#Aka he gets smart about it and it's a nightmare for the system trying to keep him IN

[masquenoire]

💭 and Arkham

𝓗����𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 — send 💭 + a topic to receive a headcanon about said topic.

After his first escape from Arkham, Roman was quick to make connections, working to ensure that even if he did end up back inside that cursed cell, his legal aides would immediately begin the process of getting him out and in the meantime, he could look forwards to calling upon a few ‘favours’ after several bribes and threats were made. Several psychiatrists actually thought his behaviour had improved after his first stay but truthfully Roman just learned to keep a low profile and to make the most of things, reestablishing connections on the inside before his inevitable release once enough strings had been pulled. The orderlies know better and that Roman is simply playing the system but cannot say or do much about it as they’re only paid to keep patients in line. Roman on the other hand considers Arkham an insult; he’s not crazy, just corrupt.

[lightwise]

I would love to hear some of your Tech thoughts for the Character Ask thingie.

Hello my friend! Thanks for asking about our precious baby boy Tech. Season 2 made me fall in love with Tech so much and I don’t need to elaborate on how hard the finale hit me. Tech has helped me understand some aspects of myself better, appreciate/hold better space for the differences in other people that I know, and is just a beautiful representation of neurodivergence onscreen that I am so glad we have.

Tech

one aspect about them i love - Yeah so I can’t narrow it down to just one, but I’m going to go with: his love for his family, his snarky sarcasm (aka telling it like it is), and his humility. Humility might sound like a strange word choice for a man who knows how brilliant he is and how unique his abilities are, but one of his key strengths is not only being able to calculate the odds of almost any situation around him, but also knowing when he can’t, or doesn’t have enough information/data to calculate a probable outcome. Many people with way less brilliance than him would make even an educated guess or try to sound like they know what they’re talking about all the time, but Tech is so confident in his abilities that he has no problem acknowledging when he is hitting up on the limits of his understanding. 

one aspect i wish more people understood about them - I think we all understand this in this corner of tumblr, but I continue to see people in other spaces think that he is rude or awkward or just “smart and nerdy.” There’s a huge difference between being rude or smart, and processing everything about the world in a different manner than the average person, which we know as being neurodivergent. For a sci-fi/fantasy show, all of the Batchers’ “enhancements” could have been presented only as positives, as extra capabilities that regular people don’t have, that make them all “special” and incredible soldiers. But thankfully, they chose to make them complex and very human, by showing the difficult and sometimes unpleasant ramifications of those very enhancements. For Tech, his way of processing things leads to very blunt, direct communication, difficulty in knowing how to handle raw emotions in real time (both his own and others), and a tendency to forget that other people haven’t figured out the same things about a situation that he has. The resulting disconnect, hurt feelings, and difficult conversations in his relationships isn’t intentional but is something he has to navigate on a daily basis. That said, similar to Crosshair, his actions speak loudest, and his intense love for his family is always evident in the ways he is willing to do anything for them without hesitation.    

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character - he is so an iPad kid. I wonder when he built his first datapad, if he tried to hack any of the Kaminoans’ systems, if he has always had his corner of their room strewn with wires and abandoned projects and research materials. How many times did Hunter have to tear it out of his hand to get him to finish a meal in the cafeteria, or hide it so that he would get some sleep. I also wonder if he’s ever been awake at night while Echo was having a nightmare (building off the headcanons I’ve seen that Echo sometimes mutters binary code as he has nightmares from Skako Minor) and translated the code even without meaning to. He would never share what it means though out of respect for Echo. 

one character i love seeing them interact with - Omega. It may have taken more time for him to warm up to her, but even early in season 1, Tech is always ready to catch her as she jumps down from any height, holds his hands out to her if she needs to steady herself, and often puts his hand on her shoulder unbidden. For a man who seems to be uncomfortable with physical touch and doesn’t typically initiate it, this melts my heart every time I see it. And of course their growing bond in season 2 and their conversation in The Crossing where they finally begin to understand each other’s needs and how to communicate better is one of the best moments in Star Wars, period, for me. “I may process moments and thoughts differently than you, but I do not feel any less” makes me tear up every time I hear it. And that the understanding goes both ways, and both of them make an effort to interact with the “language” that the other person is most comfortable with. Huge character growth. I also love how Tech loves imparting his wisdom and knowledge to her and Omega loves learning it. They’re just such a great duo. 

