#the problem with these is that now I’m thinking about the implications and I’ve got like a whole au in my head

[samglyph]

I can’t be the only member of the unhealthily obsessed with gravity falls as a kid to unhealthily obsessed with malevolent as an adult pipeline

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

[livelaughpeg]

I'm writing this from a throwaway account, because you know...Scientology.

I want to preface this post by saying I am not one of those "I knew it all along!" people. I can't stand that attitude. I was pretty ambivelant towards Neil Gaiman. Prior to the allegations, I didn't hate him but I wasn't that interested in him as a person either. I don't think you can always tell when someone is a bad or good person simply by the topics they write about. If that was the case we'd be arresting every horror writer on earth.

But one thing that did always rub me up the wrong way was the way he talked about getting work.

I borrowed and read "Make Good Art" (a small book based on a speech he gave to graduates at the University of the Arts) at a time in my life that I was really struggling to get by (I still am to some extent, but in a different way). I expected to see some practical advice. Instead it was a bunch of glib shit like:

I got out into the world, I wrote, and I became a better writer the more I wrote, and I wrote some more, and nobody ever seemed to mind that I was making it up as I went along, they just read what I wrote and they paid for it, or they didn’t, and often they commissioned me to write something else for them. Looking back, I’ve had a remarkable ride. I’m not sure I can call it a career, because a career implies that I had some kind of career plan, and I never did. The nearest thing I had was a list I made when I was 15 of everything I wanted to do: to write an adult novel, a children’s book, a comic, a movie, record an audiobook, write an episode of Doctor Who… and so on. I didn’t have a career. I just did the next thing on the list.

Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do. Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn’t matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.

Yeah, well, no shit. If you're a writer or artist you probably do anyway. Whether you get paid for it or not, whether you draw fan art or original art. But the point of Gaiman's speech was to give advice to people who wanted to be paid for their art. To make a career of it. Making art every day isn't always enough. You have to pay the damn rent, you have to eat, you have to network and do social media and promote yourself, and you have to do it while thousands of other people are doing the same thing in a massive crowd of people who want the same thing. Practical advice is much more valuable than platitudes and theory.

I am not a writer, I'm an illustrator, and let me tell you that for most people, 'getting your foot in the door' isn't a one time thing. Quite often you have to work at getting your foot in the door again and again until you become established, and it's very easy to be forgotten. I still feel like I'm in that stage now.

I watched my peers, and my friends, and the ones who were older than me and watch how miserable some of them were: I’d listen to them telling me that they couldn’t envisage a world where they did what they had always wanted to do any more, because now they had to earn a certain amount every month just to keep where they were. They couldn’t go and do the things that mattered, and that they had really wanted to do; and that seemed as a big a tragedy as any problem of failure.

The implication was that he was successful because he wrote every day and his friends weren't because they didn't, because you know, working a second job is tiring. He called this a tragedy, but there was something very glib about the way he narrated this.

I think someone had more financial cushion that he was letting on.

And yes, sometimes it does work that way, (some people are very lucky and make all the right connections) but Gaiman was getting Big Jobs right off the bat and something about that never smelt right to me after the way he talked about it.

And then I saw Jeff's tweets. Oh, that's why...

I suspect the truth is he was living off his family's money and connections, and while I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with that if you're a struggling artist, his family are Scientologists, and I don't think he ever struggled.

I suspect it's all a lie.

[firelxdykatara]

I have a weird question: When I talk about kya and bumi’s childhoods, I’ve had a lot of people saying to me “Aang tried SO hard to teach his culture to Kya and Bumi but they weren’t interested and ignored him”

Is there any episode of TLOK that I’ve missed where that’s stated? I’m so confused

No, there isn't. It's purely headcanon, in an attempt to make it seem like Aang was portrayed as less of a neglectful father to his non-airbending children, which wouldn't necessarily be such a huge problem.... except that a) Aang fans are extremely invested in making it out as if this is somehow canon to the text of the show, and b) it requires ignoring things that are actually stated in the show itself.

Such as Aang taking Tenzin--and only Tenzin--on fun vacations to places that have no Air Nomad or airbending significance, but do in fact have great significance to the gaang as a whole. What, exactly, was he teaching Tenzin about airbending, or even Air Nomad culture, when he took him alone to Kyoshi Island to ride the elephant koi, or to Ember Island to build sandcastles?

Kya says it herself:

"Bumi and I weren't on those great vacations. It was always just you and Dad."

In fact, Bumi says they never saw the place, meaning that it isn't even a case of "Well, Tenzin was the youngest, so maybe they got taken on vacations of their own and by the time he was old enough to go they had other fun things to do."

Imagine, never taking fully two thirds of your children to Ember Island, because... what, it never occurred to him that maybe his wife might like to reminisce about the past with him and their children?

Because that's the other implication here: he never took Kya or Bumi on these great vacations, they were left home with their mother, who presumably had to figure out how to explain to them why their father didn't think to take them to fun places as a family that didn't involve telling them outright that they just weren't as important to him because they couldn't bend air. (Now, yes, that is editorializing on my part--but the difference between this and 'but he tried to teach Kya and Bumi about their Air Nomad heritage, they just weren't interested!' is that my supposition fits perfectly within canon, while their attempted justification is contradicted by the show.)

And if that weren't enough, we also get explicit textual confirmation that Aang never even talked about having other children to the people whose entire purpose in life was to idolize the Avatar and attempt to revive his nearly extinct culture. The Air Acolytes assume that Kya and Bumi are Tenzin's servants at first! And they are shocked to discover the Avatar had other children--and then disappointed when they realize those other children were not airbenders. And Bumi himself has to tell a statue of his dead father that he hopes he's finally proud of him... because he was granted airbending, entirely outside of his control, not because of any of his actual accomplishments, which we have no indication Aang gave a shit about.

There's just really not a lot of room in there for 'the kids were just a little jealous that Tenzin got extra airbending teaching but he wasn't that bad' when the actual text of the show gives us this.

Now, I don't know if the comics tried to retcon it with some nonsense like that, but even if they did, it is not remotely indicated in the show. And given how bad the comics are right now about trying to like, retroactively fix things because of criticism, I am not particularly inclined to give canon grace here.

[ladykailitha]

I See You Shiver With Antic--

Remember that one shot I was telling you about? This is that, but I split it in two because I'm a Dweeb!

Summary: Eddie and Robin are taking their friends to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show where they all dress up. Only thing don't go quite according to plan when Steve gets self conscious about his costume. Now it's a race to get the belle to the ball, Eddie has just the fairy godmother in mind, his old friend Janice former Hellfire Club member and now makeup artist.

***

Eddie heaved a sigh. He had been knocking on Steve’s door for the last ten minutes without much success in getting his friend to open his bedroom door.

“Come on, Stevie,” he cooed. “I’m standing here in fishnet tights and a corset, how much worse could it be?”

He was dressed up as Dr. Frank N. Furter as all of the older teenagers were dressing up as Rocky Horror Picture Show characters for a midnight showing down at the Hawk. Nancy and Jonathan were dressed up as Janet and Brad. Argyle had chosen Riff Raff and Robin was Columbia.

They were supposed to be there at 10pm, for a pre-show party, but if Steve didn’t come out soon, they were going to miss it.

All their friends were waiting by the front door, looking up at Eddie trying to get him to come out. Everyone had tried at least once. Even Nancy. And now they were back to Eddie giving it a go.

“You promise not to laugh?” came the quiet plea from behind the door.

Eddie gave the crowd below a thumbs up as he said, “I promise.”

He heard the click of the door unlocking, but the door didn’t open. So Eddie went in.

He licked his lips to wet them as his mouth had gone dry at the sight before him. Laughing was the farthest thing that Eddie wanted to do in that moment.

Steve could have been anyone. The criminologist, Dr Everett, hell he could have even gone as Eddie, the character, not Munson. But no. Standing before him in the middle of the bedroom was Steve Harrington dressed in nothing but sandals and gold booty shorts.

As Rocky Horror himself.

Eddie tried to think about the implications of that because it could go so many ways, not the least of which was signaling to Nancy he wanted to get back with her.

But he secretly hoped that Steve had done it because he wanted to be Eddie’s creation. That he would belong to Eddie.

But all that those thoughts went out the window when he noticed that Steve had his arms wrapped around his middle and was looking away from him.

“Oh, Stevie,” he murmured and opened his arms for him.

Steve went willingly into his embrace. “I thought I could do it. I tried. I promised Robin. But the scars...I just can’t.”

Ah.

Yeah, okay. Eddie didn’t really care about his scars, but most of the largest ones were covered by the corset. Not like Steve’s. They were all out for anyone to gawk at.

Personally, he didn’t think they stood out that much. The other times he had seen Steve shirtless over the summer when they had been out swimming, they didn’t really stand out.

But it wasn’t his opinion that mattered. It was Steve’s.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You have three options. Stay home–”

“No I want to go!”

Eddie rubbed Steve’s back. “Okay, it’s okay. You could go as someone else. It’s funny, but their Eddie doesn’t dress much differently then I do, it would be a quick and easy fix.”

Steve was quiet. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.

“Or we can cover it up with makeup,” He concluded.

Steve frowned and stepped back. “You can do that?”

He grinned. “Well not me specifically, but yeah, I’ve got a friend who could cover the scars.”

Steve stepped out of Eddie’s arms, a loss Eddie keenly felt, and nodded. “We can try covering up the scars and if that doesn’t work, I can dress up as Eddie.”

Eddie grinned. “You’ve got it, big boy. I’ll be right back.”

*

Eddie dashed down the stairs and quickly explained the problem and that he had a plan, two actually.

Grudgingly they agreed to go to the party without Eddie and Steve. Once they were out the door, Eddie dashed to the nearest phone. He called Wayne first to bring a change of clothes for Steve.

The second phone call more important, and really hoped she answered.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she picked up. “Janice, apple of eye and love of my heart...” he began dramatically.

“Eddster!” she greeted back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Babe,” Eddie said with a grin, “I’m calling in my favor.”

“Oohh...” she said. “I’m all ears. I was so sure you would be holding that over my head for years.”

