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yandere-sins · 7 days

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Okay so I feel a bit silly about this, but I just have to ask at some point. To keep it short, I wonder if Dr Ratio has already had his first time and if he even has sex often. I mean he is a grown adult at all. Don't see me as a horny Dr Ratio simp, I'm just interested and little things like that always make me like a character even more. I would be happy if you would answer this question :)♡

Why feel silly? We love all kinds of sexual status here, especially when it's someone as delicious as Ratio! Also, I appoint you simp from now on, because we should be simping for him (but don't be like me and have him in your team just for aesthetics bc my Ratio makes no damage at all! :D And that's okay... :'D)

As wonderful as our Doc is, this is a very open-to-interpretation question. You can honestly go both ways with him, and we'll never know because... he probably wouldn't even tell or show any signs to his darling how much experience he has once he gets with them ;)

Maybe he is a virgin and a very stoic and pathetic one at that. In his pursuit of making knowledge more accessible to every "idiot", there isn't much time for personal needs. I totally see him pass out from sleep deprivation despite being horny and then suppress his morning wood with a cold shower, even though he's really not happy about it. No one knows why he's so upset, but they all avoid him on mornings like that. There's no way he never put a hand on himself in all these years, but he won't know the blessing that comes when someone else does it, until he meets his darling.

It's an instant game over for him, Veritas unable to form a complete sentence when he first meets you, his cock springing up, precum staining his clothes. It threatens to burst out of his pants, hard and agitated and in desperate need to be treated to its first experience of intercourse. He tries to play it cool with a faint blush on his cheeks, tries his usual spiel of pretending he's better than you after catching his composure immediately, always gauging your reactions and wanting to see them to fuel his desire. All while completely hiding the fact that he wants to drop to his knees and hump your feet.

That night, jerking off is more like ripping off as he just can't stop the thoughts of you invading his mind and making him hard again and again. His whole bed is sullied, the tissue box empty, the Doctor is panting and blushing and immediately reminded of how plump and soft your lips were. Or your ass as you walked away from him. The sparkle in your eyes and the few exposed spots of skin in your outfit. And then his thoughts are going wild with you bent over on his bed, exposing yourself to him, your giggles and moans replaying in his ears, although he made all of them up. Honestly, he's a bit ashamed afterward for losing his composure quite like that.

It doesn't make him any less pathetic when he finally gets his hands on you. You might be fighting and hating him, but he tied you up exactly the way he needs so he can fuck your thighs or pry your pretty lips open to stuff your mouth with his thick cock. And you never disappoint him in that regard. You'll still be as amazing, making him cum almost instantly the first few times, after being with him for years. Ratio will still yearn for the warmth of your body around his dick decades down the line, and he'll greet you with the same enthusiasm (just more stamina and better technique) every time he comes home to you. You two really grow together; isn't that sweet? ;)

Man's still stoic and pathetic, but not with all those partners he had over the years, oh no. It's really bothersome to him to actually let one of those groupies get a piece of his cake, and he doesn't do it because his mind wants to. But it's just normal to fulfill a need he has, right? Veritas doesn't bed some random person (who found him super hot and practically ogled him all evening) for pleasure or enjoyment. Even less for payment, though some people try to buy his time and affection.

In short, he's a miserable lover.

We should feel bad for the people thinking he's going to blow their minds. It's not like he hurts them or anything, but he does his thing and leaves, telling anyone who's confused and dissatisfied that he didn't enjoy it much, either. He got to finish; that's all that matters to him. He's really awful to these poor souls; we can't deny it.

But then he met you, and everything changed. You are constantly on his mind, the underside of his table stained with remnants of cum as he savagely had to jerk himself up to free his thoughts again. But it doesn't really help, and he imagines doing things with you on his table, books, honestly, everywhere. Ratio has to flee any function if someone there happens to have the same perfume as you because he cannot control himself once reminded of you. And in the bitterness of moaning your name in an empty room, his cock mangled and still hard despite previous jerk-off sessions, he decided he has to have you, just so he can get a remnant of himself back.

He is reading up on how to be a better lover as he fingers you simultaneously, observing your reactions and even going down on you... for research, of course. No one knew he'd get drunk on bringing you pleasure. On learning that the reason you were feeling so damn good was his work. Sure, it boosts his ego, but you have no idea what it does to him to see your eyes dazed, your expression twisting. He teases you, but it gets him off quicker than anything else when you admit how good you feel. He'll be grinning from ear to ear the following day, remembering what you said, only to pretend he wasn't reveling in the memories when you catch him. He loves teasing you, kissing every part of your body while you squirm, knowing it turns him even more on than it does you. It's a good thing you need so much convincing, so he can satisfy his greed for you plenty before the real deal begins.

Suddenly, sex is so much more interesting when he does it with you, no matter how much you complain in the beginning—your moans say otherwise. You may hate him, but gods, does he love the look on your face when you're overstimulated, and Ratio is only getting started, making you arch your back as he plunges into you, your legs quivering around his head. Drawing out the act and letting you 'suffer' is so much more delicious and enjoyable than anything he had with another person before. He doesn't even wonder if it would have changed anything for his feelings had he done his research with the partners he fucked before. Only you can make his heart race, get him drunk on your juices, and look like an angel in his sheets covered in his cum. It's only you, it's only ever been you, and he'll never let that go.

Because no matter how much you simp for him, he'll always simp more for you ;)

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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Yan Genshin Boys / Darling Breaking Up.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships.

Childe

Childe tries really hard to play it off as a joke in poor taste. Truthfully, he saw this coming from a mile away. He had adequate time to prepare his response as a result. If this doesn't work, he'll completely forgo his lighthearted façade, shedding it like snakeskin. He says he understands your concerns (his tone is cold enough to make you doubt the claim), but that it isn't anything you both can't work through. That's what relationships are about! Open communication and compromise. His family loves you, he loves you, why would you want to ruin a good thing? He knows how to talk you in circles. It's so frustrating and you're already in an emotionally vulnerable state. Being a member of the Fatui, he's done his fair share of interrogations. He knows how to systematically break a person's defenses down.

Diluc

You can't tell by his expression, but the poor man's heart is absolutely shattering. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He feels as if the best thing he has in his life is about to walk out the door. His lack of a response doesn't aid the situation; you're waiting for him to say something and he's just silently standing there. Thinking. His gloved fingers drumming on his mahogany desk. Whether or not you'll be allowed to leave Dawn Winery depends on if you told anyone you were coming here. If you did, then you get a couple more days of freedom while he finalizes certain arrangements. If you didn't, well... the suite he had made to his customizations will finally have a tenant.

Kaeya

Kaeya makes you question if this is what you really want. He'll acknowledge his shortcomings, yes, but he'll also point out yours. If you're both contributing to a problem, it's only fair that you work together to solve it, right? He carries this quiet confidence to him that puts you under his thrall. He knows what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. He's good with people and there's no one he knows better than you. If you were upset with him, you'll forget what was even bothering you in the first place ten minutes into his talking.

Zhongli

Zhongli wants to get to the heart of the problem. He doesn't go for the whole "it just isn't working" spiel, he wants specifics, something tangible to work with. The level of tact he uses when obtaining this information is commendable. You don't even think he's trying to talk you out of what you've come here to do. Any concerns you raise are treated with a level of respect that you almost feel is unfitting of the situation. He makes you feel heard and seen, always such a reliable pillar of support. Negotiations are his forte. The God of Contracts knows when to make concessions and when to stay firm. However you intended this to go, it inevitably sways in his favor instead.

Albedo

Albedo is eerily quiet to the point you end up rambling far more than you intended, trying desperately to fill the empty space. He had considered this possibility before, so he isn't completely thrown for a loop. It's far more unpleasant unfolding in reality than a hypothetical in his mind, though. How he navigates this tricky dilemma depends solely on you. If he thinks you can be talked into changing your mind, that's what he'll do, calmly going over things in that tone of his that makes you think everything is going to be alright. This is the method he'd prefer, since it'd change your relationship the least. Should you prove particularly stubborn, he can always use alchemy to synthesize a compound that'd make you drowsy... so this conversation can be continued in a more remote location.

Scaramouche

Takes it the worst from everyone here, no competition. It doesn't matter the tone or words you use, he's positively seething on the inside, an unbridled ball of rage and hurt. You're trying to leave him. Everyone always betrays him. Even you, the one he begrudgingly holds in high regard (at least compared to how he views everyone else). He's upset with himself for getting in this vulnerable position, he's upset with you for adding to the list of betrayals he's experienced, and he's upset with the world for thinking it could ever succeed in taking you away from him. He won't let it end this way; you're a fool if you think you're going anywhere after stealing his manufactured heart.

Xiao

He doesn't really understand what you're getting at. The concept of a 'breakup' is lost on him. He doesn't view romantic relationships in the traditional sense, he never ascribed a specific label to your connection. He views you as his favorite being to spend time with, so it's not like you can say he isn't your 'boyfriend' anymore, the moniker was technically never in play. The conversation isn't fun for either of you. Xiao does get that something's off about your dynamic, so he'll give you some space... for a time. Still watching you from afar, obviously, he has to keep you safe. He has no clue how to navigate this interpersonal stuff. He just kinda hopes to settle back into your routine and hovers around in your general vicinity to encourage this.

Kazuha

You probably won't be able to follow through with your "it's not you, it's me" speech. His eyes... oh, his eyes are so soft, glassy, almost. He patiently lets you say your piece, hanging on your every word, not rushing you and even placing his hand atop yours when you get emotional. He reassures you if you try to take the blame; he never likes it when you put yourself down. The fault clearly lies with him. If only he could provide you with an opulent lifestyle, you deserve someone better than a ronin from a clan whose name was forgotten by time. In a panic, you try to assuage his worries, and that's all it takes. He's got you right where he wants. It's not even entirely intentional on his part, which further adds to his credibility.

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says.

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?”

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.”

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor.

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake.

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular.

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again.

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her.

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?”

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out.

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does.

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them.

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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soapoet · 1 year

Text

what do you need to heal?

oof, you all deserve a hug.

01.

