#patchy rant
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I really don't use Twitter a lot aside from keeping up with some youtubers I watch but
Shit like this is the reason I'm very closed off about my interests normally.
Just about everywhere I've been on the internet minus Tumblr, people are way too comfortable with being assholes to other people just because they like something that they don't.
"Oh but it sounds bad"
That's cool and all but who tf asked.
#friday night funkin#patchy rant#fnf corruption mod#fnf corruption au#just let people enjoy things#they arent hurting you#so why waste the energy being a dick about it?
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i keep seeing this post in my “based on ur likes” that’s like “haha i hate when i find some me who makes amazing edits on tiktok but then i find out they’re a maoshdhhd shipper and have to unlike all their videos and unfollow them and block them bcz i won’t be caught dead following one of those asshats lmao” (exaggerated obv) and like idk i feel like unfollowing someone JUST bcz they like a ship u don’t like is kinda shallow and i think a bunch of ppl in the Byler corner of this fandom do rlly have a problem where they just cannot interact w/ a Mileven shipper lest they idk explode or smthn like it’s kinda present aswell in how for every other post u guys make ull tag it “#byler #<- target audience”, sometimes when it isn’t even fandom related (it makes scrolling through the Byler tag insanely annoying, ive had to block multiple ppl bcz their unrelated life stories were clogging up the tag) and yeah idk guys i get wanting to just talk in amongst ourselves but the not even wanting to see unrelated content from a Mileven shipper/for them to see ur unrelated content idk at that point it’s just kinda dumb
#no hate to the person who made that post it’s just smthn i’ve been annoyed abt for a while and wanted to talk abt#like honestly guys idk why ur so uptight abt that#it’s not like the mileven who sees ur post abt how ur dog got cancer or whatever’ll go on ur account and see ur a byler shipper#and go off abt how ur not keeping the ships separate or whatever#honestly i think u guys would actually enjoy talking to some mileven shippers#like a while ago me nd one of them decided to have a discussion abt it via dms#and honestly it made me more convinced byler was happening bcz their logic seemed kinda patchy at times#and their view of the characters did not at all match up w/ mine#and yeah idk this is just a kinda pointless rant lmao#(also not censoring mileven bcz this is just talking abt the byler fandom not the ship and isn’t slandering them or anything)#stranger things#byler#byler fandom#ryan shut the fuck up
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having a breakdown im not making it to my senior year I CANT
#ㅤ⠀ 𝓛𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 ♡ㅤ#rant.#guys Guys help me#eraser is Oh my god#he started goinf to second chance breakfast (breakfast after first hr)#and he hangs out with me and my friends bcs hes friends w one of them#AND AND AND#he needs to stop.#guys#we were#we were like a foot away from eo and we got in line for breakfast and he bumped into me#i hate him so bad#he has stubble and its patchy and hes ugly and he made me cry and hes a loser and hes immature and he got with one of my friends#bye why do i want him hes evil#i hope they break up tho 🤗🤗 i want him to be unhappy I HATE HIM#CAN HE STOP BEING IN MY PRESENCE I SWEAERRHXHCJV
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Found this rant in my notes and I think I was correct even though I was probably in a rage induced fugue state when I wrote it
‘You have no fucking clue how much I despise when every character in fics gets to be nuanced except gamzee who gets called disgusting and written like he’s 20 years older than the other characters and is a predator fuck that shit or at least start tagging your fics I hate gamzee and take everything AH says as gospel and it shows really obviously. I just wanna read a fucking fic were gamzee is in the background and not being constantly shat on if I wanted to read the epilogues I’d read the fucking epilogues’ ~caliborn to the note app on his phone at some point
#hark says i#gamzee rant#gamzee makara#the reason I was in that note in the first place is I came up with this cool rhyme thingy to draw patchy and klaus to#it’s ~let’s get remarried. with no priest in sight. this time I’ll be your husband. and you’ll be my wife.~#I don’t know shit about poetry but it fucking came too me#caliborns fandom bitching
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wiping off emporio’s tears.....
i’ve been away from tumblr for quite some time. i got caught in my work aaaaaaaaaaaaaand i’d been trying to avoid using social media in hopes of dodging stone ocean’s spoilers for the last batch (though i’ve already finished reading the manga last year).
but what can i say? i feel so bad for emporio because he’s still have the memories from the original universe while his friends don’t. imagine the trauma of living the life with your friends (or other people) who have no idea who you are and the recollection of your friendship are gone with the wind.....
yes i cried....i did.....for real. and look!!!!! i even tried wiping off emporio’s tears on the screen even if it’s laughably impossible. at least i tried, okay?
but something reminded me a few hours after i finished the last batch. i have a cousin who used to work in orlando, florida (the setting where the events of stone ocean took place). she gave me 2 mugs from starbucks several years ago as souvenirs from her trip.
and guess what?
both of the items have motifs from the series. a dolphin.......and a rocket......and palm trees too.............the recurring pieces that make up the whole picture that is stone ocean. it’s freaking crazy because i have these for several years.
it felt like araki knew what was up with me. it’s as if he knew that years from then i’ll be a hardcore jojo fan even if i wasn’t aware of the series’ existence back then.
my workmate even joked that everything was meant to be, that i’m just a late-bloomer stand user. that i’ll be watching the series years later.
it’s a shame though the mugs are just kept in a dusty corner. i’ll be cleaning them and then repurpose them as display pieces along with the jolyne and jotaro plushies i’ll be planning to buy soon.
until then........back to crying TT_____TT
#jjba#stone ocean#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure#Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken#spoilers#emporio alnino#patchie talks#dont mind me im just ranting out all the feels i got for the last batch#goddamn everything was so emotional starting the cape canaveral arc#I CRIED OKAY IT WAS NOT A DUMB SHIT JOKE TT_______TT#but yes i got goosebumps when i unearthed those starbucks mugs i got eons ago#ARAKI KNEW WHATS UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP#life is a jojo reference#funny because those mugs were 100% accurate to the recurring theme#of the part#DONT WORRY I'LL BE DRAWING jOLYSUI ON HOLIDAYS OKAY I JUST GET SWAMPED WITH WORKKKKKKKK
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A Disturbed State Of The Natural Environment, Gods-Fucking-Dammit
A Pada-Wan Story
for @lttrsfrmlnrrgby
“Obi— Commander Kenobi-“
“You can call me Obi-Wan, Cody,” the kid huffs. “Neither you nor I will suddenly combust into a ball of fire if you do.”