“Must needs must, darling,” Eddie said in a fake English accent. Then he told her the plan. “Bring your kit, we have Cinderella to get ready for the ball.”

“Color me intrigued,” she said. “I’m in. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Fly faster, fairy godmother,” Eddie said. “This is an emergency.”

*

Ten minutes later the doorbell rang and Eddie threw open the double doors.

“Hello, Janice!” he greeted warmly. “We’re set up in the kitchen. If you’ll follow me.”

She dutifully fell in step behind him and marched double time to the kitchen.

Objectively Janice knew who’s house this was, Eddie had even said his name when calling in his favor, but it was quite another to be standing in Steve Harrington’s kitchen with him in gold shorts, looking embarrassed.

Steve Harrington who had never been anything but confident his entire life. He was rich, popular, good looking, and if you believed the rumors a regular goofball. But this was not that boy.

His nostrils flared when she paused in front of the door and he glanced behind him as if to look for another exit. He also had ginormous scars on his both his sides and a wicked one on his neck. He was skittish in a way she instantly understood. He moved the way her uncle did having come home from Vietnam.

She moved out of the way of the door and to his left side at first, but again he flinched and she moved to his right. He relaxed, not enough to remove his arms from his sides, but enough that he was looking at her.

She had heard all the rumors about what had gone down during spring break and hadn’t believed any of them, but she was starting think there was more to them then she had thought.

“Janice, you remember Steve from school?” Eddie said. “Steve this Janice former president of the Hellfire Club, makeup artist, and all round drama queen.”

“Oh I do remember you!” Steve said excitedly, smiling for the first time. “You’re the one that told Carol that coral was so not her color and that it was basically orange.”

Eddie and Janice laughed.

“Oh god,” Janice said wiping away literal tears, “I can’t believe you remember that.”

Steve grinned. “I remembered it because that’s what I told her when she bought it.”

Janice’s jaw dropped. “That’s hilarious!”

Eddie hid a smile behind his hand, grateful that they were getting along.

Steve cleared his throat. “So you’re going to make the scars go away?”

She nodded. “There are a couple things we can do,” she said. “It depends on if you plan on getting it wet, how much people are going to see, and if it’s going to be hot, making you sweat.”

Steve looked to Eddie because he didn’t have an answer to any of those questions.

“It’ll be mostly standing in line to see the movie and then after, so short-ish time,” Eddie said tilting his hand back and forth. “As for getting wet, I wasn’t planning on being in the first couple of rows, not with newbies coming. But I don’t know how hot the theater is going to be.”

“So plan for it being hot just to be on the safe side, but doesn’t need to be waterproof, got it.”

She set her rather large case on the counter and opened it up. Steve watched in fascination as more and more drawers pulled out.

“It’s like magic,” he whispered.

Janice whirled around to face him. “And that’s why I will be your fairy godmother for the evening. Let’s get the belle to the ball!”

She got to work painting his hand different colors trying to match his skin tone, finally finding the one that would work.

“That’s lighter than my skin tone, though,” Steve said with a frown.

Janice hummed. “Yup, because once it’s applied to the scar, the tone will even out.”

“Cool.”

She grinned up at him.

About halfway through the process, Eddie went to go answer the door and came back with a backpack filled with clothes.

Twenty minutes after she started, Janice stepped back to admire her work. “You’ve got a mirror or something around here?”

Steve pointed to a nearby room. “That’s a bathroom.”

She nodded and grabbed his hand and hauled him into the room with her. He went, laughing all the way.

Steve looked into the mirror and gasped. “You can’t tell it was ever there at all,” he whispered. His hand hovered over top, not daring to touch it for fear of ruining her work.

“You can touch it,” she said. “That’s the point. It won’t smear or anything like that.”

He looked over at her with a grin. “You’re amazing, thank you.”

They went back to the kitchen where Eddie was waiting.

She finally took in Eddie’s costume. “Looking fantastically freaky, there Eddster.”

Janice reached up and touched his curls. “Holy shit, you didn’t cut it! It’s all pinned up to look short. You can’t even tell.”

Eddie grinned, flicking his head back dramatically. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“I would hire the person that did that to do hair for my shop in a fucking heartbeat,” she breathed.

“Shop?” Steve asked, confused.

“Janice has a shop where they do hair and makeup for plays, movies, and TV shows,” Eddie explained. “They do awesome work.”

“Yeah,” Janice said. “My main hair gal got pregnant and is having a really bad one. They put her on bed rest just four months in.”

Eddie winced in sympathy.

“Do you only take female employees or would a guy hairstylist have a chance?” Steve asked shyly.

Janice looked at Eddie and then back to Steve. “You did his hair?”

Steve nodded.

“I would take a three-headed green slime monster if they did hair that good,” she said.

She looked between the two boys. “Eddie, if he works out, I might have owe you a brand new favor.”

Steve’s eyes lit up as Eddie cackled.

“Hell yeah!!”

She shook her head. “Hey, you think it would be okay if I joined you guys tonight? I’ve got a wig and French maid outfit, unless you already have a Magenta?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance.

“Argyle would love that!” Eddie grinned. “He’s our Riff Raff and is indeed missing a Magenta.”

Janice cheered. “Hell yeah, baby! I’ll meet you at the Hawk in a half hour if that’s okay with Steve here?”

Steve nodded. “Nancy and Robin would be thrilled to add another girl to the group.”

Janice smiled. “Great! I’ll see you later!”

Eddie laughed as she practically skipped out of the house lugging that huge kit as though it weighed nothing.

***

Part 2

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[theshiniestgemstone]

Gideon x reader who is really smart

okay so as I was writing this, it’s kinda giving the same energy as one of my upcoming series. v excited to share and this is almost like a little taste of a bigger project I’ve been working on

Gideon never saw himself ever gaining the courage to ask you out. You’d arrived at the Salvation Center on a Monday, bouncing your foot while waiting to meet with Jesse, Judy, and Kelvin. He stopped in his tracks, giving you a once-over before he felt his cheeks bloom warm and his hands get clammy.

You weren’t like the others that filtered through the compound. You had a sharp, focused look in your eye, like you were already solving problems before they hit the table. Even then, you still smiled politely when Jesse cracked one of his inappropriate jokes, and you nodded along with Judy’s enthusiastic rambling about worship aesthetics.

He was more than impressed when he’d read your resume over his dad’s shoulder. Multiple degrees under your belt, languages, and all in fancy font, he was soon afraid of you.

Like, actual fear. The kind that made him sit up straighter, brush his hair back, and pray you wouldn’t ask him anything math-related. He’d hide a smile when you crunched numbers in your head, writing them down before Martin had even finished his sentence. The way you clicked your pen, nodded to yourself, and then underlined a total. It was ridiculous how hot that was.

Gideon wasn’t used to being around people like you. People who were smart and cool. And funny. And terrifying in a really specific, spreadsheet-wielding way.

He figured you wouldn’t look at him twice. But then one day, you did. You caught him staring during a budget meeting. And instead of calling him out, you tilted your head and smiled.

Your first date was impromptu. Lunches overlapped and the last two chairs in the food court ended up with half-eaten meals, far too wrapped up in conversation to think of anything else.

You’d been explaining something. Some kind of funding clause in the bylaws he couldn’t quite follow, but he didn’t mind. He liked the way your hands moved when you talked, the way your eyebrows twitched when you tried to simplify a concept just for him. He made you laugh, too. Not the polite kind of laugh people gave the Gemstones because they were supposed to, but a real, surprised one that burst out when he called Judy the CFO, Chief Freak-Out.

You stayed there until someone from the center texted you both, wondering where you’d gone.

“I guess that was lunch,” you said, glancing at your barely touched salad.

“I guess it was a date,” Gideon replied, then immediately looked horrified with himself.

But you just grinned, standing up and brushing off your slacks. “Good. I like when smart investments pay off.”

He didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Now, Gideon never thought of himself as stupid. He earned good enough grades to get through high school with a special cord. It wasn’t valedictorian, but he was still in the top double digits of his class. He could fix engines with a fre tutorials and a thick enough manual, knew his way around a sermon, and had enough charm to talk his way out of a speeding ticket or into a job.

But when he got to know you, really know you, he found himself struggling to keep up.

Conversations drifted easily with you. One second you were breaking down the complexity of marketing Christianity in ways that were covert but not misleading, the next you were talking about the societal implications of algorithmic polarization. Then came developmental theory, bouncing from Piaget to Erikson like you were switching radio stations.

By the fourth date, Gideon was nodding along, until he wasn’t. He blinked and cut in gently. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

You paused mid-sentence, blinking once, and for a brief second he braced himself for the usual reaction, disappointment, irritation, or that awful, pitying smile.

But instead, you softened. “I’m sorry, Gideon,” you said quickly, voice kind. “Sometimes I forget that I read too much.”

Then you backtracked, calmly and clearly, explaining everything without making him feel like he was back in high school again. And that was when he knew.

Not just that he liked you, but that he really liked you. Because you made him want to learn more. Not to impress you, but to keep up with you. To walk beside you instead of trailing behind.

He adored you. More than he ever thought he could adore someone. It wasn’t just the brilliance, though that alone would’ve knocked him off his feet, it was the way your mind never seemed to rest. You were always thinking, always calculating, always three steps ahead of the room. Sometimes too far ahead. Too smart for your own good.

He’d watch it happen: the way your brow would crease just slightly, your fingers tapping against your leg as your mind spun out into a dozen hypotheticals. What if you missed something? What if the numbers were wrong? What if someone found a flaw in your strategy or a hole in your logic? You chased perfection like it owed you something, and when it kept slipping through your fingers, it wore you down.

That’s when Gideon would step in. He would quietly, gently, with a steady hand on your back and a soft “Hey, babe,” like a grounding wire.

He didn’t try to fix it with solutions, not right away. Just with presence. Sometimes he’d drag you out for a walk, or settle behind you on the couch and start braiding your hair just to give your mind something else to focus on. Other times he’d pull you into his lap and kiss your temple until your breathing slowed.

“You don’t gotta carry it all,” he’d murmur. “Let me take some.”

And you did. Eventually.

