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vittoriaisfuckingpathetic · 5 days

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save me from the nothing i've become

rated M | read it on ao3 | 3k words | next chapter

John’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. He had no idea that Abigail had settled down. “I– I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a feller,”

She tilted her head, appearing confused. Then, understanding washed over her. “Oh, John, I’m not…” She shook her head. “I’m not married.”

She could tell he was still (justifiably) confused, so she continued. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. John, this is my son, Jack… Jack Marston.”

1899. Three months after the dissolution of the Van Der Linde gang, John reunites with Abigail, whom he hasn't seen in 5 years. Unbeknownst to him, she's kept a part of him with her the whole time.

NOVEMBER 1894

That fateful evening, everything had seemed relatively normal. Until, of course, it wasn’t.

Abigail approached John at the campfire. The New Austin heat had cooled as the sun went down, and now there was a chill in the air. As such, he had been sitting with Arthur and Javier, the latter strumming his guitar somewhat aimlessly.

“John? Can I talk to you?” She asked.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He looked her up-and-down. There was something wrong, her body language was off, her voice a little shaky. She’d been acting standoffish and strange lately, so he’d been giving her space. Perhaps she was upset by it, and they’d likely argue. But then they’d go back to normal soon enough, as they always did.

She glanced at the other two men. Arthur was nodding off, and Javier was paying no attention, instead focused on his guitar. She cleared her throat. “Can we talk alone?”

John raised an eyebrow, but complied nonetheless. He grabbed his jacket off of the ground first, slightly put off by the fact that he had to leave the warmth of the campfire. Abigail lead him to the area overlooking the rocky cliffside, where two sideways barrels sat as makeshift seats. She gestured to one of the barrels. John sat, confused.

He looked at her, tilting his head. “You alright?” He was starting to get a little worried.

“No. Yes. I will be.” She sat down on the other barrel gingerly, folding her hands in her lap.

Her confusing answer did little to abate his worries. On instinct, he shrugged his jacket off and placed it around her shoulders. She accepted the gesture with little gusto.

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” he assured her.

Abigail nodded tensely. She shook her head, a humorless chuckle escaping her throat. “Christ, I just.. I’ve been tryin’ to figure out the best way to say this. Spent all day tryin’ to come up with the words and I still can’t.”

John was silent as he waited for her to continue.

She was quiet for a good while, staring up at the stars. The sky was an inky black, and the cosmos twinkled in a cloudless sky. “I just— I can’t keep doin’ this, John.”

His heart sunk. What did she mean by that? Couldn’t continue with their relationship? He couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong lately, besides being a little distant. But they both liked their space at different points, and it was never an issue before, so why would it be a problem now?

John opened his mouth. Closed it. “I… you’re breakin’ up with me?” He let out an awkward sort of breathy laugh as a nervous tic.

Abigail pursed her lips, mulling over her words. She shook her head. “No. I need out of this,” she gestured loosely. “This life, I can’t do it.”

What else would she do? She hated her life before. Was her old life really better than whatever existence she’d carved herself in the gang?

“So… you’d rather go back to prostitutin’?” He asked, indignant. He felt immediate regret upon seeing her expression. The way her mouth pressed into a thin line and her brow furrowed.

She stomped her foot angrily, a cloud of dust rising from the impact. “That ain’t what I’m sayin’ and you know it! Christ, you can be so—“ She cut herself off with a clench of her fists.

“So what are you sayin’, then? You leavin’ ‘cause ‘a me?” He stood up, rising to his full height. He was just about ready to storm off and leave.

“Will you get your head outta your own ass for a minute an’ listen to me? This ain’t helpin’ nothin’!” She threw her hands in the air, gesticulating with an air of anger.

John sat back down with a huff. “I’m sorry. Go on.” he forced out. He had so many questions, so much more he wanted to add. But he’d hear her out; deep down, he knew she was right. Arguing wouldn’t help her explain herself.

She shook her head sadly, not meeting his gaze. “It ain’t nothin’ against you, John. You know how much I care about you. But I gotta do what’s best for me.” She hugged herself — hugging the jacket, John’s jacket, closer.

“And?” he pressed.

Her arms were still crossed, but the ire was gone from her voice. “I need to feel safe, and livin’ on the run with a bunch’a criminals ain’t safe. I have to protect myself.”

Rationally, John couldn’t argue with her logic. But the thought of losing her hurt more than he could have ever thought.

He said nothing in response — Hell, what even could he say?

Abigail reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry, John. I ain’t doin’ this to hurt you.” She let out a sigh, and when she finally met his gaze, her eyes were misty. “I already know what your answer is gonna be. But I have to ask, ‘cause I’ll spend the rest of my life kickin’ myself if I didn’t. Will you come with me?”

His mouth went dry. There were two clear-cut paths laid out in front of him.

He could keep living this life — wild, lawless, dangerous. All the freedom he could want and all the danger that came with it. Going to sleep and wondering if he’d be greeted with a torched camp and a knife in his throat in the morning. The constant brushes with death and the exhilarating temptation it brought.

Or a life with Abigail. Freedom — but in a very different way; experiencing the wild, untamed world with the woman he loved by his side.

That meant no more gang. No more safety net. No more stability. No more Arthur or Hosea or Grimshaw or Dutch.

Dutch…

He thought of how Dutch would react, shuddering. He’d be labeled a traitor… and maybe Dutch would be right for it. After all, how selfish could he be? To leave his family, even if it was for Abigail? He couldn’t do that, could he? They needed him.

But Abigail wanted him. Yet she was willing to leave, seemingly with or without him. She’d survived much longer without him. True, she didn’t need him. But did the gang need him? Surely they did, he put his due effort in and in turn they took care of him. He owed the whole gang so much.

He bowed his head down, unwilling to see the look on her face when he rejected her. “I… I can’t.” You fucking coward.

Abigail nodded, seeming like she expected this. “I know,” she said sadly. She rose from the barrel she was sitting on. Silhouetted by moonlight, the grayish jacket on her almost looked like a pair of angel’s wings.

Perhaps, she was an angel, of sorts. She wasn’t meant to stay in Hell with him. She was meant to soar to the heavens, far above this life.

She was leaving. She was leaving him. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, a dull ache blooming in his chest. “Wait. Abigail?”

“Yeah?”

He couldn’t let her leave without saying it at least once. He exhaled shakily. “...I love you,” It felt only fair that if she was going to shatter his heart, he may as well give it to her fully.

She gave him a sort of sad smile. “I know you do, John. I know you do.”

And just like that, she was gone, like smoke dissolving in the air, having left his heart adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

OCTOBER 1899

FIVE YEARS LATER

Three months.

Three months had passed since everything had fallen apart.

He had rode until the horse he’d stolen (after Old Boy had been shot out from under him) until it dropped. Then another, and another after that, until he’d passed through West Elizabeth. He spent his time roaming New Austin for a few weeks, then he went north into New Mexico.

John wandered the desert almost as a ghost, wandering from place to place aimlessly. He was far enough away that he hadn’t seen any Pinkertons, and he’d done his due diligence to cover his tracks.

He hadn’t fully let his guard down yet, but he felt confident enough to stay in a settlement for more than a day or two.

That was how he had found himself in his newest haunt. For the southwest, it was a decently big town — one by the name of Brimstone. It wasn’t quite the size of Blackwater, but it was close to as large, and besides, it was a good place to lie low.

John hitched his newest horse in front of a water trough. “Go ‘head, get yourself a drink, miss. You’ve earned it,” he said, smoothing his hand down her mane.

He’d stolen the Gypsy Cob from a rather bold bounty hunter (who’d unfortunately caught a bullet in between his eyes). She was a pretty thing, white splashed-bay coated with soul-stirring blue eyes. “I’ll be back, lady. Think I’m gonna get myself a drink an’ find us a place to stay.” He had no reason to speak to the horse, but he’d been sorely lacking conversation as of late.

The horse, naturally, didn’t answer him back, getting herself a well-deserved drink.

