, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?

Master: Yeah.

Donna : And you, Doctor?

Doctor: Umm... yes?

Donna : Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!

Doctor: Did they just-

Doctor: What’s sexting?

Donna: I'm not having this conversation with you.

Master: We have a problem.

Doctor: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Master: There's beer in the cooler.

Doctor: What about for the children?

Master: You can get water from that water fountain and use it to water down the beer.

Donna : Why don't we just give the kids water?

Master, angrily: I suppose you could do that!

Doctor: Guys, I have a question.

Donna : kys <3

Doctor: I love you too.

Master: Ah, yes. Siblings.

Master: Some people are like slinkies.

Donna : What?

Master: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs.

Donna :

Donna : Please don't push the Doctor down the stairs.

Master, pushing Doctor down the stairs: Too late.

Donna : Who knew getting in trouble would be so impossible?

Doctor: I gotta give you credit, Master. You make it look easy.

Master: Years of practice.

Donna : Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically.

Master: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes.

Doctor: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting.

Master: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Donna : There are three ways to handle a difficult situation. The right way, the wrong way, and the Doctor way.

Master: Isn't that the wrong way?

Donna : Yes, but it's faster.

Doctor: Ask me anything. Go ahead, I'll give you a straight answer.

Donna: Why are we so fucking awesome?

Doctor: That's the best fucking question anybody's ever asked.

Doctor: Yeah, well I've never died so how do I know that god is real.

Master: Why am I the bad guy?

Donna: I don't know, why am I the pretty one? We all have our thing.

Master: *sighs* I have no friends...

Donna:

Donna: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

Donna : What is everyone for Halloween?

Doctor: I’m superman.

Master: A clown.

Donna : So I’m guessing we don’t need to get you a costume then?

Master: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Donna : Bet you I can!

Doctor: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

Master: I have one foot in the grave but in a kind of fun flirty way, the way one might slip on a fishnet stocking.

Doctor: Life could be worse, Master.

Master: Life could be a lot better too!

Donna: That was a joke. Say ha.

Master: Ha.

Donna: Now do it again.

Master: Ha.

Donna: Congratulations, you are officially the life of the party.

Doctor: They say that the most valuable things cost nothing.

Master: They also say that being cheap is an annoying trait, so don’t overuse that excuse.

Donna : Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons?

Master: Fake?

Donna : Thanks for pulling the fire alarm, you saved me from giving an oral report about The Scarlet Web.

Doctor: You were too lazy to read the book?!

Donna : I was too lazy to watch the movie.

Doctor, disappointingly, after security arrives to escort the Master and Donna out: So, do you wanna walk out of here or do you wanna be carried out?

Master, in defeat: Let’s go.

Donna : Wait.

Master: What?

Donna : I’d kinda like to be carried out...

Donna : Hey, Master you're smart, tell me what would happen if I chugged 3 gallons of chloroform.

Master: Have you ever been to a mortuary?

Donna : Yea, my grandma lives there.

Doctor: That is the worst response to that question.

Master: We’re about to do the taser challenge. You want in?

Donna : What's the taser challenge?

Doctor: We tase eachother, then drink.

Donna : How do you win?

Master: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

Master: It's pretty cold outside.. wanna hold hands? We should stay close.

Doctor, blushing: Okay.

Donna : It's fucking summer.

Donna : Everyone, calm down! We're grown-ups, let's deal with this like adults!

Master: So, we're just going to wing it and hope for the best?

Donna : Obviously. Now, Doctor, pass the shovel.

Donna : What's worse than a heartbreak?

Master: Stepping on a cat's tail and not being able to explain that you're sorry.

Donna : You really believe in the Master?

Doctor: Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us.

Doctor: So when are we gonna tell them?

Donna : Just give them a minute.

Master: *Pulling on a door that clearly says push.*

Donna: Do you ever think? Because I do not.

Donna: *cooking*

Master: *kicks down door*

Master: *grabs knife from Donna's hand*

Master: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOUR?

Donna:

Donna: What.

Doctor: They're trying to tell you they want to cook.

Donna (brainstorming ideas for pranking the Doctor): How much would a serial killer mask possibly cost?

Master: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful.

Donna: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that?

Master: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Donna.

Donna: Is there anyone here who’s actually straight?

Doctor: *raises hand*

Master: *puts their hand down*

Master: Aww, what's your dog's name?

Doctor: K-9.

Master, yelling to Donna: TRY K-9!

Donna, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK!

Doctor:

Master: What's your favourite number?

Doctor: The salary of a clown is 51,000 dollars.

Doctor, gesturing to Master and Donna fighting: And yet these idiots do it daily, and for free!

Pt6

[northwest-cryptid]

honestly, I'm not sure if it's a great response to the whole "normalised lack of privacy" thing but, I've learned to treat the web like the fair folk and its done quite well for me.

May you have my pronouns? no, they're mine fuck off.

I don't necessarily think you're in the wrong for that if I'm to be honest. Though I think the big thing for me is that we've sort of normalized this general lack of boundaries and 180'd on the entire idea of protecting your identity. Which is primarily what bothers me so much. Like if someone wants to get to know me and they're like "hey I don't know how to refer to you in a respectful manner and I don't wanna assume" sure that's fine whatever right?

But then you also have people who are like "if you don't have your pronouns listed I'm going to assume you're some right winger who thinks pronouns are dumb" and I just... what?

When I was young (unfortunately a long time ago) there was literally classes in school where we were taught a lot of shit about internet safety, and I think he problem that caused is that it kinda backfired, like people will talk a lot about pronouns and the like and I think that's honestly such a point of like... non-issue in the grand scheme for me.

Because here's the thing, we were taught in elementary school that you essentially shouldn't give away your personal information online. Online was a place for you to exist by an alias, you were not you; you were whoever you wanted to be. But you never were to give out your information, the problem was they taught this in the most cliche kind of way...

"What if that cool kid you're talking to is ACTUALLY AN OLD MAN!"

Which is cool (<- Sarcasm) because it absolutely reinforces the idea that: - Old people are somehow inherently predatory to young people, so remember young people NEVER BEFRIEND PEOPLE OLDER THAN YOU! - Men are dangerous because old women would NEVER be a predator, only OLD MEN!

Aside from the general problems with this listed above, it was generally a good practice for ESPECIALLY young kids in elementary school. However this idea that people online were all fakes that were lying to you was really funny because it just wasn't true about 90% of the time. Were there absolutely predators on the web? Yes of course! Is it good to teach children they might encounter a predator? Yes of course! The problem however was basically that this amounted to teaching the kids that everyone online was lying to them, something they wouldn't believe after the first like 15 people they run into are actually just... exactly who they say they were more or less.

Like sure "xXBloodKiller93Xx" isn't ACTUALLY a thousand year old vampire in the body of a 16 year old emo guy who listens to Linkin Park and My Chemical Romance... but he IS actually a 16 year old emo guy who listens to Linkin Park and My Chemical Romance... and let's be honest, unless you were like 6 you probably didn't believe the vampire bit anyways.

So after you've encountered like 30 of these cases the one time the 12 year old who talks like a 30 year old, but is a little too on the nose about how they type like a kid and doesn't actually know what's cool with the kids... well they just kinda seem like a weird kid you don't really want to hang out with anyways because they're not really fun to talk to. Ironically most minors I knew when I was a minor were actually into older people anyways and were more likely to fall victim to predators who were older and didn't lie about it; I know this from experience since I was groomed by a woman from the US Navy who was literally like 25 when I was only like 15-16 and got offended because I felt uncomfortable getting naked on skype video calls with her. She never lied to me about who or what she was and when I was young it was cool to have a hot navy girlfriend who would do sexy stuff with you online. So unfortunately groomers didn't have to actually work hard the way many many schools and media taught us they would. They could just kinda walk up to horny young kids who didn't know better and say "hey I'm a hot older person who will do sexy stuff with you" and many of us were like "oh shit fr?!" Except we didn't talk like that.

Anyways my point with all of this is that school and media hammered this teaching into our brains that we need to watch out for predators pretending to be kids, pretending to be one of us. Only predators didn't do that, and despite the fact that you could be literally anyone online many people just chose to openly be themself. Which as you can imagine lead to a lot of that "the kid you're talking to is ACTUALLY a predatory adult" teaching feeling really cliche and dumb and by proxy we began to ignore more and more of the safety shit taught to us because it wasn't applicable to the real world.

Then Facebook happened :D

As soon as the centralized web hit a lot of advertisers understood they could finally collect a lot of data on what people were doing and advertise to them directly in ways that were actually profitable because if they know you were just at the apple store, and they see you've been posting about wanting the new iphone; then they can market apple products to you knowing you're actually an apple customer who is more likely to actually act on buying that product.

However advertisers don't just have access to your data like that; because that data doesn't belong to the public, it belongs to people like Facebook, who make money off selling that data to people who want to throw ads at you.

But here's the thing... if you're trying to advertise to people, you need them to be real with you because you can't very well advertise to a dude who is claiming to be a 50 year old vampire when he's actually a 16 year old. If he's talking about his swords and guns and how much he loves being in the military, you're gonna think you can sell him swords and guns and military stuff. Truth is however he's literally just a 15 year old edgelord who plays COD and doesn't have the money nor the legal ability to purchase any of what you're trying to sell him.

This is why Facebook started to crack down on accounts with fake names, which is hilarious by the way because believe it or not as a Native American many of my family members couldn't use facebook without creating a fake name because we don't actually have last names and Facebook thought our names were fake or made up. Fun little bit of racism right there.

But now people are being incentivized to be honest about who they were online. Gone are the days where we could use an online handle and a profile picture of something we like or an anime character to be anonymous online. Now more and more of the people using the internet are people who came in during the era of the centralized web, they have no idea why someone would bother to hide their information.

Which is hilarious for a lot of reasons due to things like the purity culture of the centralized web which I've spoke on a few times on forums and the like but not really ever gone too in depth about here.

Essentially now you have this really funny sort of culture where everyone thinks any honest and good person would have nothing to hide, so the idea of using an alias and not giving out literally ALL your information must mean by process of elimination that you DO have something to hide and therefore we use fear of social consequence to enforce behavior. We actually do that a lot here on tumblr as well and it's really stupid and annoying, because we'll never actually have real progress unless we're able to determine flaws in our philosophy and fix those flaws. However I digress, my point is that this has become the norm to such a degree where now it's almost viewed as childish or unprofessional to use an alias.

Which is also really stupid because until the centralized web came around being professional online was kind of a joke, typically the only real professionals online weren't occupying spaces like social media.

the tl;dr is that the one deviation of the norm became the new norm and with it came a culture that enforces the norm through social consequences and as a result even new users of the web or younger people are picking up these habits of the culture which is honestly not great since the original point of that sort of teaching of the culture was to literally keep young people safe. Now they list not just all their personal info about where they live, how old they are, what their pronouns are, what their likes and dislikes are; what fandoms they are in, but also their damn triggers? Like If you want to hurt someone you know exactly how, when, and where to do so.

Anyways I have a lot of thoughts about this but I literally just woke up not too long ago and barely finished my coffee so my brain isn't necessarily kicking into high gear to write comprehensive essays on the subject.

[venting-town]

The stupid-ass voices are getting pissy with me ( as per usual ) because how DARE I be a bitch back to them

Oh the horror!!!

Fuck you bastards too

[blanketforcas]

[ao3]

At least the scenery is great, Dean thinks as he drives through his heaven, Air Supply blasting through the Impala’s speakers.

He hadn’t wanted Bobby to see his disappointment when he told him about Dean’s heaven. It had seemed ungrateful to react negatively in any way. After all, the man had looked satisfied with the place and even delighted that he got to introduce him to it, so why take that from him?

When Bobby had mentioned Cas though, he couldn’t help the flutter and pure relief like bees buzzing around in his stomach, a feeling not unlike grace flowing through his body at the thought of the angel being somewhere safe. And just maybe, that meant he was safe here too and that all of this was okay.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He hadn’t been given any directions for where he could find the friends they lost along the way, let alone where Cas was and if he even was anywhere or existed in any form that he could see or touch. And to reach out and touch, he wanted. So much so that sometimes when he lied in bed at night, the sheets wrapped tightly around his body, it would feel like he was a magnet in the dead center of a hundred more, all pulling at him but none of them succeeding in pulling him close, leaving him trembling around nothing.

It’s been a part of him for many years now and he never believed he could ask for more than a pat on the back, a hug, or maybe a caress if Cas was dying or severely hurt. He never allowed himself more, to be that greedy, because he didn’t trust himself to not screw it up. That is, until that night at the bunker, where it seems the angel rebuilt his soul for a second time.

He’s lost in his thoughts as time passes by and it could’ve been an hour, it could’ve been longer, he couldn’t say, Bobby did tell him it all works a bit different here, but then something catches his eye. A figure, an anomaly in this landscape, just out of the corner of his eye. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he hits the brakes, sure that he saw a flash of that familiar trench coat in the open field on the side of the road. He curses at himself, thinking that maybe it was just a scarecrow, maybe he’s hallucinating again. But then his eyes adjust to the bright sunlight and the hazy glow surrounding him, and his heart skips a beat. It’s Cas. It’s really him.

Time really seems to do something strange then, because before he knows it he’s in the angel’s arms and he must’ve been a bit too eager because they both lose their balance and fall to the ground in between rows of whatever the fuck that he doesn’t care about right now because Cas is right here, his hair completely disheveled and begging for Dean to run his hands through, so he does. He does and he finds that his hand is traveling on its own now, cupping his face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb as he searches his best friend’s face, a sob making its way out of his throat as he holds his gaze and gets out a broken “Cas.” It’s all he can manage, but Cas doesn’t look away. “Dean.” He says with a similar sense of relief in his voice, and that’s all he needs to finally close the distance, finding Cas’ warm and soft lips eagerly meeting his own, a whimper disappearing into Dean’s mouth and sending a thrill down his spine. He can’t get enough of this, of him, so he kisses him until he’s out of breath, panting against Cas’ chest because apparently you still need oxygen in heaven.

“Cas,” he breathes out, “What were you thinking showing up like this? What took you so damn long?”

“Jack needed my help with something. I couldn’t just leave him alone because you decided to get here so soon.”

Dean looks down in embarrassment. He’s not quite ready to go there yet.

“Never took you for the impatient type.” Cas continues, trying to lighten the mood, and Dean can hear the sarcasm in his tone.

“I will never let you live this down, though.” Dean says before burying his face in Cas’ shirt again.

“I think we’re past the living part by now, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Wow, Cas. You’re such a romantic.”

He looks back at Cas again, as if he’s afraid that he’ll disappear if he lets him out of his sight. He sighs, still overwhelmed with emotion but so incredibly thankful, probably giving him a look that reveals just how utterly enamored he is with him.

He clears his throat as he tries to snap out of it for a second.

“What even is this? Where are we?” he says without really caring to hear the answer, not even looking up because there’s nothing more beautiful and worth looking at than Cas.

“An onion field, Dean.”

“Oh… Is that why we were crying?”

Cas tilts his head at that, giving him that familiar eye roll, affection twinkling in his eyes.

It’s then that he sees it; a hardened, fake-looking patch of soil sticking out in a weird, unnatural way. He frowns as he grabs it and pulls at it carefully, not expecting it to budge a whole lot but then suddenly it’s ripping a large hole through the ground underneath them and they’re tumbling down.

They fall neatly into a couch, and a big one at that. It’s plush and soft and a beautiful shade of emerald green.

They get up immediately and look around.

“Um. What the-, Cas, are you okay?”

