#the call backs.... the story consistency...

[lazyjellyfish300]

If you’re willing, for a dash of angst-tober

Miguel meets you, for obvious reasons you can’t resist him. He’s sexy, smart, charmingly catty and unfunny in a cute way. No shit you’re in love, you two go on a couple dates but he’s oddly distant and you don’t know why.

He clearly feels the same but he’s holding back. Soon when you get tired of waiting for him. So you start seeing other guys, but they aren’t him. You’re consumed by longing, no other man can compare (how could they).

Miguel finally calls you back after a week. He says he’s sorry for blowing you off, and he’s ready to commit. Saying,

“I love you Gwen Stacey”

…..and years later that decision will come to haunt him hahahahahha hahah HAHAHAHAHAH

Only if you’re a willing and not a coward

😈😈😈

Never back down never whaaaat!!! 😈 Lol anyways here ya go moot, this one's for you. 🖤🖤 All hail your amazing brain for this idea! So beautifully angsty. Happy Angstober! 🎃 @miguel-ohara-wifey

would've been you 🍂

CW: MINORS DNI, X FEM!READER, READER IS MIGUEL'S VERSION OF GWEN STACY(READER IS NOT GWEN, AND obviously NOT ATSV), CANON DIVERGENCE, ANGST, NO HAPPY ENDING, DEATH, BLOOD, BREAKUP, RELATIONSHIP DIFFICULTY, NON GRAPHIC SMUT.

WORDS: 1.7K

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

Crimson. Not red. Not scarlet. Not cherry, but crimson. Crimson in particular. 

Crimson. Beautiful, deep crimson. Alluring, so calmly bewitching. Like the pleasant feeling that attacked every nerve in your body that rendered you with the consistency of a cloud after downing a glass of wine. Getting lost in the eyes of the lover who smiled from across the rim. The softest moan leaving your lips as you sat at the edge of his bed and felt the chill of the tension of the heated room spring goosebumps all over your naked body he was slowly undressing, laying you backwards on those silk sheets, thighs opening as his hands trailed fire and scored themselves to undying memory on the shadow of your skin.  

His eyes...

You stare at Miguel from across you at a restaurant, your lingering gaze he senses without even needing to meet it with his own. He simply brings his hand above the table, giving yours a tender squeeze as you peruse the menu. 

You realized then you might have been in love with him.

Your story was simple, transpiring like most any other couples who meet and wind up luckily in love. The outward beauty he possessed was increasingly obvious, but his deadpan demeanor and unserious quips were what endeared himself even more to you.

And he could only stand there in shocked disbelief. Almost like you were a stray cat that clung to an owner you selected by chance who originally thought himself incapable of returning such warmness. 

The hell you saw in a sad old man like him? He didn't understand it, but he couldn't help but welcome it. Your cheesy grin, the playful banter you met with his sarcastic remarks. 

"What are you making us for dinner?" You'd ask. 

"God, I don't know babe..." Miguel's fingers comb through his tousled locks of dark brown as he looked at the pitiful items in your sparce pantry. 

"Tomato reduction with melted mozzarella and cured meat, warmed in a flaky pastry?" You ask from the open freezer. 

"The shock?" He looks at you, quickly overshadowed by unamusement, however he still holds back a chuckle. "Hot Pockets?" 

"The highest level of cuisine!" You toss the box back onto the shelf,  "The way they come out of the microwave like Satan's taint around the edges yet Antarctica in the middle reallyyy sets them apart." 

"How else?" He smirks. 

"Just the way I like it." You hum as you dial the number for your favorite takeout place, not noticing the ache in his chest as he looked back at you. 

Even Miguel O'Hara wasn't immune to the temptation that came with breaking his own rules. 

The daughter of a police chief. 

Why, oh why, did it have to be you? 

Rules he watched bitterly as his own colleagues suffered countless times before, seemingly unfazed by their agony, almost a little sadistic as they cried for their dead loved ones. It was all a part of the plan. The unpleasant truth. 

You don't become Spider-Man by just putting on a suit. 

Feelings must take a backseat when the security of the multiverse, the entire foundation of the very fabric of millions of innocent lives were at stake. 

And how that foreign pain never quite made itself so painfully understood to him until it just so devastatingly involved the soul he fell so deeply and hopelessly in love with. 

And so, like with many of his dealings before, he left you high and dry. Protective measures he took like muscle memory. 

He would hurt you first before you could ever think about hurting him. 

Even if the heartbreak was by grand design. The fabric of the multiverse knitted permanently with the inevitable tragedy of your demise that could not be undone. 

"We can't.....we can't do this." He said simply before he left you like a ghost in the rain, turning away before you could see the tears that threatened to escape. Cursing his name. 

Run away, numb himself, just bottle it up like he always does when he's confronted with matters of the heart that even toyed with the idea of showing his belly. His vulnerability. His weak spot. Calls unanswered. A number out of service. 

He was never here and you never awakened the latent stirrings in his heart that just so ached for warm connection that you fulfilled at last. 

You cried. You cried a lot. Sobbed for his presence that left you with a hole in your chest. Who would you gripe about work to? Who would hear your ugly laugh besides him and find every part of you that you thought wasn't worth writing home about, to be the endless rumination that haunted his mind?

Nobody but him. Nobody like him anywhere. And so you trudged forward with your weary and flayed heart, trying to act like the gaping hole he left in it didn't make your lungs feel like they were full of water every time you breathed. 

Selfishly, spitefully trying to find a replacement in the arms of strangers. Hell, even some of them you knew. Ben Reilly. Peter B. Parker. His coworkers, his friends, even. 