In turn, you shared your world with him, not to impress, but to invite. You sent him articles you thought he’d like, highlighted the parts that reminded you of a conversation you’d had with him. You started watching documentaries after dinner together, curled up on the couch with popcorn and commentary. He didn’t always catch every reference or statistic, but he’d ask questions, and you’d light up all over again, because he wanted to know.

You made each other better. Stronger.

And on nights when you fell asleep mid-episode, glasses slipping down your nose and laptop still open on your lap, Gideon would just smile to himself and whisper, “God, I love you,” like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Day 31 |

Halloween Special part 1

- Alfons & Jude (separate)

Full fic will include everyone

Kinktober masterlist

Gender-neutral reader (genitals not specified)

Word count: 2.7k

18+, spooky stuff, dubcon, semi-public stimulation (if the castle is considered public), grinding, edging, no editing

A/n: I procrastinated too much and this whole giant fic is not probably not going to be finished today. So here's what I finished so far. The full fic will be posted as one later. Happy Halloween.

“Thanks for helping me hand out those treats, Ellis.” You walked back into the castle. “I’m glad we got to do something for Halloween before the moon comes out.” 

Earlier Victor had told you it was the Queen of the Night’s Halloween, which would make them more villainous by the time night rolled around. Which was why you celebrated the night before with some games and the type of things that were rumored to bring ghosts. It was a lot of fun.

“No problem. I liked being able to see you and everyone smile.”

You wondered how much time you had until sunset. It would be nice to be able to spend as much time as you could with them, but you were honestly looking forward to some time by yourself in your room. All day you had been pent up and you were eager to finally be able to relieve it.

You opened your mouth to speak again when something moved in the corner of your eye. Your head whipped over to see a glowing wisp floating through the air. You squinted, thinking it was a trick of the light. It suddenly moved and zipped past you and disappeared into the wall.

“Did you see that too?” you said.

“Yeah. I think I saw one earlier too.”

“I see you’ve met our new guests,” William’s voice made you turn around. Victor skipped beside him.

“Remember that fun little, cute game we did that was said to summon ghosts? Turns out it was real.”

“What?” Your mind stumbled over the implications. “How.. is that possible? Ghosts are real?”

“Curses are real. I’d say anything is fair game,” William said.

That explained why some of your things were misplaced earlier.

“Are they dangerous?” Ellis asked.

“No.”

“Not from what we can tell so far.”

“Either way, that book of spells we used might be more dangerous than we thought if they work,” Victor said.

“What did you do with it?” you said.

Alfons waltzed by, with Elbert beside him. “It seems during our fun we misplaced the book. Everyone has been working hard to find it.”

“...you have?” Elbert said.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’ve been with you the whole time.”

The two of them walked away.

“Oi,” Jude’s voice made you jump, “need ya to do something for me,” Jude said to Ellis.

“What do you think about all the ghosts, Jude?” you blurted out the question.

“Annoying as hell. Keeps makin’ me see things that ain’t there. Now c’mon.” He walked off impatiently.

“See you later,” Ellis whispered before leaving. He walked beside Jude, listened and nodded before running off somewhere else. Probably to do whatever Jude asked.

You turned back around to see Will still standing there, but Victor was gone.

“Where’d Victor go?”

“He had some things to do as the queen’s aide. He wished to say goodbye, but didn’t want to interrupt your conversation, so he told me to say it for him.”

You nodded. Your toe nudged the floor. “So, how long are the ghosts going to be here?”

“As long as they please,” he smiled. “Or until we can find the spell book. There’s a page on how to undo the ritual.”

You nodded. Too bad no one decided to do the counter spell for fun.

“Isn’t it exciting to have ghosts as guests?” William asked.

“I guess so.”

“Are you worried?”

“A little? It’ll just be something to get used to. The castle being haunted.”

He laughed. “That would make Crown Castle more interesting.”

You heard your name and turned to see Liam and Harrison. William gave a bow goodbye and you went to join Liam.

You talked a bit and promised he could help you with the treats next year. Harrison offered to help too, but you had a feeling he was going to snitch some of them for himself. You also saw Roger trying his best to get some data on the ghosts. A brief chat told you that it was hard to communicate with them. It was strange seeing them float around randomly and take different shapes.

You parted ways with the villains. It was starting to get dark. Your feet moved faster as you tried to get to your room. You were aching just thinking about finally getting some time to yourself and you walked faster.

Was it just you, or were there more ghosts? Or were they just changing to be bigger. They moved all around you. You just ignored it and the tight feeling in your chest. You blinked when you thought you saw a forest in the corner of your eye.

You shook your head and kept walking. But you just kept getting turned around. No matter how far you walked, you couldn’t find the right door, and it felt like you were taking the same turn over and over again.

The ghosts whispered screams into your ears. You shook your head harder and covered your ears with your palms. It was going to be alright. You just needed to find your room. If you could find your room? Could you find your room? Were they just going to be in your room too?

You ran faster and faster, feeling lost in the castle for the first time since you first arrived. You turned corners again and again. Feeling hope when you saw somewhere that looked familiar, then despair when it didn’t again.

You just held still and your body twitched. It looked like the walls were moving. You held a sob in your throat as you slumped against the wall. Your back dragged against something that didn’t feel right. You looked behind you. In a moment, you briefly saw it was a bookcase behind you. You reached out and felt it.

The cool leather of the books seeped into your fingertips. You were in the library. How the hell did you manage to get all the way over here? Your body trembled with a sob.

For a moment, you thought you heard the click of dress shoes on the floor. You nearly dismissed it as a hallucination when you heard it again. You looked up and saw someone walk into view. Alfons glanced around. Was it really him or were the ghosts messing with you again. He didn’t have his usual smile on his face.

His eyes caught onto you and his smile returned.

“Why hello. And I thought you had already went to your room like a good robin. You really should before you run across Elbert.”

“I couldn’t find it.” Your voice came out sadder than you meant it to.

He hummed and walked up to you. You didn’t move and stayed curled up.

“May I ask what you’re doing down there?”

“I don’t feel like getting up.”

After a moment he lowered himself and sat beside you.

“What if you aren’t real?” You sniffled. After a second of silence, “Say something only he would know.” 

He grinned.

“Last week when you lost a card bet, you-” 

“Okay. You’re him,” you quickly cut him off. 

“I don’t believe the spirits have gotten that good at their illusions yet to impersonate someone. And one touch will prove if it’s real or not. My dreams are far more potent.”

You stared at the ground. You had no idea what time it was. Or if it was dark outside or not. Not with the ghosts messing with you.

“Why are they doing this?”

“They may be bored.”

You shook your head. “I know they aren’t real, and I shouldn’t worry. But I…” You trailed off and rocked yourself a bit.

“I see your distress is still real.” He shook his head. “That’s a problem.”

He leaned in and tilted your head up. His warm breath fanned over your skin.

“They can’t hurt you. You should be more concerned about me.” Without even giving you time to think, he lightly stroked your skin. “Would you like a distraction?”

He quickly worked your body up again. Especially after not being able to mastrubate earlier, since the spirits foiled that plan. You couldn’t help but nod.

He leaned in and captured your mouth in a kiss. It quickly enveloped you. You tried to keep up with him. His tongue pushed into your mouth and took your breath away. You moved closer. He stroked your back and shoulder, sensual and teasing. You moaned softly and pressed your thighs together.

He pulled back. You didn’t even notice when he took his glove off when you felt his bare fingers on the nape of your neck.

“There are no ghosts of ghouls. We’re simply having fun together.”

You blinked and the library looked normal. You tried to remember why you were sitting on the floor again when Alfons nipped at your neck. You gasped. He quickly slipped under your clothes to feel your sex. 

You opened up your legs to let him in more. He chuckled.

“You always respond so sweetly.”

You bucked yourself into him, using your back on the bookcase for leverage. You moaned more loudly as the pressure in you grew. So desperate that you didn’t notice you were beginning to rock the bookcase behind you.

“Careful.” His hand went to the wood to steady it.

As he did there was a loud thump. You both jumped and turned to the direction of the noise. It was a book. You looked between it and the bookcase. Something seemed off. The way it fell… it was like it was placed on top, not on one of the shelves.

“What’s this?” Alfons briefly removed his hand from you.

You reached over and grabbed it. Your eyes scanned the cover. It was the spell book from last night.

“Wasn’t Victor looking for this?”

Why was it on the very top of the bookcase? Like someone was trying to hide it.

His eyes widened and he looked around, like he saw something you couldn’t. You tilted your head in confusion.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” He said and looked at you like nothing was wrong. “But I suggest that we-”

Wait a second- The memory of the ghosts came back to you all at once. Suddenly you couldn’t see. Wisps of white clouded your vision and swirled around you as if they were angry. The whispered screams filled your ears and you pressed your palms to your ears. 

You thought you hear Alfons’s voice through it and lifted your hands.

“Just keep walking. You’ve suffered worse than this,” he said.

You tried to catch his hand, but couldn’t find him. You felt a tug on the book and you tucked it under your arm. With a deep breath, you just put one foot after another.

It felt like the wind was in your face. You closed your eyes and just kept walking. Using your arms to feel the walls and try to navigate through the castle. You kept holding on tight to the book, and switched your hold to press it against your chest.

Slowly the sounds in your ear stopped. You opened your eyes to see them slowly floating to a stop and a figure with a black and purple cape swatting at the ghosts.

“Jude?”

He was cursing under his breath as he touched each one and they stopped. Your eyes widened.

While you were distracted, the book was tugged out of your hands. You cried out and reached out for it. Another hand snatched it up for you and touched the ghost that immediately stopped. Your eyes met with cold amethyst ones. You froze.

“You… you can make them sleep?”

He grunted. “It’s hard as hell, but yes.” His scowl made your blood turn cold.. “What the hell ya doin’ all the way out here? Listenin’ to none of the warnin’s to get in bed before dark? Ya realize ya owe me fer helpin’ ya.” He took a step closer.

“I couldn’t find the door.”

“Of course ya couldn’t.” He rolled his eyes a bit. “No one’s findin’ the right door in a shitstorm like this.” His eyes drifted to the book he’d caught. “What’s this?”

You held it up. “The spell book.”

His eyebrow raised. “The one we need ta get rid of all these pests?”

“Yes.”

“What’d it say?”