“Yes, Dean.” He says, confusion evident in his voice. “Why are we at the bunker?”

They don’t have much time to ponder that as they hear a familiar voice coming from behind them.

“Hello, Cas. Hello, Dean.” Jack does his signature hand wave as they stare at him, perplexed.

“I’ve had some time to think about, well, everything. And I’ve come to some conclusions.” There’s a pause then as he looks up at Dean and Cas, searching for something in their eyes.

“First of all,” he continues, “I’ve decided to let Amara take the wheel every now and then. Secondly,” he takes a deep breath, “I want you to have a fair shot at life. At a normal life, whatever that may look like. And… I want to be part of it. If that’s okay with you.”

It’s almost ridiculous how much he looks like a kid right now, asking for permission even though he’s supposed to be God or whatever. He lets out a shaky breath and looks at Cas, who is just staring at Jack with so much love he’s surprised it’s not pouring out of him in some angelic form.

“Of course that’s okay, Jack. It’s more than okay.” Cas says before he puts his arms around his son, rubbing his back as he lets out the biggest sigh.

When they eventually break free, Jack looks up expectantly but hesitantly at Dean. It makes him want to hug away those doubts from his face immediately, so he does just that. His voice soft in an almost-whisper, he tells him “I’m glad to have you back, kid. For real this time.”

He feels Jack relax against him and he ruffles his hair before pressing a kiss at his hairline as he slowly lets go.

Jack is beaming now and he excitedly informs them that Sam and Eileen will be coming home soon for dinner. Dean shares a soft look with Cas and he notices how the loneliness that had been a film over Cas’ piercing blue eyes for way too long, seems to be gone completely as he smiles brightly at them both. It’s healing things inside of him that grace never could.

And maybe it still scares him, but it scares him a normal amount. The fear is not paralyzing anymore and he knows he finally has a chance to try and do this right.

[yanderart]

He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

   The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

   You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step. 

   It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect. 

   “So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on. 

   Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

   “Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

   The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper. 

   Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features. 

   Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened. 

   “Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands. 

   "Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

   Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

   But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness. 

   "You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.  

   You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal. 

   Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag. 

   "I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

   And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he? 

    If only you knew. 

   "Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

   That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

   "You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

   But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement. 

   A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery. 

   (Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

   "Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

   By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

   "Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer. 

   (Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

   Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both. 

   As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

   "You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

   Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight. 

   "Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

   To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked. 

   "I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law." 

   Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

   "Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

   Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics. 

   "Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

   His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth. 

   "Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

   It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

   "Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

   But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you. 

    And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

   Now that was interesting.

   "Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

   Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down. 

   "Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?" 

   You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

   "Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

   You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you. 

   "I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

   Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments. 

   "So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation. 

   Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role. 

   "Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

   You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage. 

   "I wasn’t..."

   "Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

   When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe. 

   "If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out. 

   Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did. 

   When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

   "I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

   Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions. 

   You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you. 

   The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear. 

   "Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

   He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both. 

   "Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries." 

   As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody. 

   It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering. 

   Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore. 

   "Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

   But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence. 

   When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.  

   Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet. 

   "But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

   Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

   "Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

   The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

   Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

   "You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

   At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime. 

   So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

   Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face. 

   "I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

    You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway. 

    You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze. 

   For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

   "Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

   You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain. 

   (And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

   "Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

   By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

   "But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

   Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded. 

   "I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

   You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be). 

   Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped. 

   "Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it. 

   Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped. 

   "I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

   He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you). 

   When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that. 

   "Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

   At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

   The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.  

   "Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

   If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

   You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths. 

   Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

   Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced. 

   It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

   So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

   A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

   The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

   How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

   "Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

   When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer. 

   "Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

   "Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

   Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed. 

   "Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

   A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

   "Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

    When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through. 

   Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

   "Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

   You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

   And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit. 

   "Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

   Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight. 

   "None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…" 

   But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you. 

   "Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say." 

   And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected. 

   The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

   But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before. 

   "More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

   Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by. 

   "Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

   And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment. 

   He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

   So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

   (You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.) 

   You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence. 

   You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

   And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

   "You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

   It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home. 

   "Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

   So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley. 

   What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work. 

   Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

   And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago. 

   (Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

   "Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over. 

   The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.  

   "Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips. 

   Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

   "Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

   And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides. 

   Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected. 

   A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

   Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent. 

   "Fucking… get on with it."

   However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body. 

   "But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

   And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

   You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

   Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness. 

   It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks. 

   The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself. 

   If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

   You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps. 

   So goddamn close…

   Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them. 

   Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all. 

   Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit. 

   When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork. 

   "Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

    You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment. 

   But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

   As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most. 

   When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face. 

   And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust. 

   "Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

   He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured. 

   However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry. 

   "Hold on..."

   Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

   "Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

   The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused. 

   "Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

   To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice. 

   When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

   One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling. 

   "You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

   And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago. 

   But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed. 

   Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

   He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you. 

   God, even for villain standards you were fucked. 

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — — 

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha​, @snappysnapo​ and @drxwsyni​ (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL). 

[the-desolated-quill]

WandaVision: ‘Subverting’ Good Television - Quill’s Scribbles

(Spoilers for the first five episodes)

Hey everyone! Well... it’s been a while, hasn’t it? The last time I wrote a proper review or Scribble, people still thought the COVID crisis would be over within a month. The poor saps. But I thought that as a special way to mark this year’s Valentines Day, we could take a closer look at the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s shittiest power couple in their new Disney+ show WandaVision.

The first of many MCU spin-off shows that nobody asked for, broadcast exclusively on Disney’s totally unnecessary streaming platform, WandaVision is about everybody’s favourite whitewashed Nazi experiment and her red sexbot boyfriend as they try to fit into a suburban sitcom neighbourhood without arousing suspicion.

Yes, you read that correctly. The MCU has a sitcom now. My life is now complete.

Sarcasm aside, I was legitimately curious about WandaVision because of its unusual setting. And considering one of my most common criticisms of the MCU is its total lack of creativity, anything that’s even a little bit subversive is bound to attract my attention. Of course ‘subversive’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘good.’ I could hand you a canvas smeared with my own shit and call it subversive. That doesn’t necessarily make it good art. And that’s exactly what WandaVision is. A canvas smeared with shit.

So lets split this critical analysis/review/angry bitter rant into two distinct chapters. The first focusing on the plot and setting, and the second focusing on the characters. Okay? Okay.

Chapter 1: Bewitched

Critics seem to be utterly enamoured with the whole sitcom gimmick, and it is a gimmick. As far as I can tell from the episodes I’ve seen, the sitcom setting serves no real purpose whatsoever other than to make the show ‘quirky.’ Which I wouldn’t mind, believe it or not, if the show was actually funny. There’s just one problem. It’s not.

Now in some ways describing why a sitcom doesn’t work is often futile because comedy is largely subjective. What I find funny, you won’t necessarily find funny and vice versa. With WandaVision, however, I won’t have that problem. I can demonstrate to you precisely why WandaVision, objectively, isn’t funny. And it all comes down to one simple thing. The stakes. Or rather the complete and total absence of stakes.

The show makes it very clear from the beginning that none of what we’re seeing is real. The cheesy theme song, the era appropriate special effects (mostly. It’s actually very inconsistent), the joke commercials, and, in the case of the first two episodes, which are in black and white, the appearance of red lights and objects in Scarlet Witch’s general vicinity. (Gee, what a mystery this is).

Basically Wanda has brought Vision back from the dead and created this sitcom world for them to inhabit. I’ll explain the stupidity of this in Chapter 2. The point is none of this is real, and that has a negative effect on the comedy because the very nature of comedy is suffering. Take the plot of the first episode. Wanda and Vision have to prepare a dinner to impress Vision’s boss. If they fail, Vision could lose his job and the couple could be exposed as superheroes. If this were a normal sitcom, it would work. The stakes are clear and it would be satisfying to see the two struggle and overcome the odds. But here, we know it’s not real. If it’s not real, it means there’s no stakes. If there’s no stakes, it means there’s no suffering. If there’s no suffering, there’s no comedy.

It would be one thing if the unfunny sitcom stuff lasted for like the first ten minutes or so before making way for the actual plot, but it doesn’t. Oh no. It doesn’t even last for the first episode. Out of the five episodes I’ve watched, four of them are almost entirely about these unfunny, objectively flawed sitcom homages, each set in a different time period. The fifties, the sixties, and so on. And what’s worse is that nothing that happens in them is plot-relevant. That gets relegated to the last five minutes of an episode. So you’re forced to sit through twenty five minutes of boring slapstick and puns in order to catch even a whiff of actual story. Which begs the question... who is this for exactly? It can’t be entertaining to Marvel fans, who have to slog through all this pointless shit so they can figure out what the fuck is going on. Comedy fans may get a kick out of the sitcom pastiche at first, but after four episodes, surely the joke would wear thin. So why is it in here? Clearly someone in the writer’s room absolutely fell in love with the idea of doing a Marvel sitcom, but nobody put in any time or effort to figure out how it would work in context.

I cannot stress enough how bad the plotting of this series is. As I said, the vast majority of a thirty minute episode is about shitty sitcom plots that aren’t funny and don’t have any impact on the story, only to then tease you with a crumb of actual plot in order to keep you coming back for the next instalment. Admittedly it’s an effective strategy. I was more than ready to quit after Episode 2 until that beekeeper showed up out of the sewer (don’t ask. It’s not important). WandaVision essentially follows the Steven Moffat school of bad writing. String your audience along with the promise that things might get more interesting later on and that all the bullshit that came before will retroactively make sense by the end. Except, as demonstrated with BBC’s Sherlock, that doesn’t work. And even if it did, it wouldn’t justify wasting the audience’s fucking time. And that’s what the majority of WandaVision is. A waste of time.

The only episode that doesn’t follow the sitcom format is the fourth episode. Instead it basically exists to explain all the shit that happened before. The shit that the audience, frankly, are smart enough to figure out for themselves. Wanda created the sitcom world as a way of coping with the loss of Vision, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, we got it. Thanks. It doesn’t advance the plot or anything. It’s just a massive info-dump. But by far the lowest point was when Darcy (by far the most annoying character in the first Thor film and is just as obnoxious here) was sat in front of the TV, watching the sitcom and asking the same questions we were. Not even attempting to look for answers. Just reiterating what the audience is thinking. Like this is an episode of fucking Gogglebox.

In the end it becomes apparent why the series is structured the way that it is. It’s to hoodwink people into subscribing to Disney’s stupid streaming service. If you think about it, there was no reason for WandaVision to be a TV series other than to lure gullible fans in with a piece-meal story buried in a mountain of crap. This isn’t a TV show. It’s what is cynically known in the world of big business executives as ‘content.’ They’re not interested in entertaining the audience. Instead they crave ‘engagement’, which isn’t the same thing. Watching WandaVision is like staring into the void, waiting for something to happen, while Disney charge you for the privilege.

Chapter 2: I Love Lucy

So the plot sucks balls. What about the characters? Surely if Wanda and Vision are likeable at least, it’ll give us something to cling onto.

Well as I was watching the first episode, it suddenly hit me that I couldn’t remember anything that happened to them in previous films. I knew Vision died, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you significant plot details or their personalities or anything. Not a great start.

See, up until now, Vision and Scarlet Witch have been little more than background characters. So already there’s an uphill struggle to get us invested in their relationship, especially considering we haven’t actually seen that relationship develop. In Avengers: Age Of Ultron, Scarlet Witch is killing people because she’s pissed off about Tony Stark killing people (you work that one out) until all of a sudden she stops and joins the good guys because the script said so. Vision meanwhile is introduced as a convenient deus ex machina to beat Ultron and gets no real personality other than he’s a robot. Captain America: Civil War comes the closest to giving Wanda a story and personality of her own as it’s her actions that cause the Sokovia Accords to come into effect, but she never gets any real growth or payoff as the film is heavily focused on Cap and Iron Man’s penis measuring contest. And as for Vision, all he does in the film is accidentally cripple War Machine. No real character or arc there as such. And then we have Avengers: Infinity War, where Wanda and Vision are now sporadically in love and on the run until that pesky Josh Brolin, looking like a CGI cross between Joss Whedon and a grumpy grape, comes along and rips out Vision’s Infinity Stone to power up his golden glove of doom, and the film treats this like a tragic moment, except... it isn’t. Because we haven’t really had the time to properly get to know these characters and see their romance blossom. So instead it just comes off as hollow and forced.

WandaVision has the exact same problem. Apparently Wanda was so distraught about Vision’s death that she broke into a SWORD base, stole his corpse, brought it back from the dead... somehow, and then enslaved an entire town of people to create an idyllic lifestyle for her and her hubby while broadcasting it as a sitcom to the outside world... for some reason. Putting aside the dubious morality of it all, it’s impossible to really sympathise with Wanda or her supposed grief because we’ve barely spent any time with her. Had the Marvel movies taken the time to properly explore the characters and show us their relationship grow and develop, this might have had more emotional resonance. But no, it just happens. In one film they barely speak to each other and in the next they’re a couple. No effort to explore how they feel about each other or any of the problems that may arise trying to date a robot. It just happens and we’re just supposed to care. Well I’m sorry, but I don’t care. You’re going to have to try a little bit harder than that I’m afraid. What’s worse is that, thanks to the whole fake sitcom thing, it’s impossible to really become invested in Wanda and her plight because the show has to constantly keep us at arms length at all times in order to keep up the pretence that this bullshit is somehow mysterious.

Looking through the WandaVision tag, it amuses me how many people say that she’s acting out of character. And yeah, her actions are a bit of a head scratcher. Why would an Eastern European’s ideal life be an American sitcom? Why a sitcom? Why kidnap an entire town? Why keep changing the decade? None of it makes sense, but you’re wrong for thinking that Wanda is behaving out of character for the simple reason that Wanda has never actually had a character. In fact, ironically, Wanda mind controlling an entire town and forcing them to do her bidding is probably the one consistent thing about her as she did this in Age Of Ultron. In interviews, Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany described how they used actors like Elizabeth Montgomery and Dick Van Dyke as influences, which is really funny because they’re straight up admitting they don’t have characters and even now they’re still not playing the characters, instead emulating the work of far better actors.

As I was watching the show, it became abundantly clear that not only do Marvel not have the faintest idea what they wanted to do with these characters, but they also straight up don’t give a shit about these characters. Wanda in particular has had a rough time under the tyrannical regime of the House of Mouse. First they cast Elizabeth Olsen, a white woman, to play a Romani character, then systematically erasing her Jewish roots, even going so far as to put a cross in her bedroom in Civil War, and now the character is being butchered even more by forcing her into an American sitcom housewife role that she apparently willingly chose for herself, which is laughable. I mean say what you like about Magneto in the X-Men films, at least they actually depicted his Jewish culture. At least they recognised his Jewish background was important (though not important enough to cast a Jewish actor apparently). Wanda’s steady cultural erasure over the years is incredibly insidious and judging by Olsen’s comments in interviews, where she called Wanda’s comic book outfit a quote ‘gypsy thing’ unquote, it seems nobody has an ounce of fucking respect for the character or the culture she’s supposed to be representing. (and to all those kissing her arse saying it was a slip of the tongue, she has been repeatedly called out for using the slur in the past, so at this point I’d describe her behaviour as wilful ignorance)

If you want further proof of how much Marvel doesn’t seem to care about Wanda, look no further than her brother Pietro, aka Quicksilver. At the end of Episode 5, Wanda brings Pietro back from the dead, except it’s not Pietro. It’s Peter Maximoff, the Quicksilver from the X-Men films played by Peter Evans, who coincidentally is not Jewish or Romani either. So Quicksilver has the dubious honour of not only being whitewashed three times, but also twice within the same franchise. But should we really be surprised at this point? It’s Marvel after all. The same company that whitewashed the Ancient One in Doctor Yellowface and claimed it wasn’t racist because Tilda Swinton is ‘Celtic’. But now I’m going off topic. My point is that this isn’t a simple case of recasting an actor like Mark Ruffalo replacing Edward Norton as the Hulk. WandaVision actually acknowledges the recast in-universe, which makes no sense. Why would Wanda bring back her brother, only to make him look like a different person? We the audience may be familiar with this version of Quicksilver, but she isn’t. That would be like me bringing my Grandad back to life and making him look like Ian McKellen. He’d be perfectly charming, I’m sure, but he wouldn’t be my Grandad. 