He ruined your life and trampled your heart so you'd smite him back where it really hurts. That's right. You'd go so low as fucking Ben Reilly and Peter Parker. 

---

"Fuck, baby...did he ever fuck you like this?" 

"No..." You moan loudly, knowing damn well every time you closed your eyes you only saw the persistent layer of the damned red of his eyes.

Peter's cock wasn't as girthy as Miguel's,  but the length was close enough that if he fucked you deeply at just the right angle, it could spur vivid memories of all those nights, all those times Miguel O'Hara made love to you, fucked you senseless. 

You moan and sigh, touching yourself, loving the way this new man below you was putty in your hands while you put on a show. His lustful gaze for a moment you mistake for the feeling of being desired, being loved. For now, you figure, it's enough. 

But Peter couldn't fix it. Neither could Ben. 

Fucking Ben. 

That one really stabbed Miguel in the heart. Sinking so low that you'd give your body to a man who was nothing like him. Somebody he thought was below him. Somebody you knew damn well he disliked, and well, you gave over the most intimate parts of you he so foolishly thought you reserved for himself. 

He felt sick when he overheard him talking about it. How you moaned his name, whined so sweetly for him. How he ate you out. How he bent you over in the very bed you and him shared just weeks prior. 

A dull knife in his heart when he found out you even fell asleep together. 

Did he make your toes curl like he could? Did he make you cum? Did gracing the peaks of ecstasy with Ben feel anything like how it felt when you were with Miguel? 

Did those 7 goddamn months even fucking matter to you at all? 

----

Miguel calls you black out drunk, 

"Ben....fucking Ben...how COULD you?!" 

The shade of bleeding red he saw put the intensity of the natural crimson of his eyes to shame. 

You stayed silent. You got exactly what you wanted. The deadly blow had its intended effect. But it didn't feel as gratifying as you thought it would. It made you feel worse. Even as he was yelling over the phone. 

"How was he then? Is he as good as me? Did you think about me while he was fucking you? Did you even have the heart to take down our pictures together before you invited his slimy ass over?" 

Your chin trembles and Miguel stops when he finally hears you cry. 

And despite everything, he would take you back in a heartbeat. 

"Who's gonna be there to listen to me complain about work every day, huh?" Miguel sobs. "Who... who's gonna remind me to take out my contacts? H-How am I supposed to finish that fucking show we were watching together....?" He pauses, the anger tightening in his belly like a fist, 

"What do you see in him?" 

"Miguel?"

"Answer my fucking question. What do you see in him?!"

"Why do you keep talking about Ben?"

"Because Ben doesn't fucking love you the way I do!" He breaks down and your vision is completely clouded over in tears, hand shaking on the receiver as he finally admits what you so desperately wanted to hear. 

"I love you. Do you still love me?" 

"I n-never stopped loving you, Miggy..." You cry. 

"You still think of me?" 

"All the fucking time. I can't get you out of my head." 

"You want me?" He whispers.

"More than I've ever wanted anyone." 

"I'm coming over. Right now." 

-----

And, just for a moment. Simply loving you made him forget about the inevitable dread of losing you. 

It was a day just like any other day in the fall. When the dead leaves mixed with the rain and the ground was a soaked grey, reprieving the gloomy city from the consistent smog that covered the clouds. A remarkable chill in the air laced with nostalgia and petrichor that could be cured with a sweater, making the hot temperature of a warm beverage so inviting. 

It was wonderful day, and all because you stayed in bed together five minutes longer than you should have. Your coffee mug next to his, eggs on buttered toast, nudging his hip as you ate by the stove. Quiet domesticity with the intimate element of routine that  caused him to distinctly remember thinking:

"I can see this happening every day for the rest of my life." 

And he left. Had he known, had he guessed. He wouldn't have let you leave at all, just stay there safely snuggled with you against his chest. 

----

Crimson. Haunting, beautiful crimson. 

The sea that left your battered body covering the street while Miguel shook with grief. The blood loss was such that it exceeded the time it would take for your spirit to depart your body. The disturbing fact that you were barely holding on was even more painful. 

The devasting fact that you were probably suffering in your final moments and couldn't even see him or speak. He told you all of the things he was sorry for  in final confession, but it only came out as the distant echoings of his fading voice as the slow, delayed compassion of death quietly led you by the hand. 

"I love you....I'm not sorry for that..."He whispers, but the light in your eyes had already gone out.

---

[likethe-month]

The Time Between Us

-Historical Yandere x Reader-

Yandere x Accidental Time Traveler Reader

This was so fun to write, and I have more for this particular story so I will probably post more soon.

Reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Yandere/possessive behavior, outdated ideas about gender, mentions of mental health, outdated ideas about mental health,

-

You are a college student writing a history paper about big cities in America’s Gilded Age when the dusty old PC belonging to the school sends you back to 1881.

You find yourself in the same building and room, but 143 years into the past. A man walks in and is utterly shocked to see you sprawled out on the ground in your confused state.

His name is James Harrington, and he is an architect who visits the school archives room to do his work. He is of average height with dark brown hair with a matching mustache and brown eyes that seem to linger on your bare legs for extended periods of time.

He informs you that ladies usually wear a skirt, and you start to think this man has never seen a bare set of women’s legs.

Your comfortable shorts and T-shirt aren’t exactly considered “lady-like” in this day and age.

It takes a lot of convincing to convince James you’re telling the truth, and he finally believes you when you show him your smartphone.

He is absolutely buzzing with questions, and you attempt to answer as many as you can before you figure it’s time to try and find a way back to your time.

Holding the paper in front of your face, you retrace your steps back to where you were sitting when you were transported here and closed your eyes.

Back in front of the school PC, you breathed a sigh of relief. Today’s events called for a night in, so you headed back to your dorm room.