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more - I so desperately want to see him and Crosshair together again. “Just because I understand you does not mean I agree with you.” What would their conversations look like after Crosshair is rescued? How would Tech’s difficulty with emotional complexity, and Crosshair’s layers of hurt after trauma, brush up against each other as they tried to rebuild their relationship? Would Tech’s joy at having him back give Crosshair space to open up? Would Tech let him know that he’s forgiven him and despite his confusion and hurt, he is ready to move forward together? Could Tech’s ability to busy himself with a task at hand and requesting Crosshair’s help give them some time and space together where words aren’t needed to heal? I also honestly want to see Tech and Phee together again. I would love to know where their relationship could have gone, and what kind of conversation/apology/mutual understanding they might come to after the way they parted. 

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character - I bet that Tech was teased and bullied a lot by the regs (and probably experimented on by the Kaminoans along with his brothers) as a cadet. I think that all of the boys would defend him but that especially Hunter would take note of his particular needs, hand him back his goggles if he had been roughed up by someone, and in general look out for him/take care of him and protect him. (I think Crosshair did this too). I can just see Hunter ruffling his hair and helping him calm down after a panic attack or becoming frustrated over something.  

[mysticchessecake]

100 Mikey ROTTMNT headcanons

(Mikey angst hcs lmao go brrr) (also my goal is to get to 100 hcs)

Also SPOILER WARNINGS

1. Mikey has abandonment issues or attachment issues

2. Mikey is pretty good at hiding stuff

3. Mikey has hand tremors after the movie

4. Mikey tells himself that "the others had it worse, I didn't have it as bad. It's not that bad*

5. Mikey has a hard time asking for emotional help,

6. Mikey has an art block after the movie

7. Mikey is extremely good at the piano

8. Mikey wants to tell others about his problems but for some reason, something in the back of his mind is stopping him.

9. Mikey has random power explosions when he gets too emotional after the movie.

10. Mikey has trust issues

11. Mikey likes to hide in his shell when he's sad

12. Mikey has horrific terrible nightmares of all the things he has been through

13. Mikey bakes comfort cookies or brownies when he can't sleep

14. Mikey paints his nails every week

15. Mikey is developing a new alter ego that's basically an extremely chaotic unstoppable prankster. The name is Dr. Unstoppable

16. Mikey's family is scared of Dr. Delicate touch

17. Mikey hates it when anyone is concerned about him.

18. Mikey finds it ironic that he can't even take his own advice when it comes to feelings.

19. Mikey develops an irrational fear of the colour pink

20. Mikey's scars or cracks from making the portal would start glowing when something bad is happening

21. Mikey experiments with food combos

22. Mikey uses he/they pronouns

23. Mikey's human variant would have dyed parts of his hair

24. Mikey's Dr. Feelings is the therapist of his family

25. Mikey's hands after the movie is extremely damaged

26. Mikey has an art journal filled with drawings of the adventures he had

27. Mikey wakes up earlier than the others

28. Mikey sleeps earlier than the others

29. Mikey hides in his shell when he gets tired and he's not in the sewer

30. Mikey picks up sarcasm from Donnie

31. Mikey's Dr. Delicate touch is what Mikey would act in a bad day

32. Mikey has bottled up emotions

33. Mikey thinks he doesn't need help because he's the youngest child and the golden child, and he doesn't have it as bad as his older siblings

34. Mikey's Dr. Unstoppable has goggles with X's on them

35. Mikey has random doodles everywhere in the sewer

36. Mikey's Dr. Delicate touch somehow has a slight tint of red

37. Mikey uses Dr. Delicate touch as a way to release his bottled up emotions

38. Mikey's human version is black

39. Mikey has sass

40. Mikey is the fastest among his brothers

41. Mikey is weirdly charming

42. Mikey "once" took multiple shirts from April

43. Mikey is good at Uno and Monopoly

44. Mikey Pan oriented AroAce

45. Mikey randomly makes pizza

46. Mikey randomly goes to Donnie's lab to watch him make stuff

47. Mikey is scary in April 1st

48. Mikey is good at sewing

49. Mikey is the only one who can make Donnie's complicated drink

50. Mikey "once" went into April's school at night to enter a painting competition Anonymously...he won even though no one saw his face