If Marvel really cared about the characters or narrative consistency, they would have brought Aaron Taylor Johnson back. Instead, now they have absorbed 20th Century Fox into the hellish Disney abyss, they use X-Men’s Quicksilver as a means to keep viewers from switching off and so that people will write stupid articles and think pieces about whether the rest of the X-Men will show up in the MCU. It’s like dangling your keys in front of a toddler’s face to distract them from the rotting corpse of a raccoon lying face down in the corner of the room.

And it’s here where I decided to stop watching the show because fuck Disney.

Epilogue: One Foot In The Grave

You know, I am sick and tired of the so called ‘professional’ critics bending over backwards to praise these god awful films and shows when it’s so clear to anyone with a functioning brain cell how bad they truly are. WandaVision is without a doubt one of the most cynically produced and poorly structured TV shows I’ve ever seen. Its riffs on classic sitcoms are pointless and self-indulgent, the writing is terrible, the characters are unlikable and unsympathetic, and it’s entirely emblematic of what the entire MCU has become of late. And it’s only going to get worse as Disney drowns us with more ‘content’ to keep the plebs ‘engaged’. In short; pathetic.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

[generallynerdy]

Discovery (Rey X Solo!Reader)

Summary: You take the time after the war to bring Rey to Naboo, one of the greenest places in the galaxy. It isn’t hard for you to understand why it was here, of all places, that your grandparents fell in love. The apple apparently doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Requested by Anon: I don’t know much about Star Wars lmao but I think Rey is neat. Can I get a Rey/Reader please? Something fluffy!

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: holy FUCK this is fluffy anon what have you DONE, finnpoe is only background :(, some self deprecation, mentions of character death, unfortunately it follows canon plot but just ignore it and it doesn’t exist, mention of K*lo R*n Word Count: 1,944

Note: u dont know how much strength it took to not put Jar Jar in this fic just because also WOW holy fuck this is so fluffy i think i choked. Oh also please tell me if that idiom in the summary is wrong because growing up bilingual means I Don’t Get Them. anyway sorry i’ve been inactive things have been...wack.

    “I didn’t know there was this much green in the whole galaxy,” she’d said when you met her what felt like forever ago.

    It broke your heart.

    Your father later said that he could see it in your eyes. You’d spent your whole life travelling the galaxy, experiencing its every wonder, and there was Rey, who had never been off Jakku in her entire life.

    You wanted, at that moment, to drag her back into the Millenium Falcon, point at a map, and tell her to pick a place, any place. More than anything, you wanted to show Rey every corner of the universe, every sand-free planet or moon that you could possibly find.

    The pity the woman thought she saw in your eyes was much more than that; it was horror, despair at what she had missed.

    You eventually settled for showing her Takodana and D’Qar, after your father was killed, but it never sat right with you. The more you got to know Rey and the longer the war dragged on, the more you wanted to give her the infinite freedom she so desperately deserved.

    To put it simply, you wanted nothing less than to hand her the galaxy on a silver platter.

    It wasn’t until the war was over that you finally had the opportunity to do so.

    You and Rey were still travelling with Finn, Poe, Chewie, BB-8, and D-0, as you had since the end of the war. With their help, it was easy to surprise her.

    Carefully, you led her down the Falcon’s boarding platform and onto solid ground. Poe had lovingly donated his jacket to be a blindfold, in order to keep Rey completely in the dark. Luckily, the Force wouldn’t tell her where she was-- it didn’t work like that.

    “I’m not great with surprises,” she warned, gripping your arm tightly.

    “You’ll love this one, I promise. Now, take off your shoes.”

    “What?”

    “Just trust me,” you laughed, having already discarded your own.

    You watched with pure childlike glee as her feet met soft grass. She wiggled her toes about in the dirt, a smile coming to her face. Sure, D’Qar had gotten her used to grass rather than sand, but you were almost certain she’d never taken a moment to go barefoot in it.

    “Grass?” She asked hesitantly. “Where are we?”

    “Only the prettiest planet in the galaxy,” you teased, already reaching forward to pull the jacket from her face. “Welcome to Naboo.”

    When the jacket came off, Rey found herself gaping-- as soon as she’d gotten used to the brightness of a sunny day on Naboo. You’d landed in the middle of a great, grassy field near the edge of a cliff. A waterfall tumbled over the edge of that cliff from a stream, a feature that Naboo was well known for. You were pretty sure Rey had never seen one of those-- something you had to correct.

    *“(Y/N)--” she breathed out, gawking. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to say.”

    You laughed a little. “Neither did I, the first time my mom brought me here. I spent days exploring.”

    “It’s so...alive,” she said, reaching down to feel the grass.

    She meant in the Force, though even the least Force-sensitive person could probably see how alive it was. Naboo was an explosion of light and life, even for those not strong in the Living Force, and could be overwhelming for those who were.

    “C’mon,” you called to her with a smile, holding out your hand. “I know the best place to take it all in.”

    Her lips twitched up into a grin, one of the brightest you’d ever seen from her. Her eyes shined as she reached out, taking your hand in hers and squeezing it as she stood back up. With her free hand, Rey tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and opened her mouth to say something-- but a shout from the Falcon interrupted her.

    “Have fun, lovebirds!” Poe called with a devilish smirk, waving the two of you onward.

    You shot the man a rude gesture that made him cackle. Rey turned bright red, an adorable look on her, you thought, as Poe was dragged back into the ship by Finn, who chewed him out the whole way-- fondly, though.

    (Bittersweetness struck you at the memory of your mother laughing her ass off at the fact that both of her children, blood or otherwise, were head over heels for Force-sensitives.)

    Rolling your eyes, you dragged Rey along through the field at a near sprint. Her musical laughter in your ear made you run faster and hold her hand tighter. The breeze swept up both of your robes and hair, completely ruining your venerated Jedi facade that Rey had insisted upon since getting lightsabers, which you both wore on belts, though they swung wildly now. If your father could see you right now, he would be so, so proud. Uncle Luke would probably cry.

    At the very edge of the cliff, by the waterfall, you came to a skidding stop with a bark of laughter.

    “Now, this is gonna sound crazy--”

    Rey scoffed. “You always sound crazy.”

    “Aw, thanks,” you said, heavy with sarcasm before continuing. “Uncle Luke told me stories about Jedi during the war, how they’d jump off cliffs without a second thought. Ben and I spent weeks practising how to cushion our falls, just so we could be like the old Jedi.”

    Her eyes were wide. “You what?”

    “Yep! And now it’s your turn!” you declared.

    “What? (Y/N)--”

    Before she could panic, you grabbed her hand again. “We’ll jump together and I’ll stop the fall. You’ll be completely safe.”

    She bit her lip. “You’re sure about this?”

    “Completely,” you reassured her. “Do you trust me?”

    Despite herself and her growing fear, Rey smiled. “I do.”

    “Great! On three.”

    “One.”

    “Two.”

    “Three!” the two of you shouted together, racing toward the edge of the cliff.

    Rey was immediately screaming, out of terror at first, but as you tucked her against your side, holding her close against the resistance, the shriek turned into an exhilarated one. You let out a joyful whoop as you went down, Rey’s face buried in the crook of your neck, which only elated you further.

    As the ground grew closer, you pulled on the Force and the two of you touched ground gently, as if you’d never fallen at all.

    Rey didn’t pull away, but laughed gleefully. “That--” she gasped, breathless, “--was amazing.”

    “Wasn’t it?” you asked, grinning. Then you pointed at the horizon ahead. “But the view’s even better.”

    She followed your gesture and froze.

    You were standing on another lush, grass-covered cliffside, as the waterfall tumbled onto a layered terrain, almost like massive steps. After another two layers, the falls gathered into a lake that stretched out for miles. Surrounding the lake were other cliffs with their own waterfalls, towering trees, and blankets of flora. And in the sky, the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the world in pinks and purples and oranges.

    “Sweet Force,” she whispered.

    Your gaze shifted to the woman next to you. You wore a smile that would make Chewie gag.

    The light of the sunset fell gently on her features, outlining her face with an ethereal sort of glow. Her eyes reflected the sparkling water and the sun, a window into her soul and the flame of fierce bravery that you knew she always carried in it. Lips slightly parted in awe, Rey looked more beautiful now than you had ever seen her, watching something so simple, so unknown and taking a galaxy’s worth of joy from it.

    You wanted to see that look on her face every day. You wanted to drag her across the galaxy and show her every corner of it, if only to watch her smile the way she was now.

    “It’s beautiful,” she said in quiet awe and respect.

    You exhaled sharply. “Yeah. You are.”

    She didn’t process your words for a long moment, but when she did, her head snapped over to look at you and her eyes went wide. “(Y/N)...”

    “Rey, can I-- can I tell you a story?”

    She frowned, uncertain, but nodded. Before you could speak, she reached out and took your hand once more, sending a wave of warmth up your arm.

    You smiled and took a deep breath. “When my grandmother was young, she was the Queen of Naboo and, after that, its Senator. My grandfather was a Jedi and-- and he was tasked with protecting her, so he brought her home, brought her here. She showed him everything about this planet: the sights, the people. He was already in love with her then, but it was here that, with nothing but them, the Force, and the life around them, that she realised she loved him back. He was a kid from Tatooine who had never seen anything like Naboo before and watching him discover something she loved so dearly, she just...knew.”

    “Sounds familiar,” Rey said with a little laugh, her voice soft.

    You echoed the noise before lifting her hand, bringing it to your lips and kissing her knuckles gently. “I have watched you come from nothing, seen you face down the most terrifying people in the galaxy and hardly blink. You terrify and amaze me, Rey, and I-- I think I’ve been in love with you for much longer than I thought.”

    “Oh, (Y/N),” she breathed out. Turning to face you, she put her free hand on your cheek, caressing it with her thumb. “I’ve never-- well, I’ve never really...had anyone. Your family took me in and that-- that means the galaxy to me, having a family. You are so, so kind and so much more than I ever hoped for. I’m nothing. I don’t have anything, (Y/N), just this lightsaber. I don’t even have a name. How could you possibly love me?”

    Unable to resist, you placed a fond kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Take mine.”

    She blanked. “What?”

    “You are not nothing. You are everything to me,” you told her firmly. “If you want more than that lightsaber, more than this family we have, take my name. It belongs to you...and so do I.”

    Rey opened her mouth and then paused, unable to find words. Instead, she decided on an action.

    She grabbed the collar of your robes and pulled your forward, slanting her mouth against yours. You did not squeak as she would claim later, but you did make a wordless noise. After a moment, you pulled her in close, slipping your arm around her waist.

    For an innocent, young desert scrapper who had supposedly never kissed anyone before, she was damn good at it.

    When you finally pulled away, you couldn’t help resting your forehead against hers.

    (A Keldabe kiss, Aunt Ahsoka and Uncle Rex had called it. It was just as intimate as any regular kiss and meant so much more)

    “Rey Organa-Solo has a ring to it,” you murmured against her lips.

    She laughed, a sweet, song-like thing that melted your heart again. “Is that a proposal?”

    “Definitely,” you said, kissing her again. It was soft, but sank into something deeper, the sort of kiss your father would say he and your mother shared after defying death yet again.

    A fairytale moment in a fairytale place. And, technically speaking, you were royalty.

    “I think,” Rey said when you finally let go again, “that we have a lot more to see.”

    You grinned. “Naboo first, love. But after that, believe me, I’ll show you the galaxy.”

River Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[kob131]

Looks like Hbomberguy's hours long crap is up(publicly).

“Made a legendary animator, his most trusted colleage (shows Shane) and two-”

People he outright went to and he acknowledged were better writers, thanks for admitting that HBomberguy and not be an insulting jackass right?

“RWBY’s failures matter because it could have been something-”

So could Twilight- That means nothing at this point other than ‘I made a bunch of headcanons and the show dared to not follow them.’

‘It’s easy to see why this show has such a devote fanbase because it frequently threatens to become good-”

So did Fairy tail (except for real) and that died out. Also you are really chipping away at my goodwill

‘People say what it promised!”

You mean this?

‘Weaken REAL criticism by being given too much attention-”

Hypocritical much douchebag?

“*insert a bunch of sarcastic bullshit mocking critics of RWBY*”

*rolls eyes* You say as you mimick them down to using the DEAD.

‘It’s separated into two eras with issues that don’t necessarily overlap-”

Bull. Fucking. Shit. Most of RWBY’s problems now ORIGINATED in the early Volumes. 

“If you’re a fan of the show you’re probably gonna dread what I’m about to say and if you’re a fan of the second half then you’ll probably agree with what I’m about to say-”

Considering you’re stupid sarcasm is just a less smug version of what I do, pretty clear ‘agreement’ and ‘actual good point’ are very different here.

“If you love RWBY and are still gonna watch, thank you and I love you for joining me on this journey.”

Less a journey and more a Seven Page Muda but sure.

“My goal isn’t to make people think less of the show-”

Which is why you openly insult it in the beginning.

“-but to think more about it.”

So far you’ve shown about as much understanding of the show as FloofArtist, complete with hypocrisy. And considering what I’ve heard about your video, you’re not getting better.

“I hope to give credit where credit is due-/It’s said failure is the best teacher-”

Which is why you openly insult people.

“’Rooster Teeth is starting game development!’ *insert insulting Steam Statistics*’

Fucking wonderful. Like you haven’t already tested my patience.

“*gushes about the Red Trailer after about eight minutes of recaping*”

Cool, eight minutes wasted on knowledge that EVERY RWBY fan knows. Literally every RWBY fan knows the origins of RT and Monty and the bitch basic knowledge of how they came together. You seem to have targeted this to RWBY fans and yet to blab about shit that you get after looking at the fandom for 2 seconds.

To say nothing of how you prove something was wrong with the Red Trailer. Namely, you never mention a plot, a personal conflict, a display of character or anything other than ‘cool music!’ and ‘animation!’ despite the show being pretty plot dependent.

*Gushes about the White Trailer*

Yet another bitch basic gushing with nothing of substance to it. For a guy who says he wants people to think critically about RWBY, you sure don’t do that for what is considered the basis of the show. It’s just talking about shit you like instead of anything worthwhile.

*Yet more gushing with the Black Trailer.*

... You know, I watch these kinds of videos searching for some kind of intellectual stimulation. Something to make me think and engage with. Right now, I get more stimulation and engagement from RWBY itself than a supposedly critical video that doesn’t even have to bother with anything original.

“The show already has generic monsters who just want to destroy humanity and yet you have written your characters to act exactly the same-”

And within your own bitching, you discovered the counter. The Grimm have nothing really to explore about them outside giving them variations and powers whereas the human characters can have these things called ‘motives’ and ‘reasons’. Not to mention even you would say people act like that in real life *cough* anyone NOT of your political alignment *cough*.

“And the audience is left with one lingering though...he can make that jump.”

How does it feel that Family Guy did a better version of your joke?