Against the more logical part of your brain telling you to stay away from the computer lab, you make the decision to return.

You still have work to do, after all!

Over the course of the week, you go back to 1881, and James is always in the room, anticipating your arrival. You both decide it would be safe for you to stay in the room and only talk to James until he can get you some proper attire.

When he does, you sneak into a restroom when James assures you no one else is around, and you change into an outfit consisting of a high-necked blouse and skirt.

James feels proud, and he tries unsuccessfully to hide the light dusting of red on his cheeks. He informs you that you look like a “proper lady.” A part of him misses the strange, unfamiliar clothing and hairstyle you don, however, and he tends to mistake your modern ways for eccentricity.

James will absolutely romanticize the differences between the two of you, viewing your confusion as innocence, and his image of you makes his stomach twist in a way he's never felt before.

Then, he lets you know that his employer is hosting a dinner for his employees. He invites you as his date, and you eagerly accept, not willing to turn down the opportunity to see a lavishly decorated house belonging a Gilded Age businessman.

On the carriage ride there, he instructed you over exactly what to say and how to behave. Having seen your fair share of historical dramas, you were only half-listening, your eyes taking in every detail of the carriage.

The dinner goes well, and you even impress your hosts with your knowledge and mannerisms.

James' boss, Mr. Whitney, pulls him aside after dinner while everyone in the parlor room is deep in their own conversations.

“She’s a unique woman, indeed, Mr. Harrington. You’d be wise to keep a girl like that in your future prospects.”

Those words seemed to change something in James. Suddenly, he looked at you in a completely different way. Initially, he was planning on trying to persuade you to stay with him in 1881. He now knew that a real man, a successful businessman like Mr. Whitney, would take away your ability to choose. James would have to keep you here.

When you finish your drink, he asks you to join him in the ballroom where the other guests are dancing, and you do so, jumping a bit when he wraps a hand around your waist without hesitation.

He whispers lowly into your ear about how glad he is that you were “sent to him” as the two of you dance.

You grimace to yourself at his words and decide then and there that it may be a good idea to stay in 2024.

When you return for the final time, you plan on taking a walk through the city with your period-appropriate clothes to take everything in one last time.

You go back to 1881 and enjoy the sights while your final moments in the past last. You return to the archives room to be met with a sight that makes your stomach drop down to your feet.

James is holding the building plan, observing it with cold, observant eyes. You’re not sure what to do here. He’s holding your only way back home in his hands, eyeing it in a very strange way…

“Hello, James,” you say carefully. “Have you had a chance to enjoy the sunshine today?”

He turns to you briefly to signal that he’s listening. “You do understand why I have to do this, don’t you?”

You freeze, feeling faint. “Do what?” you say, trying to not let your desperation show. “James, what are you doing?”

Without another word, he rips the paper in two, then into four, then six, eight, countless pieces.

It takes everything you have not to fall onto your knees. You were trapped. You were trapped in 1881.

He looks at you, but before a taunt can escape his lips, you lunge at him, a scream ripping from your throat. Hands suddenly apprehend your attack, and your held firmly in place by two policemen who seemed to come out of nowhere.

“It really is so unfortunate,” James says, sounding almost bored. “She’s gone completely mad. I’m not sure what warranted this sudden change in behavior. I’m glad I was able to contact the authorities before she hurt herself.”

“These cases of women gone into hysterics are common. She’ll receive the proper care at Somervault Mental Asylum,” one of the men says, grunting as you thrash and shriek.

“I’ll visit you soon, dearest. For now, just make sure to get better,” James says, grinning wolfishly at you once the social workers weren’t looking.

You’re hauled off to the asylum, and for just a second, you believe you really would fall into insanity.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Neil Fak- The simple, innocent man Carmy once was.

Since Carmy is back home, he's outgrowing his naviety

What caught my attention is that Carmy and Fak are interested in flowers. However, Carmy loses hope and gets rid of the flowers in season 3. We can associate flowers with joy, innocence, love, and sentiments, which are all absent in Carmy's life in season 3. But he desires that innocence again something Fak carries. But there's both pros and cons to this way of life.

Fak is who Carmy would have become if he had stayed in Chicago and continued to be around Richie and Mikey. He would have immersed himself in the ballbreaker game, trying to win and ultimately losing his potential.

Did you notice that Fak isn't introduced to the story until Sydney is introduced? When season 1 begins, life is now too complicated for Carmy to understand, and a mind like Fak's can only narrate it simply.

In some way Fak is a version of Carmy. The innocent version.

Fak and Carmy - we're told they're best friends or butt buddies as Richie puts it.

Fak's adolescent mind - naivety thinks everyone is his best friend.

Since Carmy has gotten older, he realizes he carries more scars and wonders what a best friend is. He even questions if Mikey is his best friend.

As the series progresses, Carmy is coming to terms with the fact that relationships are complicated and not as simple as he initially thought. It's easy for him to resort to anger and violence like the Ballbreaker game when things become too complicated to understand. However, Carmy needs to mature in order to be the person his family needs. Being naive about relationships, people, and emotions won't help him.

I want to acknowledge @outmakingmoonshine for this outstanding, detailed meta on whether or not Syd and Carmy were planned. I re-read the script where Fak is introduced. In so many words, Carmy is saying that a sappy love story won't save the characters this time. Fak is raising the stakes, making winning at life a more significant risk. He gives Claire Carmy's number, adding more risk to the love story between Sydney and Carmy.

This subtext is a prediction- Sydney and Carmy's relationship is heading towards difficult feelings, and it becomes even more complex as they grow. Calling in Fak can hopefully help Carmy navigate, allowing him to somehow narrate an easier story than what's about to be told.