The town’s saloon was right across from where he’d hitched his horse. It was a short walk inside, every step made a little more excruciating by the sun beating down on him.

God, he was filthy. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t caked in sweat.

The saloon, of course, housed degenerates of all sorts — the exact people John fit in seamlessly with. However, it was fairly empty, considering it was high noon.

All the better. Meant less people would talk to him. The wooden floors creaked under every step he took, drawing the attention of the few patrons inside.

John fished a coin out of Arthur’s his satchel and apathetically tossed it onto the bar.

The bartender looked at him curiously. “You new ‘round these parts, stranger?”

“Guess you could say that,” John replied impassively. “Gimme a whiskey.”

The bartender poured him a shot and slid it to him. “You look rough, partner.”

“Feel rough,” John muttered before tossing his head back and downing the shot. The acrid taste and slight sting in his throat made him feel a little bit less like a zombie.

The room was quiet for a moment. The only other patrons were either sad drunks half-asleep on the floor, or crusty old men playing cards.

It was a downright depressing environment. Then again, he supposed he fit in perfectly with that.

“We got rooms and a bath upstairs, if you need ‘em. Fifty cents for both.” The bartender informed him.

John sighed deeply. He reached into the satchel blindly, then placed a dollar coin on the counter. “That should cover me for about one bath and three nights.”

“Thank you kindly, sir. Can I get you anythin’ else?”

“Nope,” John replied tersely. “Just the bath.”

“Sure, partner. Bathroom’s upstairs, first door on the right.”

He muttered a thanks in reply and pushed himself away from the bar.

As swiftly as he could manage, John sorted himself out. There was no reason to be hurried, but months of being on the run, it had become a habit to do just about everything quickly. After all, he had no idea when he’d next have to pack his things and go.

That had been his reality ever since the Blackwater incident. For most of the year, there was always someone hot on his tail, only now he didn’t have the safety in numbers that being in the gang provided.

Firstly, set down the few items he owned inside his rented room. Soon after scrubbing himself clean in a rather tepid bath, shaving, and putting on (semi) clean clothes, John walked outside, the blazing sun still high in the sky. According to the bartender, there was an open-air market the next street over. He needed supplies; it had been almost two weeks since he’d bought anything, and his rations were getting uncomfortably low. Should he have to flee town suddenly, he’d probably be up shit creek without a paddle.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have any money. When Arthur gave him the satchel, there was a ridiculous amount of money with it.

Arthur…

It still hurt to think about him. Hurt to think about a lot of people. All the people he’d lost.

Hosea. Miss Grimshaw. Lenny. Sean. Kieran. Jenny. Mac. Davey.

Even Abigail, though she wasn’t a direct consequence of Dutch’s insanity. Though it had been years, he still felt her absence keenly. Almost like a wound that never quite healed. She haunted his thoughts nearly every day — but did she still think of him?

He had no idea if she was even alive. And now, it would be nigh impossible to find her with the bounty on his head.

Perhaps it was fate that he ended up completely alone. He’d spent his formative years alone on the streets, and now it was much the same.

Of course, the difference was that he knew how to take care of himself.

Still, he was just as alone as he’d been then.

The open-air market was much larger than he expected. Not only that, but it was rather crowded considering the time of day.

Merchants came from decently far, but considering Brimstone was the only town for miles, it made sense. The closest town was Tumbleweed, and it had taken him about two days to get from Tumbleweed to Brimstone.

He was perusing the lackluster selection of fruit — granted, it was hard to get a nice selection of produce all the way out in the desert. A kindly old woman was selling plums, upselling to him about how they were the best locally-grown fruit you could find in Brimstone.

His stomach growled at the prospect of having something fresh to eat. He’d been living off of canned food and jerky (when he remembered to stop and actually eat, that was) for months.

“How much will it be?”

“Five cents, sir,”

He fished around inside his satchel until he found a quarter and placed it in her wrinkled hand. Then, he grabbed a second plum. “Keep the change, ma’am,”

She grinned. “Bless you, young man.”

Sometimes, it was the simplest acts of kindness that made him feel a little less like an irredeemable monster.

John nodded at the old saleswoman, then continued to wander aimlessly. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted to buy, but he was hoping something else would catch his eye the way the plums did.

The trapper’s stand didn’t have much that interested him, but he did stroll by a little slower upon seeing a few of the pelts. Nothing was quite attention-grabbing enough, and after a moment he continued on.

Until he stopped dead in his tracks — because the woman just a few yards ahead looked eerily familiar.

It couldn’t be… could it?

Abigail.

He’d recognize her anywhere. The woman who had haunted his dreams every day since she had left his life.

She looked good. Happy. Relaxed. Healthy. All adjectives that couldn’t be used to describe himself.

She turned to face him — and when their eyes met, it was as if time had completely frozen. He forgot how to speak, how to stand, how to breathe. His mind played those last moments between them, how she had left him with his heart in her palm.

“Wait. Abigail?”

“Yeah?”

“...I love you,”

“I know you do, John. I know you do.”

“John?”

“Abigail,” he whispered. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. He pushed away the urge to run to her, scoop her into his arms and never let go, instead walking to her at a slightly hurried pace. He bumped into indignant townsfolk, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. His sights were solely on Abigail. John had complete tunnel vision; all he could focus on was her.

He was enraptured yet again by her bright blue eyes. They seized all the sadness in his heart when she looked at him.

“It’s, um, it’s really good to see you,” He finally said, dumbly. He mentally kicked himself. He’d been thinking about this moment for five years and that was the best he could come up with?

His only other want was to take her into his arms and kiss her like he’d never see her again. He had so many questions for her. How long had she been here? Why was she in Brimstone, the middle of nowhere, of all places?

“I heard what happened, it was in all the papers," she said, face scrunched in concern. “...You look like death.”

How he’d missed her. He thought about her so often, wondering what a reunion between them would be like.

"Thanks," he replied, accompanied by a dry laugh, "I feel like death."

She reached out to touch him, just a brush of her hand against his chest. Still, it made his heart flutter.

“...I thought you were dead,” she added quietly.

John could say the same about her. He sighed, trying to ignore the memories she unwittingly dredged up. “I was one of the lucky ones,”

“Karen? Arthur? Hosea?”

He simply shook his head, eyes downcast. There was so much he needed to tell her. It would surely take hours just to cover everything that had happened this year alone.

She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “God, I’m sorry,”

At that moment, a little boy — one with eyes that were the same blue as Abigail’s — decided to make his presence known, tugging on Abigail’s skirt insistently. “Mama, what are we doin’?”

John’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. He had no idea that Abigail had settled down and had children. “I– I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a feller,”

She tilted her head, appearing confused. Then, understanding washed over her. “Oh, John, I’m not…” She shook her head. “I’m not married.”

She could tell he was still (justifiably) confused, so she continued. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. John, this is my son, Jack… Jack Marston.”

#red dead redemption fanfic #rdr fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #johnigail #john marston x abigail roberts #john marston #abigail roberts #john marston fanfic #jack marston #rdr fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #vittoria.doc

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fateinthestars · 3 months

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Star-Crossed Myth Fluffbruary Fanfic (5th Feb): A Good Night's Sleep (Aigonorus/MC)

Title: A Good Night's Sleep

Fandom: Star-Crossed Myth

Genre: Fluff

Rating: T

Pairing: Aigonorus/MC (MC’s name left blank so you can fill it in with whatever you wish in your head)

Word Count: 560

Written for Prompt: Feb 5: rescue | inertia | lullaby @fluffbruary

February 5th: A Good Night’s Sleep (Aigonorus/MC)

Aigonorus frowned to himself as he checked the planetarium in the reflecting pool in the heavens when he had a brief few minutes alone to do so. ___ looked even more tired than she had when he’d picked her up from work the day before.

He sighed softly. If she wasn’t getting any sleep that worried him. As Tauxolouve came back into the room, he looked at the other. “‘M gonna go to the archives.”