“She’s written like two adult men who have never written anything professional before except Red Vs. Blue wrote a Teenage girl-”

.... Monty wrote her based off her voice actress.  You’ve also made me regret ever using this same insult against Miles and Kerry so congrats on that.

*Even more gushing...*

You know, I am legitimately considering rewatching the Persona episode of Game Theory because at least MatPat’s faffing about is short and he has more content in his first eighteen minutes than this.

“More people have gone back to watch the trailers than watch actual episodes of the show!”

The trailers are the first thing people would watch to know about the series- no shit they’d be higher in view count.

“It’s so hard to not be onboard with the trailers!”

It’s actually very easy, especially in their release.

Why? Simple, a lot of the depth in the trailers only exists with context from the show itself. The White Trailer is cool and all but it’s symbolism and deeper meaning comes from Weiss’ backstory and the truth depth of Blake leaving Adam and what it causes is found in the show, the two best trailers while Red is just mindless fun that you can get better from other places and Yellow is just kind of neat.

How the fuck am I the more critical of the two of us so far?

“Then the show actually came out and it was terrible-”

Piece of advice, don’t follow this up with a super janky, uncanny valley 3D animation that makes Volume 1 look appealing.

“RWBY isn’t just a bad show, it’s a bad show that could have been something-”

*cracks neck*

The idea that RWBY or any show ‘had potential’ is most often used when a person once had a fondness for the property in question but has long since lost the goodwill to see it in a positive light, trying to make up for the cognitive dissonance of the conflict between liking what it once was and disliking what it is now. The issue here is that these so called ‘issues’ are born of the original creator who either founded the show or helped found it which means that it was pretty much DESTINED to be this way as the creator’s specific interpretation of their own work is what resonated with you in the first place and was likely built up to in the subtle inner workings of the show, thus making the big changes you want so badly would cause a ripple effect that would have affected your past impression of the show because everything in a show is connected. And in all likelyhood, your impression would have soured no matter what.

Tl;Dr- ‘It had potential!’ is self defeating and stupid.

‘The creators are receptive to criticism!...well, they try to be.-”

Oh boy I can’t wait for Mr. ‘kill half of all babies’ to try and speak about THIS topic.

“You don’t engage with any of the good faith criticism and just reward shitty people with attention. And I hope to show them that as a lifelong fan of RT and Monty Oum, that I’m saying this thinking RWBY could have been good...and still could be.”

Says the man who when referencing Miles for the first time, actively SEPERATED him from being a ‘treasured college’ of his friend and insulted him with Yang even though the fault lied with MONTY. 

All while referencing a tweet where he chews someone out for saying EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE SAYING ( ‘God this is why i hate this fandom. You miss the point. If I critise the show I'm a hater because you worship it. I'M OFFERING CRITISM U IDIOT SO THE SHOW SEES ITS FAULTS AND FIXES THEM. HOW THE FUCK CAN U KEEP MOVING FORWARD IF YOU DON'T IDENTIFY YOUR OWN FAULTS AND LEARN’). Yeah great job there jackass- How exactly are you any different from this fucker?

So that’s my thoughts on the first twenty or so minutes. Can already tell it’s gonna be shit.

[theelliottsmiths]

Could you please liveblog the making of Amerika?

Yes

I'm anticipating complaining about the penis zip guy already

Did you know that for a long time as a child I thought the English version was the real version? Cause I did

The bit where they're putting the paint on their faces is weirdly cute even though Richard looks kind of silly

Flake grow out your long hair pleaseee just like. A cute little bob again. I would listen to him talk for hours honestly I like the way he pronounced the words and his tone language doesn't matter

You can always tell by how he holds his face vs his eyes when he's joking "that's what this song is for: to sneak ourselves into their hearts" i feel like they have done that pretty well. For some reason it seems like most of the American fans are from the Midwest but maybe that's just coincidence

Rammstein saying they have no message except "Fleisch, Fleisch" or "ja" or "ich will" I forgot this entire thing is ceaseless dunking and sarcasm

i like the sounds he makes like the. There's a name for them what is it. The noises you make between words for emphasis etc? Those

"America was so fucking annoying we felt the need to call them out on it"

Oli talks a little like he's trying not to yawn. Them saying the war was on while they were in the practice room is strange considering how long the various wars had been going on just from like a born in the late 90s living in 2020 perspective

Ah yes you really were. So subtle. It's very. Clever many double meanings

"sehr gut, Till". :).

The sehnsucht thing tickles me so much he starts off by saying yes it's better to leave things up for interpretation and naturally my brain assumes he means the well thought out probably not true but poetic stuff, right, and then he goes on to say Americans thought sehnsucht was chainsaw and I cannot

The knife also is good.

In a way Amerika as a video is a precursor Ausländer and I like seeing how it compares because its

AS I WAS TYPING THAT OLI SAID THE WORD AUSLÄNDER

Oli does not seem happy to have his words captured At All

I wonder how many people did the Deutschland thing and went straight to saying it's racist without thinking through the reasons behind what they were doing (at least in part criticising American racism) I'm pretty sure l've seen someone complain about it somewhere like it was serious, I think on Reddit around the time the Ausländer Making of came out? Which is why I bring it up

"we wanted to make it clear that it wasn't a love song so these lyrics are perfect" Till: literally just saying this is not a love song

I would like to see them perform a cheer in proper cheerleader costumes instead of the uncomfy stickman Deutschland dance that makes me cringe my skeleton right out of my skin in 2021 please

The juxtaposition of Richards pro-america comments and flakes sarky comments about how nice the urinals are is so reminiscent of that post that's like America where freedom is the choice between thirty kinds of bread that you can't afford to buy

I was going to make a Regan's grave joke but I do prefer to keep that one for Margaret Thatchers grave

I like schneiders hair at this length

Schneiders capacity to oscillate so wildly between being a vacant dumbass and saying intelligent and thought out things is ceaselessly amazing

Saying it's hard because "it's like a punk concert for them" Jörn my guy my dude almost all of them were in punk bands I just checked and this was 2004 Feeling b only broke up in the 90s do you literally just mean Oli (I do not remember if there was any punk going on in the Inchtabokatables) or

Schneider is making it look so easy was he truly just so -_- about feeling b that he can be completely calm in the face drumming that fast? Cause we know usually his fast drumming involves screaming faces and or actual screaming I swear he does and it's just not hearable under the music sidenote he sings along sometimes and if he does it out loud I NEED to hear it

Richard when it's slowed down looks uh. Looks like he's eh. Hm. Is that the real reason people are so into guitarists?

I don't know which part of the sentence Glasses Paul says in that louder voice (schossen? Is he saying that/shot?) but I do like it if I knew more German I would take on way more Rammstein things as echoes you have no idea how much time I spend saying es reicht wenn hier so 'nen fleischfarbenen Draht lang legst which If that's wrong it's exactly what I was told he said so please correct it but it's not my fault unless you consider it my fault for not knowing enough German in which case it is my fault

But anyway yes hes Talking like its a museum tour and in his little glasses and shirt and everything he is totally playing the part of unhinged historian which is the best kind of historian honestly if you're going to be academic in nature you might as well be fucking mental

I want to know what vibes his speech gives off in German because to me he in English and German seems very theatrical in the way he talks? Including how much he rolls his rs it's very... Showy? But maybe not actually?

I forget how many videos Jörn has shot with them honestly

What do you do with this ash sand once your finished with? Some of them had kids I'd have taken it home and pretended it was real moon dust or something

They really go for it when they decide to do something like this and it really is admirable. It's rare they'll half-ass something and even when if feels like their director has they don't themselves

Richard looks very handsome in his space suit before they hang him up

Pretti

He looks like a marionette now nevermind

THIS FUCKER

I just. Do. Not. Enjoy this man I'm sorry to you and the mullet man I'm sure he's great but for fucks SAKE man he

TILL LITERALLY SAYS DONALD SUTHERLAND POINTS TO HIS DICK AND MIMES ZIPPING YOU KNOW WHAT HE'S FUCKING TALKING ABOUT SO WHY DO YOU LOOK SO CONFUSED

YOU TOLD HIM THE STORY YOU KNOW WHY HES SAYING DONALD SUTHERLAND AND POINTING TO HIS PENIS WHY ARE YOU SO GORMLESS

Look. I have nothing against Americans individually B is American Nick is American i love them dearly i know also other Americans a lot of you guys are Americans and I love you lots but here's the thing why are Americans like this

If it's not in English the brain turns off even if the context is obvious it's like when English people see Welsh/English signs and are so anti-welsh that they don't acknowledge that they're also in English and get angry that they don't know where they are

The sweetest little face though!

Softest boy ever besides Rosenrot Till

Till gets bored of the guy and decides to tell a story about a dick it's very him

This is the hair I think of when I think of Till this is the quintessential till haircut no?

God I do dislike this man

Tills voice is so so high here I adore him so completely it's so soft and high and the song is Not

If you're trying to learn how to say L sounds like a German I feel like richard is the easiest one to copy? Unless they're all weirdos and no other German says L sounds like that. Him and flake.

Flakes smile is more cheerful than Paul's there I said it

I know it's not foreshadowing but Jörn foreshadowing Ausländer

Richard talking about America's tendancy to exaggerate is really interesting since that's something the community as a whole seems to agree is a personality trait of his. They didn't fight, they almost broke up. He hates touring and yet he loves touring. Is that why he likes it there or is living there why he's like that?

Can you casually buy ten litres of orange juice? The boys are busy they cannot confirm and Google does not understand what I'm asking

Yeah Richard and Till, get closer

Knife

Schneiders handprint

I forgot about "there was a rumour in the DDR that America didn't exist" what is it with Germany and conspiracies about places not existing I'm there are tears in my eyes I genuinely I never watch this one flake is so fucking funny

Till talking pictures of the others

It's better than I give it credit for in my memory is there anything they've made that is in not a single way entertaining? I feel like no

Thank you for asking for this one it was every fun actually

[saieras]

My name is Robert.

The Multiverse exists. Peter has found him.

But his name isn’t Tony.

It’s Robert.

As celebration for 500 followers, enjoy this post-Endgame drabble :)

Taglist at the end. Tagging people who are on the Hearts of Iron taglist, also some people who reblogged @lrel98‘s addition to @itsallavengers‘s post, with a similar premise. Let me know if you want in or out~

Peter squints as he looks out across the panorama, bathed in the lights and sounds and gaudy not-quite-night that New Yorkers are so used to. Streets and avenues stare back at him, at once familiar and foreign. From time to time his gaze would pass over a corner of the city before jerking back to refocus on a building, or a block, or some ordinary intersection, pausing until he picks out a part that’s not quite like the others—like playing a giant, never-ending find-the-difference game.

It’s… jarring. Sure, sprinkled here and there are some blocks that look almost identical to his world’s, but even more parts of the city, entire swaths even, are just… off. The skyline, too, is wrong, with buildings popping up where they shouldn’t, and others leaving gaping voids in their absence.

Like the Avengers Tower… or rather, the lack thereof.

Peter clenches his jaw and tears his eyes away from where the tower is supposed to be. He palms the rough texture of the skyscraper’s exterior. It’s his second-favorite spot to cling to and be moody on. At least the Empire State Building is the same as he remembers, complete with the exact same security camera configurations and blind spots—seriously, what are the odds of that?

For the fourth time since he’s arrived, he wonders why this hugely inconvenient detour happened in the first place. It’s probably his horrid sense of direction at work, he decides. His topographagnosia—that’s legit what it’s called—is probably so bad that it made his Multiverse Quantum Spacetime Guidewatch malfunction. God that’s a mouthful (the watch, not the affliction). Everyone would be better off calling it a Gadget. Or a Gizmo? A Goober?

Yeah, he’ll just call it a Goober from now on.

Peter sighs and stares at the piece of machinery in resignation. To be fair, he did get briefed on the possibility of this exact scenario happening—something close to a one-in-ten-thousandth chance, or so Mr. Beck said—which is kind of impressively low, given the magnitude of what they’ve accomplished.

And, again to be fair, it’s not as if Peter is really… surprised, anymore, especially with his luck in recent months.

He knows he ought to care. He ought to be more worried. He’s supposed to be Spider-Man, supposed to do what he always did when entering a new world: find out what it’s like, locate a safe spot, and gather information. See if it needs his help; because no matter what universe, no matter what dimension, people are people.

But he’s so tired. Fighting, saving people, doing good. More and more often he finds himself wanting to run away as far as possible, to a place that doesn’t need constant saving. You shouldn’t even be doing this, a small voice would nag from time to time. You’re worthless. You never saved anyone. You couldn’t save him.

Peter knows that voice is wrong—because he has these gifts and if he doesn’t use them then what did Uncle Ben die for?—and yet he just can’t seem to help his thoughts. And it’s hard; hard not to feel young, and stupid, and alone, when he knows there won’t be a slightly annoyed voice answering his calls, tired but never hanging up while he blabbers about school, or new ideas, or the day’s herowork.

Then, before he knows it, he’s doing things more to cope than to help. To feel alive himself, than to help others stay alive.

He scoffs. Cope. People always seem to ask how he’s coping. Even people who he knows loves him. May. Pepper. Happy. It makes him angry that they just don’t get it.

As if anyone can just, cope. Just move on. As if he can ever forget that moment the blue light snuffed out.

They all said he’s ‘honoring a great memory’, as if it’s consolation and he should be instantly cheered. Like, yeah, maybe that ought to have given him more of a purpose, but on some nights its… hard. Those nights, when the suit chafes and burns on his skin, when the night air becomes suffocating, when he would see yet one too many red-and-gold graffiti, a tribute—

Peter gulps down air and forces himself to calm down. He’s gotten quite good at that. He bites his lip and blinks.

Pathetic, he thinks, half joking, half bitter. Even after four months, he’s still stuck in this limbo. The brochures and guidebooks, they’re all a bunch of crap—because it didn’t get… hasn’t gotten… will never get better. It’s there, creeping up behind him when he least expects. It’s there, even after he’s learned to shove it beneath sarcasm and witty banter. It distills, condenses, reverberates; sometimes overwhelms.

It’ll take three days for the field to recharge and re-align itself. Three days to spend in this strange alternate dimension, this less-swanky version of his New York, with dirtier air and heavier clouds, but also more people, more hustle and bustle, more energy.

But no… him. Never him. Peter’s looked. He’s been to six other universes already.

No him.

He turns and leans his forehead against the cool glass. The dark inky surface dances and pulses with the city lights behind him.

“I miss you, Mr. Stark.” His breath fogs on the smooth pane. He has to try really fucking hard so his voice doesn’t crack.

He forces air into him, to push back the tightness.

“Please… let me find you.”

Silence answers him, like it always does.

The vibrations are what he notices first, passing through the concrete and stone and steel of the building’s bulk to tickle at his soles, like tremors in a spider’s web.

Peter tilts his head, feeling the stiff sinews of his neck crack and pop. He’s been staying in the same spot for an hour, he reckons.

Then the faintest of melodies reach him, and he realizes that the vibrations are music. Very loud music.

Somewhat groggy, Peter turns his head to look up, where the rest of the Empire State’s impressive height disappears into the gloom. He shrugs. Couldn’t hurt, he decides. Besides, the music is kind of good—unfamiliar and different in style, but good.

He webs and climbs the rest of the way up, still careful to avoid the cameras. As he gets closer to the top, he makes out burning beams of light poking into the sky. He makes out laughter and the din of conversation. He makes out cheers and applause and the click of cameras.

It’s a good thing the Building is a carbon copy of the one in his world, or someone would have found him by now. Peter swings and jumps expertly in the blindspots, and soon he’s just below the Observation Deck.