From Fak's innocent perspective, the game "Ball Breaker," known for its violence, is just too difficult because there's more to it. From Fak's perspective, the game or story (life) is too confusing to beat. Fak is the one who's raising plays to a dollar. A higher risk for a story about manhood and ball busting. Love.

Ballbreaker Game is gone. Now Fak is left to play Cupid.

Season 2 Ball breaker is over, and we're left with the game of who's in love with you—who could be dating who—with both Richie and Fak playing the game of cupid.

Fak sees it simply. Marcus and Sydney should hook up because they like each other. And carmy is in love with claire. Why shouldn't they get together?

He's not paying attention to syd and carmy's part. It's too difficult of a part of the game or story to navigate.

We need to take Fak's input on love with a grain of salt because he insists that Carmy is his best friend, just like everyone else.

It's just too difficult

Think of the upcoming sydcarmy scenes. 2x09 Carmy grows up a bit realizes that he has to be the guy his family expects him to be- the man where everyone can rely on him. This moment of growth has carmy wanting to fix the table or relationship with Sydney without faks help or naivety coming to mend it. The same as 3x04 when Sydney is ready to talk to Carmy about his consistent miscommunication Fak is pushed away.

Because this is a story about manhood, Carmy's growth involves shedding naivety, embracing complex emotions, and becoming the man his family needs.

But he is still wondering how he can find the balance to embrace his innocence and where he can stop and smell the roses while still growing up.

Tagging: @currymanganese @moodyeucalyptus @vacationship @whenmemorydies @brokenwinebox @fresaton

[troperrific]

/ekuoto chapter 74 spoilers/

IT’S HEREEEEE!! AT LAAAAAST!

FAILMARRIAGE FAILMARRIAGE FAILMARRIAGE FAILMARRIAGE FAILMARRIAGE FAILMARRIAGE FAILMARRIAGE

Ahem.

Pardon my outburst.

Actual chapter commentary below.

Although the main event of this chapter was the beginning of Belphegor’s darkness flashback of his marriage, there are a few things I’d like to note beforehand:

Belphegor and Imuri continue to play tug-of-war with Priest in the middle. And just like the factions of the Church and the Witches, they both claim to know what’s best for Priest, each considering themselves to be the key to Priest’s happiness.

The callbacks to previous arcs via Imuri’s drawings are cool, but they ring a bit hollow, due to various reasons. Still, I don’t care about that, because it essentially gave us these panels:

“Loli version”… maybe it’s a good thing that Leah didn’t come with Imuri after all, who knows what we would hear then lol

I must admit, I found this way funnier than I probably should’ve. “Loli version” lmao, this walking garbage of a man!!

Funnier still is that this comment has double the effect to Imuri because that’s essentially her mom he’s talking about… poor Imuri lol.

Also, I quite like that Bel’s summonings (?) have been getting steadily scarier. The angry bear with edgy mallets was cute and silly, but this time we got a cute but slightly creepy clown with scissors.

We are getting there! Maybe. I trust you Bel, may your flashbacks bring forth your inner horror film abilities!

Belphegor is such an edgelord. I love that the author manages to take issues such as depression seriously, but they can also poke fun at this sort of… exaggerated, teenage-like mindset of “you don’t understand meeee!”

Also, don’t mock the power of love, jerk! Don’t you know the sort of manga you’re in??

Ironically, by declaring that there’s such a thing as “true suffering”, ergo establishing a hierarchy for pain, and assuming that Imuri does not meet his arbitrary criteria of “true pain and darkness” he’s being dismissive himself, as careless and callous as he accuses her to be.

But on the other hand…

Imuri has actually shown herself to be rather callous and dismissive about other people’s suffering. Constantly. There are a few examples throughout the manga.

Some are more obvious. For example, when she both trivialized and sexualized Leah’s emotional vulnerability and pain back in Part 2, caring more about her own jealousy than Leah’s feelings.

Or, more subtly, how she has consistently prioritized her own feelings and pride as Gehenna’s Femme Fatale over Priest’s laundry list of traumas. Feeling more irritated and humiliated that she “lost” to Asmodeus as Aria, and that this messed things up for her quest to romance him, rather than that Priest had gotten hurt again. Or even in this arc!

This isn’t to say that Imuri doesn’t care about Priest at all. She does, and a lot. But she can be just as insensitive as the Demon Lords, when it comes to minding other people’s feelings.

Despite this, Imuri has a lot of good points herself. Truly, just about everyone that has lived has probably thought “ah, fuck this shitty world”, and that’s simply no excuse to give anyone the means to do it. Even if she’s a bit callous in her wording (and about Priest’s feelings).

I loved her comment to Belphegor that it essentially “takes two to tango”, very true. However… Is this the first instance that the Virgin Mary was actually referenced in the story? Because I’m still wondering about Priest’s mom…

ALSO:

I called it!

Of course the reason women are “evil” is that they give birth to beings he considers to exist only to suffer. Of course he solely blames them, considering his immaturity!

What I didn’t expect, though, was for him to have been a father! Just… the context, that he and his wife gave birth to a nephilim, which Belphegor should’ve known better… makes this so, so much worse, thank you Aruma-sensei, I love it already.

Speaking of which… SPEAKING OF WHICH…!!

HI ONESTA!! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!!

We’re finally getting ekuoto’s adaptation of Belfagor arcidiavolo!!

I do like and find it interesting that Belphegor went to prove that no such thing as a happy marriage existed apparently for Satan’s sake. I guess him and the other Demon Lords were getting a little too creeped out by his habit of going to Cocytus to talk to his frozen wife…

It’s quite telling, about Belphegor’s childishness, that he believes that just by “proving” to Satan that his marriage is doomed, he can get the poor snake man to stop feeling like he does for his wife.

