#<- saying this myself before anyone else does

[fleshengine]

I didn't say being a woman is a death sentence. Yeah, you're cisgender, and that's okay. I didn't say existing as a woman is consent to a life of brutality. You're right, women didn't make their own lives hard, men did.

This is a bad faith interpretation of what I said. Let's go through it together. Being a woman is not inherently a negative thing, I actually think there's a lot of joy involved with being a woman, it makes me happier and more content with myself than anything else I've ever done. However, we live in a patriarchy. Under patriarchy, women are oppressed by men, deviancy from the strict gender binary (feminine men, masculine women, androgyny) is punished by further and more acute oppression. Patriarchy treats gender as immutable fact, that you are always the gender you were assigned at birth and anything else is wrong. It does this because that assumption is needed for patriarchy to justify itself. In order for men to be better than women, the categories of men and women need to be distinct. This is why deviance is punished, this is why intersex babies have surgeries performed on them to make them "normal", and this is why trans people are inherently anti-patriarchal. To be abundantly clear, I hate the patriarchy just as much as you. Everything I just mentioned sickens me. It upset me when I was a little boy, it upset me when I was a nonbinary teen, and it upsets me now that I'm a woman.

Being a woman is not a death sentence, but under patriarchy, it's cause for any number of pains. Trans people break that mold. By showing it's possible for men to become women and women to become men, and for people to choose both or neither, we break down the rules that patriarchy functions by. Anyone can be a woman, anyone can be a man, so the distinction between the two becomes arbitrary and pointless.

I think one of the most upsetting aspects of patriarchy is, as with most axes of oppression, it turns the oppressed into enforcers of that oppression. During slavery in America, you had your Uncle Toms. During the American Revolution, you had your loyalists. Under patriarchy, some of the most critical of women's appearances are other women.

So I ask you, which side do you see yourself on? Because my very existence, and the existence of every other trans person, is antipatriarchal. Yet here you are being the arbiter of womanhood, drawing lines in the sand around gender while trans people try to step outside of these boxes.

Terf 1 reply rule applies. You got one response before I block you. Use it wisely.

Saw a cis (I think) woman talking about how cis women need trans women because if trans women don’t exist then being a woman isn’t a choice and is instead just something you’re consigned to for life.

I’ve been thinking about it all day because I agree but I feel like there’s more to it than that.

Idk. Gotta think more.

[strungnews]

Mark peels his eyes open when he hears the chime of his phone. He’d ignore it if it were anyone else, his beauty sleep too precious for anyone’s demands at this hour, no exception.

Except one, that is.

He personalized his text notification for you, just because, he reasoned. You’d text him late at night, this was no different. You loved showing him all kinds of curious stuff he never knew existed. Usually it was pretty lively, or quiet.

But came another ping, quickly followed by another, then it went quiet.

That was less than usual. Odd.

He opens it up, lockscreen practically blinding his eyes while he tries to decipher what you’re texting. It’s punctual, direct, just your usual self.

Mark. Do you have any glue that can stick anything together.

Its important.

Odd, eery, okay.

At this hour?

What for?

. . .

No reply. The bubbles on the screen disappears, left on seen.

Okay. He needs to check up on you, right now.

“Please don’t do anything stupid.” He mutters under his breath, quickly flying over to you like a bullet to the head.

Your blinds are closed, typically. Lights are open, dim, no shadow casts near the window the closer he goes, the latch isn’t locked. Concerning.

“Hello?” He softly calls out. If this was really an emergency, him calling out to you would most likely be the cause of your death. And he wouldn’t know whether or not to laugh or grimace at that when he’s standing by the headstone of your grave. Who needs some strong ass glue for a scenario like that?

“Im just gonna let myself in…” Its the smell that hits his nose first when he slides it up, like fixing his busted nose by snapping it back into place, he can take a deep breath again. Everything is so strong, so pungent, so headache inducing.

“Why does it smell like rugby in here?” He groans, pinching his nose. It’s so quiet in here.

Usually the soft whirrs of your dingy fan was enough to be white noise, or the sound of your phone playing music faintly by the bed. But nothing, just dead silence and that familiar beat of a heart.

Mark softly calls you out, his socked feet thudding lightly on your floor. Your back’s to him, and he watches as you just eye at something by your feet.

Your favorite umbrella. It was those old fashioned ones, popular in the 1960’s since people raved about a lot of things that essentially made little to no impact back then. Now its handle has been broken and separated, the pungent glue is lathered lazily and hastily, like a doctor trying to revive a patient on the spot.

So much supplies are scattered just at the side, he guesses it was your quick panicky feeling at trying to salvage this.

Mark bought it for you at some antique shop, since you wouldn’t stop eyeing it whenever you’d coincidentally pass by the same row at the place. 100 percent from japan, the tag and the lady at the counter said so!

You paraded that thing around when you first got it, yet hesitant to even use it when you’d actually go out.

‘What if someone steals it?’ ‘What if I forget about it and I cant find it anymore?’ You’d complain, as if you weren’t opening up the thing in your room. Just sitting under it while you typed away like there was a storm inside the place. It was cute.

“Oh, man.” Immediately, he sits next to you and drapes an arm while squeezing at your shoulder.. Enough to let you lean in if you wanted, and enough room to pull away. An option in case you were ever overwhelmed.

Its a bit hard to gauge your expression and emotions in this state. You’re kind of just staring at it with a blank face, eyes while tracing over it like you’re committing it to memory, before blinking it away. Repeating the process.

“Im upset.” You finally say. Your tone doesn’t indicate you’re as upset as he’s thought you’d be. Just like a disappointed sigh kind of upset, the one he’d get from his mom whenever she caught him lazying a second too long.

“I really liked that umbrella.”

“I know.” He leans further onto you when you do first. You both sit there, watching the broken handle of the umbrella and its body just to the side. Like a wielder’s sword put to rest. Boxed and put in a glass in admiration, the rough patches and jaggedness a story of its history, of its past.