Shufflemancy: SENSITIVE by MOTHICA

your feelings are really potent. you feel like a pressure cooker, constantly ready to burst open. emotions are both your playground and your graveyard, it seems. you feel everything strongly, but there is almost a sense of it never being enough. you yearn for something more, something bigger and better to latch on to. you've probably been accused of being toxic once or twice, and there may be a trail of broken lines of communication behind you as a result. but you have no ill intent. you have so much to give, and all you want is equal returns for your investments. interpersonal relationships especially feel lackluster to you.

here's a storyline that might resonate: you meet someone, platonic or romantic, and sparks fly. you're so invested, they take interest in you, you're each other's favourite person, two peas in a pod, partners in crime, a dynamic duo. every day you pour your heart and soul into this connection, drop the drawbridge and invite them inside your walls to experience you and your world fully. and with every day that goes by, slowly but surely, the honeymoon phase begins to fade. their efforts lessen, even when they say you're their whole world they never seem to find the time, they stop sharing, and feel intruded upon when you inquire and poke around to see what's up. you step back, thinking yeah, alright, i just need to chill, give them space. but that just makes things worse, doesn't it? you end up feeling abandoned and the grief for what the connection once was is agonising. every time you try to rekindle the flames they lash out. you're overwhelming, nosy, obsessive, they feel cornered. oh my god, you're so toxic! and then you fight. you fight for your feelings and the relationship. they just seem to fight you. you tell them they knew what they were getting themselves into. you showed them everything. shared the deepest, darkest corners of your castle. didn't they say that it's okay, that you're perfect as you are, flaws and all, and that they'd never leave? and then they still do.

you're not a monster. you're not trying to lure people in and make their lives miserable. you simply seek companionship. the kind that seems impossible to find these days. you understand that everyone has a life of their own, things to do, and that it's okay to need time and space. what you do have a problem with is the lack of trust. when you drop your armour you need reassurance that it's not in vain and that you are safe. that your vulnerability won't be taken advantage of. you don't want to worry about whether or not you let wolves inside your castle walls. what you need to do is learn a healthy dose of discrimination. really vet the people you let in. take things slowly, and allow things to happen without having to force it. let people come to you. wield your emotions in a constructive way. if you feel like a fraud trying to fit into the whole love and light spiel, then don't force it! you're incredibly powerful. learn the art of transmutation and try to make your emotions work for you instead of against you. it may be easier said than done, but if anyone can do it, it's you.

02.

Shufflemancy: Bridges by ALIKA

stop fooling yourself. you're really making yourself jump through way too many hoops. things don't have to be an obstacle course. there isn't some long, ever-changing list of things that need to happen before what you want can happen. it's like you're running around in a hamster wheel. chasing after what ifs, looking for signs and clues, and when something doesn't align then oops, there you go, right back to the drawing board. reconfiguring things, going back and forth, fine-tuning, undoing, scrapping everything and starting all over. reading your energy feels like i'm walking into a room with crumpled papers all over the floors. and when i look at them, your plans and ideas are so good! why have you cursed yourself into this space of false starts and stagnation?

because your head is full of doubt. your mind is like the static of an old tv screen. there is so much noise, buzzing around and it's so loud you're unable to think straight. there are so many distractions. you're being pulled in so many directions. everywhere except forward. you are so focused on that first step being absolutely flawless that you'll do anything but actually take the damn step. every time you gather yourself and tell yourself alright, it's go-time my dudes, you just stand there, or notice something that you just gotta fix real quick. and before you know it, you're doing all kinds of busy work. anything to make you feel better about not doing what you want to do and feel like you're at least making some contribution toward your dreams.

you heard there would be signs that you're on the right path or that your manifestations are working, and you took that personally. you see a sign, then look for confirmation that the sign really was a sign. then you tell yourself you need to stop actively looking for signs because then you won't recognise the real signs. but uh-oh, what if you were already doing that? does that mean that the sign you noticed was a false flag and you're just delusional and just out there fooling yourself? please give me a sign that— stop. sit down. cut the noise out and just breathe. you really need to start trusting yourself. you have a vision. a path forward. you got shit to do, things to achieve. stop checking the time, the mirror, the skies... just check yourself. still want what you want? great, you got it. have some faith in yourself. refocus your energy and try to stay present. it's okay to get distracted and it's normal to doubt, just don't let the doubts and distractions rule your present moment. the light has been green this whole time, so just go.

03.

Shufflemancy: Trauma by NF

no. that's two letters, but it feels wrong in your mouth, doesn't it? like it's too big or like it'll break something. when we're drowning there is a period known as 'voluntary apnea'. our instinct to not inhale water is stronger than our need to release the buildup of carbon dioxide that occurs when we hold our breath for too long. the brain can cause us to endure the increasing terror and physical pain because of this survival instinct. and it feels like your ability to say no is behind this kind of mental block too. when you do say no to things it almost feels apologetic, and is riddled with apologies and reassurance. you don't want to do this or that, but it's just today, maybe some other time, you'll check your calendar, assure them it's not like you don't care, you're just busy, you gotta go. you'll find any excuse that sounds reasonable when you don't have one. and for what? you don't need to explain yourself. no is a full sentence.

it really feels like you're on the outside looking in. you have a fear of not just missing out, but being left behind. it's like you've convinced yourself that in order to be worthy and good you need to please everybody. maybe in your past you've been betrayed, experienced neglect or really, truly, felt all alone and without support and guidance. so when you're around people you're on your best behaviour. you listen and you are eager to learn. you adopt people's hobbies or otherwise make an effort to be there for them. people come to you for advice, you're a shoulder to cry on, a problem solver, a good time. but when you get overwhelmed, your nerves get the best of you and you need someone to lean on, you feel like you shouldn't burden people. they have better things to do. maybe they wouldn't be able to help anyway, so why bother?

in many ways you feel like a ghost. not quite sure where the influences of other people and life circumstances end and where you begin. your boundaries are so blurry it's no wonder you've accepted so many concepts of yourself that it feels like the hand of cards you were dealt are masks instead of tools. you may need some time in isolation and solitude for a while. not to say farewell to the world and become lonely, but learn to really be with yourself and figure out who you really are and who you want to be. put yourself on the operating table and start carefully removing things that don't serve your well-being. you are whole all within yourself, and i promise that it's all complete and good and worthy of so much love. you don't need to be patchwork quilt made of concepts forced upon you by the world. you're allowed to be yourself and grow in exactly the direction and at the speed that you want. there's room here under the sun for you too.

#pac reading #energy reading #pick a card #intuitive reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot reading #healing #divination #pick a card reading #soapy.post #spiritual guidance

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fairuzfan · 4 months

Note

Your post about how many people are unknowingly falling for & spreading propaganda... yeah. I typed up a whole spiel of a comment on one of your posts the other day that I ended up deciding not to not actually post because it felt like detailing, but seriously. The amount of well meaning, genuinely anti-zionist people ignorantly sharing zionists' posts because they just don't pick up on the leading undertones is honestly more terrifying than than the amount of actual zionists in some ways.

I'm someone who was born into a doomsday cult, and seeing all these people falling for the exact same blatant (or so i thought lol) recruitment/manipulation tactics I've seen used by them my entire life has absolutely fucking terrifying. These are people who are actively trying to combat zionism, but I guess the general public is so uneducated about propaganda/cult tactics that what immediately reads as blatantly manipulative, misleading bullshit to me just doesn't even register as strange to most people. Not to be repetitive, but seriously: fucking terrifying.

There's so much focus on the way people/groups who want to manipulate you will use language of fear, but in this case especially, people need to realize they will almost always appeal to your compassion before they appeal to your fear.

It's all peace and love and happiness because that's what gets people in the door. You preach (or post) the mushy, happy, fun stuff that makes people feel good to draw them in, and you slowly start peppering in the ideas you actually want to lead them to believe later on once you've got them wanting to believe you.

This also has this added effect of helping the group or person's image. Even the people who you don't manage to draw in will have the impression of you as someone who runs their mouth 24/7 about how you're full of love and want the best for everyone, which is especially useful for when you inevitably want to frame yourself as the victim to demonize the people who will inevitably oppose you. If your first and only exposure to a person is seeing them calling for world peace and universal love, you are much more likely to be inclined to believe they (and by extension their cause) are the sympathetic, loving, peaceful good guys being unjustly targeted.

Sorry for rambling, but like... really. It won't always be something nefarious, of course--the vast majority of the the time, it won't be--but I think we would all be in a much better situation if people took it as a general rule of thumb that you should always be a little suspicious of overly vague talk about peace and love.

You're EXACTLY right. I really appreciate this message, because you put to words a lot of my inherent analysis of arguments and ideas. I like grew up with this rhetoric so it's easy to spot for me, but the way that people speak about "peace" as the overall goal when they're zionist is so blatant to me because there is no material change in the scenario they propose but rather a calmness where Palestinians are ignored.

And picking up on subtext of a lot of messages is something you have to have a muscle for kinda because of how subtle it is. The frightening part is, you're right, that the indoctrination part of zionism is the most harmful part because you appeal to their pathos — their fear, their sense of safety, etc — and you go on down the rabbit hole and slowly start being radicalized and pro-zionism or you might not even be pro-zionism 100% but enjoy... soft zionism as a mutual of mine put it once (if you read this and want to be tagged, lmk). Which soft zionism is the MAIN opinion in many liberal circles btw, its not an uncommon opinion.

I even remember once sharing a post by a zionist because i saw them talk about esims but when i went on their blog a few days later because something rubbed me the wrong way, I noticed their pinned and I was like "oh dam I gotta delete that other post" like that's how often this happens.

Idk, I try to combat this by putting sources or approaching from a standpoint of logical arguments rather than identity-based politics (although, sometimes i think there are some things that people who are a certain identity can be the only true experts on) so that I try to encourage actual engagement with ideas and walking them through thought processes rather than "I'm palestinian so just trust me."

Like even with my one fact checking list, idk if I succeeded but I wanted to emphasize that there are multiple factors you should consider when confronting ANY sort of information and should not blindly trust things. News sources have regularly burned or ignored Palestinians so I know a lot of us are really sensitive to these things, but I don't know! I hope people can engage with ideas more than just surface level thinking in general because it helps everyone when you actually interact with the point of view the other person is providing rather than just blindly trusting/distrusting people.

#thanks for this ask btw i really appreciate it

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tuliptired · 22 days

Note

One-shot for Egon? Egon and the reader that constantly throws him off guard with their flirting?

Shut Up, You're Stupid, Just Kiss Me

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Reader

if you saw me post this to the wrong ask you actually didn't

better formatting on Ao3 😔

Another one of these benefit-things. Egon understood the whole spiel- show up and look nice so the city doesn’t shut them down and a few nonprofits can look generous. But they got repetitive quickly. He didn’t even know why they were invited to this one. But, Ray insisted that it’d be good for them- and possible investors. Everyday sacrifices.