“Everything alright?” Tauxolouve asked, somewhat surprised.

“... I don’t think ___’s getting any sleep. I should find a way to help…”

“You would worry about that,” Tauxolouve muttered teasingly, though he understood where he was coming from. “I’m not sure the archives is the best place to look for this though, unless you think there’s an outside issue causing it.”

Aigonorus sighed heavily. “I guess. What a pain. There must be something I can do…”

“Maybe try talking to Hue?” Tauxolouve suggested softly. “He has books on the Earth as well as the Heavens after all.”

“... ‘Kay,” Aigonorus reluctantly agreed. “I’m gonna head off then.”

Tauxolouve nodded. Whilst it wasn’t the end of their shift yet, this actually was more warning than he usually got from the other. He could tell that the other was troubled by this as he hadn’t had to wake the other today.

***

That evening, Aigonorus picked ___ up from the planetarium as per usual. He smiled softly at her as she headed over to him, though his eyes showed concern. “You’re tired.”

“I didn’t get any sleep last night, and not much the day before,” ___ admitted, leaning on him a little. “My mind’s been focussed on this event.”

“We should get you home,” Aigonorus muttered, holding her close and snapping his fingers before she could protest.

Once they were at her apartment, Aigonorus pulled her down onto the bed beside him and hugged her tightly.

___ went to say something, but then her eyes widened as Aigonorus started to sing a very old lullaby. She stifled a laugh.

Aigonrus cut off, frowning. “Am I doing something wrong? This can help people to sleep, right? It's not just children it works with?”

Laughing properly now, ___ wrapped her arms around him and returned his embrace before kissing him briefly. “I'm sorry. It's sweet of you to try. It's just… that's the wrong tune for those words… or the wrong words for that tune, depending on which you meant.”

“... Oh. Maybe I didn't fully understand what Hue meant then…”

___ smiled lovingly at him. “Or maybe you drifted off during the conversation. Especially considering you were talking about lullabies.”

Aigonorus sighed. “This was supposed to save you from another restless night.”

“Aigo,” ___ murmured softly and lovingly, “I don't need you to do anything to rescue me from that. You being here will be distraction enough. I take it you can stay tonight?”

“‘Course,” Aigonorus replied, now smiling brightly himself. “When's this event anyway?”

“... Tomorrow… so after that I'll have less on my mind.”

Aigonorus squeezed her gently. “You always worry too much.”

“I can't help it.”

“I know,” Aigonorus mumbled, holding her close. “It's always like this when you've got a lot on at work. But remember to lean on me…”

___ smiled and leant into the embrace, closing her eyes. “Thank you, Aigo. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#star crossed myth fanfic #scm fanfic #star crossed myth #scm #scm aigonorus #aigonorus x mc #fluffbruary 2024

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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Sorry for reviving the bookmarks issue but I just saw a twt posts telling readers it's entitled and rude to leave negative comments on it as authors can see it and then reminding authors they can block people who do this and some authors did say they've/will block/ed these kinds of readers. Most people don't even check their bookmarks so I'm worried this would start some kind of discourse again when they finally do. I saw only one other person reply what I've seen here: bookmarks are for readers

(bookmarks part 2) like personal reminder of what they thought of the fic and not for reccing. I've never gotten a rude bookmark comment before on my fics and I agree they might hurt depending on what they are but as someone else said, we aren't even notified when someone does bookmark our works so we could just not look. If the comment is actual harassment then I get wanting to block them but just comments/low rating you probably won't see unless you check though? I feel it is a bit much.

(bookmark 3) I don't know what to think of proship people who liked the post when I thought as long as it's not harassment, we can post our own thoughts about the media we consume on our own space. And bookmarks are the space for the readers. And not all low ratings means it's bad cause everyone has their own definition of what's a 5 star and lower. Like on books I only rate high if I like everything about it but it doesn't reflect on the story but instead mostly on my own preference.

People can block whomever they want, including for stupid reasons. They may find they end up with no readers though.

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leslie057 · 3 months

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9a + 9b please 🙏

hello! thank you for the lovely combo

prompt game posted here

9a + 9b = call me lover + but one is pouting

word count: 3.7k

It isn’t right that she’s sad today, even less right that she’s playing up the sad, and that in doing this she hopes to work guilt into every part of him, like water into clay, like honey into comb.

Given their extra-special circumstances, she knows she shouldn’t be anything more than mildly annoyed with him about his inability to pronounce girlfriend. And that has to be the issue, pronunciation, because why else would he shy away from such an innocent word? There’s no reasonable excuse. It’s an easy statement to make: look, my girlfriend’s here. He can do it, with the same ease that he labels everything else of his, he can do it. It’s my camera, my spatula, my turn to drive, my shirt not yours and you can’t have it…all his, until she’s involved. No, they don’t own each other. But sometimes you have to lay claim to things in life.

You just have to.

He paints houses. Every day in West Somerville he does, from nine to dinnertime. Watertown and Brookline, too. But mainly Somerville, especially Winter Hill. Interior, exterior, deck, door, and drywall. Expensive houses, cheap houses, new and old houses, houses with picket fences. It’s just what Emerson is looking for, a teenage boy who really knows his way around a…picket fence?

But the gap year thing is okay, and he’s still here with her as she navigates everything, even if he didn’t want to apply for college until it was way too late. He can apply for next year.

He moved away, far away just for her, no college waiting for him at the end of the journey, willing and able to be the slow tagalong Somerville boy to her busy Boston girl. And they get to live together. Harmony of opposites applies, as it always has. His loyalty means the world, and for what it’s worth, he is the best rated decorator Lovell Painting’s ever had. Very committed to the job.

But now Mr. Lovell doesn’t know she’s his harmonious opposite, doesn’t know she’s the girl he’s bringing home the bread to (not a lot of bread, but so much more than you’d expect someone to get for slinging paint) (then again, there’s probably no slinging involved, because Jonathan clearly believes there is an art to the task) (he has a weird way of leaning into unbeaten paths, finding purpose in hushed, forgettable places) (it’s lovable, is what it is, when she manages to push away the feeling that he’s missing out by not being in school).

No, Mr. Lovell doesn’t know who she is, because her boyfriend didn’t say. Couldn’t bring himself to say. Couldn’t bring himself to say the G word.

She’d asked Lauren from the student paper to take her to him after class. She missed him, plus she thought he shouldn’t be all alone on his way back home. He does plenty of lonely driving throughout the week. And since Lauren does everything for everyone, she actually said yes. Fifteen minutes later, Nancy was at a place she’d never been before. Here they were at the end of October, and she hadn’t been. She had no idea where her five star trades-boy turned in his paintbrush at the end of the day.

She’d wandered in, into the little white office that likely used to be a shed, all open windows and whirring box fans and latex fumes. On a stool, he filled out his timesheet. She gave him a hug around the neck from behind, avoiding the sensitive surface of his sunburned arms.

Made him jump, then made him relax.

“Sorry, I knew that would scare you. I’m not trespassing, am I?”

“No, you—no, not trespassing at all. What time is it?”

She tilted her head sideways and consulted her watch. “5:11,” she said. Tilted her head more, more, more, trying to kiss his jaw and its underside.

Hung over his shoulders like that, she took her first deep breath of the day. Tendrils of dried paint stretched across his shirt collar and sleeves, the kind of spiderweb splatters that don’t come out in the wash. She watched him jot down a couple light-handed notes in all capital letters. His name was everywhere on the page and highlighted in some instances, an indication of overtime work. She had felt weird then for being judgy—felt bad—thinking maybe there was a chance he was where he needed to be. Not school, right here. Humble, dependable, and first-rate.

Then Mr. Lovell came in.

And ruined everything.

“Jonathan, you heading out soon?”

“Oh, right now, actually. Turns out we can’t pick up anything until tomorrow morning. Like, anything at all, they said.”

“Yikes. Oh well, then.”

“Apparently our order got delayed because of the tight space rollers.”