“I think Paul could help with this.”

“You think so?”

“He’s a man of many tricks, trust me.” Mark starts to rock the both of you lightly, your body now fully leaning onto him.

“Really now? I think your mom would know more about that than him honestly.” You two giggle, tracing spiraling patterns on his knee.

“Im so telling mom that.”

—

It seemed no glue would be enough to fix that crack in your umbrella shaped heart. It got fixed, of course. But the fear of it breaking even more doubled by the time you’d received it back in one rather than two.

Paul helped install a small hook to attach it at the wall of your room, presented in all its yellow glory.

Mark shortly surprises you by taking you to the same antique shop, this time they were on sale!

“It was like it was meant to be.” You said, pushing the door as the bell above jingles.

“You breaking your umbrella?” That earned a heavy yet light hearted smack on his shoulder. Too early.

It wasn’t all that hard to look for a substitute, the bright yet soft color of green had already caught your eye the moment you started looking, and he thinks there was no changing your mind.

“Look Mark! It even has a crocodile for a handle!” You beamed, brighter than that old umbrella of yours, brighter than the screen of his phone at a late night.

Man, that’ll never get old.

A/n: im so sad (?) that the handle my umbrella broke because i was too busy chasing away the ants in my room and i stepped on it sob. Here it currently lies on my floor still broken and in disrepair

[moth-murdock]

Posture. (Matt x AFAB!reader)

A/n: thank you so much to @upended-jellyfish for helping me come up with this 🥴😵‍💫 I think @bunmurdock @pupmurdock @lambmurdock and @sharkymurdock will especially appreciate it too

Genre: smut adjacent?

Summary: Matt helps you fix your posture for good.

Warnings: disciplinarian!Matt, bondage, face slapping, posture correction in the fun way, Mean!Matt (I surprised myself with that tbh)

Other tags: in the new apartment :/, chest hair 😋,

Word count: 1.5k

You don't mean to slouch. You really don't. It just... Happens. But Matt notices. Of course he does. So he does what any loving boyfriend would do. He tries to help.

"sweetheart, you're slouching"

"no I'm-... How did you know?"

"I can, uh, I can hear your breathing. It's kind of labored."

"oh... Alright, thanks." You say as you straighten up.

For a while, he'd remind you like that. Polite, soft, helpful. Then he starts to get a bit tired of it the longer it goes on. He'll just clear his throat while putting a hand on your back. From there, it turns into putting one hand on your lower back and the other on your upper chest, then pushing. It's quick, and automatically gets you to straighten up.

"quit slouching, it's not good for you."

"alright, dad."

"I mean it, kid."

After a while of that, he still catches you slouching sometimes. He'll just flick the back of your neck, and you catch the message. He's just trying to help. And to your favor, you have improved.

Just not enough.

***

He had a rough day. The client was a laidback asshole who was lying left and right, with no respect for Matt or anyone else on the legal team. It pissed him off. Rubbed him the wrong way.

As he walks home, he can't help but be annoyed still. He enters the elevator, going all the way up to his top-floor apartment. He walks in the door, only to hear you slouching. He can hear you typing something on your computer, which is usually when you slouch anyway. He lets put an exasperated sigh, tapping his cane on the floor to get your attention.

"Matty? What's wrong?"

He says nothing, taking off his coat and his jacket. He folds up his cane, tapping it again on the table as he sets it down. He makes his way over to where you sit, cool and composed with measured steps. He still doesn't say anything as he reaches over and closes your laptop.

"hey! What the he-"

Smack

"Posture." He practically growls in a low, gravelly voice. Letting out a tired huff as he tugs his tie off, he quickly undoes the knot in the silk before gagging you with it, tying a tight knot behind your head.

You were still trying to process the slap, your cheek still stung and he had caught you completely off guard. You snap out of it when Matt throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, starting to carry you towards the bedroom. You start to protest, words not being an option due to the tie in your mouth.

Your next best option is physical protest, so that's what you go with. You squirm and kick and hit, which only earns you a smack on the ass so hard that you feel it even through the clothes you're wearing. You gasp out in pain and wriggle some more on his shoulder, but he can smell the truth. He can smell how wet you are, he heard your heart race.

He tosses you on the bed unceremoniously, quickly crawling over you both to avoid you getting up, and to start undressing you. You know that you could realistically give him the signal and he'd stop dead in his tracks. Just tapping that certain rhythm you agreed on. But youre in the mood to play along, so you do. You struggle against him, which is conveniently helping him undress you. Only once you're stripped bare does he get off of you, pressing a large hand to the center of your chest and holding you down.

"Stay." He commands as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, like you're some mutt he found on the side of the road.

And like a dog, you listen. But that doesn't stop you from glaring daggers at him while he rummages one of his drawers for something. You expected a lot of things, but his white Muay Thai ropes was not one of them. The blood on them was no longer the deep crimson they were on that night, implying that he'd washed them since then.

"turn."

You do.

He uses one rope to secure your arms behind your back, wrists to elbows. The other goes around your neck, then connects to your arms, arching your back slightly.

"That's good fucking posture." He growls, tugging on the ropes to jostle you into a kneeling position, facing the foot of the bed.

"do you know what you sound like when you slouch? I can hear your lungs being compressed and squeezed." He starts as he gets off the bed, the mattress silently raising. He walks around to where you're facing, popping the first two buttons of his shirt to reveal his salt and pepper chest hair. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip.

He has a 'what am I going to do with you' expression on his face as he speaks again, pacing back and forth.

"not to mention that your back pops like goddamn bubble wrap when you finally stand up. You know that's why you have back pain, right?" He says expressively as he paces, the hand that ran through his hair now waving around and making gestures like he's in court.

You let out a whine around his tie, only for him to take two steps forward to slap you across the face again and grab your jaw right after.

"don't interrupt me. I'm not done." He says dangerously.