You don’t know that, Cody thinks, not liking how his voice sounds in his mind.
Four days since the incident - or, “The Incident,” how Boil and Waxer like to say in unison with the bucket lights under their chins -, two since the 104th of all Battalions received their signal and towed the 212th fleet to the nearest station within the Republic that would allow them to overhaul the ships’ electronics.
It has been exactly two point five hours since Wolffe stopped wheezing at Cody over comms. Nearly as much time as the kid had vanished from under Cody’s paranoid nose.
“Councilor Kenobi is safe and sound,” General Koon had assured him while Wolffe stood at perfect parade rest a step behind, shriek-laughing his armor off.
The kid sighs. “You have come here for a reason?” he asks, stubborn and prim. “Or is Wooley babysitting me not enough?” He points a thumb over his shoulder to Wooley popping up several yards away, waving.
“If you haven’t noticed Hook, Line, and Sinker also keeping an eye on you, my trepidations are justified.”
The kid rolls his eyes, gesturing to three empty looking spots in the distance. “I am well aware Master Koon is in league with you.”
Cody will not explain safety precautions again. He’s saving that for when the kid really sets out to stomp on any and all walls Cody had to hastily and thoroughly built when his General, his partner, suddenly turned into a child at the worst possible development stage for Cody’s sanity.
The kid studies him while Cody is trying to come up with a legitimate reason for looking for him. Direct admittance to personal concern would backfire on Cody in multiple, entertaining ways, and he frankly doesn’t want to deal with that. From the kid being smug that Cody cares about him very much so keeping his distance must mean something more. To accusations of not trusting Obi-Wan (which, correct, Cody doesn’t know him after all), seeing him as a kid (also true) when he’s sixteen and basically a stone’s throw away from becoming a geezer.
Sixteen. Cody shudders. He remembers very well that half year when he was that developmental age. He shudders again. Gods, the mood swings alone.
“I am reasonably paranoid about your welfare,” he says at last. Wooden which makes him cringe but he’s never lied to Obi-Wan and he’s not starting now.
The kid stares at him for a while. One corner of his mouth quirks up with a shrug and a shuttered look in his eyes Cody desperately wants to make better. “It’s different when they really are out to get you, isn’t it.” The Council had explained how precarious his older self’s safety was at the best of times. Cody had only seen the aftermath and the accompanying ranting about life choices with the occasional visibly happy understanding that Obi-Wan could, actually, grow a non-patchy beard when he’s got a few more years on him.
“May I sit with you?” Cody asks. Shoveling his own metaphorical grave is so much easier with mixed signals after all. But he misses the older Obi-Wan. It’s not fair of him but he needs this.
The expected blush blooms on freckled cheeks. “Yes, of course!” is the eager reply, followed by more blushing.
It’s endearingly cute and Cody would like to chew on his bucket now.
The kid scoots over, wide eyed and expectant.
Gingerly, Cody lowers himself, ignoring the armor digging into his ass and thighs. And lets the silence stretch.
This, really, is what he came here for. A self-indulgent little break to catch his breath. The High General of a Systems Army is compromised and that fact has to remain eyes only to an exclusive handful of people. Only the Jedi Council knows out of obvious necessity. So it’s up to Cody to keep everything else running, keeping the admiralty in the dark because even teenaged Obi-Wan had said he’s got a bad feeling if they were to tell the brass. So they haven’t.
Usually, when flimsiwork and war horrors keep stacking up and expand into an avalanche, Obi-Wan and Cody sit together in silence, sharing a precious cup of real tea, being together and lending support and strength they can’t find for themselves but can always, always find for each other.
Selfishly he wants that strength from Obi-Wan now, the warmth of his body nearby. He’s already breathing easier.
The kid is looking at him curiously, but Cody chooses not to say anything. Instead he turns forward once more, watching the busy night markets of the station and the stars behind it. After a moment the kid does the same.
Shoulders slowly relax and the silence becomes comfortable.
#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#codywan#star wars#star wars fanart#frostbitebakery art#padawan obi wan#what are you going to do when Jedi robes are too big#you go to a storage closet and cry#poor cody#ahhh it’s been so long since I promised to draw this!#de aged!obi wan
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tried watching the new queen charlotte series but was immediately put off by the ridiculous anti-corset propaganda, so get ready for another rant.
first of all, this is the georgian era so what she's wearing are called /stays/ - corsets are a victorian invention. why do we still not know this in 2023 when period productions have remained consistently popular throughout the years? the concept of tighlacing (the goal being a reduction of the waist) is also victorian and was not the norm at all and v much an extreme practice. this understanding of history is so superficial, it's as if an alien were to open up People magazine and conclude that all human women resort to butt injections and lip fillers to stay with the fashion of the times. also, no, you cannot tighlace in stays to obtain a waist reduction because they are shaped like a funnel (picture 1 = long stays, 2 = short regency stays, 3 = corset)
charlotte goes on to complain about how dangerous whalebone is and that it might kill her if she makes the wrong move. what the actual fuck? whalebone was actually the very best material to use for this because it was sturdy yet flexible and allowed the /stays/ to completely and comfortably mold around a woman's unique body shape. one of the reasons why today it is v difficult to replicate the same effect in corsetry is because we do not have access to whalebone (killing whales is not cool for obvious reasons) so corset-makers have to resort to other materials like plastic or metal, which CAN break. whereas whalebone doesn't really break as easily. furthermore, stays/corsets were NEVER worn on bare skin, but with a chemise/shift underneath.