You glanced down at it and bit your lip. “I haven’t checked yet.”

He grit his teeth. “Why the hell not? You just been wanderin’ around like a limp deer? Come on.”

He placed it on the nearby table and grabbed your hair to pull you to it. Your hands went out to catch yourself and his knee went between your legs behind you.

“Find it.”

Your eyes widen. Even compared to usual, this was mean. Is this part of the Queen of the Night?

He pressed his knee harder into you. “The longer ya take, the longer I keep getting to do what I want with cha as punishment.”

You flipped the book open and started to look through the pages as he grinded his legs onto you. You bit your lip and held back the moans as your shaking hands kept searching. It was hard to read in the dark. And you were still sensitive from earlier. A whimper escaped you and you tried to keep yourself from moving against him. You hadn’t even gotten to cum earlier either.

You throbbed against him and dug your fingers into the table. You hissed as he pushed harder.

You were lifted to your toes on occasion. It was so hard to focus.

He laughed. “Startin’ to think you wanted me to punish and use ya.”

You bit down harder on your lip. You couldn’t even say that you weren’t enjoying it. You whimpered and your eye caught on something.

“Found it! It’s right here,” you pointed to it.

“Finally.  Thought you’d stall ‘til the night was over.”

“I wasn’t-”

“What’s it say?”

“Oh. ‘In the room you originally summoned them… draw the symbol on the floor and say the counter spell',” you read. You were in the dining hall when you were messing around with the book. “Okay. So now we just have to-”

You tried to push back when you found he wouldn’t let you.

“Ya thought I was done with ya? Ya still owe me fer stoppin’ the ghosts ‘n getting’ back the book ya lost.” You could hear his smirk. “Keep going. I saw ya grindin’ like a slut.”

A whine escaped your throat before you could stop it. You were still aching. You swallowed your pride and rubbed yourself on him. Your head fell back as you whimpered. Trying to rub up against him just right. The material of his pants felt so good. Or maybe you were just horny.

He laughed. “Ya really are hopeless.”

He pushed harder, once, twice. Tears pricked at your eyes. Pleads fell from your mouth. You were actually getting close. God, you couldn’t believe you were so horny that you were actually close just from this.

Your nails dug into the table. Just a little more.

He pulled his leg away and you almost fell down.

You turned with your eyebrows furrowed. He just smiled. Of course he wasn’t going to let you. Especially not tonight.

“What’s with that disappointed face? Only makes me want to do it again.” 

You sighed and shook your head. You just needed to get this over with so you could finally get to your room.

“Okay. Now we have to go to the dining room,” you said as you tried to pretend your legs weren’t shaking.

“We? I’m doin’ it. Yer staying here.”

He reached out to grab the book. On impulse you snatched it up before he could and pulled it close to your chest. The look he gave you made you shiver and step back.

You screwed up your courage. “I’m helping. I’m not staying here with no idea when this is going to end and waiting until the ghosts wake up. I’m going to help.”

You knew he was going to argue. Before he could protest, you started running in the direction of the dining hall. He cursed and followed after you.

[timeagainreviews]

The Hyperfixations of Steven Moffat

Leading up to the Doctor Who Christmas special, I was surprised to see people expressing indifference toward the prospect of new Doctor Who. There were the usual shitbag “Not my Doctor,” homophobes and racists who add nothing but noise to the background radiation of the fandom. But there were also ride-or-die fans expressing disinterest. And it’s not like I don’t get it. The first season of RTD’s return was a bit jank. For me, it was a marked uptick in quality, but it also felt like it was trying a bit too hard. We’re also coming off the tail end of a Hell Year™, and we’re tired. Honestly, I kind of hate anyone whose biggest problem in the world right now is the Superman trailer. But I also recognise the need for escapism. Which is why a Doctor Who Christmas special and Wallace & Gromit double feature was such a welcome reprieve from Hell Year™. That was my Christmas sorted. And you know what? I had a lovely fucking Christmas.

My greatest takeaway from this double feature was that Wallace is a bit of a menace in his own right, and Moffat is a man with hyperfixations. When I say this, I don’t mean it in a judgemental way (except for Wallace, he should take more care), but rather to highlight what I think is Moffat’s main quality as a writer. Recently Moffat disclosed that he has been diagnosed autistic. As a neurospicy individual myself, I appreciate a good hyperfixation. Let this blog be exhibit A. You give an autistic or ADHD person a hyperfixation, and it’s like a dog with a bone. You can see this in the way Moffat writes about time travel. I’ve mentioned it before, but Moffat writes time travel like a young boy who got hyperfixated and couldn’t stop thinking about the implications of time travel. 

What are some of Moffat’s hyperfixations as a writer? How about names beginning with “Os”? What about women who look like Elon Musk’s mum if she were a burlesque scientist? Or young people who meet older people and become obsessed with them into adulthood? (I’m not gonna get into it, but it’s weird that it happened three times) While some of Moffat’s preoccupations are distinctly Steven, others are more widely shared. I still remember being nervous around a hobo statue my grandmother had in her basement. I used to run past it as though it were going to spring into life the moment I took my eyes off it. I understand Weeping Angels. Fear of the dark gets us the Vashta Nerada. Steven Moffat is a writer whose fixations are at the centre of his work. And part of that work lands him in hotel rooms where he has plenty of time to lie there and think about the room he’s in.

About a month ago, we were given our first taste of “Joy to the World,” with the opening scene of the Doctor going door to door in various locations attempting to deliver a ham and cheese toastie and a pumpkin spice latte. I don’t usually watch scenes ahead of their time, but the costume geek in me really wanted to see the latest variation on what has become the closest thing we’ll get to a signature look for this Doctor. I loved the butterscotch tones with the wide legged trousers. Such an iconic look. This may be one of my favourite costumes Ncuti has worn thus far. However, beyond a glimpse at the new costume, I was curious to see the Fifteenth Doctor with a different companion from Ruby Sunday. I adored Nicola Coughlan as Clare in Derry Girls, so I had to sneak a peak.

It was rare in classic Doctor Who for a Doctor to go into a situation with no companions. The Third Doctor was alone before meeting Liz Shaw. The TARDIS engines had hardly cooled between Leela and Romana. There were also the Eighth Doctor and Grace. But for the most part, there was always a companion bridging the exchange. It’s far more common in modern Doctor Who to see the Doctor without a companion at the beginning of a story. These moments interest me because its a chance to see the Doctor’s vulnerability. With no one to impress, the Doctor feels somehow less confident. The Doctor doesn’t always need a companion to remind him when he’s gone too far, but also to remind him to feel love. Here, we see the Doctor still not used to being on his own. He pops into a hotel lobby for a couple cups of coffee before remembering he only needs the one.

While this is a nice re-introduction to the Doctor’s current emotional state, I was a little disappointed by this being the reason the Doctor was at the Time Hotel in the first place. It’s funny that he steals coffee from hotel lobbies on the reg, but it’s a flimsy device for a story setup. Then again, that is Moffat’s way. During his run on Doctor Who it was always impressed upon us that the TARDIS always took the Doctor where he needed to be. He even reiterates this concept during the Doctor and Anita’s conversation about her sat nav. That’s sort of the Doctor’s whole thing. Go somewhere innocuous on the day when everything went to shit. Henrik’s Department Store operated for years without incident until the Nestine Consciousness showed up and the Doctor had to blow the place up. Besides, how else are you going to draw a guy who time travels and has no need for a home into a time travelling hotel? Those are like the two things he needs the least. So yeah, the Doctor steals coffees like they were TARDISes.

Along with Nicola Coughlan guest starring as Joy, we get an adorable turn from Joel Fry as the charmingly dim Trev Simpkins. While his screentime is minimal, I fell in love with Trev almost immediately. Sadly, Trev wouldn’t be long for this world, but the stars are a completely different story. Having been conscripted by the Doctor to spy on a strange man in the hotel lobby, Trev quickly becomes embroiled in the journey of the mysterious Villengard suitcase by becoming its next host. This is how we’re introduced to Joy Almondo, a young woman staying at the Sandringham Hotel, which is a bit of a flophouse. Once again, we’re reintroduced to another Moffat hyperfixation which is a weird “women be shoppin’” attitude when Joy nervously asks Anita if its obvious that she’s single. I rolled my eyes at that line, and it’s made slightly more egregious when you consider the reason Joy is by herself in this run-down hotel on Christmas Eve. Why would she be thinking of men on the night she’s very clearly mourning the loss of her mum? The brief conversation between her and the fly in her room endears us to her far more than her anxiety about finding a man in this economy.

Ultimately, the Sandringham Hotel proves to be a lot more interesting of a location than the Time Hotel. Which is saying something considering that out of the Time Hotel’s many doors into different periods of time, one of those doors is some kind of Hobbit door. In contrast to the wacky voyeur tourism of the Time Hotel, the Sandringham Hotel was where the emotional core of the story takes place, even if I find Moffat’s conceit about hotels a bit contrived. You see, I can imagine the genesis of this story came from Moffat lying in a hotel room and considering that weird door that won’t open. We’ve all wondered about it. But he loses me a bit with his take on why people stay at such hotels.

Back in 2016, my friend Gary came and visited me from the states. We planned a trip down to London where he could see Abbey Road and then onto Cardiff for the Doctor Who Experience and up to Liverpool to see John Lennon’s house. It was a bare-bones trip over three days that required some sacrifices in train times and accommodations. We needed a good hotel in London, but what was most important was a place to hang our heads for the evening, so we went with cheap. The hotel we ended up with, we lovingly referred to as the Hotel Mos Eisley because it was a wretched hive of scum and villany. The rooms were numbered with a devil-may-care randomness. At the top of the stairs was a slashed canvas depicting Marilyn Monroe. One of her teeth had been blacked out and a swastika was drawn on her forehead. We had to sleep with toilet paper in our ears for fear of roaches. But we met so many characters in this hotel that we remember it as a fond memory of our trip. We still laugh about it to this day. My point being, sometimes a hotel room is just a means to an end. Also, some people are just poor. It’s not that deep, Steven.