"I tell you time and time again to sit up straight, kid. But you just don't listen to me! All I'm trying to do is help you and you just. Don't. Listen. It feels like I'm babysitting you at this point." He huffs, taking a deep breath that was supposed to calm him, but only floods his nose with your scent.

"seriously?" He scoffs, stopping in his tracks.

"are you seriously getting off on this?" He asks, almost incredulously.

You whine and squeeze your thighs together, trying to hide your scent and relieve some of the ache between your thighs.

He steps forward and wrenches your legs open, and as if the waft of your scent wasn't enough, he runs his fingers through the mess between your thighs.

"do you really expect me to touch you, kid? After that? I'll tell you what, I have had a shit day at work today. I am not in the mood for you to be brat on top of it all. If you wanted something tonight, the least you could have done was act like a human being rather than an animal."

You want to cry. You're soaking wet, drooling onto the silk sheets and not with your mouth. You can feel your heartbeat in your clit like a drum, and you know he can sense it too. He takes another deep breath, jaw tensing and brows twitching.

"you are going to stay like this for an hour. Then I'm going to untie you and we will go to bed. Nothing else will happen outside of that. And so help me god if I see you slouching again after tonight, I won't be so kind."

You couldve cum just from that.

"do you understand me? Or did you go stupid like you always do when I don't touch you?"

You frantically nod, humming an affirmation around his tie, which is now soaked in your saliva.

True to his word, he leaves you there for another hour, your back forced into a perfect posture just waiting for him while he takes a long shower to decompress from the day and even treats himself to putting on the one lotion he can actually stand on his skin.

When he returns, there's still a bit longer left, but he ignores your whimpers and whines. You tried once to grind yourself against the sheets, but that was quickly shut down by him gripping your hair and pulling your head back.

"you said you understood me. I didn't give you permission for this. Last warning."

You whimper and nod, forcing your hips to still. After your hour is up, he starts to untie you with such tenderness that it confuses you for a moment. He tosses the ropes aside, massaging your arms and checking your neck for any signs he can pick up of strain or discomfort.

"nothing hurts?" He asks softly as he removes his tie from your mouth.

"no, Matty... I'm okay..." You assure him equally as softly despite the fact that you are still more turned on than you've ever been.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He can tell you're still so turned on, but he told you he wouldn't touch you, and always keeps his bedroom promises. So he removes the sheet that you dripped onto and he grabs a spare blanket. You both crawl into bed, and you cling to him like he wasn't berating, degrading, and slapping you just an hour earlier. Because despite it all, he wasn't wrong.

He just wanted to help your posture.

My masterlist | fic recs

[shiongenkai]

Thoughts on Jin?

Jin is... interesting. Which is to say, I don't often think about him, but when I do, I really . Really want to squeeze him like a grape.

The nature of Eset opinion posts is that they get so fucking long I feel bad if I don't put them under a readmore. This is. No different. Oops

First of all, I think his dynamics with the other characters on both an in-universe level and a meta textual level are fascinating. I think the most obvious connection is probably with Alan (given the whole... everything with Frost vs Vaga), but I think the most interesting one is comparing him with Taiga.

Taiga and Jin are incredibly similar. Frostheim and Sinostra are essentially the true opposites in every conceivable way, yet they still retain important similarities that keep them in constant conflict. Both captains were incredibly capable until Something happened, both have vices that have a two-faced tendency, both are incredibly nihilistic on a personal level (while still being Involved)... both are attached to the MC, both have connections to Darkwick on a deeper scale than other ghouls...

Jin is in an incredibly weird spot in what his character does in relation to others. Internally, to my mind, he's in the same category as Taiga and Ed, which is a very strange group to be in. But it's because these three all have the same philosophy and general Character and express it differently.

In his prologue lines, Jin calls it a fixed match, and says he was a figurehead. Tohma calls him delicate, others call him cold, reclusive, etc. Jin seems to be able to Acknowledge his personal philosophy ('There is no changing this') but not Accept it. He Acknowledges that he has no real power over anything at the moment, but rather than letting that ideology lead him to a more 'So fuck it I'll do what I want bc we'll all die anyway' attitude (as it does w Taiga) or a 'But neither does anyone else, so I'll use my power as I please / enjoy myself' one (as it does with Ed), it leads him to this like. Despair state, almost.

'I have no real power, and never did, so what's the point in doing anything at all?'

But he can't accept that, because he is incredibly driven and motivated. He needs to succeed. He needs to Prove himself, in a sense, especially due to the pressures of being Kamurai's son, and so he Can't Accept that he Can't Do Anything. I think this is part of why Jin's stigma isn't working without MC right now. I don't think MC unlocks some special thing inside him, but I think he BELIEVES she does. I think he BELIEVES she's able to help him, and so he's able to use it again. Because he believes that she, in some way, is giving him the ability to Be In Control. Because that's what his stigma is. It's control.

And like, it's fascinating! Because Control dominates so much of his character. Control over Frostheim, control over his circumstances, control over others, control over himself. Lack of control. Lack of freedom. Oppression, tyranny, any other goddamn synonym out there.

At every turn, Jin's character focuses on these things. He's a king, but does he really have any control over his own dorm? Over what happens to them? He did his damn best in his Freshman year and got the Laurel Crown, and then what? The Clash happened. And he lost Yuri, either before or immediately after. He gained Tohma, yes, but what else did he lose? What else changed for him during that? His stigma, notably. His world spiralled out of control, and his ability to use his stigma was lost.

And so he gives up. He accepts that he can't control anything, so why try? But he really, really can't fully accept it, because all he can trust is himself. So he still. Tries. Tries to control Something. Tries to solve cases with the influence he has. The control he has. And he tries to control Tohma, because Tohma swore loyalty and should be easy to control, but he's not, and that's something that drives Jin, which we see with the mirror anomaly. It shows him two things; himself, in Frostheim garb, the King (total control; domineering), and when he calls that Pathetic, it shows him Tohma and Alan.