Ray and Winston always handled the networking part of the night, while Peter sat next to him at the bar, absolutely bored out of his mind as he toyed with an empty glass, head in his hand. Egon didn’t drink, but for some reason these bars were the only seats in the entire ballroom. It never made much of a difference, as he always spent the majority of his time observing the guests or the bottles on the wall, or wondering what he’d do when he got home.

“Egoooooon,” Peter whined for the 10th time that night as his head hit the bartop. “I don’t know what to do.” They’d been through this.

“Do what you always do. Get drunk. Talk to women.”

Peter’s cheek lay against the wood as he turned to face him, eyelids lower than usual. “But I miss my girlfriend.”

“Halfway there.” Egon righted his forgotten glass as it threatened to roll off the bar.

“You don’t get it, man. I’m committed now.” If that was a solemn vow or a complaint, it was hard to tell.

A pair of women stood next to them at the bar, giving quick apologies for the close proximity. Peter notices Egon’s shoulders square, and suddenly becomes very interested in tonight.

He perked up quickly, leaning into Egon. “Y’know what would make my night? Seeing you take a chance. Don’t shake your head- you know I’m right.” Egon shut it down silently, shrugging off Peter’s hands. Peter was right, he hadn’t “taken a chance” in what felt like forever. Peter’s voice continued to try and convince him, as it was tuned out into a low vibration of sounds.

Romance- or love, didn’t scare Egon. He was a grown man, after all, and he figured he understood it well enough. But that was his downfall. Person A is attracted to Person B, and they start dating- it was a simple equation. Peter and Dana defied the equation at times. But they put themselves back into it. Louis and Janine bent the rules of the equation. Could he do that? Could he break the rules, make new ones, to law that evolves every moment? Peter’s voice turned into a ring. This didn’t matter. People didn’t look at him.

He first experienced that realization in high school, the week of a dance. Big ears, big glasses- but Peter had a date. Peter always had a date. Did he want a date? Someone to hold when it was dark? To blush with as they got dressed up together? He was only human. But would he ever get that? All signs pointed to no. So, he stopped worrying about it all together. It was easier to ignore while his nose was in a book.

Peter was practically draped over his shoulders. “Do you want me to die, Spenges?”

“Can’t you bother someone else?” He didn’t mean to snap. It was just an unpleasant moment of awareness, it always was.

Peter was unmoved. “Oh, Egon. Is it ‘cause they’re girls?” He jumped from his stool as Egon decided to remove himself from the bar. “Sit, sit, sitsitsit. I’ll go and find Ray. I think you need a nap, anyway.” Peter disappeared into the crowd before Egon could join him.

Loneliness. Maybe he really should start drinking. Or, coat tailing after Peter found Ray to get out of here sooner.

He couldn’t stew in his increasing misery for long, as he felt a presence behind him. As he turned around to be freed from tonight, to stick to Ray or Winston’s side like a lost kid, he was met with a different sight.

Oh god.

“Mr. Spengler!” Your cheery face beamed. “It’s been a while. Is anyone sitting here?” Not anymore, you were already lowering your butt into it.

He remembers you well. He was required to take an Humanities class, something about ethics and morals in STEM students. You were a TA, the professor explained not necessarily going into that field, but taking the opportunity anyway. Egon considered himself to be well-rounded academically. But you were near tyrannical. In a class of liberal arts, english, and history majors, he stuck out like a sore thumb. You picked on him relentlessly, engaging in back and forth discussion that the rest of the lecture watched on. Even the professor.

Independent analysis- each student assigned a poem and asked to dissect it. “But, Mr. Spengler, surely you’re not insinuating that the speaker didn’t grow throughout her poem?” Your voice was loud, though the hall was smaller than normal and his seat was much closer to the front than he remembers it being yesterday.

You were always on the side of emotion and subtext, him on the side of logic and literalism. “In 6 stanzas, she wrote about flowers. I’m insinuating that her perspective did not grow in those 6 stanzas.”

You turned your back to him, moving to the large chalkboard. “Are you sure you’re not dancing around the fact that your assignment was an allegory for sex?” The class broke, and his face flushed into a bright, knowing red, as you flashed him a bright, knowing smile.

Relentless torture. You’d stop him before he could leave the hall, a timed essay in your hands that you’d returned to everyone but him.

“Interesting topic,” you offered, after an hour of grilling him. As he reached for the paper, you pulled your hand back.

“Your writing is improving. You do exceptionally well when it’s something you enjoy.” You let him take it.

You start for your things by your desk, before calling out into the empty room. “And you’re cute when you actually try!”

So he decided that he hated you. It was the only plausible explanation. He left your debates cherry pink , stumbling over his own words. He could have sworn that he was beyond intelligent. But when he stepped into that room with you he became a bumbling idiot. And hate was a powerful thing. He found himself contemplating what would occur that day as he made his trek across campus. He was sure he’d understood the essay he was assigned to the point of being able to recite it. That would show you. But you shut him down, and up. No matter how calculated and practiced his responses were, you tore down his guard with your comments. How could someone who made him feel so stupid say such…things? He sat alone at night, pondering his ailment. You confused him to an intense degree. Sweaty palms, increased heart rate- this was hate, white and hot.

The morning before he graduated, preparing to return in the fall for his doctorate, he appeared in the desolate classroom, as you cleaned out filing cabinets.

You looked up from underneath the desk, the smile he’d seen for a whole semester spreading on your lips. “Your reception outfit is nice, Mr. Spengler.”

God damn it. Why was he here again? The grip on his bag tightened as he scoured through his brain for any recollection. You had a box in your arms, simply passing him.

“Don’t change,” and the door shut behind you.

How he hated you.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you managed to order a drink while talking directly to him.

“Of course.” Sweaty palms, increased heart rate.

You sipped your glass. “You finished your doctorate? No more school?”

He adjusted to spontaneous conversation, albeit slowly. He didn’t face you as he responded. “No more school.” You let out a noise of surprise.

“Doctor Spengler. I like that.” His ears burned.

“And you’re doing the ghost-thing?” Oversimplification. But he found himself not caring when the words fell from your lips.

“Full-time.”

“I get your ads 24/7. You look great in a jumpsuit.” His long legs jerked against the underside of the bar, and he heard you stifle a laugh. His stomach soared. Vitriol.

There was a hand on his arm. That commanded his attention. If he wasn’t full of…rage then, he was now.

You murmured. “I don’t still make you nervous, do I, Dr. Spengler?” He couldn’t breathe. As he opened his mouth, the only sounds that came out were stammers. You just laughed, squeezing his arm as you rose from the stool.

“I’ve gotta get going. Goodnight, Dr. Spengler.” You were gone before he could blink.

Nights later in the firehouse, in the safety of his lab, he couldn’t focus. How ironic? As he trotted down the steps for fresh air, the phone rang out. Janine was out for her lunch, and the others were still on the road from a last minute job. He sighed.

“Ghostbusters.”

“Hey, Dr. Spengler. I enjoyed seeing you again and,” He held the phone to his ear with two hands. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner tomorrow night?”

He hated you. He’d show you just how smart he was by hanging up, ending this (one-sided) college feud.

“We’re back,” Ray’s voice startled him as he leaned against the desk’s edge staring at nothing. “Did we get a call?” He looks to the phone, resting on the tabletop rather than its proper place. Egon swallows.

“Just one.”

“Okay?” They wouldn’t accept his answer. He averted his eyes.

He conceded, letting himself lean back against the desk again. “An old TA.”

Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “The one who used to needle you all the time?” Ray had never met you, but he recalled Egon’s bad moods after having left your class.

“Egon’s got a bully,” Peter directed at Winston as he did something in his own open office, behind Janine’s desk. “What’d they want?”

He took a short breath. “Dinner.”

Peter whistled. “Gutsy,” Winston offered as he sent Peter a look of shared surprise. Ray kept his attention on Egon.

“Good on you for saying no.” Egon was silent.

Peter reappeared. “You said no, right?”

More silence. Egon was a weak, weak man. Peter put him in a headlock, pulling him in tight as Ray’s eyes blew out, wide, and Winston laughed in disbelief.

“Spenges is a big fat masochist!”

A woman walked in for an in-person consultation, confused at the sudden spectacle.

“Would you be quiet?”

You were (fashionably) late. 5 minutes and 23 seconds, to be exact, but he wouldn’t mention it. Not while you were going on about losing your house keys before you were about to leave. As you talked, he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked in the warm lighting of the restaurant. Jealousy, perhaps?

So he let you talk. And talk. But he didn’t find himself searching for other stimuli like he normally did with characteristically chatty people. You seemed nervous, cringing a bit after every poorly measured story or unintentional confession. He had a bit of an upper hand. He smiled to himself, albeit small.

“What?” You grinned back, probing him.

“Nothing,” he took a sip from the water he’d been nursing in place of wine. His expression was smug, hidden behind the lip of the glass.

“How’d you stay single, with a face like that?”

He choked on his water, setting the glass down as he coughed into his elbow. You had your head in your hand, leering at him like he was food. “I beg your pardon?”

“When you were post-grad? Guys and girls lined up outside your office to speak to you. And it wasn’t for your brain.”

You were messing with him, like you always were. But he’d bite. “They were eager to learn.”

You drew your hands up, incredulously. “Yeah, eager to learn what you looked like naked.” For the first time in his Jewish upbringing, he felt compelled to utter the name Jesus Christ.

The night went on for a bit longer. Against his better judgment, he started to find you funny. And witty. And incredibly alluring. You strung him along for 10 minutes about a classic of fiction, only to reveal that it was a personal story of your sexuality. And then you did it again, this time making a comment about his rear end. He couldn’t help but be startled every time.

You let him go on a tangent about his studies at one point, watching and listening intently. He felt the feeling rise in him again. This must have been full revulsion, because he couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. His cheeks began to grow sore from prolonged, uncontrollable smiling- what he considered to be himself reverting back to primal reactions from how hot his hatred burned. You fell into your old ways, going back and forth about a classic he’d read between then and college. He felt like he did in that lecture hall, temperature increased and body leaned towards yours.

“Assine point of view, Dr. Spengler,” you crossed your arms. The name made him feel like he’d collapse onto the floor every time you said it, however the scene was made in a fancy restaurant.