why did women in the past resort to this type of undergarment, you ask? well, apart from the fact that women need bust support, the stays also serve the purpose of allowing all the many skirts and petticoats to be placed comfortably onto the waist. you try piling on that much fabric around your bare waist and see how you like it and if you can even carry it all around without it cutting into your stomach.
clothes throughout human history did cater to the popular fashions of the time, yes, but they also reflected the technological limitations and there was thus a practical aspect to it. this is a time before elastic bands, before industrialization and fast fashion, clothes are v difficult to make, everything is done by hand, so a lot of care is put into preserving them, because they are /expensive/ and labour intensive. you don't want your fancy outergarments to get ruined so you wear a lot of undergarments to absorb your bodily fluids since those are easier to make and don't have to look "pretty", can be stained and patchy etc. again, why do you need so many layers in the first place? because this is a time before comfortable heating, with poorly isolated and drafty houses, and it's bloody cold otherwise.
the third reason why that monologue was so dumb is because CHARLOTTE is the reason regency court dress was so preposterous. long story short, in a few decades, the fashionable silhouette changes wildly from the late 1700s to the 1810s.
the regency waistline was much higher and the gowns were much more flowy and unstructured than the late georgian ones (what's commonly known as the empire waistline). the long stays of the late 1700s were now replaced with short stays that really were similar to modern bras. the scene in the first season of bridgerton where they squeeze penelope's sister into what looks like a pair of long stays (?) is bonkers bc no one would wear a waist-constricting boned undergarment under a regency dress. why would they? the natural waist is not even emphasized in any way. this is just another reason to peddle the women-were-oppressed-by-their-lingerie agenda. so if charlotte really hated long stays that much, regency would really have been her time to shine, right? wrong. the woman loved the fashions of her youth so much she forced everyone who came to court to still comply to them, which is why we get the absolutely atrocious regency court dresses - essentially a combination of the georgian style with side panniers, but with an empire waistline.
yeah, this is how daphne SHOULD have looked like when she was presented at court in front of charlotte. i can understand why the showrunners decided to just leave her in a regency silhouette because this is ugly af. but, anyway, queen charlotte is the last person on earth to be complaining about how uncomfortable stays are.
creative licence aside, the reason this pisses me off is because it is SUCH lazy storytelling. the show wants us to know charlotte is a spunky pseudo-feminist character so the easiest way to do that is to have her complain about the evil 'corset' trying to kill her. it is so profoundly ahistorical and does nothing to contribute to the conversation about women's true problems and true limitations during that time. instead of genuinely exploring social history and women's actual lived experiences, we are STILL, in the year of our lord 2023, diverting the discourse towards fabricated issues that never existed in the first place.
the reasons actresses complain about boned underwear in interviews are manifold. costume designers are very overworked, they have to produce clothes for hundreds of people in a very short time, so they simply do not have the time or resources to construct corsets/stays that fit the actresses like they are supposed to. in the past, these garments were made individually for every person and completely to their own requirements. they also make these actresses wear the boning on BARE skin to look extra sexy to the audience or to emphasize their oppression - that never happened, a shift was always worn underneath (hello dakota fanning scene in the alienist??).
moreover, they lace them up until they constrict their ribcages - these women are already super thin and their bodies cannot support more reduction - instead of relying on the historical practices of padding and illusion. nowadays, body parts are what's fashionable - that's why so many resort to fat transfers or breast implants or starving themselves to achieve a flat stomach. in the past, anyone of any size could have accomplished the fashionable silhouette because they had a wide array of accouterments to plop underneath their garments - panniers, bustles, hoop skirts, padding of any sort. it didn't matter how big your waist was, you just padded other areas until you achieved the desired shape. fat women wore corsets/stays, too. working women, who did a lot of physical labour, did the same. how were they able to perform all of their tasks if they were incapable of moving or breathing? even today, people wear medical corsets all the time.
TLDR the media's obsession with portraying modern women as so liberated because they wear bras instead of "patriarchal" underwear is so tedious.
EDIT: Some very basic chronological tadpoles to make this easier to place within historical context. "Georgian" is used to denote the 18th+ century when Great Britain was ruled by several kings named George, so roughly 1714-1830. Within this interval, we refer to the Regency period as encompassing the regency of Prince George, future King George IV, when his father George III was incapacitated by mental illness. The official political regency took place during 1811-1820, but culturally speaking, this was extended to roughly the end of the 18th century up to maybe 1830 or 1837. This is the time period of Napoleonic wars and Jane Austen novels, so all her heroines should normally wear Regency styles. Think "empire waistline" as in Imperial France and Napoleon. The Victorian era (and its corsets) follows throughout the rest of the 19th century. Queen Charlotte was a contemporary of Marie Antoinette's, so they should be dressed in similar fashions (robe à la française vs robe à la anglais).
#but what can i expect from a production by shonda rhimes 🤷♀️ she certainly has a marvel-heroine type understanding of feminism#queen charlotte: a bridgerton story#bridgerton#fashion history#anyway this post is relevant for my blog bc i generally watch a lot of period media so this issue inevitably pops up now and again#would also like to add that while the term 'corset' did exist in that era#it referred to a v wide array of chest undergarments#so as to become impractical to use for a relatively short explanation#corsets as we conceptualize them today are tied with the victorian period#also pls remember i am simplifying for the sake of brevity else this post would have been enourmous
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“I’m here to kidnap the king,” Luigi says, leaning into the room where Mario’s busying himself with administration work.
“I was rather hoping you would.” Toadsworth has clearly been assisting him, but now he’s tidying up and sweeping papers aside as Mario’s head swivels back and forth between the two. Then Toadsworth is herding him towards the door and bidding him a restful afternoon as he’s led away. Luigi tries not to find Mario’s flustered confusion funny, but he can’t quite help himself.