But for all the bullshit that Belphegor spiels about marriage…

He sure changed his mind quickly!!

I like how, despite his mention of her big boobs, the paneling and framing don’t really drag the reader’s focus to them, unlike with how he sees Imuri. Here, all of Onesta is displayed equally (with sparkles!!), with perhaps a bit more attention to her face.

And I love how… judging by Onesta’s expression and her getting flustered before Belphegor even said anything, it seems she got as instantly smitten as he did.

I mean, I know all the Demon Lords are supposed to be incredibly good-looking in-universe, likely because they’re former angels and/or blessed by God, rather divine beings themselves, but…

Belphegor still retained his messy hair, eye bags and gloomy and clumsy disposition.

And yet, it apparently still was love at first for Onesta too!

It tracks though. Sarah considered the extra eyes scattered along Asmodeus’ arm to be beautiful; as a child, Leah seemed charmed and endeared by Beelzebub’s weirdness; and Tachibana is loyal to Mammon to the bone despite seeing his man child tendencies up close.

My dear girlies with innately horrible taste… I love them very much…

Curiously, this version of Onesta seems nothing like the one described in the novella (which I was very much expecting, given its rather misogynistic tone), who was a vain, arrogant, demanding and cruel woman, but that is what makes me fear for what’s coming even more…

You see, way back, when Part 5 had just started, I theorized that we would see some sort of mental illness portrayed through Onesta, as this seems to be a central theme in Sloth.

What I didn’t consider, however, was the possibility of Belphegor and Onesta having a child. A bit silly, now that I think about it, considering Belphegor’s obsession with childhood.

This, combined with the brief flashback we got from Golem, where he noted that his mother is always crying…

I think, there’s a non-zero possibility we’ll be getting some kind of depiction of postpartum depression through Onesta, or any other sort of mental illness related to childbirth.

I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. It would certainly explain if she were suddenly to change her current personality to one closer to the novella’s…

Also, now I’m convinced that these two:

Might just be one and the same!

Seems like Belphegor’s been projecting his family issues onto Priest pretty hard, huh?

Next chapter is gonna be hell…

[go-learn-esperanto]

Occasionally I stop and just think to myself “I still can't believe Grian and Scar got paired together again by the universe on Double Life. Isn't it insane??? There were a 13 total amount of people Grian could have been paired with and it was Scar."

[samarecharm]

geniunely not trying to put words in ur mouth im geniunely asking: what do you actually like about persona 5? from all ur rants im just wondering why you didnt drop the game bc it seems (again, im not trying to put words in ur mouth) that it simply not for you? i geniunely have not felt any of the issues you bring up outside of the writing ones and i cannot tell if i'm just easily pleased and not good at discerning what a good game is or we simply have dif things we enjoy in a video game. i hate getting tone across text but im asking out of geniune curiosity im not trying to attack your opinion (;-;)

Nah, i dont feel like ur attacking me, and I hope u dont feel the same when u see my complaints! Lmao. In my defense, I am replaying the game for the first time after completing my first file back in 2020, so alot of the faults i kinda shrugged off in my first playthrough are now glaringly in my face now that I no longer have the confusion and interest in learning the main story to keep me occupied. The game is clunky all the way through, and at some times, even frustratingly so.

But despite that, i do like this game. Alot! Its probably one of my top games ever if im being honest!

This ended up way longer than I intended, so im putting it under a readmore to keep the post short on dashboards

If i had to describe what I liked about the game in the simplest way imaginable…I think I would say, I like how the game makes me feel :) I like the music. I like the vibe. I like the immersion from city to city, and I like the premise! I like the characters and I like the connections you make with these characters! As im replaying this game, i am most excited to see Akira and his comments about the world :) i like hearing everyones voices, I like their little interactions in Mementos, and I like seeing them fight!

P5 is the first game I played in the series; its the game that introduced me to SMT in the first place! And it (smt) is a series that my longtime best friend LOVES and never thought hed be able to share with me! It is a game i keep very near to my heart; it has influenced me in ways i did not think would happen in the short couple of years since i first finished it. It genuinely keeps me awake some nights thinking about the world this game has created, and I think that is a testament to the impact its had, be it good or bad.

The joke about wishing theyd make a persona game that was Good is that despite all of its numerous flaws, the games manage to snatch your attention and pull you in anyway. Imagine if they made a game that had all of those things that i mentioned I loved, but done Right and executed Properly?? Where I got to have a story that made sense and didnt need to be spoonfed to me (in like an HOUR of dialogue and scenes; an HOUR!), and characters that talked and bonded beyond the tiny snippets of interaction theyre allowed to have in mementos? Combat that let me use PERSONAS i liked instead of BUILDS that stop me from getting instakilled throughout the entirety of the endgame, and a Persona building mechanic that didnt feel like I was shooting in the dark looking for possible fusions that end up not even being useful in the endgame.

Ive mentioned it before, but I complain so much bc I have seen what a good p5 game looks like, and its Strikers almost to a T. Combat is still your typical warriors-esque style combat, but it is at least different from the turn based strategy of the main game. Characters talk to each other freely, they hang out and comfort each other in a way that feels more connected that the base game. Strikers implements the ability to see ALL possible fusions with ALL registered personas, not just the ones in your Stock, so you can fuse easily without having yo consult a guide. The story feels like it makes SENSE with antagonists that feel morally grey and sympathetic. Genuinely, alot of the complaints for p5 I had were almost immediately rectified in this game.