Begrudgingly, he spoke up, voice weaker than it had been in hours. “You can call me Egon.” He absentmindedly picked up his glass.

You shook your head, twice. “Dr. Spengler is fine. It's pretty fun to say in bed.”

The glass in his hand shattered in his white knuckled fist. That’s how you both were escorted out the establishment, partially for the glass now strewn into the carpeting as well as his palm, in addition to his failure to react to the staff shaking him around. You guided him outside, the cool air doing him some good as his hand was wrapped haphazardly in white napkins.

“Sorry. About your hand.” You broke the silence, assuming an arbitrary direction as you continued in the path of your apartment.

He was in his own world. Nay, his own universe. He stopped you as a cool wind blew through the sidewalk, rustling a nearby tree.

“I don’t understand. I don’t know what I know anymore. I hate you. And you hate me.”

His face was one of desperation, while yours was one of dismay. He continued.

“When I talk to you- when I see you. I feel the intense-st emotions, most of which I never thought I’d experience. I sweat. Too much. I forget what was on my mind. I look like an absolute moron. And- I never knew what that meant. So it had to be hate. That’s why you treat me the way you do- you laugh and smile and call me an idiot while calling me handsome because you hate me, too.”

He never vomited his soul out like that to anyone. Only a handful of times, really, to his closest friends. You only blinked, before a new expression drew over your features. Your face melted into a smile, to his surprise, as your arms suddenly found their way around his neck.

“Come inside, Dr. Spengler.”

He woke up the next morning- in your bed as you slept soundly. How he hated you.

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1989 #ghostbusters 1984 #egon spengler #egon spengler/reader #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader #egon/reader #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #oneshot #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #open requests #ask box

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let-us-cultivate-our-garden · 6 months

Note

So I don’t know if you know of Doug Walker, but recently released his Disneycember review of The Owl House.

While he praised a majority of the show, he criticized the main villain, Belos, of how he was written.

Many of the comments tried to defend the writing of the villain.

Doug Walker..

Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time.

Yes, I am very familiar with Doug Walker; I loved his stuff along with Channel Awesome years ago and then the allegations came out and fortunately, the other contributors on that channel moved onto bigger and better things. Meanwhile, Doug just stayed the same, so I don't watch his stuff anymore.

Any way, I think it's funny people are scrambling to defend Belos' writing because, despite my own personal opinions on Doug as a critic, I actually agree with him.

For a show that is ostensibly about subverting tropes and not judging a book by its cover, by showing how people can choose to change or not, etc. Belos is a throwback to an earlier era where the Big Bad had basic motivations and characterizations. And for a show like toh, that actually ends up hurting the narrative.

I have categorized the comments I found defending the writing and here are my responses to them:

Belos does have a deeper layer, you just have to look for it.

While a show can certainly foreshadow and provide little hints about a major character, eventually all of that setup will have to pay off somehow. There has to be a reveal both to reward the viewers that have been paying attention and to inform more casual viewers who may not have. Fans analyzing every little frame to extrapolate a major character's backstory only for that backstory to really not matter in the end despite it being set up for a season is just bad writing. full stop. [A viewer should also not have to look on social media for crucial information on a major character.]

It's also not clever that the show left so much room for interpretation on Belos; it just means that they didn't make a commitment to what was being set up and reduced his character to glib one-liners whenever we learn something interesting about him (Masha's "little bro was jealous of big bro" line and Papa Titan's whole spiel).

2. Belos would have been written better if the show had more time.

The Toh crew knew about the cancellation during production of Eda's Requiem and wrote all of 2B with it in mind. So they knew they were working on a time crunch but still introduced elements like the Collector when they should have spent the time wrapping up their story. The cancellation is not an excuse for sloppy writing.

3. Belos as a villain works more on a meta level.

So the argument here is that Belos is the antithesis to the BI; it's accepting and diverse while he is hateful and only accepts things that conform to his worldview. The characters in the story change and grow, while Belos does not. The problem here is that a villain can't only work on a meta level, it has to work on a narrative one as well.

If the BI is place that accepts weirdos then how did someone like Belos come to power? Oh, he lied his way to the top and created problems that never existed? That just makes your populace look dumb and easily manipulated. The BI being so accepting also undermines the threat credibility of the Emperor's Coven because why should we worry about them if they have no real influence over how the BI residents think or behave aside from when the plot needs them to?

Also, I strongly disagree with anyone who says that toh has a "people are complicated and choose to do good and bad" theme when all of the good characters can blame their bad actions on being manipulated or on circumstances outside of their control OR the narrative ignores/downplays anything bad they did (cough cough Amity and Lilith). Meanwhile, the villains are just shallow with basic motives and this is supposed to be a deep message about how Some People Are Just Bad.

If you're going to contrast why your good characters are capable of growth then you need to show why your villain does not. What is stopping them? How do they react if given a legitimate reason to change (that isn't a cheap jab at Steven Universe)? What is their justification for their actions?

Whatever the answer is, the narrative has to support it and not undermine it with a stupid joke.

4. Belos is so refreshing when every villain character is redeemed.

Watch more shows. If you think that every cartoon villain post-Steven Universe is being redeemed then you're incorrect. Redemption of a show or movie's Big Bad is still in the minority while the redemption of the main villain's lackey is a dime-a-dozen.

Ultimately, I think the problem with toh is that so many of its fans take its thematic statements at face value without ever really stopping to think about the execution of those themes and if they really work or not.

Belos just happens to embody this little trick that toh does: it claims to have bold and timely statements and important themes, but the structure and execution of the plot, character development, and world-building undermines any attempt at a consistent or coherent message.

#asks #long post #the owl house #toh critical #toh criticism #emperor belos #philip wittebane #doug walker #nostalgia critic #disneycember

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vemaro · 5 months

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under these circumstances

[PART 1]

Link to PART 2!

Summary : Astarion got roped in by the tieflings to come and see their former leader. And by roped in, Karlach literally dragged him up from the Underdark. Against his will. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Tav. Of course he wants to see her. He wishes she never left his sight. Astarion just has absolutely no desire to see the woman he’s madly in love with living a lavish life with someone else.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (female Tav) // also minor Karlach x Dammon

Word Count: ~ 1120

Notes: I was going to write out a whole spiel to give context, but I’m suddenly feeling lazy. Fair warning, this is a super elaborate, highly specific AU I came up with a week ago. It’s been a brainworm (hah) in my head ever since. It’s canon-divergent, at least when it pertains to the romance with Astarion. But also Karlach’s heart. They pull a deus ex machina and she doesn’t have to stay in Avernus because reasons. Tav needs their Mama K.

My Tav’s name is Robyn, but I switched it to Tav when posting. I don’t go too much into detail about appearance so feel free to imagine your own character in her place. Though, I mention she a druid a few times, and she has heterochromia. Apologies if this is makes absolutely no sense. I haven’t written anything in a long time. And this is my first time posting here. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. I’m dying to talk to someone about this.

Also, I do have a second part I plan to post in the next couple of days.

Enjoy (:

…

Tav starts backing out of the room. “Wait right here. I’ll fetch Callum. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

As soon as her back is turned, she sighs. Thank the gods that Terrick has gone on another of his business trips. While her husband and old travel companions are civil (mostly), there is a stifling tension in the air whenever a friend pops in and Terrick is home. On one hand, Tav’s the same person she’s always been; the optimistic, fun loving druid who became the defacto leader of their merry band of misfits. Now though, she’s part of the highly respected Solariz clan, a noble family who holds a large influence within Baldur’s Gate. And a Solariz must act as such. She must mind her manners, dress in a way that befits her status, and worst of all, not go gallivanting up and down the Sword Coast looking for adventure. At least whenever Terrick isn’t around, she can let loose a little. Thankfully, her husband isn’t around too often.

Instead of walking straight through her son’s open bedroom door, Tav stops just outside and leans on the wall. She’s fighting back laughter because her day’s been made, but her son's month is about to get better. Tav loudly clears her throat and holds her hand up to project. “Oh, Callum,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Guess who’s here to see you.”

There’s a gasp from inside the room, followed by a thump, then followed by the sound of socked feet racing towards the door. The little boy spots his mother hiding behind the wall immediately and starts hopping up and down. “Who, Mama? Who’s here?”

She uses her mismatched eyes to point down the hallway. “Go look in the kitchen. They’re waiting for you.”

“Okay!” And he’s off.

Tav lets out a soft laugh. She loves that boy more than she’s loved anyone before, blood relations be damned. Finding him was the single greatest adventure of her life and she’s never, not once regretted taking him in, especially with moments like this, when he’s so happy. When they’re both so happy. Tav had no idea a part of her found family was missing until coming across Callum.

Speaking of found family …

“Karlach!”

When Tav reenters the kitchen, her red tiefling companion is kneeling down with her arms thrown out, sporting the biggest grin from pointy ear to pointy ear. “There’s my favorite little soldier!” Callum races towards her, throwing open his own arms as he jumps. Karlach pretends to almost fall over when she catches him. “Oh my gods, kiddo. Have you gotten bigger since I last saw you?”

Callum buries his face in her neck, soaking up as much of the barbarian's warmth as he can. “I missed you!” he exclaims into her shirt collar.

Karlach swings side to side, squeezing him tighter (but not too tight). “I missed you too, Callum. Been taking care of your mum, yeah?”

He pulls away and nods vehemently, making his blue curls bounce with the movement. “Yeah! I protect Mama from the scary monsters!”

Karlach ruffles his hair. “Good job, Callum.”

The second visitor slides in behind his partner. “On the subject of protection, I’ve got a little something for you.”

“Hi, Dammon! I missed you!”

Dammon, too, ruffles Callum’s blue locks. “Missed you too, kid.” The blacksmith reaches into his satchel and pulls out something wrapped in a cloth. Callum automatically leans forward out of curiosity, letting go of Karlach altogether. “Maybe you could use this to fend off those scary monsters.”

“What is it?” he asks.

Dammon removes the the cloth and crouches down to the Callum’s level. “Why, a sword, of course.” Karlach and Tav give a chorus of oohs and ahs. “The perfect weapon for a warrior of your esteemed caliber.”

Callum flaps his hands, jumping up and down, excitement radiating off him in waves. “A real sword?” he shouts. “For me?”

“If your mum will allow it.”

Callum whirls around, clasping his hands close to his cheek and brown eyes wide, a lethal combination meant to weaken the heart of their target. “Mama! Can I? Can I have the sword? Please?”