51. Mikey drinks coffee to make him sleepy

52. Mikey goes to Ralph's room when he has a bad nightmare

53. Mikey has a special dark place...AKA his closet

54. Mikey made Donnie's goggles with cans when he was younger and ever since Donnie kept those googles...he just upgraded it abit

55. Mikey puts stickers on his brother's stuff

56. Mikey is secretly an evil "pranking" genius

57. Mikey and Leo would sneak into places after dark to goof around

58. Mikey would listen to Donnie ramble about stuff for hours and not get annoyed

59. Mikey would try to fix Ralph's broken bit of shell by adding tape and silver

60. Mikey has a good memory

61. Mikey still has some of the smartness stuff in his system from "Mind meld"

62. Mikey likes to watch this show about some lego boy with monkie powers

63. Mikey's favorite brother is Donnie and he doesn't want to admit it because it will fuel Donnie's ego

64. Mikey despite having a good memory. Sucks at remembering people's faces

65. Mikey has a social media presence under the name "JupiterTurtle"

66. Mikey host a yearly cooking event

67. Mikey is harsh with his criticism of cooking and art surprisingly

68. Mikey has his own personal goggles when he is watching Donnie do stuff in his lap that needs eye protection

69. Mikey and Leon "once" went out to a public museum and pretended to be statues.

70. Mikey and Ralph are the comfort duo, who comforts people

71. Mikey and Casey Jr do some spray painting murals around the city for no reason. Mikey wants to show Jr the joys of spray painting

72. Mikey would help with April's art assignments

73. Mikey and Splinter go mini golfing sometimes

74. Mikey and Cassandra are weirdly violent in video games

75. Mikey picks up cursing from Donnie

76. Mikey retreats to his shell when everything happens way to fast

77. Mikey has ADHD with the side of Autism

78. Mikey has bad time management

79. Mikey hates clock noises

80. Mikey has autophobia and thalassophobia

81. Mikey makes his own chips

82. Mikey makes good money selling commissions

83. Mikey has 35 plushies

84. Mikey got banned from using Donnie's computer by "traumatizing his brothers reading horror stories he found on the internet"

85. Mikey and Donnie got a text from April saying "Autism creature"

86. Mikey and Ralph would watch movies every Saturday

87. Mikey makes Donnie be his food taste tester

88. Mikey had a hard time differentiating between normal and sarcastic

89. Mikey got his leg hurt once and now Ralph is worrying if his leg would get hurt

90. Mikey's favorite fruit is an unsurprisingly tiny oranges

91. Mikey has special headphones to cancel out all the arguing in his family

92. Mikey goes to his closet when a fight is getting to bad

93. Mikey is not allowed to go in the waters above 4 feet because of the accident.

94. Mikey nearly drowned trying to save a rat who got caught in the water

95. Mikey hates looking at mirrors for some odd reason

96. Mikey's hearing is extremely sensitive

97. Mikey forgets to do important things like sleep and maintain mental health

98. Mikey actually doesn't eat most of his food that he made.

99. Mikey would rather give up his own life than his brothers

100. Mikey and his family had a big sleepover after the krang

[knowlesian]

i will actually finish my short ode to the s1 finale when i’ve gotten any sleep. for now: why the four good place leads actually voltron together to create one perfect human!!!!

(aka: why the good place makes the argument pobody’s nerfect, there’s a lot of ways to be smart, and we need everybody crushing it in their own lane together to overturn the system instead of trying to go it alone or assume people who don’t see the world the same way we do don’t have anything to offer us.)

chidi's the most obvious one, and the kind of intelligent we find easiest to acknowledge: he fucking loves books. like eleanor says, he’s the smart one. this is a source of so very many hilarious jokes, but on a characterization level everything we know about chidi says this is instinct for him. he honed himself over the years, sure, but the kind of intelligence it takes to sort through and synthesize a bunch of theoretical information and come up with his own take on it all is driven deep right into his nerdy lil’ soul. the books helped and expanded what he’s already got and thanks to one very hilarious/sad childhood misunderstanding he has decided they are literally the answer to everything. 