“Hm. Tight space rollers, they never have them in, do they?”

“No, sir, never. They never ever have anything below a 6 inch.”

She stayed still, reading the room. Gauging the boss. Lovell didn’t seem to mind her or her public display of affection. He was a youngish man, son to the original Mr. Lovell of Lovell Painting, tall and nonchalant with the look of a relatable salesman.

“Hey. Jake Lovell,” he finally said to her. “Don’t think I’ve met you before, how’s it going?”

“Hey, good, thanks.” In the subsequent silence she waited. Waited for what was sure to come. Oh yeah, sorry, this is my girlfriend, Nancy. This is Nancy, we just moved in together. This is the girl I told you about, Nancy Wheeler. We’ve been dating for almost two years. She’s the best. Nancy is the best. Hey, guess what, my girlfriend Nancy once repainted her little sister’s dollhouse from top to bottom, think we should hire her next?

He kept his mouth shut.

“I’m Nancy,” she sighed.

“Oh, okay, you’re Nancy.”

Had he heard the name before? If he had, that must have been all he heard. His eyes were brimming with confusion.

“That’s me,” she said and untangled herself from her betrayer, the one she’d been draped over like some sleepy starfish.

Starfish didn’t want to cling anymore.

“She’s Nancy,” he’d mumbled while clearing off the desk.

The eldest in the room clocked the tension between them. “Well, you know it was nice to meet you, Nancy, but I’ve gotta get going. Be careful around the mess, you look very professional in those clothes.”

She slid her hands down the sides of her thighs, black slacks swishing above high heels.

“You look very…casual, Mr. Lovell. Guess we’ll see you later.”

And that was it.

And that was then. This is now: now, she is pouting. The most pathetic pouting session she's had to date. This is textbook manipulation pouting and then some, this is wallowing in the events of the afternoon like they involved theft, fraud, and murder.

Is she putting on a performance here? Yes, duh, of course she is. But is she down about what he said (and didn’t say) earlier? Also yes. That part is real. He did make her sad.

Yes.

Lucky for her, she’s got tricks in her bag.

Exactly four tricks, to be precise, for this type of situation. One, a shower—a shower taken earlier than usual. To get away and to get out of restrictive clothing (restrictive clothing doesn’t mix well with sadness). No more black slacks, no more newsgirl blouse. No jewelry either, it’s totally unnecessary. Unless…keep your necklace on, if you want, since that can be played with. Really you just have to remember that comfort is what works. Wet hair is what works. An XL shirt works, and peach soap works, and so does a frown, and so does a thick pair of socks, for whatever reason.

Two is a book. Not a short book, pick a long book. Flip to the beginning to read. Beginnings are hard to get through, and he knows it. He will empathize. Three, lack of light. The less light in the room, the better. Not only have you chosen to start a long book after 5pm without having even eaten dinner, you’ve chosen to do so without sufficient reading light. That’s true misery.

Four, the most important trick, is a bad record. Just awful. It needs to be scratched, it needs to skip. Needs to skip a lot. Your record should make other records worry about where they’ll be in ten years. Jonathan Byers doesn’t want this for you; if you are his favorite person, and listening to music is the best thing anyone can do, your tolerance of a broken record will rile him. You deserve better. He will want to compensate for all the hurt caused by your subpar listening experience.

“Nancy?” he says from the doorway.

“Mhm.”

“Good shower?”

“Sure. Good shower.”

“You beat me to it.”

It’s an understatement. Without a word, she had headed for the shower. Very first thing she did when they got to the apartment. She went to turn the water on, still wearing her shoes, and waited for it to get hot, and never once looked back.

She curls in on herself on the bed, avoiding his gaze. “Since when did you decide you have first dibs on everything?” she murmurs to her book. To Middlemarch.

“Uh, no, it's not that, I just meant that I’m…pretty paint-y, at the moment. You know?”

The response is delivered innocently, harmlessly, lightly, and she almost considers backing down, ditching the majority of her plan or maybe all of it. Almost considers, before deciding against. (She has to soldier on; his adorable use of a made-up word doesn’t fix a thing, now does it?)

“Right.”

“There’s so much primer on my hands, it’s the worst feeling in the world. It’s so bad. It’s like…it’s like if someone brushed plaster right onto my palm and then let it harden. Overnight.”

“Mhm.”

A break in the tense conversation comes and gives those background noise record screeches their moment to shine. Leaning on the doorframe, he winces.

“So,” she shifts her body until the blanket slips, “did you need something, or…”

Their eyes meet. His are sleepy–his are suddenly charged with doubt, two dark wells of worry.

“No, nothing, I don’t…it…it seems like you might be the one that needs something?”

She huffs. It seems like she needs something? For that she won’t go easy on him. A fake cry might cross her mind, if she were a psychopath, but fortunately for both of them she’s not. Sincere regret is already cocooning her, compacting itself with each passing minute, a dense shroud of claustrophobic ickiness. Not always as fun as you’d plan for: guilt tripping someone who’s hopelessly devoted. Really, how hard is it to have a mature conversation about the way you feel neglected in this one marginal area of the relationship, even though you’re well taken care of in all the others. Very hard, it turns out. Very very hard.

And besides, this is how the Jonathan and Nancy network operates. She uses her upset to make weird power moves. He lies about his upset altogether. The system is what it is.

“If you care so much, figure it out yourself.” It’s a feeble whisper, accessorized with the twitch of her bottom lip and an arbitrary sniffle. She flips over to the eighth page of Middlemarch. Pulls her blanket back up over her waist. The leftover scent of her body wash is strong, so strong, even in her own nose. It’s like peach sorbet and paint thinner had a baby in their bedroom.

“Nancy…”

His voice has that deconstructed softness in it, gentle yet desperate, which is highly familiar. He uses it constantly. That’s the trick in his bag, but she’s not quite sure he knows it’s a trick. Because of it, the whole stay-mad-at-him project isn’t gonna be smooth sailing. She swallows hard, necklace pendant between her fingers.

“Hey, what happened?” He steps closer to the bed and uncrosses his arms. “This isn’t…it isn’t about Lauren, right?”

Oh, wow. Okay. Clueless.

“Because you really do ask her for a lot of favors, and I know she’s always happy to do them, but just…maybe don’t make her drive out there again. Not when I’m literally clocking out.”

“Oh…” She closes her book and fixes her eyes on the window. That one actually does make her want to cry.

“No, don’t,” he pleads, “don’t do the sad oh thing. You’re gonna make me sad. You’re gonna break me.”

The sigh that escapes her is fully authentic in its lethargy. Her fingertips play over the pillow under her head and its silky case. “Sorry, it’s just that now you think I take advantage of Lauren and you don’t like to see me at work, so.”

“No, I love to see you, I had no idea you would come after class just for that. It was really nice.”

“Yeah, so nice—”

“Until you ignored me in the car, yes!”

Hugging her own waist, she draws up her knees. God, that record…it should be physically impossible for ABBA to ever sound bad but this is pushing it. How truly depressing.

She imagines that the invisible thread connecting his heart to hers is starting to fray at this point; those grating sounds in his ears, the mix of chemicals on his skin, the intentionally seductive nature of her pity party, the annoying flicker of the lamp in the corner (only thing the previous tenants left behind when they moved, the sole forgotten object). All of it must be torturing him.

He picks up her book off the mattress, leaves it in the windowsill to—sunbathe? Who knows, honestly.

"Look,” he says, “I think we might need to take a second before we get into this. Do you want me to leave you alone for a minute? Would that help, or no?”

Apprehensively he reaches down, down to touch her shoulder, sort of…petting her, a few times. What you’d do if you found a wild jaguar in your backyard, but it was a really sweet looking jaguar.

When she doesn’t bite, he bravely makes eye contact with her. “You just have to tell me what you want, that’s all I need.”

(Such a good boyfriend when he’s trying. Holy shit.)

Fearful that the affection wave will show on her face, she flips over, switching sides. “Want you to lay down,” she mumbles.