It doesn’t take a trained eye to know the weapon is fake. It’s made of wood and the blade is painted silver. The hilt’s adorned with dyed twine and a few faux gems for embellishment. To a small child, this is as real as it gets. Tav walks over and cards her fingers through his already messy hair, a scrutinizing pout adorning her face. “I don’t know,” she sighs. “Swords are very dangerous.”

Four year olds are not above begging. “Please, Mama! Puh-lease! ”

It’s fake, of course she’s planning to let him keep the gift. Tav still acts as if she’s thinking it over. “I suppose,” she says, dragging out the words. “As long as you say thank you to Dammon for making it.”

Callum whoops. “Yay!” Then he faces the tieflings again. “Thank you, Dammon!”

Dammon looks up to Tav and winks. She winks back. The hyperactive child quickly recaptures their attention by bouncing yet again. “Alright then.” Dammon then gets down on one knee and bows his head while holding out the wooden sword. “It was my deepest honor and pleasure, Sir Callum.”

Oh, Callum is eating this up. The newly minted knight looks back at his mother one more time, making sure he still has permission. A quick, encouraging nod from Tav lets him know he’s good to go. Callum gingerly reaches for the sword and takes it into his hands. “Wow …” he whispers.

“What do you think of the sword, soldier?” Karlach asks.

Words cannot properly express what Callum is thinking. He’s barely four years old after all. So Callum takes the sword by the hilt and holds it high above his head, shouting, “I have a sword!”

“Yes, you do,” Dammon agrees.

Karlach jumps back into her feet. “Hey! Let’s say you and I have a spar in the courtyard later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” With that, Callum starts showing off his swordsman skills, slashing and jabbing in a way only a child could. He even provides the sound effects. Tab, Karlach, and Dammon laugh along at his antics.

A scoff from the third and final visitor has everyone looking in his direction. “Wyll had better watch out,” croons a familiar voice. Tav digs her finger nails into her palms. “Our little bird here may be coming for his title as the Blade of Frontiers.”

If they thought the boy was excited at the previous company, they are immediately proven wrong. Callum’s smile shines so big and so bright, the sun may turn green with envy. It’s almost too bright for the pale elf. “Asty!” he cries.

“Hello, dear.”

Thanks for reading!!!

#bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #tavstarion #bg3 #astarion #tav #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #idk if I should tag the others #yeah I should #karlach bg3 #dammon bg3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #idk how to tag! for give me!!!#vemaro

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blessyourhondahurley · 8 months

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Suptober day 10 - Hands on Me

The concluding second part of The Liminal Moment, in which Dean gets his massage, and maybe changes his life?

Suptober prompt: Close Shave

(Read on AO3)

“Welcome to The Liminal Moment. My name is Castiel. I'll be your masseur today.”

Dean's head, muzzy from days of pain and bad sleep, spins in place. Bobby sent me over here for a massage? Like, a massage-massage, or like a “massage”? Nah, he wouldn't have sent me here if this was a happy-endings kind of place, would he? I mean, I would be one hundred percent okay with getting a happy ending from this guy, look at him, damn. Those eyes, those lips, that hair... That stubble! I usually like a fella with a close shave but wow I kinda wanna rub all up on him! Oh shit, what if I get a boner while he's working on me? Would he freak out? Yell? Call the cops? Fuck. This is crazy, I should go. I don't belong here. But... God, a real, actual massage sounds amazing. If he could fix my back, or even just make it hurt a little less... It's not getting any better on its own, that's for sure...

He's so up in his own thoughts that it takes him a moment to realize that they've walked into a different room, and Castiel is speaking to him.

“... right here and I'll be back in a few minutes,” he's saying. Oops.

“Um, sorry, I was kind of freaking out internally and I didn't hear anything you said. Run that by me again?”

The man gives him a kind smile. “Let me guess, this is your very first massage?”

“Yeah, and ten minutes ago I didn't know I was gonna be doing this, so... I'm pretty lost here.”

“Got it. Don't worry, I'll talk you through the whole process. Feel free to ask any questions you have, at any point. I want you to feel totally comfortable.”

His voice and his manner are so soothing, so patient, that Dean lets his guard down. “What if I–” Then he stops himself, too embarrassed to continue.

Castiel cocks his head and gives him a considering look, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Shit, that's hot, Dean thinks, which only makes the question he'd been about to ask more urgent. Oh, fuck it. “What if I get, um, excited on the table? I'm not tryna be a perv here but you're a really good-lookin' guy, and I'm not used to bein' touched if it's not for, y'know...” He shrugs and trails off, mortified.

“Sex?” Castiel finishes, and Dean's palms start to sweat. He nods dumbly.

“I can assure you, you're not the first person to be concerned about arousal during a massage. Our bodies can react in so many unpredictable, uncontrollable ways, and you're right that most of us only ever experience focused touch during intimacy. You may have an erection at some point during the next hour, you may not. If it does happen, I promise that I will not be shocked or offended. You also might fart, or burp, or cry. I've been a masseur for many years, and I'm not afraid of anything a body can do. You don't need to feel shame or worry here. This is a place to relax and let yourself be cared for. Do you have any other questions before I give you my little spiel again and we get started?”

Dean shakes his head. He's already starting to tear up a little bit from the aura of calm, peace, and acceptance that radiates off of this lovely man. He makes a mental note to thank Bobby profusely for sending him here.

Castiel continues, “Alright, so, this is the room where I'll be giving you your massage. In a moment I'll step outside, and you can disrobe to your level of comfort. You can strip down all the way if you like, or if you prefer you can leave your underwear on. Since I need to work on your back I do ask that you take off your shirt and pants. If your feet tend to get cold, you can keep your socks. Once you've undressed, please lay tummy-down on the table with your face centered here in this padded hole, and cover yourself with the sheet. You can leave your clothes on the chair over here and I'll be back in a few minutes. Sound good?”

Dean nods, already toeing out of his boots. Castiel turns to a small table in the corner. He lights a cluster of honey-colored candles there and clicks a small remote. Soft music begins to play from unobtrusive speakers set around the room. On his way out the door, he dims the lights.

Pain slows him a bit, but soon he's down to his socks and briefs, and climbing gingerly onto the table. Once he's laying face-down, there's no way he's going to be able to twist himself around to grab the sheet, so he holds the thing around his shoulders like Superman's cape as he goes.

Then he's prone on the table, and just this, just being able to lay completely flat like this without suffocating himself in a pillow, makes the tightness in his back start to ease. He lets his arms hang down off the sides of the table and something in his spine shifts a little. He sighs and updates his mental note to include buying Bobby a six pack.

There's a soft knock at the door, and Castiel comes back in.

“Ready?” he asks, and Dean gives an affirmative grunt. “Oh, before I begin, do you have any preference on fragrance? I like to use a scented oil, but I can do unscented if you are sensitive?”

Dean makes a little “whatever” gesture with his dangling hands. He hears the sound of a cap being snapped open, then skin rubbing on skin as Castiel oils and warms his palms.

Then the massage begins. It's a revelation.

Castiel starts with broad strokes down his back. He's just spreading on the oil, not even digging in to the muscle yet, but it's like every nerve in Dean's body fires at once, and he realizes how skin-hungry he's let himself become. He wasn't lying when he said he's not used to being touched outside of the bedroom. And maybe, as he's gotten older and the hookup scene has lost its enticing glow, he hasn't really “entertained” any callers in a while, bedroom-wise. Endorphins flood into his system and he feels like his body starts floating off the table.

As the hour goes on, Castiel works the muscles in his back and shoulders in a firm, steady pattern. Time passes in a patchouli-scented blur. Maybe he gets hard, maybe he doesn't. It's not anything worth noticing, for either of them. He definitely makes some weird noises. Grunts when Castiel hits a particularly sore spot, moans when he works it loose, little huffs and snuffles when he applies extra pressure and pushes the air right out of him. Dean doesn't have it in him to be embarrassed, and Castiel doesn't draw attention to any of it.

The pain drains away, and Dean melts down onto the table like butter. Screw thea six pack, he's buying Bobby a goddamn pony.

He's close to dozing off when he notices that Castiel has gone from deep massage back to long, light strokes of his skin. At last, he rests his broad palms on the middle of Dean's lower back, right where the pain used to be the worst, and just holds them there for a minute.

“We're done,” he says softly. “How do you feel?”

Dean gives a long, low moan, too blissed to make words.

“That's what I like to hear,” Castiel says, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice. He feels the sheet being tugged up over him again, all the way up to his ears. “I'm going to go out now, but you can feel free to lay there until you're ready to get up. If you want to rest, or even take a little nap, go ahead. When you're up and dressed, come out to the reception area again.”

There's the sound of the door opening and closing, and then there's just soft music and the smell of patchouli, and Dean lets himself float for a while.

Eventually, he rolls carefully to his side, and he's amazed to feel no pain in the movement. He sits up, and his back gives no complaints. There's a bit of residual tightness when he bends to pick up his boots, but compared to the agony he was in before he's basically been the recipient of a genuine miracle.

When he exits the room, Castiel is sitting behind the reception desk with his phone in his hand. He types something, then smiles up at Dean and reads from the screen. “Bobby says, and I quote, 'don't bother showing your Ken doll face around the shop the rest of today, idjit. Go home and take it easy.' I would only add that you should have a snack when you get home, drink extra water tonight, and stretch a little before you go to bed.”

Dean nods and reaches for his back pocket. “Will do. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. This one's on your boss. He's been a regular customer of mine since I opened, so I gave him a deal. I do hope I'll get to see you again sometime, though?”

The look Castiel gives him then holds hunger, a spark. It's clear he's not only asking if Dean wants to make a followup appointment. Maybe Dean wasn't the only one thinking about erections today. He grins and leans on the desk. “Cas, I would love that.”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel au #suptober23 #day 10

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fancifulplaguerat · 4 months

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One final spiel about the Lilich sisters to conclude my thoughts about how they seem two sides of the same coin. To reiterate, how Aglaya is aware of her role while Nina is a prophetess; Nina conquered the Law, Aglaya is Its servant, yet her infatuation with Artemy suggests some desire to overcome it?