eleanor's got the next kind of intelligence we more or less respect. jj bittenbinder would call it street smarts. eleanor might not know who died and left aristotle in charge of ethics, but she can read the troubling undercurrents of a room and cut through all the bullshit to what’s really going on. people like eleanor instinctively leave the party right before the cops arrive. her childhood and life spent forced to emotionally fend for herself turned her into a knowing when things are about to turn and getting out first nightmare human, but like chidi this is part of who she is. this is why she’s the one who figures out they’re in the bad place almost every single time; something’s not right here, and she can feel it.

tahani's the next level down, and a little harder to spot: it’s social intelligence. not necessarily social skills, but tahani can look at a room and understand the dynamic and what it needs in a way that is somewhat like eleanor’s way of knowing where all the exits are, but not quite. tahani is good at reading and inserting herself in a social flow, cruise director style. the rules of social flow she learned living in Weird Rich People Land mask some of this early on, but the whole hostess gag covers a real truth: it’s fucking hard to plan and then throw a good party, let alone one that stays good.

jason is our last one. he’s the wise fool archetype, but done in a way i like better than the standard set-up of just pulling out random facts we find surprising a total dumbass knows; jason’s emotional intelligence is off the fucking charts. he understands undercurrents like ‘when you’re nice to someone and they’re not nice to you, something’s not right’ and ‘janet should be treated with reverence’. it’s why he’s the one who knows they should have caught that magic panda and used her powers! (the visual payout of the panda joke later is truly one of the funniest jokes on the whole show.) he’s the kindest person in maybe the universe, and he’s the only one other than eleanor who ever figures out they’re in the bad place, also because he just feels it.

the way the team grows once they find each other is about becoming the best version of themselves, but it’s also about pointing out even the best version of ourself lacks skills the best version of somebody else finds instinctive and easy to understand. they end up needing all those skillsets to find their way to the (fucking amazing) series finale; take a single one of them out of the mix entirely, none of it would have worked at all.

(there’s also a lot of fun overlap between the four, too; chidi and tahani’s skills are about Speaking Fluent Bullshit, eleanor and jason’s about cutting through it. tahani and eleanor share the social situations angle, and jason’s kindness overlaps with chidi’s intense desire to be ethical, & etc.)

[hyperfixatinglove]

Artisan keycap for Aiden 💕

artisan keycap - is there a part of your f/o’s personality that just completely stands out for any reason? if so, what is it? if not, talk about their personality and what you like about how they are!

He's cunning.

He knows how to make a plan and execute it, for example sneaking into Quinn's hotel (possibly unseen) or escape from cops multiply times within story line.

His whole "hiding his real personality behind mask" - what I talk about the most because it's fascinating - is because he's cunning enough to know the system can't find him if he's the most basic man on earth, comparable to stale bread.

He's able to (momentarily, he lost only because he didn't know Ray had stun gun) subdue legendary hacker T-Bone aka Raymond Kenney, after he was thrown out of the window.

He can use any means necessary to fulfill his goal - guns, non lethal takedowns, distractions.. Even cause blackout in entire city!

He's also smart enough to realize leaving Damien alive is dangerous, but knows Jordi's beef with him was only due to money. He seems to be able to get to know people immensely well and react accordingly, he did read psychology after all.

The way he pretended to shoot Maurice Vega in the first playable section of the game - he already beat the guy up and wasn't satisfied with his answer. Seeing how scared shitless the guy was Aiden concluded he would talk if he did this. And then he hands him over to Jordi so he can keep Maurice somewhere until Aiden deals with him and he can't walk and talk to the cops.

Similar thing happened with his break in to prison - silencing witness in a way that suited how scared the guy was of him. Threatening to extend his sentence to 60 years instead of 60 days? Cunning, little shit kind of move!

He broke into AND out of prison! AND lost the cops afterwards! I'm still not over this and this happens in the end of act 1 out of 4.

And his killing of Iraq just.. He can play the long game, he can be patient, knows it's better to be patient and wait, plan excessively before making a move. Everything he does or almost everything is calculated,carefully estimated and just.. wow.

The other aspect I love is how fiercely he loves his little family. His way of showing love is destructive and different but he loves them all the same. His focus is twofold; revenge for Lena but also to protect his remaining family members.

The only times I'd argue he shows genuine, real emotions and not what others expect of his mask personality is with Nicky and Jacks. Maybe he has glimpses of his actual reactions with Jordi as well, considering how easily he reacts to his jokes and is impatient but it's not to the extend of freedom as it is with his family.