I will however concede that this isn’t lost on Steven Moffat. As I said before, a lot of humanity can be found in the mundane setting of the Sandringham. Spoilers for the Bible if you’ve not read it, but that sentiment is reiterated with the humble manger where Mary gives birth to Jesus at the end of this episode. Furthermore, the Doctor was merely making Joy angry in an attempt to wake her out of whatever control the Villengard briefcase has over her. I had read about a week ago that Moffat wanted to bring the Doctor’s meanness back into the character, something which I have been waiting for since Chibnall decided to make the Doctor constantly stoked on life. I’m not going to go back and count the number of times in this blog where I mentioned wishing they would make Jodie scarier, but it was often. The Doctor is an alien and basically a god, it’s nice to be reminded of that on occasion. Eccleston is a good Doctor, but he became a great Doctor when we saw him lose his shit in “Dalek.” Even if it was being mean to save Joy’s life, it was nice to see the manipulative cosmic being we saw in the Seventh and Eleventh Doctors.

The Doctor is forced to go the long way to save Joy in the future by boot strap paradoxing the briefcase code to himself. I really loved this year the Doctor spends with Anita, working side by side at this hotel. As my friend Taryn quipped, they did more to build the Doctor and Anita’s relationship in one episode than they did Thirteen and Yaz’s relationship in three seasons. But in this relationship, I did find a few holes, and I don’t think I’m alone in suspecting they mean something. By now, you’ve probably seen a theory or two about Anita being Mrs Flood, and I’m right there with you. While she seems perfectly nice, there are some moments when Anita feels like she’s either a woman out of time, or not of this world. She didn’t recognise police boxes, which is sort of fair. I mean, here in Glasgow, they’re everywhere. But they are still a relic. She also didn’t know what Auld Lang Syne meant. Once again, fair dos, not everyone does. But growing up in the UK and not knowing who Guy Fawkes was? Very suspicious.

The Doctor stays with Anita for an entire year working side by side at the hotel. It gave shades of “The Lodger,” and “The Power of Three,” watching the Doctor stay in one place for an extended period while using his Doctory technology in service of mundane tasks. It was very charming and Christmassy to see the Doctor in this capacity. It only further drove home my belief that Ncuti Gatwa was a shoe-in for the Doctor. However, my internet addled-brain still laughed when they hinged a large portion of the episode’s emotional core around a hotel cuck chair. Moffat is clearly not suffering from the same brain rot as me. It’s Chibnall and VOR (see: vore) all over again. Moffat may have a lot to say about hotel rooms, but so does the internet. Sometimes, the fact that Doctor Who is made by middle aged Doctor Who nerds is entirely apparent. I suppose it’s what makes the show so wonderfully memeable. 

Trev uses the phrase “Everywhere, all at once,” in this epsiode and I can’t help but feel like Doctor Who is dipping its toe into the metaverse. Last season we had a character called Susan Triad who was played by a woman named Susan Twist. Then the characters dance while singing that there is always a twist at the end. If Anita turns out to be Mrs Flood, then we’ll have a woman named Anita Dobson who plays a character named Anita Flood. I’m not saying this is what is happening, but it can’t be lost on RTD. Then again, Moffat did give us Oswin Oswald at the same time we got Osgood and I’ll be damned if it didn’t feel related back then too. One of the recurring theories I see people returning to is that the Doctor is in the Land of Fiction from “The Mindrobber.” Perhaps they have included the Master of the Land into the Pantheon of Gods. If you watched the trailer for season two, you’ll have noticed the large animated character emerging for the theatre screen. It’s either the deepest Eighth Doctor cut ever (Crooked World represent!) or the walls between fiction and reality are bleeding into one another. What will that mean for the Doctor, a fictional character? Doctor Who may be a staple of British culture, but it also exists in a Britain so foreign to modern Britain because it never went through a phase of Dalekmania. None the less, I sense another shakeup on the horizon.

Speaking of Britains from a foreign reality, how about that COVID-19 representation? I say foreign from reality, because if you were to have watched Doctor Who during the pandemic, you would think that their fictional version of Britain never had to deal with the coronavirus. I’m not going to sit here and call Chibnall gutless for not including the pandemic into the storyline. I imagine it was a choice that required a meeting and they ultimately decided not to address it. If I were to guess, I would imagine they left the pandemic out of the show for two reasons. Firstly, they probably wanted Doctor Who to be a reprieve from death and despair. And secondly, they probably wanted to avoid questions like “Why doesn’t the Doctor just give everyone the cure?” So yeah, they probably did what was best at the time and left it at that. I can appreciate that. I can also appreciate them introducing it to give the Tories a proper bollocking.

I’ve seen some complaints about Joy’s decrying the Tories as her mother gasped her final breaths in the hospital. Some people (see: idiots) thought it was too political and woke. Which, if that’s your takeaway from this episode, I pity you. If anything, the Tories got off light. I have friends who lost their mums to COVID and I was happy to see the show finally address the very real situation we survived. I’m old enough to have lived through monkey pox outbreaks, bird flu, SARS, and mad cow disease. I never met anyone who got those diseases. I’ve had COVID three times. The pandemic was out of control in a way no living human had seen since the 1920s. Doctor Who has often struggled with finding the correct tone when tackling deep issues. But I feel like they nailed it here. Oddly, it being a Christmas story allows it the proper tone to reflect on holidays spent with late loved ones.

It’s rare when I watch an episode of Doctor Who when my closest network of friends and family who watch Doctor Who are all in agreement as to its quality. Usually one of us has a grievance to air. But everyone in my little circle really enjoyed the episode. This is surprising considering the somewhat cheesy ending with Bethlehem (though I did love the idea that the Time Hotel is why there was no room at the inn for Mary and Joseph). Myself and Taryn, both atheists, weren’t bothered in the slightest. My friend Alice, a Christian, wasn’t bothered by it on any religious grounds. It was a sweet moment afforded by the fact that it’s Christmas. Besides, if Baby Jesus isn’t invited to his birthday party, then maybe they’re doing something wrong. Other than the usual chuckleheads, I’ve not seen many people complaining about this episode. I did see that some people were let down by the lack of Silurians. The Silurian hotel manager, Melnak, had led some to believe that this Christmas special was going to be rife with Silurians. I never got this impression as he seemed like a one-off character. In fact, after watching the second episode preview, I thought it was implied that the Villengard briefcase hologram took the form of the dominant species during dinosaur times. It would appear that we were all wrong. Other than that and some of Moffat’s weird “women be shopping” brand of dialogue, it was a very solid episode of Doctor Who.

Along with the quiet moments of reflection, the deep connection between the Doctor and Anita, and Joy’s mourning her mother, we even got some exciting action scenes. We got a Jurassic Park style dinosaur with glowy eyes. We even got an exciting train scene. I love watching Ncuti in that flowing coat. He’s like a superhero in his cape atop that train in an ice storm. It was fun to watch him swinging a grappling hook to open the tomb encasing the starseed. But when the Doctor returns, both Joy and the starseed have ascended the stairs to the wild blue yonder above. While I had hoped for a little bit more of a presence of Villengard, I appreciated that this sentient star had more in mind than death and destruction. Villengard was so far from in control of the situation by that point and I loved that. Because, in reality, they’ve always been pathetic and small-time in the Doctor’s world. They acknowledge and appreciate the shared risk all sentient life takes with their actions. They like to think its the same worry people had when they fired up the Hadron Collider, but it’s closer in nature to corporations killing the environment we all depend on. “The Starseed will bloom and the flesh will rise,” wasn’t a threat, but a prelude to Joy’s ascent into the heavens. What’s more is that Trev and the other carriers of the star case will also live on forever in the sky. Leading the wisemen to Jesus and delivering Joy’s mother to the great beyond. If you think this episode didn’t make me cry, you’d be wrong.

The episode ends, but not before revisiting a couple of familiar faces. We see Ruby waiting by her phone for the Doctor to call, but instead it’s her mum. We can expect to see Ruby again, but probably not right away, which I’m fine with. It will give us time to get to know Varada Sethu as “Belinda Chandra,” a name which excites me on two levels. Is she related to Rani Chandra? And why does she have a different name from Mundy Flynn? Is this an Adeola/Martha cousins thing? Or is an Oswin/Clara different versions of the same person thing? Maybe it’s something more? The important thing is that I’m curious and excited to find out. I expect great things from Doctor Who, and if nothing else, chairs for the TARDIS. The future of Doctor Who feels bright from my perspective, I just wish the rest of the fandom felt the same way. 2025, or Hell Year™ 2.0,  is going to be a rough year for a lot of us. Like I said, I understand the need for escapism. You have my permission to feel good about yourself and to enjoy some Doctor Who next year. Fuck the haters. You have value and you deserve to feel joy.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Rewatching “All 2 U” and under the contexts of how I personally perceived Stolas’s songs in “Look My Way” and “When I See Him” theres so much potential here for this to be actually interesting and its so far just being thrown away. In every song I have mentioned Stolas has moments where he stops and thinks “maybe I was the problem”.

Examples being:

"Unless it's me, and no matter what in this world I could give; it's not enough to get through the walls you've conjured up to live"

"I will try to make amends for making you means to an end"

"Am I doing something I can't take back? Would he want me if he was free? And if he's only here as a prisoner what kind of monster does that make me?"

"But maybe it's all on me for missin' every sign and every glance and every turn."

"Maybe there's somethin' here for us to glean for you to teach, and me to try to learn."

All of these imply so much that Stolas could be coming to the conclusion that he was one of the biggest issues in their relationship. Yes Blitz also hold fault, but thats a post for another day. I so truly believe Stolas could be so so interesting even if I personally think Helluva Boss should NOT be a romantic story, there’s still so much potential to it. I’ve mentioned before that I was in a very very similar relationship to whatever “Stolitz” is, and while I both hate my ex and how she treated me, it was not a one sided issue. Yeah she was abusive but also I can’t just say I wasn’t a bit rude at times. Getting off topic though, what I’m trying to say is even if one person is the main issue and you hate them, in certain circumstances you can still have part of your mind that wishes the best for them. I think my main point is that for people like my ex who have mental problems that get in the way of relationships and can result in abusive behaviours, I want the chance for them to see themselves in a character that has done the same things, recognized it, forgiven themselves, and made an attempt to be a better person.