Where a party is in full swing.

Practically next to the Deck, now, Peter pokes his head over the railings, relying on his Sense to tell him where the crowds are thinnest. Tuxedoed men and elegant women are everywhere, laughing and chatting and dancing, glasses of champagne in their hands. They all seem to be converging on one side of the Deck, so Peter takes this chance to hop over the railings and shimmy his way up to the terrace above.

There must be close to a hundred people in attendance tonight. Peter thinks they must be either business people or entertainment people—he sees quite a few lavish dresses, blazing with colors and ostentatious display, looking not at all practical to move around in.

Peter wonders what the party is for. Then again he doesn’t really care. He occupies himself by observing the way the people move, the way they talk. The suit helps filter out the worst of the bright lights and sounds, and he sticks himself to a wall, just quietly watching.

It’s been so long since he’s been to a party. When was the last time?

Ah, that Stark Industries Charity Tony had roped him into attending, a few months before Thanos. ‘Pepper forced me to go so now I’m forcing you to go,’ the man had said, grinning. ‘Misery loves company, kid.’

That was a century ago.

Peter sighs. Maybe he’ll recognize some people here, he thinks, even if they’re not the people he wants to recognize. He’s already seen six incarnations of the Kardashians across as many universes, for example, and his mouth twitches in disgust at the thought of meeting a seventh. It makes him angry to think people like them exist across the multiverse, but not the warm, sarcastic voice he hears in his dreams, or the hand he wants to feel ruffling his hair after missions, saying, ‘good job, kid’.

He brushes his thoughts away.

Well, guess what? Life doesn’t work the way you want. Suck it up, Parker.

A round of thunderous applause drowns out his thoughts. Peter huffs. Another celebrity has probably just arrived; either that, or some kind of speech is about to start. He couldn’t care less, either way. Someone clears their throat

“Hello, hello!”

Peter almost falls off the antenna. His head whirls to pinpoint the voice, a ship homing in to the beam of a lighthouse. He yanks off his mask, and the world assaults him with information and sound and light, and his heart rate skyrockets to probably over 150, pounding relentless at his temples. He ignores all that. They don’t matter. He doesn’t matter. He fixes his gaze in the direction where most of the applause is coming from.

All that matters is the voice, that voice, his voice—Peter holds his breath, throat throttled, his mind a potpourri of fleeting words and formless thoughts and disbelief and disbelief and disbelief. And beneath it all… a hint of what strays dangerously close to hope.

“Thank you, thank you all so much for coming!”

It’s him. It’s got to be him. The timbre, the confidence, the hidden smirk. The warmth.

Peter never ran so fast in his life. Ran, hopped, skipped. He could’ve thwhipped himself over, but his entire body was shaking and he didn’t trust his aim. He skids to a halt by the end of the terrace, panting hard even though the short sprint should’ve been like a casual stroll to his enhanced body.

He hesitates a split second. Then he looks down—

It’s him It’s him It’s hIM IT’s HIM IT’S HIM. He is here, he is in this universe. He is alive, alive, aliVE, ALIVE, ALIVE.

Peter crumples onto the floor, barely keeping enough wits about himself to rein in the volume of his gasping breaths. They came, and came, and came, wracking his thin wiry form, tsunamis of joy and relief, and still that disbelief. Abruptly he snaps his head up over the low concrete wall, terrified that the man would be whisked away if he so much as blinked, like a mirage, a hologram, another one of BARF’s cruel simulations.

And he’d lose him again.

But no. The man is still there, still present, right there. Talking. Laughing. Holding a champagne glass. He says a toast, mingles with some celebrities, takes a sip.

Peter laughs. It’s a quiet laugh, yet somehow hysterical. Half-deranged.

Seven worlds. Seven universes.

I found you, he thinks. I found you.

He thinks it so strongly, so violently, that he can almost imagine it hurtling across the air, louder than any shout or declaration.

I found you, Mr. Stark.

“Bye honey! Love you!”

Robert puts down his phone and smiles fondly in the direction of the Hamptons, invisible behind New York’s skyline and its pulsating, effervescent night. Just a short drive away, Susan and the kids are waiting for him, with the promise of pop tarts and a family movie night. No, nothing from the MCU… Exton’s in a bit of a Batman phase right now, and Avri idolizes her brother.

Hey, at least he’ll be watching a different billionaire superhero on screen for a change!

Robert chuckles and shakes his head. The whirlwind press tour ended not too long ago, and overall, he’s had a very good few days. It’s nice to finally have the chance to wind down and enjoy a well-earned meal or two with his friends and co-stars, not to mention a few (more than a few!) video calls with his family.

The din of the party grows louder behind him. He’s been able to excuse himself from the general hubbub with Susan’s phone call, and he breathes in the night air, not exactly in a hurry to get back. He’s always loved the energy and goodwill coming from the fans, but eleven years and ten movies in, it’s both bittersweet and incredibly satisfying to have completed his journey in such a way. This fundraiser ball will be the last official engagement for him in quite a while, and he’s looking forward to the peace and quiet (not that things are ever that quiet with a 7-year-old and a 4-year-old).

A small voice pipes up from behind him.

“M-Mr. Stark?”

Robert snorts. No rest for the wicked, it seems. All the same, he turns around and cocks an eyebrow, stepping effortlessly into character. A trivial kindness on his part can be the highlight of someone else’s day, so why not play Tony for a little while longer?

“Alright, you found me,” he says with a quick shrug. The light from the skyscraper’s spire blinds him temporarily, and he can only make out the shadow of a figure. “And you are? Come on, step forward.”

The figure remains frozen. Robert squints. It’s a man, he thinks—not very tall (which is saying something, coming from him), and built rather strong. Probably one of the younger guests at the ball.

He beckons again. He knows how to deal with star-struck fans. “Come on,” he says, this time letting a bit of warmth into his voice. “I’m not gonna fire a missile at you. Unless you’re secretly from HYDRA?”

The young man is trembling, Robert notices—so violently that, even with a good ten feet’s distance and his silhouette darkened by backlight, the shiver is still apparent.

The actor shrugs. Sometimes fans get more than a bit overwhelmed; he’s not one to judge. He takes a step, still squinting, and hears a sniff. Ah, so they’ve probably seen Endgame, huh.

But then, finally, the person steps closer.

Robert’s mouth drops open. Then he beams. “Tom? I thought you’re in Mexico!” He strides forward, arms outstretched. “Should’ve given me a heads-up that you were dropping in!”

Tom is oddly silent, but Robert hears an unmistakable gasp as his arms wrap around the young man. There’s a split second pause, and then Tom is hugging him back, almost uncomfortably tight.

“Woah there,” Robert says, taken aback. “Press tour that bad, huh?”

Tom doesn’t answer. He’s still trembling. Robert frowns at the texture at his fingertips.

“Is that—” he looks down, and laughs. “Did you smuggle that off set?”

Tom still doesn’t answer. Instead, he… whimpers. There’s no other word for it. He whimpers: a plaintive, tiny noise, halfway broken.

“Mr. Stark,” he croaks, and buries his face in Robert’s shoulder. Then, quietly, powerfully, he begins to sob.

Robert rubs his co-star’s tense heaving shoulders. For a prank scene, Tom is really giving it his all—tears are coming hard and fast, and already the fabric of his tuxedo is damp. You owe me a new suit, Robert thinks fondly as he settles into the rhythm of the shoot. He wonders where the cameras are at, and wonders where they’ll use this footage; maybe on the press tour for Far From Home?

He expects someone to shout And Cut from the sidelines. Tom just hasn’t stopped crying, and his grip is tighter than ever. But then a full minute passes, and all he hears is the buzz of conversation back from the party, and the occasional whistling wind, and Tom’s quiet, devastated sobs.

Surreptitiously he glances around. He’s been in the industry long enough to know every possible camera angle they can surprise him with, and… he doesn’t see a camera. Not even a drone.

This is him, Robert realizes with a pang in his heart. Just him.

He hasn’t seen this kind of panic in the young actor ever since the early days of Spider-Man’s inception into the MCU, and even back then, Tom had certainly never just… broken down, like this. Robert doesn’t ask about why he’s here at the party, why he’s in costume, and a million other questions that demand answers. Those can come later.

“Hey,” he says, gently brushing the young man’s hair. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, buddy.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom gasps. “I-I’m s-sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Robert frowns. He double and triple-checks that there really is no camera, before his gaze comes back to the boy in his arms. It makes no sense. Why would Tom not drop character? Yet the emotions seem so genuine.

“Do you want to go inside for a bit and talk?” Robert offers finally, unsure again whether or not this whole thing is a prank.

Tom seems to consider for a moment, before he nods. Almost sheepishly he steps away from Robert, still sniffling. He takes a shaky breath, visibly steadying himself.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he says, glancing at his feet. “I… I guess I’m called Tom in this dimension but I…” he trails off.

Robert’s frown deepens. Before he can further question his young co-star, though, his phone buzzes, and out of habit he slips it out of his pocket.

It’s a message. From Tom.

[Tom Holland]: just wrapped up press tour in Mexico!

[Tom Holland]: heard u’re on the last leg too, Boss Man, so congrats

[Tom Holland]: oh and jake says hi

[Tom Holland]: see u stateside! say hi to susan & the kids for me :)

[Tom Holland]: Sent a photo.

Robert swipes his phone open. It’s a photo of Tom and Jake, making the webshooting motion as they enter the airport gates, a crowd of fans behind them. Robert blinks. He lifts his gaze.

Tom is in front of him, in costume, head still lowered.

He looks down at his phone. Double-checks the time-stamp.

Tom is in Mexico. About to fly.

Robert feels dizzy. He looks back and forth between the two Toms, then focuses his attention on the Tom who’s here. He reaches out and touches his cheeks, trying to see if there’s make-up or even a face mask. Tom lifts his head at the contact. His eyes are red and twinkling still. His face is entirely real.

“Who… are you?” Robert asks in a whisper.

“I’m, I-I’m Peter,” the young man stammers. “Peter Parker.” He looks on the verge of tears again. “Mr. Stark, you have no idea, I just—I’ve been to so many dimensions and—”

“I’m not Mr. Stark,” Robert says, numbly. He pinches a cheek, his own this time. It hurts. It’s real. “My name is Robert.”

Not-Tom looks as if he’s about to say something when he blinks. A split second later, he leaps up—ten feet, easy—over Robert, over the balcony, and over the railings.

Robert’s heart almost stops. He rushes to the edge of the Deck, and looks down in stunned horror.

The young man hasn’t fallen. Instead, he is plastered to the side of the building—no wires, no safety harness, no equipment of any kind. Just… sticking.

Robert blinks. Blinks again. His mind is blank.

Not-Tom seems to sense something, and looks up. Their eyes meet. Not-Tom gives him a small, grateful smile.

“Robert?”

Robert jumps. He whips around to see Gwyneth, who happens to be at this event.

“Oh hey,” he says. He gulps even though his mouth feels dry. “Hey.”

Gwyneth smiles. “You were taking so long they sent me to find you. Everything fine back home?”

“Uh, yeah! Of course, of course.”

“Good to hear. Come on, they’re waiting for your speech.”

And with that, she’s already moving away.

Robert breathes out. He casts one last look over the railings.

Not-Tom is still there, clinging to the building. Peter is still there. The boy hasn’t looked away, and upon catching Robert’s gaze, his eyes shine.

“Wait for me,” Robert blurts out. “I want to talk to you.”

Peter’s eyes widen. Then he nods.

“Okay.”

Part 1 of 2. Also on AO3.

My main post-Endgame Iron Family fic is Hearts of Iron!

TAGLIST:

@a-bit-of-space  @aelebubble  @aleteia-ff  @alstonnovak  @anaevenss  @and-yes-i-write-irondad-fic  @avengersandco  @a-room-full-of-stars  @a-sweet-little-fangirl  @bluefire-lost  @bucky-to-my-barnes  @chamiryokuroi  @cherryp-ie  @chiefhiccstrid  @chocolatecarstairs  @curlyshawnie  @fan-writer02  @hermioengarngre  @h-osterfield  @insanearesane  @istanacrowbarvictim  @jess-b-thot  @josierosie  @jubpajub7  @kyriefics  @leuyen2004  @madd09  @mandaloriandragontrainer  @morganstarkh  @ms-fluffy2  @multifandom-slytherin  @my-babies-are-no-longer-ash  @oceaneyedaniel  @omegabeast27  @riiiiiida  @sandsbuisle  @sebashtianstans  @starkerisfuckinglife  @starkravinghazelnoots  @trustfundparker  @tonystarkdeservestobehappy  @tonystarkz  @tonystvkrs  @tyrusshipper12  @who-knows-who-cares910  @winston-wilson  @writing-in-winter

[spadesinglasses]

The Half of It (Movie)

omfg this movie is so great, and Netflix killed their trailer game once again. 

there will be spoilers involved. So please if you’re on mobile, just scroll down if you don’t want any spoiler.

Okay where to start.

Let’s go first by saying that my thoughts of the trailer was this.

A simple movie about the straights being helped by the lesbian. I thought it will be a cute moment where wlw will help mister himbo get Aster. And the idea is nice, the guy that acted as Paul is adorable (im a gay man, sue me for seeing him first orz)

I really thought its going to be a soft and easy movie about friendship, about growing up and moving forward, of falling for the person your bestfriend loves and then moving on from that.

Then the movie dropped (I was late) and ooh boy.

I’m gay, mlm to be exact so my reaction to the movie may be different from a wlw  but god this movie is great.

Ellie Chu is a persevering young lass in a small ass religious town. She looks like she works with sarcasm, and dry humor, and dead pan jokes which will surely bring the house down. She is smart, chaotic in her own way.

Paul Munsky is our glorified golden retriever of a person. He his a himbo, and no one can take that away from him and me. He’s a genuinely great person, ones to diversify the tradition his family have been going for, and is actually a nice guy. NOT a nice guy tm, but rather an actual nice guy.

Aster Flores, our girl in the middle of this pyramid. She is an unknown entity in this equation and we have no info about her, other than she is an artist and wants to kick Trig and the blondies away from her. We stan her.

The story revolves around these three, but mostly Ellie and Paul. 

I want to say that i love the friendship that these two have. THIS IS THE KIND OF PLATONIC FRIENDSHIP THAT SHOULD EXIST MORE IN TEEN MOVIES. They don’t have any charged moment, or moments where you think they will kiss. THEY LITERALLY JUST VIBE. or sometimes Ellie schools Paul into becoming a better person.

AND IT WAS SO FUCKING COOL. Seeing Ellie help Paul talk to Aster. Seeing Paul LITERALLY GIVE ELLIE FASHION TIPS LIKE BRAH THAT IS SO PURE.

The only straight man we will save in KASM2020 is Paul Munsky. And some others maybe.

These two showed a side of friendship that isn’t fueled with romance before coming into a platonic warmth. It was friendship from the start til the end. They get one another. I am sure that Ellie was talking about Paul when she talked about losing the person that gets you.

In this household we root for Ellie and Aster, but I see Ellie’s relationship with Paul surviving way longer than what the future holds for Ellie and Aster.

I want what Ellie and Paul have, and it sucks.

Now, notable scenes to comment on.

EVERY SCENE OF PAPA CHU AND PAUL. These two are so fucking different from one another yet vibe cooly. Like braaaaah Paul will be a great son in lawwwww.

Papa Chu has been grieving for Mama Chu this whole time and Ellie just decided to be the adult at a young age to keep them all from falling apart. AND FUCK THAT HITS DIFFERENT. 