The actions he takes to protect them, the lengths he goes, the fact of how misguided his efforts are is just delicious. It's also understandable if you take the time to understand. Aiden is clearly traumatized by Lena's death and how he handles and copes with the grief, the nightmares is to implement such drastic measures to feel safe, to feel like he has some control left of his own life! I'd argue control is one of the main themes of Aiden, not just with ctOS, but in his mind, for who he truly is. He also feels immense guilt for not being able to protect his niece, so of course he'd try his damn hardest to protect the rest of what he still has.

His actions you ask? Beating prank caller who wasn't even going to physically hurt Nicky, killing everyone who was keeping Jacks from him, the entire blackmail subplot that takes majority of story so his little sister doesn't die, sending them away from entire state to protect them even if it breaks his heart! If you have Aiden's loyalty he will do anything for you and i fucking love that.

I also absolutely love how brutal he is.

Aside from gunplay, I love how he can just beat people with his baton, push them around and choke them, it makes me way too interested. Part of me wishes him to go further and the other part is begging him to use a brake. He has this radical side to him, he goes too far in some of his methods. I would've spared Iraq, but from certain point of view I can understand why Aiden dealt with him. Iraq wasn't directly responsible for ruining Aiden's life - that responsibility falls on Quinn - but in Aiden's mind, Iraq's whole blackmail business is the reason or one of the reasons why his niece died. He has already blamed himself enough so he's desperate to pin the blame on someone else. Thus blaming Iraq. Blaming Maurice, who was essentially a victim. Blaming Quinn, who caused the whole thing because he was afraid to lose puppet he could manipulate.

Aiden is not someone to be admired, he's said to be deconstruction of the overpowered, morally grey protagonist who ends up being right and justified. And yet, he's understandable. Not in everything, but enough so you get why he does things. I think in a way I've missed that point, cause I admire the parts of him that should not. His brutality is not something to be admired, to love. I do.

I just find Aiden to be fascinating.

@moriaenships

[agerefandom]

Something Wrong

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Regressor!Katsuki Bakugou (aka. Kacchan), worried!Izuku Midoriya (aka. Deku), worried!Shouta Aizawa (aka. Sensei), caregiver!Eijiro Kirishima, and the rest of 1A as background characters

Words: 4,000

Summary: Izuku notices Kacchan regressing in class and makes the mistake of following him when he leaves, intending to try and help. 

Content warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. Dissociation. Trauma. Bullying. Prevented (unintentional) self-harm. Self-neglect. Physical abuse. Verbal abuse. Mild burns. Blood. This fanfiction raises many questions and issues and doesn’t necessarily solve all of them, although everyone receives physical care by the end. 

Author’s Note: Please note the content warnings and exercise caution when reading. I just finished the third season of My Hero Academia, and I have many emotions about the way the relationship between Katsuki and Izuku is handled by both the writers and the characters in the show. I’m also aware that their dynamic is a popular one in the fandom, and thus something I might be asked to write when I open requests again. This story was my attempt at figuring out how I felt about that. (Conclusion: I’m willing to write regressor!Katsuki with other caregivers, but not with Izuku, and vice-versa. I promise my regressor!Katsuki fics will not all be this angsty. I just had to get this one out of my system.) 

Something was wrong with Kacchan today.

Izuku spent a lot of time looking at Kacchan from day to day, since the taller boy’s head blocked his view of half the blackboard. Even in Junior High, Izuku found himself often watching Kacchan from the back of the class. He was always in motion: his leg bouncing and his fingers tapping on the sides of his desk.

Here in 1-A, many of the students had trouble sitting still. The classroom was always alive with the shifting of fabric and clicking of pens, and any students with sensory problems had to wear sound blockers when trying to get work done (Izuku himself took advantage of that sometimes, although it made his tendency to mumble a little worse).

Today, though, something about Kacchan’s tapping fingers was different. They wouldn’t stay on the desk. He kept lifting his hand to his face, tapping them against his jawline and then around to his mouth. Izuku couldn’t see what Kacchan was doing, but he knew that the other boy had often teased him for biting his fingernails in Junior High (Aww, are you sucking your thumb, Deku? I always knew you were just a baby!) so surely Kacchan wouldn’t have the same habit. And even more strangely, Kacchan kept whipping his hand down and away from his face, keeping it frozen at his side for a few minutes before his fingers started tapping against his leg and the entire cycle would restart.