That said, Mario looks awful. His eyes are dark and sunken in, his hair and mustache are messier than usual, and the stubble on his chin and cheeks is patchy, like he hurriedly started shaving days ago and then gave up halfway through. It’s not really surprising; Peach is due any day now, and he’s taken on her responsibilities while she’s on combination bed rest/baby watch.
Peach, in fact, is the one who sent Luigi to kidnap Mario. He spends all day fretting over royal duties he’s not as well-equipped to handle and then spends all night fretting over her. The only sleep he gets is when he gets still and his body forces him into rest, but he’s right back up as soon Peach makes the slightest movement or he hears any sound other than basic ambience. And Peach can’t even stand for very long without help at this point, so her efforts to get him to relax and rest have amounted to nothing.
Cue an elaborate plot that involves Luigi, Daisy, Toadette, and Toadsworth, because she knows four people is the absolute bare minimum it’ll take to get him to stop struggling.
So while Luigi leads his bedraggled brother to a spare bedroom, he lets him know that Toadsworth is covering all of his assignments (which he’s more adept at anyway), Daisy and Toadette are keeping Peach company and watching over her condition, they’ll let the brothers know if there’s any developments, and otherwise, Mario is going to sleep for the rest of the day at the absolute least.
Mario, predictably, resists. These are all his burdens to bear! He’s king consort! He’s Peach’s husband! He’s the father of her child! He can’t just put all of this off onto other people! And Luigi just hums and nods and lets him keep ranting while he coerces him into some nightclothes, because he’s sure talking is the only thing keeping him awake at this point.
Somehow, he finally gets Mario to lay down, and he climbs under the covers with him, both because it’s the best way to guarantee he won’t try sneaking out at some point and because he wants to let him know he’s there, and he can, in fact, give his burdens to other people. That alone does wonders. Comfortable, warm, and alone with his brother, Mario cracks and lets it all out: he’s scared, and he feels worthless. Not because he’s not as good a ruler as Peach, no, him being acting ruler is only temporary after all. But he feels like he’s failing her.
Luigi holds Mario and strokes his hair as he sleepily, almost tearfully pours his heart out. The final weeks of her pregnancy have taken a toll on Peach. She’s weakened, and she’s uncomfortable, and he can’t change that. He can help, but he can’t take away her pain. And what sort of a man does that make him? He’s supposed to protect her. He’s supposed to protect them. Surely he’ll make for one sorry father if his inability to help Peach is any indicator. He doesn’t care that he can’t sleep; she’s constantly tired too, so the least he can do is share in her suffering at least a little. He wishes he could suffer more. He would take it all from her if he could, but he can’t, and he’s convinced himself that that’s some kind of moral failing on his part.
Anyone listening could tell you his fears are nothing more than a combination of new parent jitters and sleep deprivation blowing otherwise rational concerns out of proportion, but that doesn’t make Luigi’s heart hurt any less for him. Mario’s top priority has always been the well-being of his loved ones. There’s a lot on his plate right now, and there’s absolutely no way he can manage it all alone, but that hasn’t stopped him from trying. Luigi wishes he would have stepped in sooner.
But for now, all Mario needs is a listening ear and many, many, many hours of sleep. Having given him the former, Luigi encourages him to take the latter, promising to help in any way he can once they wake up. Mario’s family is his family too, after all. And having used up the last of his energy lamenting his woes, Mario finally stops resisting.
“She’s so strong, Weegee,” he mutters, and Luigi can barely understand him. He’s already dozing off. “I need to be strong too.”
“Then sleep, stars’ sake.” Luigi grins and ruffles his hair. “You can’t take care of her unless you take care of yourself too.”
Mario makes a noise that might be an agreement or might be one final protest, and then he’s breathing deeply and evenly. He sleeps until the following afternoon, and Luigi stays by his side the whole while.
#this got Long#like… I’m considering putting this under my fanfic tag. that’s how long it got#forgive me 😭#super mario bros#smb#mareach#mario x peach#peaches has opinions#tw pregnancy
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It’s not Wednesday, but UH3 brainrot has once again consumed me.
I’m supposed to be catching up on Ace Alastor Week, and instead I’m writing ahead in the Season 1 fic.
Sneak peek below, heed the tags.
Content Warning: self harm*, blood, references to canon-typical violence, implied/referenced child abuse, inconsistent terminology regarding sex and gender**
*Whether or not this is self harm could probably be up for debate, but I, personally, consider it to be a form of self harm. Please put your own health and safety first; read with caution of feel free to keep scrolling. Stay safe, readers.
**Alastor sometimes conflates sex and gender because he just doesn’t think about or care what people have in their pants. He grew up in a time where the two were considered interchangeable; while he knows neither sex nor gender are static/that not everyone matches up with the gender they were assigned and will call a trans person by their chosen name/pronouns, gender them correctly, and treat them exactly like he’d treat anyone else, he still gets the terms a little mixed up from time to time. He wouldn’t gatekeep someone based on their transition status, because the physical state of someone else’s body isn’t his concern unless he’s actively in the process of killing them. And even then, he’s not focused on sex characteristics of any kind.
…
…
…
“And all this time, I thought it was mere population control!” Alastor ranted ino the private connection. He was pacing across his meticulously sound-proofed hotel room while his shadow flew from wall to wall.
“Well,” Lucifer began, but Alastor wasn’t done speaking and didn’t care for being interrupted.
“Ha!” Alastor laughed, threading a hand through his own hair. “Can you blame me?” he asked.
A rhetorical question, but Lucifer gave his best attempt at answering. “It is p-”
“They’ve got no style, no finesse! And barely any skill!” Alastor’s shadow curled its claws into fists, and Alastor removed his hand from his hair to keep himself from pulling it or digging his claws into his scalp as he felt the urge to do the same.
“Year after year, decade after decade, it’s nothing but artless, soulless slaughter!” Alastor laughed again, manic, hysterical, and lacking any and all joy. “Is it any wonder I assumed it was simply a mindless masacre?”
“Alastor-”
“Entertainment…” Alastor dug his claws into the inside of his palm, attempting to ground himself with the pain.