Papa Chu deciding to spill his guts, even though i’m sure Paul did not understand a bit of it, was a move towards healing and honestly, i raise my fist to him in celebration. It’s about time.

Ellie never resented that about her father and that just shows how much Ellie cares for him. 

And also dont lie, if we all have the change to be romantic in our heads with our crushes, i know y’all will do it. I don’t see what Ellie did to Aster as wrong, maybe idiotic yes, but evil? No, so i will fight those who will say it, because i can already feel it in my feelies.

I really thought that when Ellie spilled how to Paul about her feels about Aster, it was the scene where Paul will know and then helps Ellie and Aster to be together. THat was the part that gave me whiplash because i was expecting it so much only for it to not happen. So again, Kudos to who edited the Trailer for this movie.

I still don’t understand why on earth Paul decided to KISS Ellie after the sport thing. Maybe adrenaline? But that moment hit me like a truck. That was the moment where i was like “oh fuck this story is about putting someone in a pedestal and then falling for them, compare to knowing someone genuinely.”

Do i think that Paul is in love romantically with Ellie? No. Paul understands that Ellie is gay, and even though he was homophobic during that time (the forbidden yakult scene), he pulled through after it, researching what it is to be gay and then not being the person to hinder someone just because of it.

I can defend Paul because I know how he is, at least with how much the movie showed us, so I’m not bothered by it. But what I wish for would be a personal conversation between Ellie and Paul after that, and before the church scene.

I feel like there was a lack of continuation between those two. It seemed too sudden between all of the things.

Maybe Paul is just that progressive.

Anywho. I’m not sure what Aster is in terms of sexuality, or if she will have a future with Ellie. But honestly Ellie deserves to find her happiness in her college so I’m not really hoping for anything between these two.

I was very confused with Aster when she asked Ellie out to her favorite place, BUT it made sense when she said that deep down she knew, at the end of the movie. But it was really confusing how this girl just asked a person she haven’t spoken with, to her favorite place AND  get undressed. Like girl is brave brave. Ellie is shooketh.

Overall, this movie is up there with the feel good movies. There was no homophobia in terms of violence, but there was a moment where Paul Munsky spewed religious garbage. But we forgive him for that because the next scene, he defends the lesbians. All hail our new Thor, defender of Lesbians.

This is a really great movie compare to “To all the boys” movie. I really hope that The Half of It gets a sequel with Ellie in College, and then maybe going back home to hang out with Aster and Paul.

[drippinl0ve]

because of you

—student!jaemin x reader au

summary: a certain popular soft boy has kept his eyes on you, as he tries to establish a bond by using your favorite books.

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff, confession

warnings: slight profanity and a bad story overall

so to start off, jaemin was the ladies man at school

girls pretty much swooned over him and he had a reputation of leading girls on and breaking their hearts with his kindness

anyone with half a brain would learn not to fall for his act, specifically you

you were curious about him in second grade

he genuinely seemed like a nice guy with good intentions towards you and of course, you thought he had a crush on you

come on, it was the second grade

you naturally ended up crushing on him too

that is until some girl named sara said that he had a crush on lynn

so you said screw jaemin na and moved on

although a part of you still hasn’t gotten past that crush yet

well now you're in high school

you're labeled as the girl who doesn't like jaemin na and can be found alone in the library every day

though the general public does think you're smart so at least you have that going for you

idk man you just kinda live your life

recently during your junior year, the library has gotten a lot more crowded

its lowkey aggravating because it’s so freaking loud now

you're just trying to enjoy your reading and homework !!

a couple weeks later on an especially loud day, you asked the girl next to you what all the commotion was about

she pretty much told you jaemin freaking na has decided to make the library his new regular spot to hang out

out of all of the mf places...

and of course, he draws in the big crowds of people

you sighed, knowing there’s not a damn thing you can do about it, so you merely grab the book everything i never told you and try to read as much of it as you can before the bell rings

you end up only getting to page 28 but you figure you can come back and read it tomorrow

you know that checking it out will serve no purpose as you only get time to read in the library during lunch and it’ll just be extra weight to carry around so you figure you might as well leave it here for next time

besides, its 2019 and every teen hates to read

so you leave it there to come back to it the next day

but WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT

the book is g o n e

you search on the neighboring shelves but it is nowhere in sight

you act on your last resort and ask the librarian where the book could be

she lets you know it was checked out directly after school yesterday

what are the odds of the exact book you were reading to be checked out the same day, out of every book???

you brush it off and blame your luck

you decide to pick up the perks of being a wallflower which will have to suffice until you get your first book back

you've already read this book so you just start it back up again, making a mental note that you're on page 34

you place the book back in its appropriate spot and continue on to your next class

but what do you know

THE NEXT DAY IT’S GONE

along with everything i never told you

you think this is someone’s low blow way of tormenting you

you heave out another sigh and decide to pick up everyday and retreat back to your small reading nook, escaping the immense crowds of wannabe girlfriends and best friends of jaemin na

you place the book back on the shelf and continue to trudge on with your day

but unbeknownst to you, jaemin’s been keeping an eye on you

he really only moved where he’s at during lunch so he can be in your presence more

and he really wished he didn’t attract the mass

but even though he was preoccupied in the library, he always caught a glimpse of what you were reading

he’d always mentally smile to himself when he remembered how you always enjoyed silent reading time in primary school

he thought you were like the cutest ?? so unphased from the surrounding drama and gossip in the realm that was high school

you were always too preoccupied to notice the boys who’d seemingly try to get closer to you

but, he knew you were different than the girls who swooned over him

you were independent and had your own agenda, one that was not going to change over a mere boy

and he liked that. afterschool, he’d immediately rush to the library to pick up the book you were reading for that day

this was the only way to avoid getting swarmed with people and question

she quickly checked out whatever book your hands had graced earlier that day and took it home to read

he wasn’t big on reading, but the books you chose were always miraculous

not only was your selection great, but he’d also imagine the two main characters as the both of you

he liked to learn what you were interested in, and the books gave him a small opportunity to learn

he was on to his third book, as he was simultaneously reading all of then at the same time to keep up with you

he would shove the books in his school bag, hiding them from the masses who would only bombard him with questions about what they were for

but he wanted to keep the books a secret like it was your guy’s own personal secret

but one day at lunch, when all the boys were ganging up on him to get some random girl’s number at lunch to see if he could, he set his bag down in the corner of the library

he didn’t really care to get the girl’s number in the first place, sure the boys were right and she was pretty

the only problem being, the girl wasn’t you

he didn’t mean to hurt girls the way he did, they just took his niceness as flirting

literally, right now all he has to do is politely ask for the girl’s number and he’ll get it

and no matter how many times these girls have gotten hurt, they keep thinking he’s changed for them and that he secretly loves them

pretty much the girls are just falling for his soft boy aura and not necessarily who he actually is

ok now back to the present

there you sat in the corner of the library

the masses had already swarmed in and you found it difficult to get around them when they pretended like you didn’t even exist

but you did it nonetheless

you actually had chemistry homework to work on today, but at the corner of your eyes you spot a baby blue backpack

it seemed unabandoned

and if you were to give it to the librarians to keep until someone picked it up, you should at least see if there is a name on a paper somewhere inside so you can just return it yourself

you unzipped the bag, which was mediocrely clean on the inside, and pulled out the first paper you could see“jaemin na” it read you roll your eyes and scoff, planning to give it back to him as he was in the library too

but then something caught your eye

the neon green binding of the perks of being a wallflower

upon closer inspection, every book you have picked up recently was crammed into this backpack

“holy fucking shit, jaemin na”.

you devise a plan

you casually pick up a book to read for the rest of the lunch period, then casually put it back as if it was a normal day

you return the backpack to the librarians anonymously, who give it back to jaemin before the lunch period ends

if the librarians say someone comes rushing in to check out your beloved books after school, you were just going to merely sit and wait to catch them in the act

after school, you sit calm and collectedly at one of the desks that have a good viewpoint of the library’s shelves

jaemin na was going to be confronted and you were ready to ask him why he is taunting you like this

soon after, you see someone pace fast around the library, finding the shelf you placed the book in

an immediate relief overwashes him as he realizes the book is still there

but, then he leaves to check out, only to see you standing there with your arms crossed blocking the exit

“what do you think you’re doing with that book”, you say trying to seem intimidating 

he makes up some lousy excuse that they are reading it for english but you don’t buy it

you scoff and confront him for his stupid idea of a prank

but suddenly confusion takes on his face and you let down your guard

maybe it wasn’t a prank and you guys just genuinely like the same books?

“its not a prank?”, jaemin replies, confused as to where you got that idea

“every time i borrow a book from the library, i see you with the exact same book the next day”, you bluntly argue, “every afternoon, the book i was reading at lunch gets checked out and i found them all in your bag today before i turned it in into the lost and found”

he gulps. he has been caught.

“y/n, there’s a good explanation for that...”, he trails

“mmhm”, you sarcastically nod and put your guard back up

he would’ve found your sarcasm cute if he wasn’t in this moment

“y/n”, he sighs before continuing, “i’ve been checking out these books because you, like, h a t e me and this is the only way for me to get some sort of connection with you”, he spurs out. “i get these books because of you, because i like you y/n l/n”.

your guard has once dropped again and the feelings of your second-grade self are spurring back

someone went to all that trouble for you ?? specifically, jaemin na went through all that trouble for you ?

you could feel your cheeks flush, unable to form a response

here was the school’s cutest boy that girls fawned after, and he genuinely just admitted to having a crush on y o u ??

ok so i think you get it, you’re shocked

jaemin notices your reaction and demands you don't have to answer anytime soon with how you feel

but he also insists that he takes you out to dinner the coming friday so you guys can get a chance to properly form a connection

and, of course, your second-grade self is screaming “yes”.

the end

[kvndeathmusic]

my favorite records of the 2010s pt 1 (the less great stuff/honorable mentions)

Neither this post or its followup are going to be in any particular order, however all the records I talk about here are, in my opinion, not as good as the records i will talk about in my part 2. they’re all fantastic but these ones slightly a little less fantastic than the ones in my “top 10″. none of this is based on stuff like 'influence' or whatever other critics base their lists on, this is solely how much I enjoyed these records. And keep in mind, I'm only human, I havent listened to a good lot of records I've heard others describe as top 10 worthy, these are just records I found and that I resonate with. long post ahead. 

Vacation - Bomb the Music Industry (2011)

If you asked me what my favorite band is i will either say bomb the music industry or jeff rosenstock, but considering those are pretty much the same things it doesnt matter lol. While Vacation isnt a perfect record, it is one I love. It lacks some of the ska elements that I love about earlier BTMI records, but at the same time, it is the first record where Jeff’s “””solo””” career sound starts to form in tracks like Sick, Later, Hurricane Waves, Everybody That You Love, Everybody That Loves You, and Vocal Coach. And these tracks are all fantastic, especially the absolutely explosive opener Campaign For a Better Weekend. Where this album suffers in my mind is the fact that it exists as a weird hybrid middle ground between BTMI and modern Jeff Rosenstock, it isn’t really ska like old BTMI and it’s not quite to the same standard as the tracks on We Cool?. And some of the songs are just, not as good as the others, like Why, Oh Why, Oh Why (Oh Oh Oh Oh), which is washed out almost entirely in reverb, and tracks like Savers feeling barren and missing additional instrumentation. But fuck man I can not dislike this record or just call it “ok” because despite this I still listen to this record a lot, it’s so catchy and fun and Im a bit too chronically addicted to btmi. 

Reflektor - Arcade Fire (2013)

i dont really get the hate/mixed feelings others have with this record. there’s so many good tracks dude!!!! sure theres a bit of a slump in the middle and it doesnt reach the same emotional heights as their previous records you gotta be ignorant to overlook this records strengths. while i do like The Suburbs more than Reflektor, man i just vibe HARD with some of these tracks; the title track, We Exist, Here Comes The Night Time, Normal Person, Awful Sound (Oh Eurydice), Porno, and ESPECIALLY Afterlife. Plus the cover art is cool and I like it. However Flashbulb Eyes is one of the worst tracks Arcade Fire has ever put out and I hate it immensely. And while far less offensive, tracks like You Already Know, It’s Never Over (Hey Orpheus), and Joan of Arc are just kinda boring and/or uninteresting. Now granted, I'm extremely biased when it comes to Arcade fire in general unless were talking about the trainwreck that is Everything Now. I started listening to Arcade Fire just before Reflektor came out, and I have a kinda sentimental attachment to the record. ill explain the feeling more when i talk about The Suburbs. anticipation oooooo.

good kid m.A.A.d city - Kendrick Lamar (2012)

i might get crucified by some for not putting this in my top 10, but whatever come at me i guess. gkmc is a fantastic record, but i do think the ending is weak, which is why it’s here instead of in the top 10. i mean, let’s be real, Real is a mediocre track, and while Dying of Thirst is an important track to the whole narrative of the record, it feels way too long. almost everything else about this record is fantastic, from the beats, to kendrick’s nasally flows, to the overall structure of the record spinning a tale of a young man battling demons both inside and out, and his eventual redemption. even if i find this record at times to drop pace, it really is flawless otherwise. it felt like a disservice to put this in the 20-10s, bc it’s a good record, but i had to make some compromises and this was one of them. 

RTJ2 - Run The Jewels (2014)

el-p and killer mike are a perfect duo, and the tracks they make together are always total bangers. and for me, RTJ2 is the best overall, with RTJ3 in a close second. it’s hard to put this on the lower half of the list, some of the tracks just don’t work as well as the others, but despite that there’s not really any tracks i hate or dislike on this record, minus maybe crown. the pure aggression in the opening track Jeopardy sets the tone for an aggressive yet highly focused record. This is some of the best rap out there right now if you want some music to fuck shit up to. 

Pure Comedy - Father John Misty (2017)

This record is both hilarious and extremely bleak. Josh Tillman is a master of satire and sarcasm, and Pure Comedy is the peak of his songwriting skills. The title track is one of the best tracks of the decade, period. And he keeps up the momentum on the following few tracks. The main problem with this record is its weaker second half, but even then it’s criminal to suggest that those songs aren’t good regardless. And despite the bleakness, the one line that sticks in my head after all this time is the line this album fades out to: There’s nothing to fear.

Knife Man - AJJ (2011)

Continuing on the trend of folky, satirical, and bleak records, Knife Man is AJJ’s defining record (next to their debut LP). AJJ blends loud, punky anthems with quieter, folk tracks that touch on sensitive issues in a way only AJJ manages to get away with. And there’s some genuine heart mixed in as well, with the final track Big Bird always striking a chord with me. However, I do feel the record is, let’s just say, padded at times in my opinion. Still, I can’t deny how much i enjoy tracks like Gift of the Magi 2, Hate Rain on Me, The Distance, and Skate Park. Speaking of which when I saw AJJ live recently they played none of those songs and that kinda sucked but hey it was like $20 I can’t complain. And speaking of not getting what I wanted...