There were other signs, too: Kacchan wasn’t taking notes, Izuku’s view of his notebook around his shoulder confirming that he was just scribbling random lines across the pages. As careless as Kacchan seemed, he was a good student, and his friends often asked to copy his notes. There must be something wrong, Izuku knew it.

Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night? Izuku knew that Kacchan had been having trouble sleeping since the kidnapping. He started playing loud music at all hours and snapping at anyone who asked him to turn it down, even Kirishima and Kaminari. Eventually, they had to bother Aizawa about it, and Kacchan had been threatened with his sound system being confiscated. That seemed to stop the noise, at least when it was lights-out. But Izuku could still hear him pacing sometimes.

Most of the class had nightmares about their various villain encounters, and insomnia meetups were a regular occurrence in the dormitory common rooms. It had been nice to find out that the others had been struggling to sleep since everything started. Izuku had originally assumed he was alone in the experience. Calming down after a nightmare was easier with Denki chattering about the game he was playing or Koda’s quiet presence sharing the space.

But Kacchan never came out of his room to join the others when he couldn’t sleep, and only the distant sounds of pacing and the darkening circles under his eyes allowed Izuku to notice when he was doing worse.

Shoot, Izuku had started missing some of Aizawa-sensei’s lecture because he was so distracted by Kacchan. He turned his attention back to his notes, scribbling desperately to catch up with the lecture slide before it changed. He could always borrow notes from Tenya, of course, but he didn’t like to bother his friends about things like that.

Izuku snuck another glance up and saw that Kacchan’s fingers were back up to his mouth. His head was tilted slightly down, as if he were looking at his notebook, but his pencil wasn’t moving.

Was Kacchan asleep, maybe? That wouldn’t last long: for all of Aizawa-sensei’s naps, he didn’t tolerate students falling asleep in lecture, his capture weapon quick to pull a napping student’s chair out from under them.

Just as Izuku started to worry, there was a harsh shriek of metal against floor as Kacchan pushed himself to his feet.

“Bathroom,” Kacchan blurted, and stalked for the door with his shoulders a tense line.

Confusion and worry warred in Izuku’s stomach, and he was standing before he could think twice about it.

“Same, yeah, bathroom,” Izuku said, and speed-walked out of the room before Aizawa could remind him that only one student was allowed to leave the class at a time, according to school rules.

The hall was empty, which meant that Kacchan must have taken off running as soon as he’d left the class.

Izuku paused as the door closed behind him, considering his options. There was a possibility that Kacchan had abandoned class entirely and gone back to the dorms, but he probably would have taken his backpack with him if that was the case. Usually, Kacchan went straight for the training rooms when he was upset, but they would be in use by classes right now.

In the absence of a better idea, Izuku decided to check the nearest bathroom and see if Kacchan had been telling the truth.

Izuku’s shoes squeaked quietly against the hallway as he approached the door to the boy’s bathroom and pushed it open. The sound gave him away, but he distinctly heard a gasp, followed by a sharp sniffle.

“Kacchan?” Izuku called out, letting the door close behind him.

There was no answer. Izuku walked fully into the bathroom, easily picking out the stall that Kacchan was hiding in. It was the only one with the door closed, but Izuku could see that Kacchan had pulled up his feet to avoid being seen. Something was definitely wrong, he’d never known Kacchan to be this desperate to hide.

“Kacchan, are you okay? Are you sick?” Izuku approached the door, straining his ears. He could hear Kacchan’s breathing, familiar from the years they had spent together.

“Fuck off, Deku,” Kacchan snapped.

Izuku could hear the tears in his voice, and something like curiosity unfurled in his chest. He hadn’t seen Kacchan cry in years. Izuku was the crybaby, and Kacchan was the one who got to tease him for it. What was going on?

“What’s wrong?” Izuku leaned against the line of sinks, staying in front of the stall. “Did something happen?”

“I told you to go away!” Kacchan shouted. “Nothing’s wrong, you idiot. Fuck off!”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Izuku told the stall door. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he would get to the bottom of this. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Deku…”

Izuku could hear the warning in that growl, but he ignored it. Just as he always did.

“Come on, Kacchan.” Izuku tried a softer voice. “It’s okay! I’m not gonna make fun of you.”