“If killing Sinners for one’s own entertainment is so damned Holy, then why is he in Heaven while I’m down here?” Alastor demanded, static rising in his voice. “Why, one could argue that he’s worse than I am!”
“He’s certainly killed more Sinners than I have by now, considering how long the Exterminations have been in effect.” Hell’s history books were patchy at best, and Lucifer only talked about his – and by extension, Hell’s – past in vague, non-specific terms, often while drunk or sentimental. Or both.
Alastor’s claws began to draw blood. “And from the combination of what Charlie and Lilith and you have all told me, he’s a vulgar, disrespectful chauvinist!”
The pain no longer felt like an anchor. It was fuel on the fire that was the rage burning within him, the wrath he felt at the injustice of it all.
“My mother raised me to be a gentleman,” Alastor said. “Any disrespect I show is based on a woman's actions, not her sex. But Adam expected Lilith to bend to his whims simply on the basis of her gender! He talked down to Charlie, likely on the same logic!”
“And yes, I kill because I enjoy it, but I’m selective with my victims! I enact vengeance on behalf of the weak and vulnerable! In life, I corrected the injustices of a corrupt system, and in death I punish those already Damned by their sins!”
Blood was seeping through Alastor’s knuckles. He pushed his claws deeper, sinking them into the meat of his palms.
“So why…?” There were bloodstains on the carpet. Niffty would be quite upset if she learned that the blood was Alastor’s rather than one of his meals’.
“Why?” Alastor repeated, barely audible above his own feedback. His cheeks were wet. He must have gotten blood on them at some point.
Everything was silent for a moment, save for the static Alastor couldn’t reign in.
Then, Lucifer spoke. “It’s complicated,” he said, quietly.
Alastor made an animalistic sound deep in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a whimper. But he let the Devil speak.
“I don’t know the particulars, but murder and vengeance are both Damnable sins.”
“Then why isn’t he Damned,” Alastor said through gritted teeth. “Why hasn’t Adam Fallen?”
Lucifer sighed. “Nepotism?”
Alastor laughed. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Lucifer asked, his volume increasing. “My Father kicked me out of Heaven for falling in love with Lilith and for daring to dream of a world where humanity wasn’t bound by eternal ignorance.”
“And he gave you a kingdom!” Alastor swung his arms, flinging blood across the room with the sheer force of the movement. “He let you and Lilith elope when he could’ve smited you both! Do you think he’d give the same courtesy to his other angelic children, or do the rumors of you being his favorite son hold true, hm, Lightbringer?”
The radio began to smoke and glow with a faint golden light.
“Get that name out of your fucking mouth, Alastor.”
Alastor ignored him, ignored the projections of his power.
“My father never would’ve shown me such benevolence if I’d disobeyed him the way you did yours.” Alastor moved to inspect the bloodstains on the walls. “And the best thing he ever gave me was a lesson in the inherent cruelty of man.”
#self harm cw#implied abuse cw#fanby’s fuckery#fanby’s fic snippets#fanby: uhverse#fanby: uh3#fanby: an age of upheaval#not tagging fandoms and shit because i don’t want this breeching containment#uh: alastor#uh: lucifer#uh: radioapple
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nancy wheeler, graduation, comfort
𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽, 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗱 (𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝘀𝘀) 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗮 (𝘀𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲)
The sound of the back door closing didn’t alarm you.
You knew who it was. Weren’t surprised when Nancy plopped down onto the patchy ground of the Byers’ backyard.
“You wanna talk about it?” She asked, leaning over to nudge her shoulder against yours.
You smiled but Nancy could see it didn’t reach your eyes as you rubbed your shoulder and she took note of the graduation gown still over them.
Everyone else had shed theirs inside, with the exception of Eddie, who had thrown his out the window of Wayne’s truck while whooping before his girlfriend yanked him back into the moving vehicle.
And you.
She’d wanted to run right off the stage to you the moment the diploma had been slipped into her hand, it killed her to not be able to. When this whole thing started, when you and Nancy happened, you’d both agreed to keep from being affectionate in public for both of your safety.
So, she was hoping to get some of that the moment the two of you were safe with friends and family but you’d been withdrawn since she first spotted you. Sure, you looked relatively happy to be done with high school, but not nearly as in the moment as everyone else.
“It’s nothing,” you shrugged as your hand fell into your lap.
“Nothing?” Nancy reached over and took hold of your hand, the back of hers resting in your lap as she linked your fingers, thumb caressing over your skin, “It’s graduation! We’re done here, you should be jumping around with me, or whatever else it is they do in a John Hughes movie.”
You couldn’t stop the smile, eyes closing because you knew she’d been trying to get one out of you, “He is not peak cinema, Nance.”
She laughed as she lifted your legs over hers, tugging you closer, “No, but it got you to say more than two words.”
Nancy lifted your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it before cradling it to the side of her face, “What’s on your mind?”
“You said we’re done here…are we?”
“What?” Nancy straightened, mouth pulling down into a frown before she finally understood what was bothering you, “No! No!”
“Aren’t we, though? We’re not even going to the same college! It’s a miracle we even got together in the first place,” you stated, referring to how you never thought you’d have a chance with her, not when she was with Steve Harrington. And then she wasn’t, because she was with your best friend, Jonathan Byers. And then she wasn’t because Jonathan Byers fell in love with you. Nothing came of it, your heart belonged to Nancy, who was thoroughly jealous of you. See? The chances shouldn’t have existed.
Except, those jealous looks she gave you soon became appreciative and endearing. Then filled with longing. Finally, Nancy Wheeler could see what Jonathan could see, in fact, she could see more, what she never saw in either of her ex-boyfriends.
She took a more direct approach.
When you heard tires squealing in your driveway, you hadn’t expected to see Nancy storming out of it and up the pathway to your house. You certainly hadn’t expected her to beat down your door, and you definitely hadn’t expected her to kiss you in your doorway with enough force to have you falling backwards, taking her with you, when you’d answered.