MC says the mirror showed the anxieties she's been keeping locked down. I firmly believe this is true for Jin too. I firmly believe he fears both sides; total loss of control and total tyranny.

And. GOD!!! I know this has been so rambling and Literally So Nothingburger and I'm sorry for that, but it's just really, really neat to look at him totally removed from how he treats MC, though I do find that dynamic interesting as well. I think he's interesting outside of Tohma, even!

I think. It's not a stretch to say that Jin's Frostheim parallel is Kaito. Which is to say, if you were to pick who Kaito resembles the most between Tohma and Jin, I think the better comparison is Jin. Which adds a lot of new fascinating layers of thought in that Kaito's confidence is lacking while his ability is pretty damn capable, or in how Kaito's attitude is honestly probably closer to Jin's internal monologue than Lucas' ever is, or how Kaito was closest to his grandmother who has already passed (while Lucas is closer to his father, who is seemingly still alive)... It's just. Fun. It's fun to look at.

I think I should probably end this here bc I have yapped way too long, but even this doesn't scratch the barest bittiest little Surface of Jin's character. I truly wish I knew More, or at least had more interesting thoughts on him, and I would LOOOOVE to read better analysis from Jin fans or others who think abt him a lot. Ough. Jin Kamurai I need to microwave you.

[dirty-bosmer]

Wip Wednesday

Tagged by: @silly-little-diary @skyrim-forever tyty dear friends 💕

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @elavoria @justafoxhound @thequeenofthewinter @unironicallytes @gilgamish @kookaburra1701 @sylvienerevarine @nuwanders @pocket-vvardvark @sulphuricgrin @hircines-hunter @inkysqueed @saltymaplesyrup @ladytanithia @rustyram035 @heavy-metal-dick @darcxaosit @moriche @madam-whim and anyone else who would like to join :3

Me to myself: Why don't you try writing something that's not stupidly angsty :)

Also me: *writes Mathieu Bellamont fic*

Oh well. Here's a snip from Beyond the Break chapter 4, titled "Maria" bc you can count on me to take one line from his twisted, little diary and become ill about it <3

You didn’t think it possible to feel alive until you met her— Maria. Maria in the moonlight, haloed in Masser’s glow. Maria in the morning and drenched in rays of gold like something made to be offered at the altar. She does for you what the Nine never could, makes you believe in warmth beyond the heat of blood let freshly from a cut, and you still don’t understand what it is she sees when she looks at you, so you check the mirror while she sleeps, desperate to find it.  There you are: pale face somehow paler in the darkness, all sharp angles and deep hollows, your right eye a bit higher than the left. A cowlick of brown hair pulls away from the part, waves at you, and it’s the face of a man who is you but not you. A foreign thing. Someone your mother loved. Someone your father never tried to.  “Mathieu?” From the bed, Maria slurs a name that you want to believe is yours, but it’s changed shape in her voice, become shiny and new. On her lips, it means more than it ever could in your own mouth. Yes, when she says it, the world drops out from beneath you, and for once, you’re not falling; you’re floating, buoyed by a sense of weightless euphoria that you thought you’d only find in the moments before death.  She throws an arm out, searching through the blankets for your body. “Mathieu, where are you? Why are you still awake?” When you return to her, she doesn’t wait for an answer, just pulls you closer, where you are two people in the dark trying to wring love from battered hearts. Two lonely souls who have settled where stranded, and you can’t let your hands hold her completely, afraid of what they’ll do, these hands that you’ve spent your entire life forging into weapons. These hands that have broken every beautiful thing they’ve touched.

[vero-lynn]

Do you really think Brian blames Tim for everything that's happened?

Tim didn't know the sickness could spread, he didn't even connect the dots about the Operator in the entries being the same monster he'd seen in his childhood until much later.

As for forgetting Brian, the sickness causes amnesia, Brian should know that better than anyone, Tim wasn't aware of Brian's whereabouts after college because of said amnesia, he had probably tried to reach out at some point but it might have been after Alex killed him for the first time. Tim may have thought that Brian just moved on from him since he didn't reach out either, Tim had never formed a relationship with someone prior to Brian, the only one he had before was with his mother who left him in a psych ward as a kid which probably gave him some kind of abandonment complex, after never hearing back from Brian he might have felt that he should have seen it coming, that just like his mother no one else would actually want him around. Tim lived life as normal afterwards because that was all he could really do.

This isn't a jab at any of your analyses about Brian btw, I think you're probably the only person in the fandom who understands his character best and I love reading all your posts about him. I'm just asking this from the viewpoint of my own analysis of MH, and I'd really like to know what you think.

Smiles at you so cutely, thank you for this ask..

TLDR for everything I'm about to say: NO!!!!! NO. Brian doesn't, but I MYSELF DO. I always try to make sure that it's obvious it's my personal beef with Tim, not Brian's, but...

Let me yap about this, get comfortable..

SO BRIAN. That's a man that loves so much and so genuine. He's a lover and a giver.

He doesn't HATE. He never HATES anyone other than ALEX. Alex is the only person he has genuine hatred for and who he wants DEAD - AND YET!! He's unable to kill him himself. He is okay with holding the gun for as long as someone else pulls the trigger.

Now, you mentioned the sickness and that Tim didn't know, well, do you know who DID know? MASKY. Someone had to come to Brian, give him a camera and tell him to cover up his face, pointing him in the right directions - that being stalking and recording Alex because something was wrong with him. Obviously Brian would know that his best friend is changing, so he followed along. We know that he's been stalking Alex BECAUSE he's missing in entry 17 and 20. He's not there. He's... Somewhere! He should be on set but he's simply not! Or he's feeling sick! He himself is getting sicker and sicker the longer he's stalking Alex.

No, Brian doesn't blame Tim/Masky for this.