Kacchan started to laugh, and something in Izuku’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t a good sound. It was strangled and getting louder, the tears abandoned for hysterical cackles. Izuku shifted to standing, but stayed in front of the stall. Maybe he was getting somewhere?

Sure enough, the lock clicked open, and the door swung inwards to reveal Kacchan.

Kacchan was standing on the floor now, his uniform even more rumpled that usual. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears still streaking his cheeks.

“You? Make fun of me?” he managed between the harsh laughter. “Deku, you wish.”

Kacchan stepped forwards, and Izuku knew what was going to happen only a second before his hand wrapped around Izuku’s neck and pushed him back into the line of sinks. Pain shot up through Izuku’s spine from where the edge of the counter hit his back. Kacchan didn’t stop pushing, forcing Izuku’s head to lean back against the mirror behind him.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Always rushing in, Izuku lectured himself, closing his eyes to avoid the furious expression on Kacchan’s face. He had only wanted to help, but he knew Kacchan, and knew that he was at his most dangerous when he felt vulnerable. Why had he put himself in danger?

Force of habit, said a cynical voice in the back of Izuku’s head.

“You don’t listen, huh? Everyone thinks you’re so smart, but you and me know different.” Kacchan’s hand wasn’t pressing hard enough to cut off Izuku’s airflow, but he could feel his quirk starting to heat up the air between them, the sting of a thousand sparks jumping from Kacchan’s palm. Not enough to hurt, not really enough to leave burns, just a red mark that would fade in a few hours. Izuku kept his eyes closed. Kacchan had set off one of those tiny sparks in his eye once, and Izuku had needed an eyepatch for a whole week. Of course, Izuku had spent that time pretending to be Peg Leg the Pirate Hero, but it had still hurt.

“I was worried,” Izuku managed, bringing up his hand to try and tug Kacchan’s wrist away. Kacchan intercepted the attempt, making a tight fist around Izuku’s hand.

“Worried about me? You should worry about yourself, pipsqueak. You know I can take care of myself.” Pop pop went the tiny sparking explosions, starting to hurt the tender skin on the underside of Izuku’s chin. Those little burns could layer up and get painful eventually.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I know.”

“Do you? Do you really, Deku? Then why did you follow me?” Kacchan shouted, and Izuku felt spittle hit his cheeks.

“I don’t know!”

Izuku pushed out with his free hand, and was surprised when Kacchan’s grip on his throat subsided, the other boy stumbling back. He opened his eyes and saw his hands sparking, the power of One For All coming to his defense.

Kacchan had only been pushed a few steps back, and he was grinning now.

“You want to fight, shitty Deku? That why you followed me here?” The same little sparks were going off in Kacchan’s palms, flashes of light that made Izuku’s throat ache just watching them. At least they were away from his skin now.

“I don’t want to fight.” Izuku dismissed One For All, feeling the buzzing energy dissipate from his body. Kacchan’s cheeks were still blotchy, his eyes wild, and Izuku couldn’t bring himself to get on the offensive against him. “I’ll leave if you want.”

“Oh, no,” Kacchan hissed. “You had your chance to leave, but you just had to see me, huh? Wanted to gloat some more. Are you happy now, Deku? Want to rub it in?”

“I… no!” Izuku waved his hands in front of his face, feeling his eyes widen. “I’m not gloating! What? Why would I be happy that you’re sad?”

One moment, Kacchan was glaring down at Izuku with sparking palms, and then his face suddenly crumpled. His eyes closed, and he curled inwards, his quirk turning off as his hands went to grip his elbows. “Fuck,” Kacchan muttered. Izuku was close enough to hear his breathing hitch. “FUCK!” he shouted, and brought his hands up to his face, sparks flying again, this time against his own skin. It didn’t affect him, of course, his skin resistant to his own fire, but Izuku automatically started forwards. Kacchan’s eyes were still vulnerable, and he could damage himself.

The movement caught Kacchan’s attention. His head snapped up again, and Izuku could see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Deku?” Kacchan asked, and he sounded… confused.

“Y-yeah, it’s me,” Izuku said. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t-” Kacchan shook his head, bringing his hands up to his face again.

“Careful!” Izuku stepped forward and caught his hands, keeping the sparking palms away from Kacchan’s eyes, even as the tiny explosions started to burn Izuku’s fingers. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?”