I myself have been in many relationships where my mental problems got in the way and ended up separating me from people I care about in one way or another and I know how dogshit it feels when it happens, especially when you are the problem. Many people don’t like acknowledging that they may be the problem and then when they eventually do realise it, they struggle on trying to fix the issue.

This spans to the people you surround yourselves with as well. Just for example in “All 2 U” Stolas is not the first person to call Blitz a “motherfucker” he explicitly goes to “I don’t think you meant to hurt me” meanwhile Verosika and Tex push the implication that Blitz is the problem and during the rest if the song, as stated before, we see Stolas point out “maybe I was the problem” to which Verosika and Tex immediately but in with blaming Blitz instead. And honestly they have reason to (at least Verosika does and Tex is going by word of mouth I assume) but it plays into the idea that a bad person or abuser cant also be abused.

You can see every time Stolas considers something isn’t Blitz’s fault Verosika and Tex are so quick to step in and tell him he’s wrong. He’s just surrounded by yes people right now and i really believe thats something that could be used in the narrative. Stolas getting away from these people to take in reality and then finally be like “no it was me i was right about it”. And idk it could even lead into more Verosika development where she acknowledges that Blitz has now seen how shitty one-sided and abusive relationships can be and they talk more instead of just like 3 minutes on the stairs. This is a topic I touch on with my Vox rewrite but thats in a different way. I just think with so much buildup to Stolas realising he was a huge issue they could do so much helpful representation in certain ways for people with problems like BPD, bipolar, ROCD, and a bunch of other things. I suffer from the last two and I hardly EVER see these portrayed respectfully or how they actually affect people. It’s always just “im happy and then in 2 seconds im going to be mildly upset :(“ or “omgg I love cleaning!!” with OCD. It’s just so infuriating to see Vivzie not touch on so much potential again.

Also “stolitz” should not get back together even if Stolas became a better person, just to clarify.

[philosophicalparadox]

Uchiha Head-canons pt. 2

A non exhaustive list of my favorite mostly old Uchiha HC’s from back before the manga was completed, and which still exist to me because canon never actually explicitly answered any of the questions:

The sharingan is a proper Divine Blessing/Curse, (somewhat confirmed by canon) in that it is borrowed power that has a somewhat separate Will of its own; it’s not exactly sentient, but it can respond to the emotional energy of its user independently of their conscious or logical desires, I.e. to defend them. Furthermore this is a large reason why the Uchiha face discrimination in the first place; when cornered or threatened, their eyes just do — there is no second guess or real conscience, their power will conjure up any visions of hell it so pleases to deter you from attacking or killing its host.

Secondary to this, since all sharingan can conjure Genjutsu, this is very typically the form in which defensive action takes place. It’s far worse if one has a mangekyou that specializes in it, like Itachi or Shisui, but ultimately all sharingan can and will react defensively by conjuring a Genjutsu.

Speaking of Shisui, one of my favorite HC’s about his name (meaning “still water/doldrum”) is that he got it for having been mistaken as stillborn. Dark, but suits him and his story just fine.

Itachi (meaning “weasel”) is named after Izuna (meaning “stoat”, and animal very like a weasel but tiny lol, they’re also called an ermine when they change colour in winter.)

As I’m sure many followers know by now, and as a repeat, I totally HC a strong prevalence of Autism in the Uchiha clan. It just explains so much.

On a related note (haha punny) I think it DOES in fact make sense for there to be an auspicious absence of anti-incest instinct in the Uchiha clan, because, yknow, it’s kind of integral to their continued existence. This theory gets a lot of crap from antis, but I’m not even a hard shipper really, I just think it suits the narrative implications. 🤷‍♀️

I don’t think I’ve seen this HC elsewhere but I’ve had it forever: awakening the sharingan too young is often fatal, AND there is such a thing as sharingan abilities too powerful for their user. Canon also sort of confirmed this later with Sasuke. But I’m talking like, a Mangekyou ability that will kill its host if they’re too young or too weak for it. Part and parcel of it being a supernatural power.

Speaking of narrative implications: Hyuuga and Uchiha blood don’t mix well. I personally like this explanation better than the whole vicious rivalry thing because that’s kind of counter to the whole founding point of Konoha???? So let there be an inciting cause: that for one reason or another, Hyuuga x Uchiha results in poor outcomes. Either it’s prone to rendering the offspring completely powerless, or it renders them too powerful for their own sake; either it results in most likely a Byakugan that’s un-turn-off-able, or it quite possibly results in a higher incidence of rinnegan, which might I remind you tends to kill its hosts.

Under similar pretense, Uchiha and Senju blood don’t particularly mix well either…except that they do, and that is precisely the problem. I’ve long HC’ed Kagami and Shisui as possessing Senju blood to explain their power differences. (And curly hair, maybe) Madara and Izuna too I wish to believe have Senju blood, perhaps more distantly, or else they’ve got Mystery Blood that’s not pure Uchiha. Which is deliberately very ironic lol.

As a final and very dark HC, the fact that Uchiha do canonically practice a form of selective breeding/eugenics means that the culls have to go somewhere. Given how valuable their genes are, as well as how very traditional, I imagine that they officially send their unwanted away to live better lives…which is to say that they might tell people that, and indeed some families probably did, but the real world historical precedent for this both in Japan and out has always been infanticide. 😢 I mean there’s also the precedent from families who didn’t agree with the practice, as I said, where they’d send their littles away, sometimes crippling them on purpose depending on why, (intentionally blinded Uchiha survivors, anybody?) which I also HC, but there is likely something of an unspoken assumption that kids who “just didn’t make it” were, in fact, murdered. The politics of this are interesting and very disturbing at the same time lol.

I’ll probably be back with round 3 at some point but for now have all the brainrot

[crowleysgirl56]

Book Omens! A meandering journey to reading Good Omens to my son. The finale!

Well we finished it! Here are some thoughts and observations from both my son and myself (mostly myself actually).

- did I miss something or did Hastur just not do anything further once he got out of the answer-machine and ate all the telemarketers? In the show he manifests in the Bentley then gets discorporated and sent back to hell when Crowley drives through the ball of fire on the M25. But the book just has him coming through the phone line, turning into maggots, devouring the room of telemarketers and then that’s it. Also, it’s been a while since I’ve watched season 1, do they show that the telemarketers are brought back to life because the book has one of them call Newt and then gets annoyed that they’ve lost an entire day because they think it’s still Saturday (assuming this is thanks to Adam putting the world right again). Anyway, this is all to say that I find it odd that the thread of Hastur is just left hanging like that. Which makes me wonder if he was always supposed to have a major part to play in the book’s sequel (and therefore season 3). I recently read an old interview where Pratchett said the makings of the sequel are built into the book. Could this be one of those threads?

- on the subject of Hastur my son said that while he was stuck in the answer-machine Crowley should have just turned him into The Best of Queen, and HOW THE HELL HAS NO ONE THOUGHT OF THAT?! This kid is so clever sometimes he’d make Crowley proud.

- another major thing I noticed and I’m hoping I just didn’t miss something crucial here, is it’s never explained where Crowley got the holy water from. Is it implied it was Aziraphale in the book and I just completely missed it? All of this backstory was of course included in season 1 and I’m wondering if it was included specifically because it was never explained in the book. And again, because there was no explanation, would this have been included in the sequel?

- a sudden though regarding the bikers. There’s never any indication that they were restored. I don’t know if this means anything specifically, but considering there’s the short gag at the end of the book that implies the telemarketers were returned and also the delivery man, I wonder why this didn’t happen for the bikers. Again, is this another thread for the sequel?

- I’ve taken some screen shots below of more passages in the book that made me realise why I never thought Aziraphale and Crowley were romantically coded to each other the first time I read through the book (and I think I might do a deeper dive into these passages in a separate post).

Any thoughts about this is welcome. But again, it seems to be one of those “squint to see the deeper relationship” cases here.

- I will admit however the fact that they had no problem holding hands may have been what gave people pause to think about their relationship. Though could their relationship have been framed platonically, like for example Frodo and Sam in LoTR? (don’t come at me for that comparison. I get that Frodo and Sam are shipped constantly, but Tolkien very specifically said their relationship was about platonic companionship and the type of companionship that hetero men seem to be afraid to show each other in modern times.)

- the last passage involving Warlock was really interesting. Again I couldn’t remember if it’s included in the show, but there definitely did seem to be some kind of implication that there was more to Warlock than him just being the swapped child. Again, was this another thread for the sequel? Was it implied that he would now be the new antichrist? Or could he perhaps be the second coming? Will we see him in season 3?

So, overall impressions. My son liked it but I think a lot of it went over his head (I had to stop and explain a lot of religious canon to him, a lot of the satire, and most of the jokes). He liked Death and the rest of the horsemen and also the bikers. He identified with Adam but still didn’t quite understand why Adam just didn’t use his powers for good (bless him). He didn’t really feel anything in particular for Aziraphale and Crowley (sob!). He also asked me to explain what happened season 2 and why I’m sad about it. He is also now very sad for me, and is very angry with NG.

Maybe one day he’ll read the book again for himself and find the humour much more relatable. He is interested in reading Discworld again and maybe this time will stick it out.

I personally am glad I read it again for myself. And I’m also really grateful for all the fanfic that we have that expands on the story and the characters. Thank you so much to the fandom for your fabulous stories and your love for these characters. And thanks for following along with my ramblings.

[2deadkat]

Ever seen “Black Sad”? What’re your thoughts on them if so

Okay lemme stop you right there before I start fanboying out…I LOVE Blacksad, it’s one of my favorite comics of all time…the art is so immersive and the writing is so smooth it’s one of my biggest inspirations actually. I make a lot of my mini comics with that in mind fun fact. I’ve read all the comics during December of 2022 and it has burnt into my mind ever since (tho the recent one has ended on a cliffhanger and I haven’t heard any new updates which is making me salty)

Honestly I love the fact that it’s a novel detective story with animal people and something about Blacksad screams peak design…

though the implications of fur color racism in this universe has got me thinking a lot but somehow it makes sense (I’m not sure if you know one of the comics is about a white supremacy group filled with pure white animals). Overall they have really good mysteries, I like the one in New Orleans and the other in Route 66. The way they delve into the culture also…there’s a huge show don’t tell aspect into the comics I really like. What I mean by that it’s very visual, there’s a lot of emphasis on action and expression which pairs really well with the thoughts of the characters, and you know Blacksad’s a detective so he monologues a lot, it works.