Now, there was a chance you’d lose the girl who’d literally swept you off your feet.
“How are we supposed to stay together when we’re gonna be busy at two different schools? What if the distance makes us grow apart? What if─”
Nancy successfully ended your rant when she placed her free palm over your mouth, amusement flickering around in those electric blue eyes of hers.
“Babe. Brown is like an hour away from Wellesley. Even if it wasn’t, there’s no way I’d let you get away from me that easily. If you decide to transfer to a college halfway around the world, I’ll make a phone schedule and plan our flights for school breaks. We’re done here, with Hawkins, but this is only the beginning for you and me.”
She could see the light returning to your eyes, feel your smile spreading against the soft skin of her palm and Nancy was quick to pull it away, replacing it with her mouth.
You hadn’t been expecting her to throw herself at you like that, the two of you fell back fully onto the lawn, laughing against each other’s mouth.
“Is this gonna be a trademark of yours?” You mumbled, distracted with the taste of her lipstick on your tongue.
“Just kiss me, smart mouth.”
You were happy to do just that, and for a few blissful moments, Nancy got to feel your tongue along hers.
Then, “I can’t believe our friend group survived that kind of drama.”
“I can’t believe I’m trying to make out with you, and you’re thinking about how you stole my ex-boyfriend.”
“Sorry, sorry,” you giggled as you pulled her head back down to meet your mouth.
#nancy wheeler#nancy wheeler x reader#nancy wheeler blurb#stranger things#nancy wheeler fanfic#nancy wheeler x y/n#vivi's baby blurbs
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Pls tell your fizzablitz headcanons
Please please please
For whatever reason I’m feeling very angsty about them today. I have this whole idea of Fizz thinking he didn’t mean as much to Blitzø as he did to him.
Growing up, fizz felt like a bit of a dork. He was and still is very nerdy, when blitz came back from his theft hunt as a kid Fizz was the most excited by the books, and by the tiny piece of sparkling chandelier he gifted to fizz especially. It shimmers beautifully and it began his fixation with mirrors and how pretty they are.
The other kids didn’t like him much, they felt too inferior. They picked on him. But blitzo was too arrogant to feel that way, or maybe he had too much heart. Fizz started out way back then, wearing the patchy clothes while Blitzø wore the clean suit. Until he decided to let fizz wear it for good luck. He began by telling blitzos own jokes that he gave him, until eventually he became better at them. But he never understood why he stopped smiling back. He wanted B to be proud of him, he wanted to be on equal terms with the ringleaders son. He wanted to make enough money to stand next to him in their own circus, or run away together to do something else. B was his favourite person, his hero, his first kiss, his massive crush, his first…well you know, his first time. But he never felt good enough. He wasn’t sure if he was loved at the circus. Maybe the way mammon could love him. If he worked hard enough.
He still keeps the piece of mirror, and stares at it when he’s all alone. He keeps a heart shaped locket with Ozzies name on it, but inside, it’s not Ozzie, there’s a photo of him together with Blitzo on the other side. Fizz scribbled out his own face in shame. He’s dealt with “unrequited” love for Blitzø for so long, seeing him with someone else pisses him off more than anything. His whole love life and sex life pisses him off, he can’t stop ranting about it, and he doesn’t even know why he still thinks about it. For years all he did was talk about him, Asmodeus doesn’t know why either. At least not yet.
He was going to gift something to Blitzø one day, he had typed up a letter on his type writer, it was something poetic, sappy and embarrassing. A written out version of their dream. Asking blitz to choose him, stay next to him, hold his hand and hold him close. He calls him the star of the circus, and in Fizz’s eyes Blitz is his star too. The guiding kind. The loyal kind who helps you when you feel lost. But so far away. Only when he leaves the tent, he sees him with one of the girls at the circus, actually, it’s a much older woman, he’s holding her, the way he wants to be kissed by him, kissing her with fervour, the way he wants to be kissed, and it’s agony to see it. It hurts so much. But it shouldn’t, Blitzø has a different person on his arm every other week. Fizz isn’t his partner, he’s just the circus star. He leaves and doesn’t see B almost pass out after, from whatever it was she spiked his drink with. He screams at her to get the fuck away from him. Fizz burns his shitty childish letter.
He’s seen how Blitzø throws himself at other people, not understanding that cash sells him to any people in the crowd who desire him and want to own him for the day. Almost like the way cash tried to get fizz to do a private show for someone, maybe a birthday party? But it was just a single man in the room, sitting on a chair, asking him to dance. Weird. He blew him some balloons and played with the confetti. The guy was really tired at the end? But fizz did everything? And. For some reason, Blitzø was so angry about it. He hated the guy, but wasn’t that man just lonely?
Later, Mammon made him do a lot of these. The mystery became less apparent. At least they didn’t put their hands on the merchandise. Him. Because he hated that. Now, he had to stop looking behind him for Blitzø to be there, to tell him that it’s ok, that it’s safe, or when it’s not safe, and to get behind him. He will protect him from the creeps. But he’s gone, he left, he got sick of him, he wasn’t good enough for him, his tastes are more regal now. Maybe they always have been. Ever since he was little and went off with that strange kid client, his new playmate of the day. Fizz’s replacement. Maybe if that first show was more perfect, Blitzø wouldn’t have left him. Maybe if he just followed his lead and played pirates, he wouldn’t have left him. He has to let other people tell him what to do, stop fighting back so much. It’s not what people want. People don’t like that. Now that Asmodeus is here, he makes him laugh, he protects him..sometimes. But he never reacts fast enough. When he passed out at Ozzies, and woke up again, the first thing he saw was Blitzs back, again, leaving him, again, leaving him with that Prince. Whatever, he doesn’t actually care.