Well that wasn’t part of the plan.

She listens for his reaction. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. “I’m filthy, you do realize that.”

“We’ve gone to bed wearing monster blood…”

He shrugs his jacket off.

(So, the summer had been a violent ride. Summer of ‘86, filed away in her brain with the rest of her nightmare inventory forever. All’s said and done now. Maybe they’re finally safe. God, please.)

It takes them a sec to get settled, but he hems her in, wraps her up, holds her close without any further begging. It’s crazy satisfying. Plaster-rough hand curls around her ribs under her shirt, and his nose brushes her neck. Antsy, she shuffles her feet together, scrunched socks keeping her warm.

“You genuinely—”

“Smell so good?” she predicts.

“Yeah.”

“New soap.”

“Ten out of ten.”

“Well, you know, it’s not formaldehyde, but what is?”

“Give me some slack,” he murmurs, “not my fault all my passions involve chemicals.”

Painting houses is his passion now? Alright, good to know. It’s that, developing photos, and being so much of a dummy he forgets to introduce his girlfriend to his boss when they first meet.

Again: exactly the kind of boy Emerson is looking for.

A minute later he’s kissing her neck.

Yeah, not sure how that happened.

After taking his first few tastes, he quickly stops himself. “Wait, can I do this?” he wonders aloud.

“I’ll let you decide. Do you think you should be doing that?”

“I don’t know. On the one hand,” he places a soft kiss at the base of her throat, “I still haven’t figured out what’s going on with you.”

Her eyelids flutter. “And on the other?”

Mouth barely open, he drags the tip of his tongue across her collarbone in one slow slide. “On the other I think—”

She fails to repress a squeaky whimper, which makes him falter.

“…that doing this could maybe, just maybe, help me get information out of you.”

She’s lost her breath so fast. “Decisions, decisions,” she manages to get out.

Second option wins him over. Next he’s tangling up his hand in her wet hair, kissing her neck like there really is peach sorbet to be found in her pores. He hums while getting acclimated to the malleability of her damp skin, impossibly supple malleability, and lingers with his mouth at her pulse point before giving in and sucking on it, not hard enough to make a bruise, but enough to make blood rush to her head.

She grabs the back of his neck in an attempt to stay anchored and from there he surrenders, from there he lets her force the path that his lips map out on her. Chapped but sticky with spit, they part and purse on her jaw, softly massaging the bone.

“Please can we get you a new album soon,” he whispers, “this is painful.”

“Hm?”

“The record’s a disaster, throw it away.”

“Don’t tell me to throw my things away,” she slurs weakly.

Her thigh catches his hip, and she bucks a little, rocks a little. Nothing crazy, just dirty. She can’t help herself.

“Tell me what upset my girlfriend and I won’t say anything ever again for the rest of my life.”

There it is. Jesus, it’s what she wanted. See, there’s no pronunciation issue after all. Girlfriend. His girlfriend.

She goes perfectly still. He may not realize she’s all shook up inside, but he notices the outward change, that’s for sure.

Time to get into it.

She takes a moment to prepare herself. “Are you ready to listen?”

“I’ve been ready, Nance.”

“Okay. It wasn’t about Lauren,” she spills, “Lauren and I are fine. We didn’t have a fight, we’ve never had a fight, and after she dropped me off today she told me she likes the drive to Middlesex because the roads are so smooth and driving calms her down and she gets sick of being in Boston, and I promise I’m not lying when I tell you this, but she offered to take me again tomorrow, I swear to you she did.”

“Okay, I believe you—”

“Though now I’m thinking I don’t even want to take her up on the offer, because me being there was clearly an unwanted change that didn’t exactly mean anything to anyone, and if you seriously don’t know what made me switch up today I need you to ask yourself how you think my conversation with your manager made me feel earlier.”

“You’re upset because of…something Mr. Lovell said?”

He’s so lost.

“No, because of what you said.”

“And what did I say?”

“It’s what you didn’t say. Jonathan, you didn’t tell him who I was. You didn’t introduce me at all.”

“I’m—sorry, you…you introduced yourself, why would I need to—”

“He doesn’t know you’re dating me.”

“But he does? It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? Without words?”

“No! Not without words. For all he knows I’m some random girl you met on the street, next thing you know he’ll be setting you up on dates with his niece and scheduling you to work Valentine’s Day. You’re supposed to be upfront about us and you never, ever are. Why aren’t you?”

His turn to pout now. He rests his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know? Sometimes it feels like…”

The gears in his brain go on and on, and his blush deepens. “Like fishing for attention.”

“Well that’s why I’m sad, you’re why I’m sad. You don’t want attention, so you don’t call me your girlfriend. Maybe once a month, if that. You don’t call me your girlfriend a lot and I love when you call me your girlfriend. There’s nothing unclear about a word like that."

“I…can do better, I didn’t know it was a big deal to you. That I say it more.”

“Duh, I don’t wanna feel invisible. I want you to talk about me.”

Her heart pounds with the energy of the moment, with surfacing reminders of how different they are. The silence expands around them, his breathing shallow. This is really the first time it’s dawning on him, the depth of her need for validation? Maybe she forgot that acknowledgment of their relationship outside their private bubble is not something he would go for without being asked. Maybe she forgot.

"So it’s not the word,” he says, “it’s telling people?”

“I like privacy, I do, but what’s between us needs to be something others can see. Something they don’t have to guess on.”

Yeah, keeping their peers guessing in high school was good. Low-key meant less harassment, fewer problems. Having said that, high school is gone forever.

He nods. “I get it. I'll get it, eventually. I’ll try.”

“Okay. Good. Thank you.”

Though the conflict isn’t totally resolved, it kind of feels resolved for tonight. At least that’s what her hormones want her to go with, shifting back and forth, this way and that, residing on the rockiest of tectonic plates that have been calibrated to him for longer than he knows. As strange as her first two months of college have been, as many messes as they’re making in their relationship, she has infinite confidence in the Jonathan and Nancy network. All things considered, this is the right time to be messy, they’ll have plenty of room to clean up the love when they’ve grown up. Fighting isn’t fun but…it feels amazing to know he’s in this with her, wading out to her in the swell of their mature immaturity, sticking up for young love even after their conflict resolution turns chaotic.

He loves her, and whenever she’s blue, he begs her to let him fix it. Neither of them rest easy until the blue gets painted over.

“Hey, girlfriend?”

She breathes out a laugh. “What?”

“Since we’re sharing…”

She tilts her head back, pushes her nose against his gently. “Careful, don’t say something you shouldn’t.”

“I really like it when you use your revenge soap against me. Very evil, but I like it.”

#*fic #jancy fic #stranger things #jonathan x nancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #prompt fill #*ask #fanfiction #manipulation pouting is not a victimless crime #but give nancy a pass please i wrote this in less than three days

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peachjagiya · 1 month

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would like to hear your perspective as a queer person on what you think is next for taekook? more openness? louder actions like dream premiere? and do you think there’s a possibility they’ll come out once the group settles down?

Hm. A very good question. I don't feel SUPER qualified to answer as I'm British and don't have a vast first hand knowledge of homophobia in SK. A friend of mine who lived there for 5 years said she saw progression in LGBTQ+ rights in the short time she was there. For example, her first year, a pride event she attended was 50 people, mostly Western. By her last year, it was a thousand with a lot of young Koreans.

This is reassuring but my understanding is that it's still not going to be immediately accepted. Not even with all their influence can they buy tolerance. There's also a major issue with birth rate in SK and as the AIDs crisis taught us, the answer to issues like this is usually to restrict and repress gay people rather than educate and address the actual problem.

So explicit coming out in next few years? No I can't see it right now. Not while money talks. Not until their star is on a natural decline and Bighit had another worldwide hot band to profit from. Even then I'm not sure.

Maybe in five to ten? Maybe.

But what is reassuring and what I hope proves me wrong, is what they've been doing so far with their power and influence: introducing these queer, liberal and diverse concepts to the audience.