Brian and Masky had to be working together while marble hornets was being recorded, they knew it was important, but later on, after everyone is gone, Masky/Tim never go out of their way to follow Alex and finish the job, we know this because Tim is living a normal life FAR FAR away from where Alex is, HE HIMSELF doesn't even know he moved.

No, Brian doesn't blame him for forgetting about him, but he is bitter about him not finishing the job and not coming with him to do so. We see that in TTA and the constant calling out and mocking from Hoody. (Messages is a good example, and so is BROADCAST that's posted right after Masky's leg gets broken. Are you drowning?)

In short, Brian doesn't hate Tim. He doesn't blame him for anything. He knows his situation and not once would he be angry at him for his choices. He doesn't WANT to hurt him, but he IS willing to do so to get what he wants and what they all need. (The pills, and Alex dead and gone.)

Tim is incapable of going straight for the kill, that's what Masky was always good at. He needs Masky to come out so they can hunt Alex down and kill him. Tim won't help him. He knows this. Tim is aggressive towards him, Tim doesn't remember him, but again, MASKY does. He doesn't hurt Tim just to see him suffer, he doesn't want that! At all! But there's simply no other way. And he's willing to take it.

Even after he dies, he NEVER. EVER. Blames or is mad at Tim for it. He's so relieved he's okay and safe and ALIVE. That's all he wanted. THAT'S ALL HE WANTED. He doesn't blame him for his own death, but the ark is pushing him with the whole "I KILLED YOU! AND YOU'LL DIE HERE SLOWLY BECAUSE OF ME!" nightmare he had with Tim's mask. And yet.. he doesn't. He loves Tim. He never stopped.

His actions are out of anger and frustration, sure, but the deep love and care never left. He never wanted to hurt anyone.

I do though, I hate Tim for how he treated Hoody. I don't care that it was a stranger, you can see that a person is sick with the same disease YOU have medicine for and you're unwilling to help them even if all THEY did was to help and guide your ass. He's a hypocrite to me, and I understand his reasonings, but I'll never not be bitter about it. -- that's a whole different thing though haha...

MY DMS ARE ALWAYS OPENED FOR DISCUSSIONS BTW!! I LOVE TO YAP!!

[just-b-wilde]

I have a confession to make (and yes, this is yet another one of my THT spam posts): I love Osblaine. I really do. But the truth is—I’ve never been a fan of June.

My love for this ship is, to a huge extent, because Nick is my favorite character in the show, and I absolutely adore his love and devotion to her. The story is original, compelling, their chemistry is just... so unique. It’s easy to fall for them. They’re exactly my cup of tea.

And before anyone says I only like Nick because of the actor’s looks... my second confession is: Nick actually isn’t my type - physically. But you know what is my type? A fictional man hopelessly in love with his lady.

Unfortunately for Nick, June doesn’t always seem to appreciate that (in fact, I’d say she often barely does), and many times I’ve found myself thinking—she really doesn’t deserve him.

But what can you do, when she is the one who would make him happiest?

If it could’ve been something else... someone else... where the audience would actually see that he's happy, then please—give him that.

Yeah...

What I'm trying to say is just…

Nick deserves a happy ending.

Period.

[vegan-peppermint]

Tim Masky x Reader

Genre: plot? Tension?

This is only a part of the full fic, if you want a bit more context check out the full version here.

A couple of weeks ago, your brother brought in two men, suspects in crimes spanning multiple states, with no clear means or motives for their actions. The higher-ups didn't approve of the arrests, arguing that the crimes' circumstances were too unusual and lacked continuity; it was evident that more than two painfully average individuals were involved. But Kevin, your brother truly believed he had a sixth sense about these things. He was convinced they were the culprits.

When he brought them in, he was instructed to keep the operation low-profile. With minimal resources allocated, he had to choose his personnel wisely. That's how you found yourself in the midst of this circus. A third-year med student playing doctor in the underground of a semi-secret government facility. That's how you met them.

Brian and Tim.

Tim is the first one you met, seeing to his severe wounds was urgent. His whole torso was covered in bruises, some older- a deep shade of purple—but mostly bright red. His forearms and knees bore scratches and were actively bleeding. You’d never seen someone in such a dire state, raising immediate concerns about potential internal bleeding.

Despite his alarming condition, Tim exuded an unsettling confidence. He responded to each of your questions with a broad, almost defiant grin and a voice dripping with cloying charm.

His teasing demeanor only got worse with each (more frequent) visit to your office.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, applying gentle pressure to one of his ribs.

“It’d hurt so much more if you’d decided not to touch me, dove,” he said with a low voice.

“It’s important for you to talk with me, Tim,” you rolled your eyes, moving away from his side, his jokes and comments not bothering you in the slightest. He wasn’t a difficult person to work with, just awfully vague and badly hurt. “The sooner we treat you, the sooner you get out of this boring, sterile white office,” you encourage, and Tim hums in response.

An uneasy silence lingered after.

“Get out of here just so Agent Shit-Face can send me right back?” he said.

You didn’t react to his comment. You didn’t want to actually. If you did, you would have to acknowledge what, or rather who, had inflicted all those wounds on him. It’s not easy, but you have to remind yourself he is a murderer. This is a high-security interrogation center.

“I don’t think you broke anything,” you stated. “As far as I can tell, the wounds are superficial, nothing to worry about. I’ll give you some painkillers, nothing too exciting, just some ibuprofen.”

Tim’s eyes followed you as you walked over to one of your cabinets to grab the meds. Back turned to him so you could escape his piercing gaze.

“Who’s he to you?” he asked bluntly.

Perhaps he saw directly through your pretense of indifference towards his previous statement. You wouldn’t be surprised; you always had a very expressive face. Before turning around to face him, you had to repeat to yourself. He was not just a patient; he was a psychopath responsible for countless deaths. He is not vulnerable or a victim- someone you can bond with. He is dangerous.

“If you start coughing blood or have trouble breathing, come straight back here, you hear me?