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OH MY GOD THE ART LOOKS LOVELY! Consider: Danny and Jon infodumping about bees together because Jon loves niche trivia that's rarely relevant -the bee anon
[ID: A digital drawing of Danny Stoker and Jonathan Sims on a muted teal background. Danny is a beefy Latino man with light brown skin, short brown hair, a cut in his brow, dimples, and small gold hoop earrings. He's wearing a dark purple button up shirt with sunflowers on it with the short sleeves cuffed and the buttons half-undone, pink shorts, and white calf-height socks. Jon is a smaller, skinny Arab man with brown skin, short curly black hair half pulled into a bun, patchy facial hair, black painted nails, and half-moon glasses on a green beaded chain. He's wearing a large yellow turtleneck sweater with a long-sleeved green shirt underneath, and ripped black skinny jeans.
Jon is sitting on Danny's lap and Danny has one arm around him and the other hand resting on Jon's lap. Jon is gesturing with one hand while ranting with one eyebrow raised, looking annoyed and glancing upward, while Danny is chatting happily, smiling and glancing off to the side. Their speech bubbles, which have no actual text in them, are yellow for Danny and green for Jon. end ID]
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using this as an opportunity to spread my uni-era jondanny agenda. i just think they would've been besties if they ever had the chance to meet and perhaps they would've dated. learned things about themselves. talked passionately about any and every subject for hours.
also yes that sweater is danny's
#fg's art#the magnus archives#tma#danny stoker#jonathan sims#jondanny#I JUST THINK THEY'D BE A CUTE DUO#also for clarification im on the aro danny train so this is like. pre-him realizing he's aro#that's the 'learning things about themselves' bit#if they had the opportunity they would've 100% been a qpr#jon meeting danny: i've never clicked with a human being so much before. im in love#danny meeting jon: i've never clicked with a human being so much before. is this what they call Love? Genuinely Asking?#also im REALLY HAPPY with danny's outfit. it looks so neat. the only thing i might change is making the shirt like. white as a base#since i associate danny with brighter and lighter colors#that's just his Vibe
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I've only had Felix a day and a half etc etc
Felix was just relieved to have peace. I'd called him too many times in tears, ranting over my latest argument with Josie, and he'd smacked sense in me time and time again because, admittedly, I was at fault more often than not. He was barely taller than myself, but accentuated it with heavy combat boots and his patchy beard, finally growing in after four months of HRT. Sasha and I pretended it didn't look terrible.
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curious for the ship thing so here we goo
so i’m like, roughly 5”4 maybe 5”3 i dunno. i have naturally black hair but i dyed it and now the dye is fading so it’s more of a bronze now
personality wise i’m really shy around new people and i get embarrassed/ashamed easily. i am CRAZY around my friends though especially my interests, i never shut up about it. i mostly reflect the personality off of the person im talking to though 🤷 hobbies include music (listening/playing), writing, drawing, reading, all that. i’m kind of an overthinker and i am like heavily mentally ill but it’s wtver. i also probably have autism so lmao!! i won’t lie i can also be aggressive when i get too annoyed at people but i don’t mean it idk i feel bad afterwards but i try to keep calm. i also hate disappointing others in general and i got pretty good grades in school (straight A’s babyyy) i also like to talk a bunch but i suck at starting conversations, more of a jokey type when around my friends. i don’t really do much with my appearance lmao i wear glasses and throw on a sweater and some pants when i go out and i have heavy eyebags so 😞
i’m also transmasc if that matters 🤷
Ok you did not specify which fandom so I’ll choose a character I think best fits you
Your Fandom ship: Steve Randle (The Outsiders)
Explanation: start off I think that he really likes your appearance. I think he thinks your hair was pretty cool and he would definitely tease you about being short. I’m sorry you can’t stop it. He definitely would. I see him as kind of closed off unless he’s around his friends, which would kind of be the same as you except you’re more shy version of closed off and he’s more cold version of closed off, but I somehow think that U2 could make it work and once you get through that kind of patchy rough layer of getting to know each other, you guys would be so great together. He would definitely listen to you, rant by your interests and try to understand as much as he can and in return, he would expect you to listen to his hour long rants about anything cars, drag races, car mechanics… I feel like he also kinda understands you reflecting your personality based off, who you talk to. He’s often in his best friend, Sodapops shadow, and I think he would feel super special whenever you went up to him instead of his “more attractive” friend. If you ever drew wrote some thing about me, I think he would probably keep it and cherish it forever after pretending like he doesn’t care that much and then you’d see it up on his like best table or some crap and then be like I thought you didn’t like that and then he’d be like yeah maybe maybe yeah whatever man. He can also be pretty aggressive whenever he gets annoyed at people so I think he’d understand that aspect of your personality and you guys might clash sometimes, but I think that you two would always make it up for each other. He’s also extremely hard to disappoint as a guy. I think he’s pretty low maintenance so you wouldn’t need to worry about that and he would let me know if you disappointed him in someway, but I don’t think he’s a grudge holder. Anyway yall are so cute I ship it 🧡🧡🧡
#the outsiders hcs#the outsiders headcanons#the outsiders#steve randle#outsiders steve randle#steve randle headcanons#the outsiders steve randle#steve randle the outsiders#outsiders steve#steve the outsiders#the outsiders steve#steve randle x reader
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Hi! I have a Frankie x Reader request for you don’t mind? Could you do one where reader is in a car accident? I was just in one today and I need some fluff in my life after that. Thank you 🥺
AN | Best Husband Frankie is back at it again. I hope you’re feeling better bb! 🥺🥰
Pairing | Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Mentions of injury
Word Count | 1.5k
Masterlist | Frankie, Main
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
When Frankie woke up, he reached over to your side of the bed, wanting to pull you into his arms. Much to his dismay, he didn’t find you…he didn’t even find any lingering heat on the sheets or your pillow. Grumbling to himself, he pushed the covers back, ready to seek you and steer you back into your bed of warm, soft blankets. Knowing how you were, there was no doubt in his mind that you were probably making breakfast or cleaning up the kitchen. Or both.