Tae made a statement with Fri[end]s. (By association he has the support of three of the biggest actors in South Korea behind him too!)

JK is quieter but he talks often about gender free clothing and expression. (His "why is [f*cking] dirty?" was an instrumental moment in loving JK for me. Sex positivity? In MY kpop idol?!)

I can see them all, other 5 guys too, becoming even bolder and more open about their convictions. About war, about racism, about gender equality, about homophobia. You can already see it happening in Yoongi's declaration that he wants them to be free and unjudged and in Joon's discussion of indigenous or female (or both) artists, in Hope's Equal Sign and their donation to BLM. Increased voice about these apparently controversial issues sets the tone for how they intend to conduct themselves from 2025 and MAYBE that inspires the youth to use their voice and demand the older generation to change. Maybe it creates an environment Taekook could come out in?

I also think maybe they might become more open about dating, smoking, having chests under their clothes, about being normal guys. Imagine Seokjin gets married (sorry, this is a rumour but innocuous enough I feel). It'll be a shit storm but it might just break the dam enough to affect a tide change.

What do I think they can do? Glass closet. Be louder up to the point of coming out. Allow the queer coding to speak for itself. Dream Premiere style things, maybe. Tae continues to go live with a guy in his bed... 😇

Thanks anon. What a cool question. Your brain is so sexy. 💜

#sexuality discourse is bananas 🍌#taekook #my asks

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megnificent-reads · 3 months

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A Court of Wings and Ruin - Christ alive/5 ☆