You Won’t Get What You Want - Daughters (2018)

It was hard choosing between this record and their 2010 self titled record, but in terms of the overall narrative and variety this record shines through. If there was a number 11 spot in this unorganized list this would probably take that spot. It’s noisey, it’s abrasive, and it’s like nothing you’ve heard before unless you’ve listened to Daughter’s previous records. Tracks like The Reason They Hate Me are catchy in the weirdest and most unwelcoming of ways, Less Sex sounds like a long lost Trent Reznor NIN track, and Guest House is a masochistic and gut wrenching finisher. Fantastic record aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

We Cool? - Jeff Rosenstock (2015)

It’s obvious that I had to include this record somewhere on these list. It’s like a more refined version of the sounds that Jeff experimented with on Vacation. Definitely more punk than ska, but still some of those roots still shine through, especially in the track Nausea. Some of Jeff’s best songs are on this record, from the loud opening tracks Get Old Forever and You, In Weird Cities, to tracks dripping with bittersweet and moody lyrics like I’m Serious, I’m Sorry and Polar Bear or Africa. The main reason this record is on the back end of the top 20 is because the deeper cuts on the record do not match the energy and heights of the best tracks. Tracks like All Blissed Out, The Lows, Darkness Records and Beers Again Alone don’t feel like they belong and stick out a bit. They remind me more of the material Jeff put out on his 2012 EP I Look Like Shit. Mind you they aren’t bad tracks, but I’ll be honest I skip them often when listening to the record because i just wanna get back to the good good stuff. 

Sports - Modern Baseball (2012)

Sports is one of the best pop punk records ever, if you can even consider it as such. It’s like a blend of emo and folk punk, and it works so well. A good majority of this record is on my main shuffle playlist. Is it pushing boundaries? Not really, but tracks like Re-Do, Tears Over Beers, and See Ya, Sucker are undeniably catchy and memorable. I NEED MODERN BASEBALL BACK TOGETHER RN. There’s not really anything that wrong with the record, besides maybe lacking in variety, but at 30 minutes, it’s a record that feels nostalgic even on a first listen, and continues to feel that way even after numerous re-listens. Speaking of nostalgia...

The Suburbs - Arcade Fire (2010)

Some background, when I was 13 (circa 2013), I only really listened to whatever my parents put on for me. From my mom, I “inherited” a taste for classic pop and 80s new wave. From my dad, I got metal and hard rock. The first time I made the conscious decision to listen to a record fully, based on my own curiousity, was when I sat and listened to Sgt. Pepper in the summer of 2013, which broadened the scope of what I thought music could even be. And later that year, the first band I got into after The Beatles? Arcade Fire. When I think of my early teens, the memories are set to this record. I remember listening to Ready to Start in my brother’s old hot ass car while driving to the local fair with some friends on a chill fall night, eating tons of junk and staying up past midnight back when doing that was edgy and cool and not a symptom of my depression. 

If I was judging this record solely by its best tracks, it would easily be in the top 3. But I couldn’t place it in my top 10 because, frankly, some of the deeper cuts are lacking. I can’t say I like Deep Blue. I really don’t like Rococo. And Half Light I kills the pace of the record. But man, that title track, Ready to Start, Modern Man, Empty Room, Half Light II, Sprawl II... these songs defined my early teen years. I still tear up listening to the title track. Sure I have to skip a few songs when I re-listen, but I can’t place it any lower or my heart will break. It existing outside of the top 10 already hurts. And that’s all that’s left now. The top 10. 

But first, some random honorable mentions that didn’t make this list:

Sound & Color - Alabama Shakes

Black Star - David Bowie

Saturation II - BROCKHAMPTON

Melophobia - Cage the Elephant

Teens of Style - Car Seat Headrest

How to Leave Town - Car Seat Headrest

Daughters - Daughters

Sunbather - Deafheaven

Bottomless Pit - Death Grips

Year of the Snitch - Death Grips (should be on this list tbh)

Doris - Earl Sweatshirt

I Love You, Honeybear - Father John Misty

Helplessness Blues - Fleet Foxes

Plastic Beach - Gorillaz

Boarding House Reach - Jack White

POST- - Jeff Rosenstock

S/T - Joyce Manor

Firepower - Judas Priest

ye - Kanye West

KIDS SEE GHOSTS - KSG

You Were There - Kill Lincoln

Flying Microtonal Banana - King Gizzard

Infest The Rats’ Nest - King Gizzard

No New World - Mass of the Fermenting Dregs

Bury Me At Makeout Creek - Mitski

Puberty 2 - Mitski

Unsilent Death - Nails

Itekoma Hits - Otoboke Beaver

Morbid Stuff - PUP

A Moon Shaped Pool - Radiohead

RTJ3 - Run the Jewels

Angles - The Strokes

To Be Kind - Swans

Undertale OST - Toby Fox

Scum Fuck Flower Boy - Tyler, The Creator 

Igor - Tyler, The Creator

Weezer (White Album) - Weezer

nightlife - yuragi

[killthebxy]

i have so many mixed feelings about the season finale.

so.

many.

mixed.

feelings.

and i don’t really know where to start... so i think i’ll start at the end. and i’ll start by making a separation in my analysis.

1. if we look at s08 ep6 on its own

          i’ve been writing Jon Snow since January 24th, 2017. s07 happened during April-May 2017, if i remember well? which means, some of you who’ve been with me from the start of my blog have watched me watching s07; have watched my reactions and my opinions and my rants. ever since then, i have been very open and very vocal about how much i loathed the idea of Jon as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and Jon eventually sitting this throne as king --- those of you who’ve followed me for less time also likely know this very well, because gods know i never shut up about it. so, considering the finale that Jon had... someone might tell me: you must be very happy! and, well... i am very happy. i was not made to see Jon sitting the throne. i was not made to see everyone call him Agony and hail him and glorify him. i got to see him wearing his black cloak again and returned to where he belongs --- away from thrones and kings and queens, away from the ungrateful northern lords, making peace with the free folk. hell, i even got to see him hugging Ghost, imagine. who would have thought, Jon Snow loves his soulmate more than his own life. sarcasm aside... yesterday, i told a couple of you that i had two final, very little requests of ep6: i wanted to see Jon crying (because i had read the leaks, and thus i knew what to expect) and i wanted to see those beautiful curls freed from the bun. and i got this. i got to see, FINALLY, after weeks, Jon Snow and not Agony Targaryen. loyal to the end, struggling with the cruel decision he had to make, quoting master Aemon, accepting his fate, doing his duty no matter the cost --- as he once did with Ygritte. if we look at this episode only, i got everything i ever hoped for, and for this i am grateful. and yet...

2. we cannot look at s08 ep6 on its own

          and this is where it all begins and ends. because ep6 does not exist on its own. does not exist in a void. nothing of what happened came out of spontaneous generation. Dany wasn’t suddenly the mad queen. Tyrion wasn’t suddenly clever again. Grey Worm wasn’t suddenly thirsty for blood and revenge. Jon Snow wasn’t suddenly Jon Snow and not Agony Targaryen. and this is why everything in this season is irredeemable to me, no matter how much i loved Jon’s finale if we look at it objectively and pragmatically.

          do you know why i love George’s writing so much? it’s not for the prose --- very honestly, 90% of the persons i roleplay with write better than him. it’s not completely for the storyline, either, though it is amazing --- very honestly, some of the book chapters are boring and long and fillers and with descriptions and details that no one cares about. i love George’s writing, however, for his absolutely brilliant talent to manage such a vast universe. he’s got so many major characters, thrice as many minor characters, even more characters that only appear at the end of the books, listed as part of the great houses and such. the experience of reading A Song of Ice and Fire, and least for me, was that --- you get to a point you lose track of what’s going on, exactly because there is SO MUCH going on. so many characters, so many stories, so many destinies. and i remember myself often asking: how the hell will some of this make sense in the end, this is huge and so complex. and then... then you get to A Dance with Dragons... and, fuck, it does make sense. ALL of it starts tying together. all the details, all the little plot twists, all the symbolism, all the foreshadowing --- it all comes around and ties together, it all makes sense. all these many, many parts come together in a whole --- and this is why i praise George so much. this is why i admire his writing so much. because, even if i am upset with some choices, it all makes sense. it all is fluid, coherent, so pleasing to read and to follow and so goddamn captivating.

          and then you look at s07 and especially s08... and you find nothing of this. where George does kill a lot of characters, he keeps the bulk of them and considers all of them --- and D&D simply kill them all off for not having any better use for them. where George writes intricate, complex, layered characters and 99% of them are purely made of grey areas and grey morals and so very few are completely good or completely evil --- and D&D turned them completely flat, shallow, predictable, cliché, borderline boring if not downright so. where George named this the world of ice and fire and makes it so that the big, overarching theme is flawed, very different humans trying to gather together to survive the common, legendary foe --- D&D were done with the Long Night in like 40 minutes, and the only thing dark about it was the terrible lighting that makes iconing ep3 a nightmare. and i could go on, but i think i’ve made my point. D&D haven’t the 10th of George’s talent --- and, hey, i can accept this. -i- don’t have the 10th of George’s talent for sure, and very few people in this world have the 10th of George’s talent when it comes to tying together such a huge, deep, complex plot. and i can live with this. i could live with predictable, cliché writing in s07, and still be able to enjoy it at least half the time. i wasn’t happy, but i was content.

          but s08? well. s08, the way i see it, was simply two things: 1) D&D trying to be George and trying to go for plot twists and trying to make a bittersweet ending of some sort... and then 2) D&D realizing they are as far from George as the Earth is from Pluto, and going fuck it we’ll resolve everything based on shock value. and i wish i was joking or exaggerating or being sarcastic --- but they have stated this themselves and are proud of it, apparently. you only have to google it and you’ll easily find it. these two gentlemen looked at, say, Daenerys, and asked themselves: we want her to be the mad queen in the end, what can we do to lead to this outcome? and they did it. it’s as simple and as linear as this. and literally everything and everyone, logic and common sense included, gets thrown under the rubble for the sake of making this happen. and this is why i have zero respect and zero credits for them, at the end of all things, even if i did love Jon’s finale when i look at it isolated from everything else.

because.

          yes, Jon Snow, the honorable man with a good, kind, merciful heart who does whatever needs to be done for the sake of his people, no matter the toll it takes on himself. check, this is the Jon i know and love. Jon Snow, not a glorified savior who succeeds where everyone else fails, not Azor Ahai reborn, but a tool, an instrument used to bring salvation --- Lightbringer itself. check, this is the Jon i know and love. Jon Snow, who was never destined for a happy ending, carrying the guilt and suffering the consequences of his decisions. check, this is the Jon i know and love. but what happened before this? what about everything that led him to this? 

          book!Jon and show!Jon were always different, this isn’t a new thing. even during seasons 1-5, where the show followed the book canon for the most part (at least in Jon’s case), they were already different. show!Jon has a lot more personal agency, in that he chooses to do a lot of the things he does --- while book!Jon tends to get sucked into the whole ordeal, and he tries to navigate it as well as he can. for an example: show!Jon offered himself to go with Qhorin Halfhand, book!Jon was chosen by Qhorin and caught by surprise and even lord commander Mormont was like ????. another example: show!Jon sends Grenn to hold the gate against Mag the Mighty and brings on himself the responsibility of commanding the Wall during the attack, book!Jon gets command imposed on him by Donal Noye and then again in the morning by master Aemon. again, i could go on and on, but i have made my point. regarding all this, while i do prefer book!Jon, i never hated show!Jon. some parts, even, like the battle at Hardhome, i honestly loved and i wish i could get that POV in the books.

          now, s06... post-revival. this is where the books-show rift happens for good, as they ran out of source material. very sincerely, i did not watch s06 as a whole --- i only watched Jon’s scenes. so if you ask me what was going on otherwise, i don’t know and i don’t really regret this choice. s06 Jon is a sort of limbo for me, because i cannot say if his portrayal was good or bad. clearly, this is when he starts making stupid decisions and being far more reckless, but... as mentioned, this is post-revival. this is a man who was stabbed in the heart by his own sworn brothers, who got wrenched back out of the grave, who immediately got told: hey you gotta keep fighting and you gotta start by going and reclaiming Winterfell and saving your little brother. given this context, can i judge him for not being himself? i can’t and i never did, which is why i accepted s06 (again, re: Jon Snow only) for what it was. and i was content with it, even if the revelation of his parentage for show!canon did not impress me.

          s07. this coincided with the birth and infancy of my blog, and honestly i was so excited to get to share this experience with everyone --- and this much was absolutely amazing. i was writing my Master’s thesis back then and i had a lot more free time, so i was able to stay up late and watch it live... and, boy, was that a ride. i had so much fun back then, and all of it thanks to my beautiful followers and friends who were there to live through this with me. but as far as the season itself went... yeah, that was the beginning of the end. because, unlike s06, Jon didn’t have excuses anymore to be stupid and reckless. and yet he still was. he still just grabbed a bunch of sturdy men and ventured into the fucking Frostfangs in the middle of winter without even bringing 1 (one) horse, just to name the most blatant of stupid examples. and the whole glorified superhero savior vibe? my good beans, i wrote a meta with 4000+ words to justify why that frozen lake scene was total bullshit and why Jon did die his second death there --- exactly out of spite for how much i hated it. how much i hated that D&D were turning the boy i love into a commercial protagonist who does the impossible and suffers no consequences and gets to have everyone else’s portrayal tossed under the wreck for the sake of glorifying him further. Rickon was already a plot device, Benjen Stark was a plot device, and i had the sinking feeling it would not stop there. s07 had bad and lazy writing, was terribly rushed and with very little character development, was pointing towards a very obvious and very cliché ending: Jon & Dany, the power couple, sitting the throne, having a baby, living happily ever after.

          and today... today i ask myself: how can you fuck up a plot so much, to the point where i wish i was made to see this cliché, predictable ending instead? i spent a year and a half whining about how much i did not want to see Jon sitting the throne... only to now look at the finale and be like --- sweet summer child, what did you know of fear. because, hey, yes, Jon was reborn from his ashes and Agony was cast aside and he got exactly the endgame i prayed for --- but at what cost? to get here, i had to see ALL the northern lords and half his family spitting on him for his decision to bend the knee. to get here, i had to see him literally say: it’s true, my name is Aegon Targayen. to get here, i had to see him avoiding Dany and not having the balls to talk to her about it until the very last moment. i had to see him plan the defenses of Winterfell like a complete stupid idiot who has no clue what he is doing. i had to see him forgetting Ghost is his soulmate. i was even deprived of the thing i love more in Kit’s acting, which is fighting on the ground --- for the sake of an epic dragon battle, yes, but that by rights he should not have survived. i was denied a one-on-one battle with the Night King, no matter who’d win and no matter who’d get to destroy the NK in the end. i got an epic moment of him roaring back at an undead dragon, yes, but what came in the next episodes got me to the point of headcanoning that he died during that moment. i had to see him not even mourn Edd’s death and going for Lyanna Mormont gods know why, who openly questioned and defied him. i had to see him being the by-the-book definition of a douchebag who sits drinking with friends and completely ignoring his girl who’d just lost one of her closest loved ones and was so clearly dissociating throughout that entire feast. i had to see him being described as so stupid that he obviously bent the knee for love and Dany was going to play him like a fiddle. i had to see him practically being made to choose between his family and the girl he loves. I HAD TO SEE HIM ABANDONING GHOST. i had to see him, again, pull away from Dany when she needed him most --- and, yes, in show!canon it is incest and all that, but you don’t have to fuck or kiss the girl you love to be there for her. i was denied, again, 1 (one) decent fighting scene on the ground because all he did at KL was to cut down a few soldiers with a few basic slashes.

          and, very frankly, what bothers and disgusts me the most out of all of this hellhole... i had to see character after character ruined, completely ruined in their essence, for the sake of stating: hey Jon Snow is a good guy! Rhaegal, who had to be butchered for the sake of triggering Dany and also because Dany and Jon and Tyrion were too stupid to remember Euron’s fleet still existed.  Missandei, who had to be butchered in chains for the sake of triggering Dany. Grey Worm, who had to be metaphorically butchered and turned into a blood-thirsty savage longing for blind revenge for the sake of Agony Targaryen, our lord and savior, being the merciful savior who claims pity for unarmed men. the women of King’s Landing, who had to be raped by northern soldiers, again for the sake of Agony being the good guy who saves one of them. and at the end of the day... Daenerys Targaryen. the little girl who wanted to go home and return to her house with a red door. who was exiled and sold and raped and harassed and humiliated and abused and betrayed and used and objectified. who made terrible choices more than once, yes and i erase none of them, but who made them with a good intention and who paid the price of said choices --- like Jon himself did, like we all, flawed human beings, do. the strong, willful, kind woman who heard Jon’s plea for help and went to save him and his men beyond the Wall and who lost one of her children for it. the queen who wanted to break the wheel and to make this world a better place. the breaker of shackles. Mhysa. she, who was never her father. reduced to this, for the sake of making Jon Snow the good honorable man who does his duty even at expense of his own interest and his own happiness.

          dear Mr. Daniel B. Weiss and dear Mr. David Benioff: do you know since when Jon Snow is a good honorable man who does his duty even at expense of his own interest and his own happiness? since always. since 283 AC. since far, far before you got your incompetent, untalented hands on him. and he never needed to be shown as one --- he was one. without the need to sacrifice 90% of the plot and the characters to make him seem so. he IS so. and this is why i’ll never forgive you, even if you did give me exactly the finale i wanted. because what you did to him, in order to bring him here? honestly, you deserve no redemption. ever. and if there is one thing that makes me extremely, utterly, earnestly happy today, it is that never again you will touch him. Jon Snow belongs to George, and he belongs to me, and he belongs to every beautiful talented roleplayer who writes him, and he belongs to every beautiful talented roleplayer who writes muses who interact with him. never to you, again. and for this i thank the old gods of the forest. today, Jon Snow is finally at rest. and, as of today, i can finally stop writing out of spite --- and return to writing because i love this boy.