I am intrigued by the implications of Aglaya’s attachment to Artemy, given that it derives from Artemy’s sense of autonomy in that “Any choice is right as long as it’s willed.” I mean. Daniil and Georgiy comment on Artemy’s effect on her from essentially their single conversation about freedom. The game pretty much points to this being the reason Aglaya was fond of him. Ex. Daniil remarks to him “You have made quite an impression on the emissary of the Powers That Be. Congratulations. Keep doing that, and soon there’ll be no menacing Inquisitor in town—only a gentle Aglaya Lilich […] She was quite intent on destroying you when you came to her. But she was so impressed by your dignified demeanour that she’s had a change of heart. What did you tell her that touched her so much?” to which Artemy can reply, “We talked about freedom.” And likewise, if the player speaks to Aglaya, you can say, “Did you fall in love with him because he was free? But that wasn’t him; it was me.” Aglaya muses whether Artemy were sent to her by fate, and Artemy’s philosophy indeed seems the resolution to Aglaya’s conflict over her autonomy. There is a gratuitous amount of quotes about this, but I think the most direct are “I must admit I’m a bit confused—but it was for the better. It allowed me to escape the iron grip of my preordainment. I’m content with being able to choose with my heart,” and “I’m honest with myself—so does it really matter what I’m made of?”

But here is my thing. That Aglaya is in conflict with her autonomy fascinates me because it implies Aglaya potentially wants freedom from the Law? It’s difficult to approach this, because to what extent does Aglaya see the Law/The Powers That Be as one and the same? I’m unsure, but since I first played Patho I imagined that Aglaya’s adherence to the Law was in part because it granted her some semblance of control over herself/her actions—that to think this is how the world works, how it *has* to work could somehow make her lack of autonomy less painful. That in Aglaya’s own way, she has a parallel (if not identical) interest to Nina. And I am obsessed with the interpretation that Aglaya is envious in some part of her that Nina managed to do what she could not.

But even beyond a potential shared desire to 'break' the Law, I think there is a certain mythos around both sisters. Nina is naturally steeped in being this miraculous sorceress who was unyielding, domineering, and followed unquestioningly by others. Yet to me, there is an echo of this around Aglaya by virtue of her being an Inquisitor. Dialogues establish Inquisitors as cruel individuals who exercise absolute control over others. There is even, I feel, potential similar language around Aglaya and Nina’s foreknowledge as Inquisitor and prophetess. That is, Yulia describes the Mistress as able to “see the whole chain of cause-and-effect connections. They also see where the chain would lead” while Aglaya describes herself one who has “built a logical chain of events and consequences.” Likely directed to the game’s conception of fate but still, I find it interesting that these consequential chains are found relating to Nina and Aglaya.

Then there is that Aglaya despises Nina for being thoughtless about human lives; indeed Nina is described as treating people as mere instruments for her aims. But when Aglaya describes herself as a humanitarian, she says that “I only condemn a few to death for the sake of many.” I personally think Aglaya would be less flippant with human life than Nina, but there is still a similar sentiment here, that some must die for a greater good/the good of many. Nina’s exact motivations are more difficult to provide exact evidence for given. Well. There is far less information about her. Through indirect characterization/her position within the narrative, however, I think it is a safe assumption that Nina was motivated chiefly by the same ideas as her fellow utopians. A drive for miracles and reaching beyond the body’s bounds rooted in that abstract ‘love’ that manifests and thus motivates every utopian to an extent. That as Daniil or her family, she is cruel by necessity but ultimately acts with what she would likely consider righteous intentions; trying to achieve a goal that will benefit others.

#apologies once again for these long ass posts but I was suffering a surfeit of thoughts I was going insane #it is delicious to have that out of my brain.#I'm done for now I think.#patho.txt #pathologic #nina kaina #aglaya lilich #artemy burakh

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ms-scarletwings · 10 months

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Media Musin’ Monday, #7:

Screw You, Nickalodeon: Making Fiends Deserved Better

I have no idea how anyone could seriously believe that the entertainment industrial complex™ even tries anymore to hold the illusion of a just or meritocratic realm. No holds barred, I have my issues with about every company still clinging like barnacles to the tragic, sinking ship that cable TV has become, but if you want me to point to a network that’s given me an entire skeleton of bones to pick by this point, and I’m underlining Nickelodeon in red at the top of my list.

It’s not because they host some bad shows, no. It’s not a sour grapes reaction to the untimely end of some of my favorite shows either, and though the entire rotten apple situation with creators like Dan Schneider and Butch Hartman certainly added to barrel’s spoilage, I would still feel every bit of my disdain for Nick’s tv group for the one cardinal sin they have committed again and again and again to ad nauseum- their ongoing phase of running a talent slaughterhouse.

It sounds hyperbolic, but I’d call it a fair observation: Spongebob is widely aknowledged as legitimately both the best and the worst thing to happen to this corner of kid’s media, hands down, but I don’t blame the little yellow guy one bit. He’s only another victim to the mess, and as much as I would love to go on a whole dossier spiel of the history of Nickalodeon from the 90s “golden age” to a full list of the dozens of shows and creators their execs have royally fucked over in the name of chasing the ratings dragon… for one, that’s been done a hundred times by other people at this point, and much better than I could. For two, that would take all freaking day. Just off the top of any cartoon savvy person’s head you’d vaguely recall the assassination of Legend of Korra, El Tigre, or Invader Zim, but that can is filled with so many “blink and you’ll miss it” smaller shows that were barely given two steps out of the starting gate, it pads down an entire TVTropes article on the subject. Dozens of them, shows that Nick all but basically set up for failure before quietly shipping them to the peaceful farm upstate- by which I mean shuffled off to inconsistent time blocks and lower priority channels so they could burn out their final approved episodes in hospice. Nicktoons alone garnered a hell of a reputation for exactly what I’m talking about, but that’s show biz, or… something.

Their worst and probably most audacious offense of all? Let me tell you about the fate of the charming world of a little girl who made fiends.

There’s no better place to talk about the end than the beginning.

Making Fiends, I mean, the original Making Fiends was a series of flash-animated shorts among a handful of other early 2000s web cartoons made by Amy Winfrey.

✨ Just, in case you didn’t recognize or feel something for that name, Amy Winfrey is one of the utter beasts of cartoons in general, not purely kids’ media. Songwriter, directing, animation, screenwriting, voice acting… you name a part of the process, and she’s probably dipped her toe in there at some point. Professionally, she broke into the industry contributing work to earliest season of South Park, and while she personally is most known for and associated with Making Fiends, the likely most prominent body of work she’s been a part of would be Bojack Horseman, wherein she’s credited as a director for many of its strongest episodes, including (but not limited to):

- “Free Churro”

- “The Telescope”

- "Sunk Cost and All That"

- “The View from Halfway Down”

- Amy Winfrey and her spouse (Peter Merryman) making a cameo appearance in the BJH episode “sunk cost and all that”

And even before all of that, she’s been at this animation stuff since the 90s and it shows in a loaded up portfolio of accolades and projects, both professional and personal.

The relevance of this information is to help put in some perspective to just how rotten of a deal she comparatively got with Nickelodeon, when one of those passion creations got a chance to join the network’s airing list.

But to sum up the idea of the web series proper, it independently released 24 short episodes in total, each centered around the antics of two girls engaged in both a completely one sided friendship and nemesis-ship. The show’s namesake refers to the single action the evil little Vendetta is most known for- creating a variety of servant monsters, many of which she uses to secure her rule over the port town of Clamburg, and all its inhabitants. Charlotte, on the other hand, is the quintessential “children’s show” character: near inhumanly kind, cheerful, and naive. So much so that she’s oblivious to her “best friend’s” near daily attempts to murder her, or the fact that she, you know, despises her.

In 2006, Nickelodeon took an interest in Winfrey’s toon and the prospect of adapting it into a TV series, reportedly because a daughter of a studio employee was a huge fan.

And fun fact btw, this was actually the first time that Nick did this approach of turning an indie web animation into one of their shows, but it certainly wasn’t the last if you remember this was also the origin of Breadwinners.

And as far as the audience was concerned, it was quite the successful transition! The TV version pretty much kept all of the major beats and vibes of the original, with polished animation, the same voice actors, and some stylistic upgrades to the art/environmental designs. For a brief time, it was the highest rated thing on its release channel too. Someone I don’t quite recall the name of once endearingly referred to the show as “baby’s first grimdark” and I adore how fitting of a summary that is. It sports a charmingly unique art style, memorable soundtrack, and I can swear to y’all, the humor aged like a fine wine.

“Why don’t you pretend to be dead?”

“:) ok!”

*slam*

(Also, sidenote, the entire series is still up on your tube, in HD, completely free to watch!)

So, if it’s such a neat little show, then why on earth does barely a soul seem to remember it existing? And even fewer scare who recall knowing about the show during its 2008 release?

Because Nickelodeon Studios, without hyperbole, set this show up for failure at every single turn before it even got a fighting chance.

People know of some shows that Nick treated like garbage, but this one they treated like absolute shit for reasons I can’t fathom.

Making Fiends, for one, never actually saw the light of day on the main network channel, as per the original plans. It was actually instead delegated over to Nick’s sister channel, Nicktoons, by a last minute decision.

Nicktoons, fyi, was not carried by most cable packages. I obviously lived on it as a kid, and it was functionally to Nick what I remember Boomerang being to Carton Network- the cable block where reruns of much older but loved shows were shoveled off to once they finished their days on the main channel.

Second, it was quietly premiered with barely a couple farts of advertising, too. I remember maybe seeing one preview as a kid, on Nicktoons.

And I guess, not keeping either of these in mind, Nick then abruptly pulled the plug on the whole thing, citing the tried and true “low ratings” explanation and leaving it at that.

Not counting years of post-cancelation reruns, the show actively ran from October 4, 2008, to November 1, 2008.

That is roughly a month between premiere and the end production date.

One season. Six entire episodes.

Seven whole additional completed scripts abandoned on the table.

Yeah.

I’m a touch salty about it still.

And with the shutting down of the Nicktoons network social media in 2018, any additional acknowledgment of the show from Nickelodoen themselves has kind of vanished to my knowledge. Like, it’s almost no wonder you already had to be part of the cult following to know about it, when Nick has been quiet about the calf they sent to auction since. Worst part is, they still hogged the rights to the show instead of idk, wild idea, giving it back over to Winfrey. I can only imagine people get away with entire reuploads of the series under the otherwise very IP protective Nick’s nose as another display of how low and bastardly those execs really view Making Fiends.