But please also know that the praises I sing for this game is only bc of the groundwork laid by p5 and the world it created. Thats what I like about this game, that it had such a captivating premise and cast of characters, that a DIFFERENT company was able to hit the ground running with them. P5 had alot happening in that game, but i think what it had most was potential. The effort put into this game is astronomical, and the possible connections you can outright MISS if u arent paying attention was worth the money and time to implement; even if it meant that it could be considered a waste of resources to higher ups.

Books and games and part time jobs???!! Silly little cutscenes that add nothing to the game PLOTwise, but define and flesh out the personality of your protagonist. There was alot of love put into this game, and its evident by the fact that we have NOT seen a new persona game released; they bank on existing titles bc they are unwilling to make a game like this from scratch again. They dont want to ‘waste’ resources on good voice acting and a complex, overarching story; they dont want to waste money on scenes a player may never see, on routes a player may never get to experience. Making a game that gives u even the slightest bit of freedom means more money in programming and detailing that freedom. This has been an issue for a WHILE, and its a miracle that the gaming landscape had space for a colossal title like p5!

I complain bc I want better, and I do not think that is inherently at odds with my love of this game. In b4 im told to get good; ive played on hard and tested out merciless (its NOT fun, im making godbuilds again and its boring 😞). Its not the most accessible turnbased rpg; theres no colorblind modes, and the affinity system is convoluted and overwhelming. Combo moves are hard to keep track of and it can be incredibly frustrating to see your turns being skipped or seeing characters take extreme technical damage without understanding WHY it happened. The fact that they KNEW the game was desperate for qol improvements by the time royal came out, and instead of updating the base game to have those improvements too, they just pushed the royal edition out for people to play instead. It sucks! Customers and fans deserve better than being forced to shell out money for a game they already played !

As the gaming climate gets more and more hostile and unbearable, I think it is good to look at your games critically, and understand why products come out subpar. Persona 5 is a fun game that has a nice cast and an interesting premise, but it is ultimately tied down by its refusal to build on existing building blocks regarding its combat, and it insists on having insulting and downright out of character dialogue and scenes to appease the audience its designed to be targeted to. It is easy to forget sometimes that queer ppl are infact NOT the prime target of these games, its cishet gamer bros from aged 16 to 40 who will laugh at homophobic comments, who drool over a 16 yr old girl with a 16 yr old mindset and a grown womans body, who need to be placated with constant sexual comments to deal with a convoluted story that will inevitably make zero sense until its laid out for you before the literal end of the game.

Its bad. Its good. Its so shallow and its unbelievable that they thought having the plot twist make ZERO sense until they showed CUTSCENES of YOUR character discussing Goro and his connections to the metaverse for endgame SHOCK VALUE was more important than just having your team be smart and piece it together over time. Its shit. Its literally amazing. It let you FUCK your teacher ??????????????what the FUCK. They also let me shoot a god in the face w the best looking ult persona in the world so i can ignore that shit. And ultimately that is how i got through the game. Lol.

[dreadfutures]

this post has been interrupted by a shepherd's crook coming out and yanking me away from the keyboard

[ofdragonsdeep]

16: Third-Rate

Extremely low in quality or value.

An adventurer, newly arrived in Limsa Lominsa, attempts his first summon.

Limsa Lominsa was bright.

White rock, clean metal, and the spray of the sea. The sun glowered daggers from the sky whenever Telan had the temerity to leave the safety of the buildings. Even staring at the floor gave him no relief, the path being carved of that same white rock as the buildings. It was an exercise in misery.

He had been directed to the Drowning Wench upon his arrival by a Yellowjacket - another explosion of brightness amid the ruckus. He had been jostled, bustled, and otherwise battered about by everyone he had had the misfortune to cross paths with along the way, and now he sat huddled in a corner, not even brave enough to go for a table.

He did not think this was supposed to be his destination. There had been a lot of words he didn't understand thrown about by the alchemists in Radz-at-Han, and then even more words he didn't know on the boat. But they had moored to make repairs after the attack - pirates, maybe, Telan still wasn't sure - and he had been given such a strange vision that he had found himself compelled to seek an answer to it.

Outside was still terrifying. Daytime too bright, sky too vast, people too loud. But here in the pub he had at least been left alone so far.

He took out the book that the young elezen had given him and scanned its pages. It had all been nonsense when he had first looked at it, but some of the runes were beginning to make sense to him. Whatever strange vision had granted him understanding of the words those around him were saying had not translated to the written word.

The geometries were magical, he could feel that. There were a few basic spells, and one complicated one, on the first five pages. The elezen had pointed him at it, speaking gibberish as he did so, and so Telan had devoted his time to studying it.

It was meant to be wrapped around something, he thought. A focus perhaps. He had begun to pick out the offensive parts of the other sigils, and this one didn't have the same hallmarks, so he was at least not worried about accidentally blowing up a chunk of bright, white, noisy rock.

He dug about in the pockets of his clothes for something he could use as the centre. He had left Meracydia with basically nothing, and his material conditions hadn't exactly improved in Radz-at-Han, but the alchemists had let him keep the bits and bobs they had tested on him to see if they could help him. None of them had, of course, but it did mean his pockets were not completely empty.

He found a rock. A pebble, really, polished smooth by whatever process they had used on it before it had been passed to him. It looked about the right shape for the magic.

He supposed he had nothing to lose by trying.

He sat himself up, kneeling now instead of huddled, and placed the rock in front of him. He opened the book, squinted at the shapes, and put his hand out above them. Traced the lines in the air, slowly, carefully - several seconds of deep concentration. He could feel the magic pull at his aether, which was not a particularly nice feeling, but it led his fingers in the right direction.

He did hope the boy hadn't given him something dangerous.