Idk how to describe it and maybe I’m wrong but it makes scenes where they’re just talking so endearing to look at and it makes me engage with the story really well…

Btw the spreads are insane…so much background detail, I’d recommend you see the full things for yourself

And now it’s time for my major complaint…why the fuck do all (or at least a majority I know Blacksad himself has more humanistic features) the male characters have beastly features compared to the female characters that is just a basic human body and with cat ears and a nose???

Hell even if there are more animalistic designs of women the problem is they’re either on the side or just a joke/gimmicky character compared to the ones that are a major part of the storyline it seems unfair with the male cast. Like you know you can an attractive furry woman without relying too much on humanistic features right???

So far the only redemption I see is with the alpaca lady with the “they all fall down” comic so I’ll give it that.

But yeah that’s the only thing that’s taking me out of reading these comics…and also the fact they play with women’s suffering for shock value for the sake of the story which seems to be a staple in noir/pulp type fiction. Which is…nothing I can do about but it’s more of a pet peeve really :/

But yeah despite all that it is still my favorite comic ever and a huge art influence minus the female furry design…

[ziploc849]

Alright I’m back on my TMA bullshit welcome to the circus. This is a long with many episodes worth of thoughts so strap in

62. Holy FUCK. Mary fucking Keay is here and she’s killing people and putting their skin in a book to. Summon them again??? I have truly no understanding of the implications of this but what the hell man. Also Gertrude is either fucking crazy or knew waaaay more than we do (or both. Both is a solid option at this point) cuz she took everything very well. Also when asked who the book was from, Keay just said “The End”??? Like fucking Minecraft???? Idk what the hell this lady is talking about.

(Also I feel like I recognize the idea of a “The *blank*” in this series. I can’t remember if we’ve seen it before or if I’ve just collected some knowledge after being on the outskirts of the fandom for so long but. Whatever it is it’s fucked and I’m intrigued)

63 What is up with this fucking architect guy what is his deal???? Why does he keep building fucked up places where fucked up things happen??? Also weird that the people in the church seem to know/want to cover up something is odd. Also also the end with Melanie King coming back was an interesting lil thing, of all the characters I expected to be recurring I was not expecting her. Don’t like that she got saddled with Not-Sasha though, hopefully it’s nothing or there are at least other witnesses to her leaving cause otherwise she might not be as recurring anymore. Idk what Not-Sasha’s deal is but I Do Not like it

64. ARCHAEOLOGY MENTION FUCK YEAH. I could honestly go on a whole rant about just how much I dislike Gwynne based on her ideals when it comes to archaeology, as someone who wants to be in the field myself, but I digress. I am curious about the fact that this is someone clearly long dead who still was conscious in some capacity? Clearly they didn’t want to continue as they were. It sounds sort of similar to something one of the officers mentioned in an episode they were giving statements (can’t remember which). One of them mentioned being called to a scene where someone who seemed like they should’ve been dead from a suicide attempt kept trying to reach for the gun. The moment where the skeleton was trying to stab themself in the chest gave me a very similar vibe in the worst possible way.

65. I am following maybe 3 of the words this woman is saying in the first 7 or so minutes. But also the stuff she mentions with the man eating the computer is so unbelievably unsettling, and the stuff he was saying is fascinating. “The maze is sharp on my mind. The angles cut me when I try to think” especially reminds me of all the variations of endless mazes or places we’ve seen in the show so far. Jon reaching out to specifically tech savvy people is also super smart, and it’s sick that he has access to Gertrude’s laptop now. Tim and Jon fighting felt like listening to parents fighting. Im glad Jon is both getting a stern talking to and Tim is getting some sort of understanding of where Jon’s coming from. The fact that they both mention they can’t quit/can’t fire the other is interesting especially. I know stuff like that has been mentioned before, I’m pretty sure after the first encounter with the worms Martin mentioned something about “why don’t I quit?” But regardless it’s just another weird fuckin thing going on

66. Mikael fucking Salesa, what is your problem. I honestly don’t have a lot to say about this episode, definitely another example of weird extradimensional spaces, and some mentions of the weird, unexplainable heat, but also the way he mentioned the box “punishing him” as if it was a living thing was interesting. I also have a lot of thoughts on the stuff mentioned about Gertrude, and I’m really fascinated by all the stuff Jon mentioned about stopping asking about who killed her and focusing more on the why. As we’ve actually gotten to hear some of her recordings, esp the one with Mary Keay where she’s incredibly nonchalant about the murder and skin book, I think it’s an interesting idea that she may have been more suspicious that we thought.

Finally I think her lil shopping list was interesting, but honestly it’s the more mundane stuff rather than the Leitners that interest me, but I’ll probably make a seperate post about that cause it kinda rolls into a theory I’ve been sitting on for a little bit now

[vanisagi27]

The double standards in Manhwas are absolutely crazy

These days I saw ppl liking the Villainess' half siblings from a Manhwha just because when they first met her, a maid's affair child with the Emperor, they acted disgusted towards, this is from Into The Light Again and yes it's about Marianne, okay I know Marianne isn't exactly the best girl ever and she's honestly really good at being a villain and a bitch in general

I don't think it's okay that Marianne was treated like that by the fans, the circumstances on whether or not Marianne actually saw her more legitimate siblings got disgusted with her or that was just her being an unreliable narrator, but I would take it as face value since well after Marianne did the whole face switched thing with the FL, Aisha's appearance but not their birth facts, Marianne is still a maid child and Aisha was the Empress' child, so yeah the excuse that they were brainwashed by Marianne was clearly bullshit to me if they really love Aisha that much, honestly this brainwashed trope can go so good or so bad, also the Manhwa and Webnovel adaptations have many differences so it was muddied (Apparently in the novel, the legitimate siblings were very welcoming and think how to greet the new child, Marianne, so yeah I have no idea where to go)

I don't even read this Manhwa and I have no big issues with it, even though it has some really questionable stuff like the 1000+ age gaps, I'm not buying the immortal x mortal ship with this

My problem is the fandom, everyone hates Marianne for just existing, I don't think this mindset is good at all cuz now they're using that to attack other fans cuz they're in love with Marianne for whatever reasons, I kept seeing comments about demeaning Marianne as a character, saying that she's a stupid maid child who doesn't know her place, outright stating that she's a worthless dirty child just because of her bloodline, yeah she's basically hated by everyone cuz she didn't come out of a royal womb. It's the classist toxic culture I hated, I used to do that and honestly it was draining more than exhilarating, mindless hatred is a waste of my time, that's why I really hate that attitude too

So, I took the time to read 40 chapters, I think, of the manwha as well as reading some spoilers myself, to be able to have a proper opinion on the matter.

(Spoilers if you haven’t read it)

I’m not sure if it’s my bad memory, but I’m pretty much sure that Marianne’s origin as a maid’s child wasn’t brought up in the first chapter. But we do see how Marianne is manipulative and how she orchestrated Alyssa’s execution, which I think does validate any feeling of disgust towards her.

From what I found, Marianne’s half-siblings were welcoming of their new sister into the family. All the other children were practically ignored by their parents, and were supportive of this new sister regardless of her parentage and “status” as an affair child.

After the brainwashing, Marianne was loved despite her previously mentioned parentage, so I don’t think she needed to change it if she already got what she wanted. And, I might be wrong since I’ve not read the novel, so I don’t know the full story, but Marianne doesn’t strike me as trying to clean her origins or improve her “legitimacy.” Maybe if she were after the crown and was planning on eliminating the other direct heirs, it would have made more sense if she had also switched her parentage with Alyssa. 

I don’t think the brainwashing was BS if they loved Alyssa so much, as you put it. Since we are not talking about a brainwashing done by human hands, with their horrific implications. We have the supernatural factor of it having occurred by demonic magic. I’m not a big fan of magic systems (I liked SVTFOE, and even then, I had many questions on how the magic was supposed to work), so I didn’t pay much attention to the scenes where they talked about spirits and demons. But I’m aware that demonic magic is very powerful. 

From Marianne’s few scenes (Like, seriously, when I was reading, I was hoping for her to appear, but she had so few appearances. Why?), we can say that she’s a villain with no remorse for her actions and, even if she was given a chance to redeem herself, she wouldn’t take it. 

So, on that hand, I can understand the hate she might get from readers who vouch for the protagonist. However, one completely different thing is hating her for something she had no control over as how she came to be and who her parents are. As you put it, it’s classist and toxic. 

 Similarly to how Rashta was often referred to by some fans of TRE as “A lowly slave who doesn’t know her place”, and that mentality angers me so much. 

Hate her, or love her, or both, as much as you want, but I don’t think it’s justified to hate someone (a character in this case) just because of their origin, as I said, it’s something nobody has control over and shouldn’t be held against them like a crime they voluntarily commited.

If I was wrong in anything I said about Marianne, please feel free to correct me.

[sge-witchery]

Coven Review

Now that it has been a few days since I read the new SGE graphic novel, I figured my thoughts are coherent enough to write an actual review! I should preface this by saying that I am a huge fan of the coven and these three characters are the reason why I’m still in the SGE fandom, soooo there might be a little bit of bias due to how starved I was for canon content.

My first impression of the graphic novel was favorable. Starting from a merely surface level perspective, it’s very appealing. The book itself has a cool cover design, and I enjoy the artwork a lot. I feel like it’s a good blend between a comic book style and a more stylized graphic novel style, which I liked (and I will definitely be doing some panel redraws once I have time).