And that sucks! Wow! But I guess in a “be happy it happened, not sad it ended” way, I’m kind of glad for the fact that we can still enjoy and pass around the show that we did get to experience at all, rather than see it fade into true lost media territory.

Even today, about 16 whole years later, I know for a fact there are still plenty of other fans that remember and cherish the splash this tiny show made in that big, brutal pond. So, in that manner, you can’t truly call Making Fiends dead and gone.

A bittersweet story to think about, and only one of many down a long list, but ultimately one I’m happy to be able to tell at all.

Even if all the while still raising a giant middle finger to the network for the ending.

#media musin’ mondays #mm’m #making fiends #nicktoons #amy winfrey #nostalgic cartoons #scarlet talks about things #enthusiastic recommendations #long post

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tomriddleslove · 1 month

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hey hey, hope you enjoy your break!

thank you for doing this little game

So I’m 5’6, I have dark hair that frames my face and dark almond eyes. I’m someone who is very very ambitious and if I set my mind to something I will make it happen no matter what, I also love very deeply. I love loving someone aha. I’m also a big reader, always surrounded by books and I love listening to music. I’m a slytherin!

This one popped out at me so call it fate or whatever, i think you two match perfectly.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy.

The Draco Malfoy, who got sorted into slytherin before the sorting hat could even touch his head. A true slytherin through and through, what more would he want from a partner than someone who is ambitious?

He has high expectations of himself and needs someone who can respect that, if not push him further towards them. You were that person, and it was essentially a sone deal for them.

Now I also think Draco would be a sucker for almond shaped eyes, and he would make a corny poetic comment about it when you first started dating.

I think he’s quite a gentleman. He didn’t court you per say, but he did make his intentions clear and take you out for dates. Buy you flowers, the whole spiel.

Realistically I think he wants someone who enjoys the lifestyle he lives. Rather grandiose. Someone who accepts being spoiled.

BUT

We forget that all Draco wanted was a normal (high society) teenage life.

He loved reading. Adored it. That’s all he could really do at the Manor. Much to his fathers disapproval, he knew all the classics. From Homer, to Dostoevsky. He read the poets, and the philosophers. He loved reading and only fell in love with you more when he found out you read too.

That’s often what the two of you did together, reading silently in eachothers presence.

QUALITY TIME.

He loves being around you, doing anything. Revising, sleeping. It’s tenfold better now that you’re here with him.

He doesn’t really like music much, especially not after being forced into pianoforte lessons by his parents.

But, when he hears you hum along to your music, it’s the most beautiful sound, and he swears he could listen to ur for days on end.

It became more official when he asked you to come home with him during the Christmas Holidays, so you couldn’t meet his mother. Draco loves his mother dearly, and her seal of approval was a make or break for him.

That day you turned up, dressed elegantly with a gift for her. You wooed get over immediately, clearly having put in the effort yet still so undeniably you.

It’s not that you were trying to be someone you weren’t, but you knew the right side of yourself to present. Needless to say, Narcissa was immediately planning your future with Draco.

On the last day of you staying with him, you convince him to sneak out of the manor. You grab his hands, and the two of you cannot help but feel exhilarated as you sneak through the corridors, sprinting down the halls. You made him feel normal. He felt alive with you, like he was just a student with no worries but exams and relationships.

You danced in the rain that night, to the melody of your haphazard singing. The memory is forever engrained into Draco’s head. It’s what he thinks of the first time he successfully casts a patronus.

Draco is a very complex boy. He’s scared, he doesn’t know how to deal with emotions. He’s temperamental, and he gets angry. He thought that would drive you away, that it would make you leave him.

But you love. Deeply. You stuck by him through everything. When he needed to get away, you were ready to leave without second thought. When he needed someone to defend him, you were there without a doubt. When he needed to cry, you held him. The only things that mattered to you was him, as was the same for him. Nothing, and no one mattered, if you were involved.

The battle of Hogwarts was hell for him. He couldn’t cope not seeing you for seconds. He only prayed by putting himself forward first he could delay you from doing anything.

After it all finished, he immediately proposed. Not a whole on one knee thing. Rather, he grabs your face, kisses you, and gives you the ring he’s been carrying with him for a year now. Nearly loosing you made him realise he cannot wait any longer without letting you know how much you mean to him.

“Marry me. In 1 year. 3 years, even 10. Whenever, just marry me.” He breathes out, forehead pressed against yours.

It’s never a question of “would he kill for you?”. Rather, it’s “Who am i going to kill for you.”

Additional: His favourite thing to do is lay on top of you and complain about everyone as you massage his scalp. He doesn’t need heaven, it’s right in front of him.

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dirtysvthoughts · 2 years

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had an awful day today so i’m just thinking about you coming home and seungcheol noticing something off immediately so he makes you a nice bath and cooks your favorite dinner with no questions asked… then he cuddles you to sleep placing kisses on your forehead whispering how much he loves you

also i hope you feel better ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

a/n: dang, not we’re all going through it rn 🫠🫠 idk why but like early autumn is like high time for depression and other shit of that nature, but we’ll make it through! and thanks anon! i took a mental health day the next day after my breakdown, and tbh workplaces need to start instituting that with no repercussions. anywho, here’s my spiel:

as a quick sidebar, i can definitely see attentiveness as one of cheol’s love languages, as your partner, he knows pretty much everything about you - what makes you happy, what makes you tick, and the times when to leave you alone and give you your personal space. he knows where his boundaries are, and wants to respect that.

——

nothing seemed to go right today.

everything just felt like it was falling to pieces. one crappy meeting turned into lost work, which led to a few heated conversations with your co-workers. not to mention you were having a friendship issue outside of work, and now everything seemed to be overlapping, and you thought you finally had everything under control. once you slammed your car door after leaving work, your eyes could no longer hold back. everything was just becoming too much too handle.

that’s why when seungcheol first saw you as you walked through the door of your shared apartment - eyes red, slightly puffy and your clothes a little disheveled- he immediately sensed something was wrong. as if there was an extreme weight on your shoulders.

“rough day?” he asked with a look of concern. you nod in fear of crying again after finally calming down a few minutes ago.

he approaches you and gently kisses your lips, embracing you in a warm hug as his mouth eventually parts from yours. “talk about it when you’re ready.. in the meantime, i’ll run a bath for you and i’ll cook you some food - your favorite food! right now, i just want you to relax, okay?”

you refuse to let him go as he walks you to the bathroom, wanting to stay in his touch just a few minutes longer…

after you finish bathing and eating the delicious meal he cooked for you, he lies with you in bed after you finished your nighttime routine. you have the tv on, but your mind is absentmindedly wandering, barely focused on the plot on the small screen.

“i’m off tomorrow, so if you wanna stay the whole day, we can. we can do something fun! just the two of us,” he kisses your temple slowly and sweetly as you cuddle up to him, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“that actually sounds really nice.. i think i’ll take you up on that offer,” you kiss his cheek appreciatively as he smiles at you.

“i love you, y’know that right? things will get better soon.”

“thanks. i love you too, seungcheol.”

and his repeated whispers of “i love you” carry you into your dreams, comforting you that you would wake up to that same beloved voice when you woke up.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x female reader #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol imagine #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagine #scoups scenarios #scoups x reader #dsvtt: answered asks

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callsigncrash · 1 year

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Eey I got an idea

Yamori, Naki and ur homelander boyos with a gn or male s/o that's autistic and has a lot of cute, happy stims, like swaying from side to side, flapping their fists when bored, whistling like a bird, hopping a bit on their heels, swishing their leg from side to side or bouncing their leg and such

But s/o has too anxious stims that can be confused by the happy ones, like flapping their open hands with a rather neutral expression when being rlly anxious, tapping their foot real fast and having to switch which foot their tapping since they get tired fast and that makes them sway a bit from side to side, whistling a rlly specific melody over and over again when scared or anxious, trying to swishing their leg/foot a but too agressively and bouncing it way too fast to be comfy and maybe scratching their own hands and arms ¯\_(ツ)_/

Idk I just got my own stims and hope that's some good examples and you can work with it, I was just curious on how the boyos would react to a s/o like that and such

Anygays! Have a great cycle of 24 hours! ^^

Autistic S/O HCs

Another ask that makes me feel seen! I’m not entirely autistic but I am on the spectrum and so is my dad so hopefully I do this justice!

________________________________________________

Yamori

He had a feeling so he was already observing what you did, what you like, and what your boundaries are. This man literally has a list.

He’s a very patient man so he doesn’t get annoyed with you at all. He also just loves you so annoyance is off the table for him when it comes to you.

Respects your boundaries like crazy.

He goes out of his way to make sure that you’re not put in a position that could make you feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable when you’re with him.

He strikes me as a guy who has days where he just prefers not to talk so if you get like that too, he already understands.

Feeds into whatever you hyperfixate on. He’s got money to throw around so go crazy.

He makes sure Naki understands your boundaries. He’s sweet but he’s a little too overexcited sometimes.

Likes to hear you babble on.

Gets on people for making you upset in any way. He doesn’t tolerate that.

His quiet and calm demeanor at home is a huge comfort and is seriously grounding.

Naki

He genuinely didn’t know until you told him.

He wants you to tell him if there’s anything that you need or if there’s anything he can do.

Your boundaries and needs are very important to him. Your comfort is his top priority!

Pays attention to your mood and surroundings just in case you feel like you need some time and space for yourself to collect yourself.

He likes how you think a bit differently than others. He’s a little odd so he likes bouncing his goofy ideas off of you.

If you’re someone who needs to be moving your hands or fiddling with something then please play with his hands. He really wants you to and he gets to be helpful!

He wants you to be open with him about how you feel so he’ll try his hardest to lessen any anxiety you might have about telling him things you’re feeling or needing.

Have hyperfixations on specific things? Tell him about them! He likes hearing about what you like and why you do.

Those days where you just don’t really feel like being sociable or verbal, he lets you do you.

He’s as supportive as a person can get so he’ll do anything and everything he can to be accommodating and make you feel loved and understood.

Homelander

Like I said in my OCD post, he doesn’t totally understand or have patience for it at first.

He’s probably one of those people who does the whole “Just be normal!” type of spiel.

He does soften up and become more understanding later on.

It’s a bit of a “learning curve” for him.

During your relationship, his tolerance for people gets a little better as he learns what you need, what your limits/boundaries are, and how you do things.

The first time it really becomes something he gets and finds common ground with was at a Vought event.

He didn’t want to go, and he knew that you really didn’t want to go but you had to.