When he finished the spell, there was a puff of magic around the rock. It lifted into the air, lines of aether constricting around it, and then…

It looked a little bit like a rat, if rats came in bright neon blue. Was about the same size as one, too. It squeaked at him, a high-pitched noise of indignation, and vaulted onto his shoulder.

It looked sick.

"Hey, lad." One of the barmaids startled him out of his focus, and he dropped the tome onto the floor, immediately scrabbling to pick it up. "Whoa! 'S no bother. Yellowjackets send ye?" Telan blinked up at her. She was a miqo'te, too, so she would probably understand his Huntspeak. Surely at least that was the same?

"Yes. Big man. Yellow and black clothes," he said. Now it was her turn to be startled, pulling the empty tray up in her surprise, tail twitching back and forth in unease. Was that a good sign? It did not seem like a good sign.

"…Well, I s'pose that'll do," she allowed. "'Venturers sign on wi' Baderon. Over there." She motioned over her shoulder with one thumb, to the man stood behind the bar. "Ye are a 'venturer, aye?" Telan looked down at his book, and heard the blue rat squeak on his shoulder.

"I. Think so?" he replied. The Yellowjacket had said the same thing, adventurers signed up in the Drowning Wench.

"Maybe ye can start wi' the easy jobs," the waitress said, though she did not look particularly convinced. "'Ere, follow me."

Telan got to his feet, following her as she led him up to the bar. The man behind it was dressed like a sailor, and had the bearing of one to go with it. He eyed Telan critically, and did not seem particularly impressed.

"'Ere for the drink, or a job?" he asked. Telan was not sure that whatever he had smelled the patrons downing classed as anything other than sea water, so he supposed it was the latter.

"A job. I think," he signed, and while he looked to the waitress to translate for him, Baderon made a surprised noise.

"Now that's a rum talent, lad," he remarked. "'Aven't seen a lad talkin' with 'is 'ands like that since ol' Petey lost 'is tongue, and I ain't never known the words so well."

"Is that bad?" Telan asked, concerned.

"Nay, lad," Baderon assured him. "Sign 'ere to join up wi' the Guild. Then we can get ye a job suited for yer talents."

Telan picked up the quill. Regarded the gibberish in the book that was slid across the counter towards him.

"An X'll do the job," Baderon offered helpfully. Telan was not entirely sure how to write even that letter in the strange script on offer here.

"I have a name," he disagreed. "I just, I can't… write it."

"I'll do it!" the waitress offered, sounding excited by the prospect. "What d' they call ye?"

"Telan," he signed, wondering if that would make any sense whatsoever. "Rhei'telan."

"Rhei?" the waitress repeated, sounding perplexed. "That ain't a tribe I've ever 'eard of."

"Be nice, I'tolwann," Baderon said. Telan blinked.

"How do you… pick?" he asked. I'tolwann hid a laugh behind one hand.

"I think they give it to ye, lad," Baderon replied. "It's a short'and."

"Oh." He frowned in thought, eyes on his book rather than having to look at either of them. "Then… R."

"It's rh," I'tolwann said, the pronunciation like a huff of air rather than a letter. Telan had no idea how she had managed to infer the longer ar from his simple signs, but apparently it had been communicated. He shook his head.

"No, that's not… Not my tribe," he disagreed. "I want Ar."

"Ar'telan?" Baderon repeated, and he nodded. "It's as good a name as any fer a new adventurer, I'd say."

"Ar'telan," I'tolwann repeated, then wrote something down in the book. "Like this?" He blinked at the paper.

"I have no idea," he said, once more confronted with a mass of meaningless scribbles. I'tolwann shrugged.

"Well, that's what it is now!" she decided. "Let me show ye to the Arcanists. They'll teach ye how to summon a proper 'buncle."

"Is that what this is? A… buncle?" Ar'telan repeated, the blue rat on his shoulder squeaking in annoyance.

"'S not like any I've ever seen," Baderon said.

"It's close enough, lad," I'tolwann offered. "Let's get ye a real one."

---

He dreaded the first step outside. The sunlight, the sky, the crowds. He could feel himself tensing as they approached the door.

The creature on his shoulder squeaked indignantly at the change in posture, and pattered its tiny feet on his shoulder. When he flinched away, it stood up on its hind legs and bit his ear.

The yelp of pain got I'tolwann's attention, but it had settled back onto his shoulder by the time she turned around.

"It bit me," he said, before reaching one hand up to rub at his ear.

"They ain't supposed t' do that," she said, doubt in her voice. "Well, not t' the one what summoned it, anyways."

"I think I made it angry," he said. A deep breath. The creature leaned its weight against his neck at the motion, and he braced for another ineffectual assault.

It didn't come.

Instead, it stayed leaned against him as I'tolwann shrugged and carried on walking. He kept his eyes on the floor, tried not to tense. Every time the fear crept up, the creature battered him with its paws again, squeaking like a broken child's toy. It… helped.

It helped more than anything else had. More than someone walking with him had, if only because the hand of another had reminded him too keenly of the day the moon had fallen. It was still too big, too bright, but it was not quite too much.

He did not want to spend long under the sky, but he could manage a short trip, he thought.

[wiseatom]

anyway you can literally pry mike and will sw*ftie agenda from my cold, lifeless hands

[magnusmodig]

rough childhood headcanon qs / anonymous / accepting !

╰┈➤ 1 . does your muse blame themselves for their trauma?

||. As is ever the case with Thor Odinson, the short answer is still, in itself, complicated. Ultimately the answer is, in my personal opinion, yes , though Thor is an incredibly introspective person, and so he can be self-aware enough of himself and his family situation to see it plainly for what it was. Thor is not a doormat. But whether or not he fully commits to acting on what he's feeling, and thinking based that awareness is its own issue. One mostly steeped in how Thor views himself and partly how he views his own family (specifically: he views them all with blinding rose-colored glasses ESPECIALLY once they've died, regardless of the damage they've caused him).