Warning - this review is 1.2k words, and 98% negative. If you love SJM and the ACOTAR series, love that for you /gen. However, for your own mental health, I genuinely would not recommend you read this. For everyone else, and those who hate-read, Let's begin!

~~~

Okay, so I actually rated this 2 stars on Goodreads because I didn’t hate it the whole time but, I’m mad about it so it gets a special rating. ♡

I honestly lament when I was excited to read this book. Being what I refer to as a Lucien Lover (nuanced), I enjoyed a good bit of the beginning of this book. That’s not to say I wholeheartedly enjoyed every word of the first 100 pages of this book.

So we start with Feyre in the throes of rage, becoming a master manipulator. Now, before I put just a minute or two of thought into it, I loved it. I love a girl tearing shit apart and using intellegence as a form of strength. However…

Anybody think she was doing a little too much…?

Like, okay, Tamlin fucked up. Big time. I will admit justice is needed! Love when women take back power! But not only dismantling his entire country but turning everyone against him for things that he actually did not do? Crazy! He sucks! But people still live in that country. We still need order! His life is ruined now and I don’t necessarily think all that was necessary.

Tamlin sidebar: “my father and my father’s father did the Tithe, so I’m going to do it.” Didn’t you acknowledge two books ago that your father sucks absolute ass? What fucking sense does that make? How in the first book was he the Perfect Moral Man that now can’t see the very evident immorality in the shit you’re doing. Anywhoozers.

So, Feyre has her cool girl moments and returns to the Night Court. In book one, I was bored out of my mind until we arrived in Rhys-land. (Good one). This time, it was like the moment we arrived here the magic was lost. I was no longer excited to read. And honestly, I think the big issue was actually our beloved bat-boy, Rhysand.

I don’t know her personally, so this is not an attack on her character, but I’m starting to feel like SJM writes Rhysand based off of her fantasy version of what a man is like. Dominating, but soft and loving. Perfectly moral. Capable of evil, deplorable things, but too loving of people and their dreams to be that way. I’m going to be referring to it as PMS (Perfect Man Syndrome).

Many of her men (sorry, males) are unfortunate PMS victims, but Rhysand is by far the worst. I wish I had underlined it when I was reading so I could cite it, but there’s just something about his actions. He is PMSing so hard that he doesn’t develop at all. He was old enough to be grown during the faerie-UK version of the Amercian Civil War where of course he was anti-slavery the entire time despite being raised by people who appeared to be violent racists. Good for our educated king. He also, of course, runs a sanctuary for abused women.

Of course, I’m not saying that being anti-slavery and supporting abused women is bad. I love it. But like… be real with me here. I know that this is fictional. It’s not real. We can be happy here. But can I have some dimension, please? This man is the personality version of Flat Stanley. We had two conflicts between them since they got together and both were resolved by Rhys nearly getting on his knees and saying everything is his fault and he’s so sorry. The first conflict was just her thinking she stepped out of her Womenly Line and him not even knowing there was an issue.

He’s just so. Fucking. Boring.

Moving on. ♡.

Let’s talk about what makes me so goddamn angry about this book. I’ve seen complaints about SJM where other people are saying that other people call her books feminist literature. I personally have never heard anybody say that, but if I did, I don’t know if I would be able to control the rant that would ensue.

I’m willing to have a civilized conversation, but I don’t remember Feyre actually doing anything. Yes, SJM puts her women in positions of power. Do they use said power? Maybe once or twice.

Amren is an ex-god with powers above any character we’ve met so far. We see it used I think once. The rest of the time is spent talking about her power and her holding down the fort at Velaris while everyone else is off to war.

Morrigan - also very powerful (described only). I remember her power being “truth” and never elaborating on that. She is a known soldier, that doesn’t fight.

During the two huge battles, Feyre, Nesta, and Morrigan are on the ground while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel are in the air fighting. After the first battle, Feyre is seen tending to her beloved mate’s wounds, Nesta is fetching water for Cassian, and Morrigan is getting mad at Nesta for wanting to fuck Cassian. So strong of all of them.

Azriel is there doing… nothing. Which he has a habit of doing. Speaking of habits, SJM will create characters that I like because I’m excited to see how they will grow and develop.

She then proceeds to do nothing with them.

I know more books are coming, as they will with SJM until the end of time, but it’s starting to drag. I love Elain. Well, I love what Elain could be. She’s a seemingly fragile, docile character. With her Seer powers, I was excited to see her notice the world around her sucks and develop into somone capable of holding their own. Instead, she uses her powers to relay some cryptic messages that no one heeds or even tries to, then she “snaps out of it” and can’t really do anything else.

Azriel has a tragic backstory and seemingly a big story to tell. God, I wish I could ever fucking hear it.

This is getting exceptionally long, but I remembered I had a list of things I wanted from ACOWAR and didn’t receive, so I’ll pick one more thing off.

The Ouroboros. Out of all symbols, the Ouroboros is my favorite. Cycles and inevitability and all that. We spend a good chunk of this book leading up to Feyre retrieving this. It drives everyone mad. Only the strongest can look in it and survive. I was so excited to see what she saw! What the battle with herself would be like! How does she overcome it?

I guess we’ll never know.

She ended up seeing… herself? I guess she wasn’t previously aware of her flaws and then simply accepted them. Would love to have seen it!

And to finally end this review, I think the Ouroboros is a good symbol of every issue I have with this book. There’s so much build up and excitement that ultimately leads nearly no explanation. It’s like there’s ideas and concepts but then no idea how to execute them.

I won’t be reading ACOFAS or ACOSF or anything else. I already didn’t want to, then I found out about the pregnancy thing and. Yeah. I think I’m good off that.

#books #book review #acowar #acowar spoilers #acotar spoilers #anti acotar #anti acowar #anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti feyre #bookblr

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honoringthehorrific · 24 days

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Is Late Night with The Devil worth tuning in for?

Don't adjust those sets...spoilers in 5..4..3..2...

First off sorry for not being able to find a gif from the movie! Tumblr gave me a real hard time with that one.

Second off I would like to say I do not support the use of AI art. I think it is abysmal. I watched this movie with my partner after saving up points at our local theater for free tickets. If this still supports the movies we see in some way please let me know and I will be sure to find another way to better watch these movies without supporting their actions...🏴‍☠️🦜 It just may mean you get your reviews a touch later!

Onto the movie. The aesthetics were very enjoyable I could appreciate the ties back to satanic panic and the fascination with the occult. The costuming, the filming of the movie, it all felt right and very few times did I feel my immersion in it break. I feel like maybe there were one or two shots where the actors looked too well made up if that makes sense.

One fun fact my partner pointed out was that you can see the twin towers in the opening shots and the city cut aways because they were built 4 years prior! I really liked that this movie didn't shy away from showing us the towers mostly because I feel like that's something that would have broken the idea we are in the 70s.

While the filming was fitting and awesome the effects were....I would say B tier at points. I think it adds to the charm of course I can always appreciate a homemade effect but it does slightly pull me out of this being something that really happened. Don't get me wrong I know it's not trying to be the next Blair witch "true story" but i feel like there is some level to this that wants the audience to feel that this is real.

My partner notes too that cutting it from a television camera view to the audience view might have helped as well!

Onto the fun stuff, we get hints throughout...sorry no, not hints...we get TOLD throughout the movie that our star of tonight's show, jack delroy, is in a fraternal organization...sorry, i mean cult. He is in the Bohemian Grove cult. We get told there are rumors of this in the opening almost documentary style retelling of Jack's fame and struggles with being as good as Johnny Carson. We'll come back to that.

Tonight is 1977. Halloween night. Sweep week. A night where Jack really needs to scrape in the views. He has no idea that the plans he has this evening will go awry...recently his wife madeline who will be reffered to by her "special nickname" mini has passed away from lung cancer. Tonight's show is also jacks first one back and man is it a doozy. We get to see how he banters with his co-host and honestly kind of berates him. I had this struggle with jack where I wanted to like him but every time I tried I just got these kicks and hints that he was kind of an asshole? But it's show biz, who isn't? His first guest is a medium who intends to commune with the dead. He seems like other shoddy Vegas types until he accurately assess a family who lost their son and brother to suicide. It's later revealed to be a bunch of hooey when the next guest a renowned skeptic chats with the family and realizes they were questioned prior to the show.

The first chilling moment we get that isn't the use of AI art is the medium seemingly becoming possessed by the grieving spirit of mini however no one claims the name and only later does jack reveal he thinks the message was for him.

I'm not gonna foot around it. The use of AI art while not overly used and egregious it's present. Personally it being present feels like an issue. It bugs me and it should bug you. I know many people want to cut it a break for being an indie film but it doesn't take much to put some money towards what was it? 5-6 pieces of art? Yeah some people will have higher rates for working on this but I'm sure they could have found someone to do the art if they felt theirs wasn't up to par. I don't think they're fully evil or anything for it. I don't support AI art but I can understand the other side of the argument. However when you turn a blind eye to one film and it does well it doesn't matter if it's an indie project or not. It makes the big guys think hey we like this. Give the devil an inch and he'll take a mile right?...

That all being said I could ignore the cut aways kind of??...I paid attention for mistakes the first few times before the sight of them just elicited an annoyed eyeroll from me.

As the movie progresses we meet the skeptic. He's offering checks to people who can prove without a doubt that they're the real deal and he says hes not lost a nickel yet. The medium claims he doesn't want the money and when Jack vouches for him and says the last message was meant for him the medium's behavior gets more and more erratic before he finally spews black vomit all over the studio including onto the skeptic.

Little do we know on the way to the hospital our medium turns up dead. This starts to brew panic in the crew and our co-host as our next guests are brought on. June and Lily. Lily was found as a 10 year old by the authorities as the only surviving member of a satanic cult that kind of parodies the satanic church and Anton lavey. Lily is possessed by a demon she calls mr.wriggles. mr.wriggles is an interesting one alright! Wether it's trauma, the demonic possession or my boyfriend's theory- autism. Lily exhibits off behaviors like staring directly into the cameras and seeming very monotone at times. It isn't until Jack pushes for and honestly...kind of corners June on live TV that June and Lily decide to showcase Lily's ability. Man does this demon have something to say.

The demon begins by noting that him and Jack know each other hinting at a tie between the Grove cult again. Before intent focuses again on June. Calling her out for her and jacks relationship and telling her to remember what happened to his last whore. Possession doesn't cease until June slaps the girl. Let me tell you I didn't trust this at all. June goes to undo the straps after some crazy electrical issues and levitation and I just felt uneasy the whole time. That typical feeling while watching these movies of "are you stupid??" Lily in my eyes had a very sinister look to her still that later gets touched on again. We then get the skeptics explanation and recreation with hypnosis. Making our co-host believe his phobia of worms is suddenly real life with them wriggling from his neck stomach and lastly eyeball. Only for us to cut back to reality with his activation phrase and see that none of it was true. They watch the tape back and realize that the whole audience was hypnotized because none of that truly happened on their TV sets. However when watching back what happened with Lily it triggers the girl.