[televisor-reviews]

Top 10 WORST Movies Of 2018!

As everyone is talking about their favorite and least favorite films of last year, I’d much rather take a look at what came out two years ago! This is what I do every New Year, get used to it. And keep in mind that I haven’t seen every film from 2018, so as bad as I’m sure Sherlock Gnomes and Pacific Rim: Uprising are, I haven’t gotten around to them. If you’d like a list of every film I have seen, I have them listed on my Letterboxd: https://drive.google.com/uc?id=1HnDnQ4ibO82ryM9lOCGgw1FZhVLdC4SZ

#10. Fifty Shades Freed On my 2015 list, I didn’t even bother putting Fifty Shades Of Grey on it because I thought it was absolutely hilarious! On my 2017 list, I placed Fifty Shades Darker at the very top for its lack of even the basics of what makes a decent flick, notably there being no real plot. So I guess I’m meeting this franchise in the middle by putting Fifty Shades Freed at the tenth spot for just how batshit this movie is. Shit kinda just happens randomly with little to no reason while also not being funny in the slightest. In fact, large segments of the film is kinda boring, particularly the sex scenes in which there are so many that by the 20th time, you’d just get used to it like a jump scare in Winchester. Really, the biggest reason this is only at #10 is because Fifty Shades Freed has Freed us all from this series, assuming that a film adaptation of Grey isn’t made. And that’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever given to one of these movies. #9. A Wrinkle In Time I once heard someone justify Disney’s live action remakes by saying they help fund their more unique film escapades like Nutcracker And The Four Realms (which barely didn’t make the list). The problem with that is that I don’t want those ether! And considering how Solo and The Rise Of Skywalker turned out, maybe Disney’s live action department should just stick with Marvel movies. Honestly, I don’t completely remember why I left the theater after seeing A Wrinkle In Time so angry, like legitimately pissed off. I remember the girl who looks like one of the Mean Girls being treated like a member of the Losers Club, how terrible the child acting was, how even worse the adult acting was, how annoying everybody who wasn’t Chris Pine was, and how that little kid was named Charles Wallace because the characters said it at least a million times! Considering how angry I am just writing about it, I’m guessing it was a combination of all of those elements being wrapped up with a pretentious bow. Honestly, A Wrinkle In Time was a humongous waste of my time. #8. Show Dogs It’s a bad sign when the movie starring Bojack Horseman yelling at Ludacris dog is only at #8 on my list. The big reason for that is because this is so terrible that I had to break down laughing at times. Not because Show Dogs is genuinely or ironically funny, it’s just so batshit insane that I had to laugh. Almost like a defense reflex: like if I wasn’t laughing, I’d end up jumping off the roof. The plot is crazy, the acting is crazy, the whole fucking idea is crazy! I’d like you to stop and imagine Will Arnett with the straightest face possible yelling at a dog voiced by Ludacris that nobody can actually hear in the middle of a very serious police station about the dog fucking up an undercover job and somehow not laughing your ass off. That is what it was like watching Show Dogs. You’re welcome. #7. Slender Man I think people really downgrade how good horror has been lately. I know that in a world of Insidious: The Last Key and Truth Or Dare, it’s easy to be pessimistic. And I think people also dismiss the greatness the internet has had on modern pop culture. Considering how bad things like Daphne And Velma and Mowgli: Legend Of The Jungle are, I kinda get it. In reality, these tend to be the outliers among a lot of greatness, but after seeing Slender Man, I’m starting to think similarly. I was one of the only people who was actually excited about this movie because I’m young enough to remember a time when Slender Man: The Eight Pages was the scariest thing in the world and after seeing how well Hollywood treated the character in Beware The Slender Man, I was really hopeful. Little did I know that Madhouse Entertainment had one of the least interesting and least scary horror movies I’ve ever seen with boring characters, a monster that’s barely in the movie, and a script that’s closer to Rings than it is to its source material. I really hope this’ll go the way of Ouija and Annabelle and end up having a really good followup or else Slender Man will be a huge blot on the legitimacy of the internet. #6. Snake Outta Compton I’m gonna be straight with y’all, I have been doing a pretty bad job at keeping up with horror B-movies lately. I mean, I did watch The Last Sharknado: It’s About Time and Leprechaun Returns but those were mostly just mediocre, even within the context of the rest of their franchises. So when I saw the title Snake Outta Compton, I knew I had to watch it expecting something really stupid and funny as all hell. Instead I got a boring and uninteresting barely even an attempt at cinema. I really hated this film, it’s just such a boringly dull film where little to nothing ever happens and I hated every dumb second of it. The terrible rapping, the awful effects, the horrendous acting, everything in snake Outta Compton sucks and I hate it. #5. Norm Of The North: Keys To The Kingdom Remember that god awful polar bear movie starring Rob Schneider from a few years ago… yeah, they made four of those. Normal people would say the first Norm Of The North was the absolute bottom of the barrel, I say “No!… It’s Norm Of The North: Keys To The Kingdom,” and even more suicidal people would probably say it’s Norm Of The North: King Sized Adventure. If you thought the animation in the original was bad, you’ve seen nothing! This is so bad that I’m not even sure it should be considered animation! This is so bad that it makes Duck Duck Goose look like The Grinch! This is so bad that they couldn’t even get Rob Schneider back! The plot, it’s like this is one of those straight to DVD Disney sequels that were made up of episodes of conceled TV shows except why would anyone try to make Norm Of the FUCKING North into a TV show! But apparently it made money considering how (and I’ll repeat this again) there are four of these! Maybe the immense failure of Arctic Dogs will stop Entertainment Studios from making any more. #4. The Thinning: New World Order Speaking of sequels that’ll make the originals look like masterpieces, we’ve got Logan Paul’s magnum opus, coming straight outta that Japanese suicide forest. A film that tells you that a country made up of the smartest 95% of citizens are stupid enough to not catch on to the pretty obvious government plan going on in this universe. Even more so, apparently presidents to be are allowed to just make major laws that’ll arrest about 50% of the population before being sworn in as president. But even more so, I’m to believe that Logan Paul of all people is smart enough to escape these poorly conceived concentration camps. This is a key example of suspension of disbelief gone too far. I don’t believe for a second that this world actually could exist. And I want everyone reading this to remember The Thinning: New World Order after seeing what I put at number one that even liberals can make terrible movies too! #3. The 15:17 To Paris No shit, this is easily the worst movie I’ve ever seen in theaters. No joke, no sarcasm, the Clint Eastwood trainwreck that is The 15:17 To Paris is by far one of the worst movies of the decade… and it’s only at #3 on my bottom 10 of the year. Let me explain. Where the absolute bottom of the barrels of the year are total slogs that I wouldn’t be able to stand watching again, this is actually really fun to watch. Immediately after seeing it in theaters, I wanted to see it again just to make sure it wasn’t a fever dream. In every conversation I have, I recommend this movie because it has to be seen to be believed. Of all the films on this list, this is the only one I’d actually recommend to people. No other film has the balls to portray three normies with ADD talking as boringly as possible taking selfies in Venice for 30 minutes for no goddamn reason. In no other movie will you see a bunch of comedians try and do serious roles that they had no right being casted in. When I went back to school and brought this up with my film nerd friends, every one of them had a different story of watching this. My god, please watch The 15:17 To Paris so that we can convince Clint Eastwood into making The 15:18 To Paris. #2. Gotti Let me tell ya, Gotti is one of the wurst felms ya’ll evar see! Who in da hell convinced John Travolta that he culd do serious roles! But in all seriousness, this movie sucks. I’m not super familiar with the story of John Gotti, and by that I mean I’ve never even heard the name before seeing this film. And I’m pretty sure that to even get what’s going on in this, you’d have to see a 3 hour documentary on the guy beforehand or else you’d be incredibly confused the entire time because I know I was! Don’t even ask me what happens in Gotti because I have no clue. It goes all over the place with different characters doing different things at different points in time and eventually, I stopped paying attention! I do remember that there were about 20 characters named “John,” John Gotti only kills one guy though I’m pretty sure that as a mob boss he’d kill more, and I have no idea how this mafia makes money. Oh, and this convicted feline is apparently also Jesus Christ. I’ll tells yas, ya can live 100 yeers an neva see a moovy as bad as Gotti. Before we get to #1, let’s do some runners up!

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom I wanted so bad to put this on the list because as a pretty big Jurassic Park fan, I can fairly say that Fallen Kingdom is easily the worst film in the franchise. If only because of that dumb ass twist at the end with that kid I kinda forgot even existed. Or just for those annoying ass comedic reliefs that are consistently useless. Or just because on a base filmmaking level, this movie sucks. Hurricane Bianca: From Russia With Hate Listen, I’m openly and proudly bisexual, so I get how important it is to get good representation out there in the film industry. And I also get why a lot of the Ru Paul: Drag Race fandom has latched onto this series. But Jesus Christ guys, drag queens can do better and they deserve better. From Russia With Hate is definitely a step in the right direction with it being way more interesting and fun than the first Hurricane Bianca… but come on guys! These aren’t good movies! Just watch more Drag Race, it’s much better. The Happytime Murders Disney, please let Muppets Now be good! The puppetry artform deserves better than this garbage! The Happytime Murders is a movie in which half the jokes is that a puppet is jizzing a lot. Honestly, my biggest beef with this film is that it doesn’t even get to the heart of what people love about the Jim Henson style of puppetry, notably the fun. Look at most of the cast, they are very humanoid compared to Kermit The Frog or Fozzy Bear. This movie is, first and foremost, not fun. Bob Lazar: Area 51 And Flying Saucers This is my nomination for worst documentary of the year. It’s just annoying to me that this guy can get away with lying to so many people without any repercussions. In fact, he gets this whole documentary that’s basically sucking his dick the entire time! I went in expecting something along the lines of Behind The Curve, a doc that takes an even stance at looking at its crazy subject matter but in a respectful way. In reality, Area 51 And Flying Saucers isn’t even in the slightest being totally on Bob Lazar’s side without questioning his all knowing wisdom for a second and is n’t respectful in the slightest for the intelligence of its viewers! Fuck this doc! A Simple Favor This is my nomination for best worst movie of the year. A Simple Favor is a crazy film with a cast and crew taking it weirdly seriously for a comedy, all with super monotone voices. None of the actual jokes are genuinely funny but lots of them are ironically hilarious. Granted I was very high while watching this, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s the best state of mind to be in while watching it! And did I mention how nobody acts during this but rather just say their lines monotonely! Loved it! God’s Not Dead: A Light In Darkness This was the year Christian propaganda got boring. I was so excited when I went to see I Can Only Imagine in theaters as my first theatrical Christian film experience only to be totally disappointed when it turned out to be pretty dull. Even more so when, later on in the year, the newest installment in the world famous God’s Not Dead franchise, the same one that first brought upon this new age of Christian based filmmaking that’s brought me so much joy before, turned out to be similarly dull. There was a split moment when a character states, “Jesus Christ was the original social justice warrior,” when I was brought back to life with its own stupidity, but it turned out to be fleeting. Not outrageous enough to be put on the list, but too outrageous to be any good. So this is how God’s Not Dead ends: not with a bang, but with a whimper. The Meg And speaking of boring, The Meg has to be the most boring shark movie ever made. A film that feels like it lasts for days and in which no real stakes feel like are in play. This has got to be the most boring and dull and uninteresting and BORING movie of the year! And considering how boring of a year it was for film, that’s saying a goddamn lot! Mary Poppins Returns I feel like I went through an arc of my own while watching this. I went from, “this isn’t bad,” to, “okay, this is a little too much like the original,” to, “why the fuck am I watching this?” Mary Poppins Returns feels like one of the Disney live action remakes because it’s basically just a shittier version of the original with absolutely no good reason to exist let alone to watch, especially compared to said original. And the climax makes absolutely no sense with the logic of the film universe; she can literally fly! And by god, does this feel like anything but Mary Poppins. Blockers Listen, I get that this film is sex positive and that’s a really great thing and all the actors are really trying their best. But it is all in vain for this film with a really unfunny script and that’s kinda important for a comedy. Sometimes Blockers can get a chuckle out of me because of how over the top it can get at times but those are just outliers in a mostly mediocre movie that got built up too much because of how much positivity is in this. Proud Mary Proud Mary is the perfect example of a film in which just because someone can do it well, doesn’t mean everyone can. Ever since Quentin Tarantino has been making movies like Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill, throw back action films have been really cool to see. Then, all of a sudden, the director of London Has Fallen had to come around and remind everyone that they can’t all be winners. Mostly dull dialogue between characters I don’t care about waiting for the action that isn’t even all that good. I was really hopeful that Proud Mary would be fun, but it’s anything but. #1. The Trump Prophecy Listen, I get that when I say that a movie literally titled The Trump Prophecy is the worst film of the year, it comes off as if I’m making a big political statement but believe me, I am not. Politically, admittedly, I am pretty liberal but I’m not really a political dude. But I do know terrible filmmaking when I see it, and believe it or not, a film about a crazy firefighter who gets a vision in his sleep from a god orb that Donald Trump must be president might not be very good. In fact, fuck this cynical, piece of shit, taking advantage of conservatives, monotonely acted, with no love or passion put into it, goddamn movie! As much as I didn’t like any of the movies I’ve mentioned on this list, it’s clear someone, anyone, was passionate about making them. But considering how clearly the director never asked any of his actors to do a second take, no love is clearly put into this. How cynical, how shameless. As someone who does genuinely love the art of filmmaking and would adore the opportunity to make a relatively big budget movie myself, the fact that something as lifeless as The Trump Prophecy gets to be put into any theaters really pisses me off. Say what you want about The 15:17 To Paris, at least it had its heart in the right place. Say what you want about Gotti, at least John Travolta was obviously passionate about the project. This has nothing and is easily the most hatable film I’ve seen in years!