“Every time you walk by, his eyes linger longer than anyone else’s,” he continued, an almost playful tone lacing his words. “I might have lingered a bit myself, watching you leave the room longer than I shuld've.” His gaze was warm, the corners of his lips turning a shade pinker from an instinctive bite. Nothing about him is threatening, not even the steps he had taken without you noticing, for now he was standing right in front of you.

He maintains some distance between the two of you, giving you a sense of control. He is not genuine; every step is calculated to trick you. The way he pauses, giving you space to react. You should say something, but you can’t find the words as your mind is overburdened with the task of holding a stoic face.

“I need to know,” he whispered as he inched closer, closing the distance.

In the depth of his green eyes, you catch a fleeting reflection of your uncertainty, prompting you to avert your gaze. He lowers his head slowly, following your movement with composure. Only for the soft thud his palms made against the wall did a realization hit you:

He had cornered you.

“I need to know,” he repeats, his voice laced with honey.

You closed your eyes, the mere presence of him overwhelming you. God, was this a mistake, as you now became acutely aware of his breath brushing against your face. You swear you felt his familiar sliding smirk forming in response to your distress.

“Am I flirting with another man’s woman?” he breathes with a teasing challenge.

Before you could even comprehend the weight of the accusation, a loud knock jolted you from your thoughts. Instinctively, you stiffened, frozen in place as if your body had abandoned agency. Only when the door creaked open did you allow yourself to breathe again.

Tim sat casually on the medical bed, his demeanor cheerful and utterly unfazed, as though nothing was amiss. Your brother, Kevin, towered in the doorway, his presence dense with authority.

“What’s taking so long?” Kevin said, his gaze bouncing between you and Tim.

“Sorry,” you replied, releasing a shaky breath. “He’s ready to go.” You let a deliberate pause hang in the air, then added, “Brother.”

No need to look at him to know Tim’s face lit up with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You don’t know why you did that, what compelled you to let him know Kevin is your brother. No, rather, why were you so desperate to let Tim know you were single?

This is ridiculous; you were so stupid. The warning bells rang loud and clear, yet you completely ignored them. You fell for his charm and traps. Coming clean to Kevin is the right thing to do, surely. Tell him what happened and how you want to be taken off the case. Yes, that would be the safest, most righteous thing to do.

But as Kevin secured Tim’s hands behind his back and dragged him by the shoulder, doubt crept in. What would happen if you left? They don’t have the budget or any interest in getting another doctor on base. Tim’s disheveled hair bounced with every movement, revealing red stains splattered on his forehead and neck. You cannot leave; you have to do your job as a doctor!

You tightened your resolve. This time, you’d do better. No more falling for his traps. You were done playing games.

You know better now, for sure.

[iamshyasfuck]

I feel like I've been fed exactly what I was wanting,, THIS ISNT CHRISTMAS AND I GOT A FEAST!!!!DR WHITE ANALYSIS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

and also like one that is very similar from my depiction of Dr white as a character and that'd mean that I actually did him justice from whatever scraps I had to work with?? YUMMY, anyways I'll be going over the points you made that I particularly found very interesting and also TYSM for replying!! :)

Dr White's personality and motivation.

I particularly LOVE the way u described Harley's vision of White as a character, Harley thinks of White as nothing more than a bitter joke, prolly just ordering him around so he wouldn't have to deal with him, actually he would prolly do that with everyone else seeing as he does not share any interest in his coworkers, so jokes in the workplace to "lighten up the mood" or something go very unappreciated by Harley's behalf, especially IF Harley sees White's objective as selfish or self driven.

I do have my own fair share of shame on trying to impress others so I think it's also very interesting to see Dr white actually doing that, albeit selfish, Harley is not very different from him as far as I see it(since he was thrown off by Elliot from the YGP, I can see a similarity of maybe Harley doing everything he could to show Elliot what he was really worth it since he could not understand Elliot alr saw potential in him, just not was ready for it.)

Dr White's and Harley's relationship

I already talked to my friends about this I think a billion times but I can't help but find it so INTERESTING to analyze, as well as my analysis go unfortunately(I am not very good at em).

From my perspective, as I explained it before, Sawyer sees nothing much of Dr white except from all the things he can't forget from when he was turned into 1354, 'eyes peering from behind the glass', many bad memories about him were formed after the experiment, likely just people treating him as a tool rather than what Harley wanted to be recognized as.

Kinda makes you wonder if those bad memories were overwritten over past ones, not that I think they had a good relationship of any kind seeing from his loser personality, but it is amusing to think about.

Dr white on the other hand, seems to be very balanced unlike Sawyer, managing to keep workplace business steady, while also attempting to make it fun for himself, lightning up the mood with silly jokes as to not get on anyone's bad side, though that only made Sawyer dislike him even more, thinking of his jokes as nothing more than a mockery of some kind, but ngl i would too if i met Sawyer- getting to the point, you can see it in the notes that White recognizes Harley as a person to avoid "if you still want to keep your head", someone that takes jokes very seriously, but will casually just joke about what he says behind his back once he left the room. and also it really makes me want to just draw Dr white whispering to another scientist "one pickle away" whenever Harley is being his usual self and having to hold their giggles, ah the joys of art💞💞

Anyways I would love to see more of their interactions to get a clear look at it(or just more about dr white in general), since my lenses are very dirty for this type of magnifying glass analysis, also so sorry if I accidentally hammered down the same subject, I am very bad like I said at explaining myself.

Also a little side note I'm really interested in whatever is the foreman of the misfit pit and why White is even trying to do whatever he is doing, "however perverse it may be".

anyways have Sawyer playing banjo in dead rails

Dr Bruno White & Experiment 1354 [Theory]

I was writing a completely different theory in relations to MOB's latest trailer, when this realisation hit me like that hardest ton of brick ever.