The music and the people were very loud. It was overstimulating but he had to keep going. Gotta keep up appearances. Then he heard your breathing really change.

He looked across the room to see you in the corner. He knew he was overstimulated but he could handle it, you couldn’t.

A wave of sympathy hit him hard. Excusing himself as politely as possible, he quickly cut through the crowd to you. Taking your hand, he nodded at you. Within seconds, you were out of there and on the roof. The air was cold and it was quiet in comparison. To your surprise he asked you if you were ok and sighed. He really understood you now.

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fireemblems24 · 1 year

Text

Chapter 8 of Scarlet Blaze

Spoilers for up to Ch 8 beneath the cut. This chapter fucking sucked.

Also, I know I tagged this as SB, but be warned this was pretty critical of it. If anyone is actually still browsing tag and thinks I should remove it, I will.

STORY

Hell, yeah, Dimitri was taking names.

This plot is . . . kinda stupid. I feel like Edelgard is just running back and forth the whole time, accomplishing nothing.

LAMO, Omg, she just straight-up blamed all the deaths from the previous battle on . . . Claude 😂

Edelgard really be like "Why did Claude make me hit him!"

I'm pretty sure the writers didn't intend for SB to read like a Monty Python skit, but Edelgard has less self-awareness than Sir Lancelot when he kept apologizing for slaughtering the wedding party because at least that he was aware enough to apologize.

Oh, Randolph. So how many times does he die this time?

So, like, does Shez want people to get executed if they flip sides? He's like, geeze, how dare Claude and Dimitri forgive people.

Shez is like "I don't understand a word you say Edelgard, but I'm helping you slaughter your way across Fodlan because you may rub off on me!" More "SB is a comedy in disguise" fuel.

I wish I picked F!Shez for every route. I like her VA a lot more. Plus, I've seen this personality on a male character in the countless number of shonen anime and manga I've watched/read, but not as much in a woman. And unlike M!Byleth who's gorgeous, M!Shez is alright, but not super hot or anything.

So Lindhart mentioned that the Kingdom and Alliance can rally against the Empire because of the relics and crests. And like, I don't see how killing Rhea will make that power vanish and people not desperately want it. I feel like so much of Edelgard's spiel is an edgelord's power fantasy with no basis in reality.

This soldier is like "Dimitri labeled everyone who sided with his uncle as guilty in the tragedy of Duscur!" Lamo. Except it's true. Would've been interesting if it wasn't and see how Dimitri handled that. I sometimes wish he got more grey situations bc the writing in Hopes so far he's just . . . the good guy. Like straight-up the hero, no questions. Which, I love because at heart that's what Dimitri is, but I wish the writing would corner him anyways.

Oh, fuck. It's Sylvain. Oh fuck. I don't want to fight him. That sucked.

Count Rowe is being a backstabbing moron. I love how it's always the evil ones that side with Edelgard. It's an underrated thing no one talks about.

And now I have to fight Rodrigue :( Feels bad, killing Blue Lions+ members for the crime of defending themselves.

Ok. It's an unquestionable fact that when you find yourself fighting Annette, you are the villain. This is just truth.

Pretty sure this is heading to a temporary truce between Claude and Edelgard. Which, Claude's (and the Alliance's) funeral, I guess, lamo.

SHEZ & PETRA B SUPPORT

Petra's asking Shez about mercenaries. Questions if Shez would work for the enemy if they offered more money. Aww, damn. You don't have an option to say yes. :(

At least it's somewhat based in trust on their employer (and to get future ones) and not just mindless fangasming. I wouldn't want that in GW or AG either.

DOROTHEA & HUBERT B SUPPORT

This is their only support.

Hubert has a letter from the opera company and wanted to talk to Dorothea, so he's giving it to her in person.

Ohhh, he's bringing up how Dorothea hates violence, but stays and fights in the war rather than returning to the opera.

Glad this is finally getting addressed. Letting Dorothea talk.

It's part wanting to fight alongside her friends and part wanting to represent commoners in Edelgard's army. But also to score a rich husband.

Honestly, much better than whatever the fuck their Houses final support was.

HUBERT & FERDINAND B SUPPORT

So other popular ships got amped up (Dimilix, Dimidue, Marihilda - strangely not Sylvix though). So did the gay get turned up here?

Ferdinand is up late and Hubert wonders why. Ferdinand is studying the law to try and get his father arrested.

Oh, Ferdinand brought up the fact Hubert's father died. Putting Hubert to the question about executing his own father and mad he didn't judge his father in public

Hubert argues that his father would never have been found guilty.

God, that was SOOOOO much meatier than "I wanna serve Edelgard the best!" "No I wanna!!!!"

Monica took over the "pathetic Edelgard simp" to Hubert's "competent Edelgard simp" so Ferdinand could finally fucking get to run.

Ferdinand so far is 10000% the best part of SB (I'd say Petra competes, but I like her better in AG so far).

SHEZ & FERDINAND B SUPPORT

Shez thinks Ferdinand is faking enthusiasm. Not like that. Lamo. He's just overcompensating for his father's failure.

Ferdinand feels powerless and useless. I wish he was the MC.

Shez just wants to help Ferdinand feel better.

Ferdinand wants to surpass his father.

It's a repeat of his stuff with Edelgard and Hubert, but it's by far the most compelling part of SB.

PETRA & HUBERT B SUPPORT

Hubert is checking on Petra to make sure she feels comfortable and temps her with staying in the Empire, but Petra's like "naw."

Worth noting that Brigid is still under the thumb of the Empire. So Petra's a hostage basically forced into this war in order to secure the freedom of her country.

And they can't even go public yet, fearing the citizens get pissed off. Man, the Empire must be full of bloodthirsty land grabbers.

Go Petra! She low-key threatens Hubert and forces them to uphold their promises. Nice seeing her have a backbone.

PETRA & FERDINAND B SUPPORT

Ferdinand sung to Petra to ask her to spar. It's really cringe. Like, realllllly cringe. I would've been embarrassed if I wasn't playing alone.

He thinks this is some Brigid custom, but song and dance is only involved with religious ceremonies. Petra calls him out for finding her country so silly.

It's a mistranslation

Petra owned Ferdinand in this support and we are here for it.

FERDINAND & LYSITHEA C SUPPORT

Talking tea. Can relate.

Lysithea was ready to eat the food and bail. Nice.

But Ferdinand wanted to ask her about joining the commoner class. Lysithea insists she's fine with it and wants to.

Ferdinand doesn't know any de-nobled nobles who are happy. Lysithea know he only knows ones who got kicked out, he's not wrong.

Then he's like, you can't join them! Then you can't change anything anymore. But like what is he fighting on Edelgard's side for?

She, of course, doesn't have a future.

MONICA & BERNIE PARALOGUE

Bernie's enjoying her socially isolated life when Monica needs her help with something because there's no one else around.

You can have Shez agree she shouldn't come, and he says he'll slow them down, lamo. Bernie is offended.

They need to rid bandits out of a cave.

So his Duke is part of it. And he's had problems finding the Fetters of Dromini because of a TWSITD spy. It's also related to whoever kidnapped Monica.

So all I get is Shez, Monica, and Bernie. Only Shez has even looked at a battlefield and the other two are level 1 an 2. I can make 1 an adjunct, but not both. Ugh. Gotta go level at least one up.

Oh, hey, Myson.

I forgot how good of a unit Shez is lol.

Seems like Bernie actually has a decent mom. Bernie just wants to hide in the caves though. Monica advises against it.

DOROTHEA & MANUELA PARALOGUE

This one is easier since they're both leveled up already.

Everyone is fangirling over them. Dorothea assures Manuela that time hasn't tarnished her beauty, but she doesn't buy it.

They wanted Shez as a bodyguard because he's not a crazed fan. I wish real life celebrities would just whip out daggers on ridiculous fans.

This one's more entertaining than the last one. Random thieves are fans and if you defeat them with whoever they're a fan of (Dorothea or Manuela) they join you, lamo. Good both of them are already leveled up too.

Aww, Hanneman showed up to rescue Manuela.

The bandits were swarming the town because of the war. It's nice to see more acknowledgement of how Edelgard's war is screwing over the common folk.

Glad to see Hanneman get a nice little shout out despite getting demoted to NPC. Dorothea and Shez basically told them to get a room, lamo.

STORY/MAIN FIGHT

Edelgard is the least effective conquer I've seen in fiction.

"Defeat Dimitri" - How about, no.

I see "persuade Mercedes." Does that mean I need to bring Jeritza? Because it's not like Hubert or Edelgard are masters of persuasion.

"Defeat Dedue." I hate this. Monica's like, "If Dedue's here, then Dimitri is too." Even SB ships them.

Haha, they flipped sides to Dimitri after he was like "I don't want to kill you, please fight for me instead." And like, no shit?

Aw, shit. Now I have to fight Dimitri.

Oh, now I get to fight Ingrid too. Guys, I'm having so much fun right now. It doesn't help at all that SB is boring as fuck.

Oh, shit. Fuck. What the fuck. Ingrid just died. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Oh shut the fuck up, Edelgard. "Oh, this is so painful." IDK maybe stop trying to conquer everyone who doesn't kiss your ass. You too, Monica. "Oh, she was loyal to the end."

I'm beginning to remember why I hated Edelgard so much in CF. She's such a self-righteous idiot incapable of taking responsibility for her shitty actions AND has no sense of self-awareness.

Dimitri and Dedue sound so sad 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Dedue and Dimitri both taking the credit, meanwhile prissy ass is like "oh, wow, so sad these people died. No idea why."

Shit, Dimitri just mentioned Glenn. He sounds so broken up. Glad Dedue is giving Ingrid the credit for her own choices and actions.

She died defending everyone she loved.

I bet Edelgard will find a way to blame Rhea for Ingrid's death rather than take any responsibility for all the death she causes.

Only Dorothea fucking cares about Ingrid.

"We are nowhere near achieving our goals in the Alliance or in the Kingdom." - Edelgard. I can't fucking understand how some people argue she's isn't an Imperialist.

At least she's admitting she's fucking stupid with her army leadership inabilities.

I'd tell Edelgard to go fuck herself, but that implies a level of pleasure she doesn't deserve. #JusticeforIngrid #StoptheImperalists

xxxx

#fire emblem #fire emblem three hopes #scarlet blaze #three hopes #scarlet blaze spoilers #edelgard critical #scarlet blaze critical

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