Speaking of the art though, let’s discuss the designs of our main witches. Before now, we never really got much art of them at all, other than the horrendous portraits in the EverNever handbook (no offense to the handbook artist or anything, I just don’t like them). Anadil is PERFECT. I actually recently drew her in a similar outfit that she’s wearing in the graphic novel without even knowing that was her design. It just suits her so well! I’ll talk more about her later, but she is iconic in this, and her design is no exception. I was a bit on the fence about Hester’s design at first ngl. I think it’s mostly the shirt. It almost seems too… comfortable? Idk how to describe it, but I think I would change the shirt to a darker grey button up and make the tunic/sweatshirt a bit longer so it more resembles a cloak. That’s me being nitpicky though. I like that she cut her hair, as we see has changed from the photo of all of them, and I think that really suits her. I do have a couple issues with Dot’s design. I feel like she could’ve been drawn more consistently plus-sized throughout the novel. Maybe that’s too critical but idk. Her skin tone could’ve been a richer brown as well, it just seemed a little ashy to me. That’s just my opinion tho, and other than those two things I really like the design! The dress really suits her character, and her hair looks excellent!

I’ve honestly never really read SGE for the plot. Like the plot is fine (sometimes), but I feel like for the most part it’s more of a character driven series. I feel like I went into this graphic novel feeling the same. The plot was actually relatively interesting on its own to be honest. The disappearing faces and mysterious murders are exactly the type of mysteries I’d expect the coven to solve. The introduction of a magical substance, though similar to plots in other fantasy series, was compelling enough. However, I do feel like there was a bit too much exposition about the island that I didn’t care about at all. Granted, it could be partially because I was solely reading for the coven, but I also think some of it could have been consolidated. I also wish there was more coven backstory! Oh well, I guess that means my fanfic backstories can be canon in my head. Anyways, in terms of the writing in general, it was pretty typical of SGE, in a good way and a bad way.

The good part is the banter. The banter between the characters is one of the things I’ve always loved about SGE. It’s hilarious and usually done really well. I missed the coven banter, and the moment they all started talking to each other I immediately was reminded of previous scenes between the three of them. The bad part is what I can really only describe as audience disconnect. It’s kind of like Soman can’t decide if his books are middle grade or not. Like ik in the original series, there would be parts that are quite violent or have unintended implications, and then he would try to tie it together with some message about morality, friendship, family etc (book 2 is coming to mind with everything I just said). I feel like the main problem I had with the graphic novel was that after the murder and mystery, the attempt to spell out the #friendship message at the end came across like he just remembered he’s supposed to be writing for middle schoolers.

This phenomenon is also why I think he’s so hesitant writing explicitly LGBTQ characters. Which, Nico di Angelo and Will Solace? Sundew and Willow? Your witches can be official girlfriends in a middle grade book, don’t be a coward (half joking). I would discuss the past portrayal of queer characters in SGE, but this is already super long. Either way, given that past, I wasn’t really expecting much from Hester and Anadil, but there were actually quite a few moments between them that made me so happy. Especially Anadil catching Hester, bc that’s such a great callback to their whole thing in book 6! I also really liked how the dynamic between them kinda followed an arc that wasn’t finished at the end of the series. Bc it seemed like in book 6 Anadil was starting to be more assertive, both in coven decision making as a whole as well as in her dynamic with Hester, and it was nice to see that explored more.

And that brings me to arguably my favorite part of the graphic novel: the characterization! Starting with Anadil since I was just talking about her, I loved her characterization in this. In the past, I’ve seen people in the fandom say she doesn’t have a personality, to which my younger self literally wrote an entire essay to dispute 😭. The part of that lovely opinion piece that’s relevant here tho is that she does let herself be more emotional and opinionated around her coven and lets her personality shine through. One scene in the graphic novel that I thought really showcased that was when she got pissed that Hester called her “emotional.” And maybe I’m reading too much into that, but I think it makes sense that she’d get upset about getting called emotional when she prides herself, especially in the first three books, on being emotionless. It probably especially would hurt being accused of that by Hester when she’s one of the only people Anadil lets down her walls for. To close this off, because if I’m not stopped I could yap for hours about this, I like how in this novel, Anadil seems to have grown into becoming the reasonable, logical member of the coven, something that fits with her unfinished character arc in book 6. I think she is definitely needed with how impulsive both Hester and Dot can be at times.

And in regards to Hester and Dot, it was so satisfying to see lingering plot lines from the books finally be addressed and resolved. I talked about this in my other post as well, but I enjoyed Dot voicing how she felt like Anadil and Hester didn’t need her. It was clear that Dot had been struggling with that before, but along with a lot of the bullying she faced, it wasn’t addressed until now. And her covenmates telling her they needed her made be so happy. Despite it being a little bit of a regression, I’m glad Hester’s obsession with being the leader was also addressed. She really needed to learn to see her covenmates as equals in regard to skill and decision making, and I’m glad she finally did. Something I found interesting too was how much Hester dislikes being compared to her mother. One of the first things we learned about her character was that she doesn’t want to be like her mom, but in the sense that she wants to be a better, smarter witch. I’m curious how the reasoning has changed now that she’s not necessarily on the “evil” side. Not really characterization, but I also loved seeing Dot use other foods and desserts besides chocolate in her spells. We knew she could do that because she turned things into veggies in AWWP, but that was never brought up again and it’s great to see she’s grown and expanded her power along with her confidence.

Overall, I enjoyed the graphic novel for its characterization/ character development, its fun character interactions, and its cool designs and artwork. It obviously has its flaws, but to me, flaws make the SGE fandom more fun (and any fandom, for the most part). I was very happy to see my favorite characters again after years of wondering if this project was really in the works, and I think it MAY inspire me to create some new fan works. This is way too long and I doubt anyone will read all of it, but I love these witches; I couldn’t help myself 😅

[electricbluebutterflies]

“It’s fine, I’m used to it” for Frank and Karen

Post-whatever, PG-ish, also on ao3.

New experience of the week – using cheap vodka for sterilization.

It is one in the morning, somehow that feels early for such an encounter, and Karen is on her knees on her bathroom floor and hoping to a god she stopped believing in a long time ago that she’s just blown through her what-even-is-my-life quota for the week because otherwise…

“You sure this is a good idea?”

Someday, she thinks, someday she’s going to learn not to ask questions like that.

It is one in the goddamn morning and one of the most dangerous men in New York City is sitting on her bathroom rug, shirtless, looking like his body got used as a knife sharpener and that may just be close enough to what happened that Karen isn’t inclined to confirm and-

“Could do it myself.”

But he’d rather not, the implication is. He’d rather not, and they have their whole don’t-ask-don’t-tell thing going on that might just ruin her life but has also saved it, and fuck some of these look awful, and-

“Tell me what I’m doing.”

She’s not a field medic, she wants to say, but that’s not the point. She is a pair of steady hands that are not attached to the damaged body opposite her, and she trusts experiences she has not had, and-

“Get the washcloth… maybe not soaked, I don’t know how much of that stuff you even have, but-“

“I can get more in the morning. If this is something I’ll need to have.”

For when this happens again, she leaves unspoken. For when this becomes yet another routine she never asked for.

She pours more vodka onto the cloth than she probably should – it’s not like that was something she ever drank for the taste – and figures out the next step, gentle application to wounds and-

Frank makes a noise she did not know he could make, an involuntary reaction to the burn of it, and her heart breaks a little.

Her face must do something she loses control over because next thing she knows his hand is over hers, comforting even through this. “It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it.”

Like hell, she wants to say and doesn’t. He’s used to a lot of things he shouldn’t be, and why should this be any easier, why should this be-

“What now?”

“You ever mended anything?”

She likes that it’s a question, that there’s no assumption she has that skill just because of how often she wears skirts, and-

“I don’t think you’re that desperate. Are you?”

“Could go either way. Shoulder isn’t the easiest to-“

“I can try.”

Why this is her problem…

Right. Because of everything she’s not saying. Because of everything she’ll never say to anyone. Because for all her weaknesses, she’s as committed to this disaster as it gets, because she sees the man more than the motivations, because he’s burning bright and she cares too much and-

“It’s just the one. Everything else… don’t know what you’ve got for bandages, but…”

“I think I’ve got those. You do owe me a decent first-aid kit though.”

“’Course.”

She dips a needle in the vodka because that’s what they do on TV, either alcohol or burning it and she figures this option will hurt less, and-

“Do you mind that your stitches are going to be green?”

“Don’t think anyone else will see them.”

Apparently this is something one eyeballs until it feels right. Karen has never attempted to sew human skin together before, and honestly she’d prefer to never do this again, and she suspects this too will become the fucked-up kind of normal they’ve ended up with and-

He doesn’t finch. Doesn’t do anything one would expect under the circumstances. He’s done this to himself too, she knows that part and is trying not to think about it, and what she’s doing now may qualify as an improvement and that’s goddamned terrifying and-

“That look okay?”

“Don’t matter how it looks, only matters that it holds. And that should. Thank you.”

“You’re willing to risk a weird scar because you asked someone to-“

“You’ve left marks on me, Karen. Might as well add some physical ones too.”

She des not have the active brain cells to process that statement right now, she decides as she turns her attention to the rest of him, to cuts that need to be wiped down and-

This better not become a routine, she thinks as she bandages what she can, and at the same time she wouldn’t be remotely surprised if it does, and she’s not sure she’d mind either.

“Did mean what I said about the kit,” he says when she’s finished, still too close and not close enough.

“Planning to make me need it?”

“If you don’t want-“

“Don’t give me that look. If I didn’t want you here, you’d know.”

She’s not sure how she ends up with his arm around her shoulders, both of them sitting against the wall like this is normal and comfortable and good and oh, someday she wants to trace the countless lines on his skin, someday she wants-

“There’s space between not wanting and-“

Fine. She can’t imagine anyone else reacting as easily to any of this as she has. She doesn’t mind.

“You’re staying.”

“You’re not negotiating.”

“You look like your body went through a paper shredder, and that’s just the parts I can see. If there’s anything you’re hiding…”

“You trying to get me undressed?”

“Do I need to be?”

“No ma’am. Everything was above the belt.”

“If you get infected because you didn’t want me to see your thighs…”

“Promise.”

She believes hi just enough. There are no other movements for a while, no attempts to get her off him, nothing-

“You’re staying,” she repeats. “On the couch.”

“You’re good to me, Karen.”

“I try.”

And if they don’t make it that far, if they end up asleep on the bathroom floor…

They’ve both slept in worse situations, Karen thinks as her eyes close, as she decides his good shoulder will do as a pillow. This is fine. Really.