You guys know, recently I studied the Ch.4 ARG for my story writing. I wanted to know more about Dr. White for writing his character, and in one of the emails from Harley he says: '[A bad memory]' and I interpreted it as Harley saying White has a bad memory. I think it's actually Harley having bad memories of White, and what he did to him after he became 1354.

Eg. The full email the above reads:

(The emailer asked)

Dr White?

(Harley replies)

'[Eyes peering from behind a pane of glass] He always did have a certain drive, didn't he? [A bad memory] But what good did it do him? None. He's dead.'

I initially thought the in brackets stuff was Harley, but it's EYES. Two eyes. He only has one as, 1354. But eyes peering from being a glass pane would refer to how he was being watched in an observation room, like the other experiments.

This robot-man has trauma. Trauma from Dr White.

When asked by another emailer what he remembers, all he says is:

Bruno

Another good example, an emailer asks:

What did he do to you?

(Harley replies)

The footage is archived (more bad memories) I won't dwell on it.

We also know throughout the email, Harley speaks negatively about White, implying he doesn't like him. (I think I mentioned somewhere,) my theory that they had a less negative relationship pre-1354, and I'm still inclined to believe that based on his whole:

White?! White is that you?!

He sounds hurt, and him complimenting White's drive could show one of his few lingering positive memories of White. Cause, like, take it from me, as someone with trauma relating to a person I had a good relationship with once in the past, when I think of said person, none of those positive memories come to the surface. Only the traumatic ones. (I'm fine folks. This was years ago, I'm healed & good now. This was just a great example of the feelings Post-1354 would have towards... the abuser?).

We also know the admin account & password belonged to Dr. White (, with the password being a mocking jab at something Harley use to say all the time). So White was fully in control over Harley. Sure. That's one reason to have some trauma, but...

I also was looking at the red text again, with this new point of view about Harley & White in mind. I think the red text is 1354's thoughts being displayed on a screen.

Leith says in the 1354 tape:

You'll be like an open book to us whenever we want.

I think he meant this quite literally. That's why he tells Harley he can fight or give in. It doesn't matter because they can read his every thought regardless.

More evidence to back this up, with the red text being Harley's thoughts:

I can see you. You aren't welcome here.

And

They can see. away. Don't think it. Hide it from yourself. rwk

(idk what 'rwk' stands for. I couldn't really find anything solid).

I'm about out of steam with this lol. Just thought it was intresting to throw out there into the void :P

Also, really interesting that one of the things he says replies is:

I know my name.

Annoyingly, I can't find the email this came from, to give it context. Interesting regardless. To forget one's own name would almost suggest a level of brainwashing, maybe? IDK.

Not sure on the whole brainwashing thing, but it's a fun idea.

If we assume the first red text we start with is the last time anyone accessed Harley's thoughts (that being White), then their final conversation is intreaging, because it would suggest Harley was more bitter than White (I mean... hard to be bitter when you weren't the one turned into a brain in a jar, lol):

He asks if I still dream? Why? This changes nothing. A broken leash. Casket. I do. What became of her? Theater incident still strange, the things that linger.

[aromantichc]

Aromantic Character of the Day (27/7/24 BONUS) is.....

Hobart "Hobie / SpiderPunk" Brown (ATSV/Spiderman comics) !

Admin headcanons thon as arospec. Grr does NOT use labels, but he is on the aromantic spectrum somewhere. They feel attraction in theory, but typically become repulsed by romance when things get too close. He is allosexual. They would describe hirself as queer and punk dislikes the term unlabelled for zeirself. It likes anyone sexually and romantically (in theory) and he is transsexual (ftm) and uses any pronouns EXCEPT she/her. He is also AuDHD and has BPD and POTS. Xe uses a mobility aid at times.

Part of this post is CANON Hobie CANONICALLY does not like LABELS in any way. Everything else mentioned is purely HEADCANON.

[800db-cloud]

spare some spy hcs? 👀

OKAY. ok. so i have been putting off answering this ask because i’m admittedly very shy and very afraid of sharing my headcanons. and also because i have A LOT OF THEM.. but here we are!

here are my headcanon spies :) René works for RED and Jacques works for BLU!

where to start, where to start… i have a LOT of headcanons for them, i’ll be talking for FOREVER here. i’ll just start with story because why not! xP

René’s parents were also agents/spies, so he was always destined to be one as well. And he lives up to his parents’ legacies! He’s most notorious for destroying gangs and mobs and the like from the outside in. He was brought to America years ago to take out a dangerous mob boss, but unfortunately found himself infatuated (and involved) with the boss’ daughter. Luckily for him, the boss’ daughter wanted the guy dead, too.

René’s story is honestly a lot more fleshed out than Jacques’, but here goes anyway:

Jacques’ father was a very rich and powerful man in politics. Jacques himself was the result of an affair, and to keep it hush-hush, his father decided to raise him. Raise is a strong word, though— but he did help his father gain intelligence and blackmail on opposing political parties. Jacques proved to be a promising spy since childhood.

If anyone has any suggestions/ideas for Jacques’ story, let me know haha x) he didn’t have the greatest upbringing per se…

last thing on this section i wanna talk about is the Scouts. René is related to both of the Scouts; he’s RED Scout (Jeremy)’s biological father, and he’s BLU Scout (James)’ adoptive/step-father. Jacques has no relation to either scout, but acts as a guardian figure to BLU Scout.

anyway, this is the part where i continue talking about other miscellaneous headcanons! and these come with doodles :)

You couldn’t catch René DEAD without his mask, or his suit! He’d neeever take them off around other people (‘other people’ is mainly just Scout. For obvious reasons.) Meanwhile, Jacques is pretty lenient in letting his teammates see his face! Everyone on BLU’s seen his face at least once.

A big part of why René refuses to strip down is also due to the fact he has a LOT of tattoos. No doodle for this one because I’ve yet to decide on what tattoos to put on him (ideas are very welcome!!), but yeah! Most of the tattoos were ‘forced’ onto him/he had to get for jobs and ‘fitting in’ with bad crowds, but a good few of them were of his own accord, too.