She levitates and glows while her head splits open. She immolates the skeptic when he offers the hefty check in exchange for his life and hangs her guardian/doctor by the necklace meant to keep the demon at bay. And unfortunately our chunky loveable co-host gets his neck snapped when trying to "the power of Christ compels you" the demon away. It isn't until we get this gorgeous dream like sequence after Jack seemingly gets away. Him going through the routine of the show only to try and escape. Him telling us to turn off our sets and stop watching before we get a sequence with the cult and him drinking from a chalice as he meets his wife. She reveals that he sacrificed her health for fame. He didn't know. And this is where I felt sympathetic for him....the entire time he was unaware...he murdered her unintentionally. And so she asks him to murder her in the physical. Take the ritual knife from Lily's old home and finish her off before the cancer can take her....only for him to plunge the knife into her and reveal that the dream was fake. And he has stabbed Lily to death. He stands and we get a heart wrenching scene of him trying to say the skeptics activation phrase to wake up while surrounded by the carnage he somewhat unknowingly caused...

Overall I give this 3 worms out of 5.

The AI made my eyes roll and the effects were corny but the premise and scenery and aesthetics were beautiful. I sort of reccomend it if you can watch it in a non supporting way.

#late night with the devil #not an aesthetic #regurgitated reviews #horror

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bug-decal-kissing · 6 months

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Hey friends!

Alone Inside, by ackletze, was updated today, with 4/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Roommates, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication"

You can read it here:

Phobias Are Born From Fear, by mert_deniz, was updated today, with 2/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Grumpy Old Men, Men Crying"

You can read it here:

ProhibitedWish Oneshots! by Sockiewockiepoo, was updated today, with 4/? Chapters released! It is Not Rated and Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, with additional tags "Gay, Everyone Is Gay, my first fic ever, Silly, um, Tags, Tag, Taggity Tag, oneshots so theres probs no onset plot unless i say so"

You can read it here:

Prohibted Wish Highschool AU, by Mitch_D_Punk, was updated today, with 2/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Robotics, Swearing, minor violent incidents"

You can read it here:

Whim of Wind Took Me South, by Thehyperfixationking, was updated today, with 10/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Attempted Murder, very unsuccessful attempted murder, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Hurt/Comfort, Multiverse Travel, no beta we die like old man prismo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no rating yet cause the whole story isn't written may change, Enemies to Lovers, Farmworld (Adventure Time), Finn Mertens - Freeform, Jay Mertens - Freeform, Jake (Adventure Time) - Freeform, but like Farmworld Jake, Unique Weapons choice, Winter King (Adventure Time), Princess Bubblegum - Freeform, but like the version from the star, huntress wizard - Freeform, Martin Mertens - Freeform, god I hope I haven't been spelling his name wrong, whatever he sucks I don't feel that bad, Vampires, we got vampires now, Original Character(s), sorry kinda sorta"

You can read it here:

Wrath of the Wishmaster, by Void_Ink_Studios, was updated today, with 5/? Chpaters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Scarab has identity issues, Orbo is the worst, Prismo gets mad, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Chronic Pain, Scarab has Chronic Pain, Established Relationship, Reminiscing, Backstory, Filling in gaps in the worldbuilding, Worldbuilding, Head cannon nonsense: GO!"

You can read it here:

This chapter is also on Tumblr !! You can find it here :].

#prohibitedwish #prohibitedwish fics #alone inside #phobias are born from fear #prohibitedwish oneshots #prohibited wish highschool au #whim of wind took me south #wrath of the wishmaster #MY BRAIN IS GONNA START PUTTING MY EMOTIONS TO WORDS AGAIN SOON I PROMISE #im gonna MAKE IT >:]#all the content was so good today #OCS IN WHIM OF WIND TOOK ME SOUTH YES PLEASE IM EXCITED

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sorenlionheart · 4 months

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okay so before i jump into whatever happened to the man of tomorrow i decided that i'd list my superman reads so far! this is a rapid-fire list so i'm not going incredibly in depth here, i'm not really someone that writes reviews. if you care to follow, my goodreads is here!

with that being said, here's my rating system!

1 star = terrible, and more than likely didn't finish. i don't give one stars very often though so hopefully we won't be seeing them here but it's worth mentioning

2 stars = okay story, just not for me!

3 stars = solid story but a little forgettable

4 stars = loved it :)

5 stars = adored it! would read it again!

now since i'm doing these in order let's start with

all-star superman: a solid 4 stars! i love the sci-fi stuff and i love stories about clark's mortality

superman american-alien: might seem surprising but i genuinely adored reading this book so it gets a 5 star rating. it was a fun read, what can i say?

superman 2023: okay im a bit iffy about rating an ongoing series but all the issues have been 4 stars for me through and through. i love jamal campbell's art and supes is just <3 i would recommend this for newbies actually since it's pretty easy to follow even if you don't know much about superman.

superman: secret identity: sorry but i just thought this book was boring and pointless. 2 stars. why was this on a list for newbies to read i'll never know.

superman action comics #775 aka what's so funny about truth, justice, and the american way?: this is the only issue of the action comics i've read because i've heard good things about it (also because one of these days i'm gonna watch the adaptions of these comic books) and i can see why! a solid 4 stars for me. this is why you love superman, what more can i say? i think it needs a bit more breathing room but it's still a pretty good one.

superman for all seasons: i bumped this up to a 5 stars since im a little stingy with them lol but this is one of the books i'd read again. it's an easy read and i love tim sale's art, and i just wanna hug clark that's all

adventures of superman: jon kent: annnd we're back to 2 stars. i hate injustice but at least jon is a nice character. just please any other book besides this. sigh

superman smashes the klan: an easy 5 stars! i literally loved this book so much i bingeread it in a day! i recommend this to anyone and everyone, even if you don't care for superman pick this book up please!

supergirl special #1: okay, i know this is a superman list i don't care supergirl is getting thrown in here too. i'm gonna be honest i don't have much to say about this book so i guess it might be surprising that it's a 4 stars for me, maybe it's getting carried by the pretty art. i dunno, it's nice, that's all. i guess a 3 star rating would be more accurate lol

superman: the harvests of youth: this is a sweet book but it's about smallville so i don't have much attachment. 3 stars. it's got heart and i like martha with pink hair :)

superman: birthright: i think this book is a little dull but it mostly shines with clark and lex's relationship. lex growing up with clark adds an extra layer to their relationship that i like. 3 stars because i honestly don't remember much outside of that

supergirl: woman of tomorrow: this is a fun sci-fi adventure and the art style is honestly breathtaking. if someone wanted to know who kara is as a person this is the book i'd show them! 5 stars!

okay, that's about all i have so far! i'll come back to this post and update with any reads i finish later :)

#i need a tag for this #soren reads #there we go

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notallsandmen · 8 months

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Trope Game

Thanks to @orionsangel86 for tagging me ❤️

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

* -10 -> very dissuaded

* 0 - don't care either way

* 10 -> very enticed

* nope -> if it's a hard no and you'd never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you'd insta click out of the fic if it wasn't tagged

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it's conditional.

Age gap: 0 ( -10 — +5)

This is one I’m torn on.

I am a lot more squicked out by characters dating between developmental brackets — a first year college student dating a senior highschool student, a uni lecturer dating a uni student, an immortal character dating a mortal etc — than the age gap itself. That being said, I won’t read fics if one of both of the characters are under 20. Period. Nor will I generally read fics for immortal/mortal ships, because knowing that one of them will eventually be left behind makes me sad, and because of the hyperbolic Mary Sue degree needed to justify how a human mortal would ever attract a centuries-year-old character.

On the other hand — Look, I am a sucker for forbidden love, and if there is a taboo, I wanna poke it with smut fic. And I essentially have a divorced virgin kink, so I’d be lying if the age gap trope didn’t appeal to me — particularly if combined with grumpy/sunshine trope, and if the younger character takes care of the older. Give me your middle-aged hot messes learning to love again!

I think the guiding rule for me is the hypothetical question — if the younger character was the same age as the older, would they still have fallen in love? If yes, then I adore it. If no, then I hate it.

Codependency: +7

speaking as one half of an ADHD couple which only barely makes up one normally functioning adult — codependency is a) inescapable and b) hot.

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +7

I shouldn’t find this hot. But I do. Sorry. All my ships have a slightly feral possessive element to them. And a touch of jealousy which is only rooted in insecurity (ie, not actual suspicion/blaming/shaming/controlling behaviour) provides great hurt/comfort fodder

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +10

The grumpy/sunshine dynamic is my catnip — I will never be normal about this. And I love physical contrasts/differences, too.

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: +7

I love this, but only when done well, and when the enemy-dynamic is grounded in miscommunication/different personalities clashing/different coping mechanisms. It shouldn’t be actual hate-fucking, or negging/bullying escalating to sex.

Friends with benefits: -8

I’m an irredeemable romantic when it comes to fic reading, so unless there is an eventual romantic relationship in sight, I’m not interested.

Sex to feelings: +9

Pining-while-fucking is a gold star trope. I am particularly fond of the ”Grumpy cynical slut corrupted by romantic and reduced to a flustered blushing hot mess” trope. (TMI — This is how I got together with my partner. I am the grumpy slut.)

Fake dating/relationship: +6

I enjoy it, as long as it does not require so much suspension of disbelief as to veer into ”Too Forced Proximity” territory.

Friends to lovers: +8

I love it in M/M fic, bi-awakening fics etc. But since I have many platonic relationships with male friends, I tend to get squicked out by M/F pairings, especially if I can detect even a whiff of friendzone bitterness etc.

Found Family: +10.

I will loudly sob over these and return to them again and again. Yes, I have attachment issues, and no, I will not look too closely at that.

Hurt/Comfort: +8

I mean, if no one is crying, I won’t be able to relate to these characters at all.

Love Triangle: NOPE.

Never. Only Ride or Die pairings for me, otherwise I will get jealous and insecure on behalf of the characters. The same goes for too much ”will they/won’t they”, uneven emotional investment etc

Poly, open relationships: NOPE

To be clear, I don’t want to reduce polyamory to a fic trope or imply that poly relationships are not as committed as monogamous relationships. Personally, I am just too insecure to cope with anything other than monogamy, and the same goes for fic.

Mistaken/hidden identity: -7

I will just be stressed out until the reveal, and then I have rushed through the story and not enjoyed it.

Monsterfucking: +7

A lonely sad creature finding someone who thinks that they are beautiful and desirable and worthy of love — how can I not be obsessed? — No, I don’t think that says anything about me

Pregnancy: -9

I am happily childfree and do not need to experience it in fic either.

Second Chance: + 2

It all depends on the Hurt/comfort ratio —how bitterly the relationship ended the first time, how much angst until reconciliation, etc.

Slowburn: +8.

Sexually and emotionally edge me for +100K, please.

Soulmates: 0 (Meh)

Hellooo confirmation bias. I don’t really like the magical soulmate (born with soul markings etc) trope, and I find the real-world notion of soulmates too unrealistic to be enjoyable (especially because it often comes with spiritual/religious connotations).

Tagging @academicblorbo , @beatnikfreakiswriting , @ml-nolan , @chaosheadspace , @beholdme , @reallyintoscience , @valeriianz

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