For some context on what I mean, by "how Thor views himself", I mean that he is shown to have something of an atlas complex (also known as: superman complex, savior/hero syndrome, codependency). Everything comes down to him. He's the strongest, so he'll do it. He can outlive and outlast, so he'll endure. He's the eldest, so it's his responsibility. So on and so forth very often times coming out as "I will solve this problem for you" statements most notably with Jane Foster. He takes failure personally, especially when other people are at stake, or the collateral. And he will hold himself accountable for tragedies beyond his control at length. In "The Avengers" and a deleted scene in "Thor: Ragnarok" he actively and repeatedly lumps himself in with his family (aka his father and siblings, mostly), and their catastrophic, destructive actions and pasts — both of which are things that thor himself actually hasn't partaken to any large degree (unless we count the failed Jotunheim heist and even that he WAS going to bail on before his temper got the best of his judgement.) He proceeds to call them (his family) "bilge snipe", while using the terms "we" (denotating himself as part of the issue) and proceeds to call the metaphorical bilge snipe "repulsive". He does this again in Ragnarok while telling Banner that "we're cursed to fight amongst ourselves while everyone else suffers for it"), meaning his opinions on the matter have not changed since 2012.

And by "blinding rose colored glasses" I mean that Thor has another tendency to see the good in people, partly in nature and partly deliberately, especially when seeking it out. And he does this especially when it comes to his family, and he will justify their actions by trying to step into their shoes even when it may not always be appropriate. (//gestures at literally all of thor: ragnarok and how he still idolizes his father to an obscene degree thankstaika re: "i'm not as strong as you", and even further back to the way thor speaks to odin in thor 2011 at the end of his banishment re: "there will never be a wiser king than you or a better father". He also idolizes Loki in "The Dark World" with the line "loki, for all of his grave imbalance, understood rule as i know i never will" and to a lesser degree does this with Frigga in the same film "she saved us all, a thousand times.")

From a slightly more psychological perspective:

The long and short of it is that it is much easier to blame yourself for things that hurt you that were beyond yourself. Especially when you can't understand it, or didn't deserve it. Especially when they come from someone you hold in high esteem, and hold a lot of love for. Like caregivers and family. In a twisted way, it grants the guilt-bearer some level of CONTROL over their emotions and their situation that they did not have in the moment the hurt occurred. If you're can blame yourself, then you're at fault. If you're at fault, then you can feel guilty, and if you're guilty, then you can atone. You can actively work to make up for it. ( "By blaming ourselves, we maintain the perception that we’re still in control of the situation and ultimately safe -even when we’re not." - rosscenter.com) This is especially critical in children who go through this sort of parental dysfunction and neglect. And the reason why I think this is not a development saved for his young adult -> adult years is because of exactly what we see on screen.

Thor comes from a family that is just as loving as it is toxic. His father was so good at being a wise king that he completely failed at being a good father. It's something Thor even calls out in "The Dark World" ("I'd rather be a good man than a great king") after speaking on how being king is losing who you are to politics and mind games and war. Odin as a parent, and Odin's overbearing, all-encompassing shadow of a legacy is what Thor's entire character arc was always about overcoming. His mother, Frigga, is by far the most decent of the bunch, but she is far from perfect. To pull from a previous meta on the subject, my opinion on frigga/thor is as follows: " [...] an unfortunate cycle in which [Frigga] spent SO MUCH ENERGY [...] making sure [Loki] felt seen/heard and had “some sun for himself” that she COMPLETELY neglected to see that her other son was in just as much pain as the youngest was [...] And only realized how estranged they had become when it was too late, and she couldn’t reach Thor anymore. (She also died before she could make it right.)"

His brother is arguably the person he was ever closest to (even among his friend group), up until his brother manipulated and betrayed his trust, killed him, attempted suicide in front of him, tried to take over earth as payback, tried to kill him again, rejected him outright, and then got put into jail.

Suffice it to say that while I think that Thor's issues stem from deep childhood trauma (and only ever further reenforced by the fact he ages so slowly), my dude's got some issues, and blaming himself for past trauma is definitely one of them. (When he can't get away with internalizing it and avoiding it any longer, anyways.) I do also think to a lesser degree this behavior does also count towards friends, just to a less extreme degree. With the main difference being: Thor adores his family. He wants to keep them close to him. He's incredibly protective of all of them. Which isn't to say he doesn't love his friends, because that would be the biggest lie. But friends come and go. Thor will always want to be a good friend, but he wants to be a good son even more than that. And so in cases of conflict with a friend and a peer, Thor will gladly and readily call out his friends for their bad behavior just as readily as he would also dismiss and justify their bad behavior towards himself. (you know like not checking in on him for five years in "endgame", apparently...)

[grimmjowjaegerjaquez]

if i was someone with any kind of consistency i couldve been known for ach'm. my stupid sexy frog man. (who is also a cyborg)

[trans-xianxian]

literally got like 3 hours of sleep because I forgot I had to wake up early this morning until like 11:30 last night and then had fitful dreams. explodes

[hotarufutaba]

lol....orz

[svtskneecaps]

i am consistently and pleasantly surprised bc like. sometimes tswift has some WACK lyrics and then sometimes they come out of nowhere and absolutely fucking gut me

[mayplantstarrwaters]

person who have never entered any fandom spaces in their life : Why aren't artists making beautiful art anymore?

[monsterslament]

ugh i wanna talk about ocs but i dont even know where to start