Jacques doesn’t have tattoos, but he has a myriad of another thing: scars! Lots and lots of scars on this guy. Faded and old, sure, but they’re there. Most prominent ones are the one around his neck (from when the RED Medic beheaded him) and the ones on his forearms (those are from the LAST time he was imprisoned— looong story…)

René doesn’t cook very often for his team, but when he does, everyone’s always BLOWN AWAY by this guy’s cooking! René’s really bad at taking compliments, though— (“Cooking food that’s remotely edible isn’t a compliment, it’s basic survival.”) —but rest assured he’ll be thinking about it for the next month. Jacques, however… Do NOT let this guy into the kitchen. Ever. The BLU base has a special fire extinguisher “In Case Spy Decides To Turn On The Stove”

oooh, this one is an hc and a HALF to me. René much prefers working alone. It’s just in his nature, being isolated and whatnot. He likes to deal with things by himself– maybe he doesn’t want to burden others? On the contrary, Jacques NEVER works alone. It’s a trait he’s had even before being hired to BLU. You never know when things could go wrong, so it’s best to have someone else to fall back to… or someone else you can blame!

these hcs both have something to do with how René and Jacques show their trust in other people :) it’s a bit convoluted but it gets there:

René is, amusingly, very bad at remembering names. Almost laughably bad. There have been many-a-story of his days before RED where he’d get a target’s name wrong, even after he’d repeated it in his head dozens of times over. Names are difficult for him, so if he remembers yours, it means you mean a lot to him! He prefers using his teammates’ names rather than their titles. René is unaware of how charming this specifc trait is to his coworkers (they saw how much work and effort it took for him to memorize their names, they’re just happy with how far he’s come!)

Jacques has a… to put simply, very complicated relationship with food. But the one thing he’ll never turn down is sweets. His favorites especially being chocolate bonbons. Jacques has a hard time eating in front of others, let alone sharing his food! But if he genuinely likes and trusts you enough, he’d have half the mind to share with you. Admittedly, he hasn’t brought himself to share with most of the members of his team yet, except for a select few. Mostly BLU Medic and BLU Sniper.

—

and of course, eventually, EVENTUALLY, these two also become friends! it took a little bit but believe me, they both respect each other’s skill in their job :)

AHHg i could go sooo much longer about them— from things like their physical traits (how much teeth they have? it’s a pressing question) or different periods of their life (why did rené have to leave his family? why was jacques imprisoned for the last time?) BUT this post is so… so, so long. My fingers hurt from typing

If you’ve managed to read through this Beast, THANK YOU RAAHH!!! thanks so much for asking this, too. i hope to spare more hcs someday. hehe ^_^

[b-blushes]

thursday quest - no physical therapy today - make and eat lunch sooooo early but i can do it!!!!! - get ready for wedding - attend wedding! yay! (: - decompress well when i get home <3

[my-current-obsession]

To be fair, the whole, “I’ll come back to you even if you don’t promise to wait,” is a line pulled directly from OG FFVII. It’s mentioned late game by Cid (who hilariously went to see a showing of loveless in Midgar but fell asleep then woke up just in time to view this ending scene 😂). But if you wanna deep dive on the meaning of this line, it’s worth noting that a version of the line is used in FFVIII in reference to the main ship of that installment — Rinoa and Squall — who also happen to be another mage/swordsman pair. And if you wanna go big brain square enix energy, there’s also the famous, “I’ll come back to you; I promise…I know you will,” between Sora and Kairi in Kingdom Hearts when he goes off on another journey while she awaits his return. If you go down those rabbit holes, it seems square really has a type for their main pairs, no?

I don't remember that line in OG FF7, but it's been years since I played it so I'll take your word for it. But you're right that similar lines/sentiments pop up frequently in other FF and KH games, so yeah, Square has a type. I still think the conversation between Cloud and Aerith in KH2 is the quickest and easiest parallel to make here though, considering the same pair can have basically the same interaction, in an entirely different game. Yes, Cloud could also have this conversation in the play with T or Y. But only Aerith's would have the added depth of being a potential callback/reference to another moment the pair shared.

And considering this game liked to callback to several moments between Cloud and Aerith in the previous game (him remembering their first meeting being what snaps him out of Sephiroth's control, the "will you be okay getting back", "if I said I wasn't" in the ending...) I think it's totally reasonable to assume that Square might have subtly referenced at least one Clerith moment from outside the compilation.

[turtleduckmocha]

wolfwood brainrot interrupted by the arcane trailer. i'm afraid i'm gonna be screaming about mel medarda until we FUCKING SEE HER AGAIN.

[shrinevandal]

one thing that's frustrating but also really sad about the "queer isn't a slur nowadays and has never been one, actually" crowd is the way they completely miss the point of reclaiming it. if queer is a benign word and always has been (provably false obviously, but just to play their game for a second) then what's even the point of identifying with it? you're taking an act of courage and bravery by flipping the meaning of a word used against us on its head, by standing up loudly and proudly and going "yeah guess what? i AM abnormal, i AM unconventional, and there's nothing wrong with that", and instead watering it down to "heh... i'm just such a weirdo aren't i.... i'm not like other gays.... teehee" like it's honestly just really sad to me. the point of reclaiming queer should be to denounce the cisheteronormative fallacy that there is a "right way" to exist, and to honor the people that came before us who were called that and much worse and didn't let it stop them from fighting.

but saying that fight didn't even happen... to me that's somehow worse than using it against people who are uncomfortable with the word. because harassing people and not listening to their boundaries is awful obviously, but what's even worse is denying your own pride and spitting on the efforts of the people who came before us. you go from being shitty to one person to being shitty to an entire community. i just honestly don't get it. does this fulfill you?

[lunarharp]

er... extreme amount of dragon age: the veilguard scribbles to soothe my heart🐦‍⬛💀