He didn’t even bother to grab a shirt, stretching and yawning as he walked out of the bedroom and headed downstairs in only his boxers. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase, just before that last creaky, groaning step and listened for you. Sure enough there was the sound of you humming lightly along to whatever you had playing on your phone.
“Bee?” he hopped onto the floor and padded his way down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. He found you leaning against the counter, a frown on your face as you studied the cast on your leg, “baby, what are you doing?”
“Hiya,” you offered him a sheepish smile as our face warmed up, “just…ugh, attempting to make breakfast. It’s proving to be a little harder than I thought.”
“You should be in bed,” he huffed, coming over to help you back upstairs, “let me come make breakfast. Let me take care of you.”
“I don’t…” you paused and waved your hands in exasperation. You had been struggling to keep it together and the gentle way he looked at was enough to push you over the edge. Tears that had been prickling at the back of your eyes pearled up and ran down your cheeks, “I hate this. I can’t do anything for myself and I feel like I have to depend on you for everything, and I hate doing that. It’s not you, I just…I like to be independent. I can’t even drive and it takes an eternity just to get up and down the stairs, bathing sucks, I can…I hate this.”
“My little bee,” he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he soothingly rubbed your back while you got your tears and cried into his chest, “I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now. I wish I could take it all away from you and deal with it myself. But you have to remember that you were in a car accident, your body needs to heal. You have to let it do what it needs. Rest and taking it easy is the best way to do that.”
“Well I hate it,” you huffed lightly, “it’s so stupid, why my did my dumb leg have to break? Such a weak ass.”
“Baby,” he couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at your little rant, “I know it’s no fun, but think about it this way. I am at your mercy, your beck and call, until that cast comes off. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll take care of you. However and whenever you want.”
The sentiment put a small smile on your face, despite the fact that you were reluctant to give up any sort of freedom. But you knew, as you had just told him, that the next few weeks were going to be challenging no matter what. Until your body had time to recuperate and your leg was taken out of the cast you were sort of…stuck. As much as you hated it, there really wasn’t much of a choice.
“What did I do to deserve a husband like you?” you touched his face, lightly scratching along his patchy stubble, “I love you, Francisco. I know I’m going to be an absolute bear over the next few weeks, so I’ll thank you in advance for being the most wonderful person in this world. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I know you’d do the same for me,” he kissed the top of your head, “it’s not a chore or burden to take care of you, baby. I want to help you and I want you to get better as soon as possible.”
“I guess I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”
“Not at all,” he agreed, chuckling lightly as you pouted at him, “I promise it won’t be so bad. And you can work from home at least.”
“I’ll be like a prisoner,” a dramatic sigh escaped your lips, “you’ll be out working and I’ll be home alone all day. I’ll go mad, absolutely mad!”
“I’ll take some time off work,” he insisted softly, knowing that you would never ask him to do such a thing. You would have done the same thing for him without a moment of hesitation, so you shouldn’t be surprised that he would do it for you, “I can cut back my hours to make sure I’m home for you…and on my days off, I promise I’ll take you to the beach, or river, or whatever you want. The cast will be off before you know it.”
“Francisco,” you watched his big brown eyes soften with affection at the sound of his name, “thank you. I love you so much.”
“I love you more,” he whispered, “and look at it this way - a broken leg with a cast and a sore body is much better than the alternative. This is fixable - mendable - and you’re okay. I don’t know what I would have…if something had happened to you, bee.”
“I know,” you put a finger to his lips and gently shushed him, “I’m okay…we’re okay. This will get better…it’ll just take patience. But you’re right. The bright side is that I will be okay and that I’ll get to see my handsome husband even more. Who can complain about that?”
“Not the man that gets to spend time with his beautiful wife.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The next month might have been one of the hardest ones…it definitely tested your patience and you were sure that it did the same for Frankie. He’d made good on his promise and took the first two weeks off work to be home with you. That was the easy part - you always loved spending time with him and found that you never grew tired or weary having him around all the time. That was one of the beautiful things about your relationship.
The next three weeks after that he dramatically cut down his hours at work. It helped that he was his own boss (along with his best friend Santi) and he could do whatever he needed. It gave you some time to get used to trying to do things for yourself, to ease back into them, and gave you some space. You were sure that Frankie appreciated a little bit of separation too. As much as you adored your time together, a little bit of alone time was important too. And he had been right, it really did give you time to let your body rest and heal. Slowly but surely, your body and mind started to feel better.
“Good news,” you grinned at Frankie as he came into the kitchen, carrying a large bouquet of tulips and daisies. He held them out to you with a small smile which just caused you to melt. He really was the best thing ever, “Francisco…they’re beautiful. I…why?”
“Not to be totally nosey, but I overheard your call earlier and I’m assuming the good news is that your cast comes off in a few days?” a flush of pink rose up in his cheeks as he just smiled and you nodded. He set the flowers down before pulling into a tight hug, “see, bee, you managed to survive!”
“It wasn’t always easy,” you admitted with a sigh, “I’m no angel, and you have the patience of a saint. I love you.”
“I think it goes both ways,” he insisted, “I love you too. I have an idea!”
“Oh?”
“How about we go to the cabin this weekend, once your cast is off?” his soft sable eyes were wide with excitement, “a few days of fresh air and freedom. Maybe that’s what we both need right now.”
“Brilliant idea,” you kissed his cheek, “let’s do it. I…thank you, Francisco. I love you beyond words.”
“I love you too,” he whispered, “my gorgeous girl, my bee. I’m so glad you're okay - you’re here.”
“Me too, my love,” you promised, “no place I’d rather be. Nothing could ever keep me from you. That’s a promise I intend to keep.”
“Same here, bee. Same here.”
#frankie morales#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x fem!reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#best boyfriend frankie
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A part of me thinks that my trade off and apology for reducing the rewrite to basically a powerpoint presentation (instead of writing it out as a fic) should be that I actually reread through the acotar trilogy beforehand
It will probably result in a better rewrite work and it would probably supply me with lots of stuff to rant about and nitpick over so I can fill my sjm hater quota
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