Kacchan had frozen under Izuku’s touch, but Izuku could feel his hands shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he echoed, and his voice sounded wrong. Tense and tight and young. “What’s wrong with me, Deku?”

“It’s okay,” Izuku said. “You’re okay. It’s just anxiety, I think. Just breathe, okay?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Izuku didn’t see the attack coming this time, as he was pushed back against the mirrors for a second time. This time, the push was less controlled, and he felt the back of his head hit the mirror with a cracking noise. Hopefully, that was the glass.

“Kacchan!” Izuku reached out, trying to grab his shoulders. “It’s just me, it’s okay.”

“Shut up!! Stop trying to… COMFORT ME!” Kacchan shouted, and backhanded Izuku across the face. The sharpness of the pain made Izuku gasp, but it was easy enough to bring his head back up. “I don’t need your help! I told you to leave!” And Kacchan hit him again. “I told you to leave me alone!”

This is familiar.

The sour smell of the bathroom, the hard line of the counter pressing into Izuku’s spine, and the surrender to the pain of blows to his face. Usually, it had been Kacchan with a number of other boys, two of them holding Izuku’s arms, but Kacchan had never really needed the physical backup. Izuku was helpless enough on his own. Quirkless, couldn’t even stand up to a friend. Couldn’t stand up to one person. The burns, the bruises, the feeling of floating above himself as the pain became sharper yet somehow more distant.

I’ve been here before.

Izuku couldn’t remember the first time Kacchan hit him. He felt like it should have been a turning point in their relationship, like it should have made him see the other boy differently. But Kacchan had always liked to hit people. Like heroes, he said, practicing his Detroit Smash on all his friends. Like heroes, he said, when he tied Izuku upside-down and left him for the teachers to find. He just wanted to be like a hero, and heroes talked with their fists.

Izuku could feel tears on his cheeks as blood filled his mouth, but he hated the tears more than the copper taste on his tongue. He hated that crying had always been his first line of defense. When he was excited, when he was sad, even when he was angry, he could barely speak through the tears that rose up and choked him. It was just more for Kacchan to mock, calling him a baby, calling him weak, calling him useless.

I’ve never been anywhere else.

Izuku couldn’t tell if Kacchan was using his quirk or just his fists. The sharp impacts felt the same at first whether his hands were on fire or not, the heat of the pain blocking out the deeper burns. He would only know later how bad the damage was, whether he would need to hide his face on his way back to the dorms.

It was a shock when the punches stopped.

Izuku stayed where he was, leaning back against the counter. He didn’t know if he could move if he tried. His arms felt numb, his face stinging, and his head was distantly aching. He could see through his eyes, but it felt like he was watching from a long way away as he watched Kacchan draw back and wipe his eyes.

They had both been crying this time. That was unusual.

What happened next was even more unusual.

“I’m sorry,” Kacchan whispered, then turned and walked out of the bathroom.

There was silence.

Izuku drew in the first breath he was aware of, and stood up. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. He turned and saw the splintered mirror behind him, blood streaking down it. Head wound. That explained the warmth soaking the back of his school uniform. They always bled a lot. He could see the shattered pieces of his reflection, a red puffy face and tears still rolling down his cheeks. It would be a few hours before the burns and bruises really become visible. For now, he was just red all over, as if he’d gotten a bad sunburn. By tomorrow, everything would be a rainbow of white and red and green-red-brown, but for now… it didn’t look so bad.

Izuku limped out of the bathroom and walked towards his class as quickly as he could manage. He knew he would disrupt the lecture, he knew the broken mirror would be charged to his mother, he knew it was going to suck to open the door, but it didn’t matter. He needed help.

Sure enough, Izuku pushed the door open and was met with a collective gasp from the class.

Aizawa was kneeling in front of Izuku before he knew what was happening, his hands resting gently on Izuku’s shoulders.

“Were you attacked?” Aizawa demanded, his eyes flickering over Izuku’s face and back to the door he’d walked through.

Izuku ignored his teacher, shrugging under Aizawa’s hands and dragging himself towards the person he came for.

“Kirishima,” Izuku said. “You need to find Kacchan, he’s really upset and I’m worried about him. I think he might be in danger. He wouldn’t listen to me, but… maybe you can help.”

Kirishima’s face swam in Izuku’s vision, shocked and concerned.

“Did he… are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Izuku smiled. “Please just find Kacchan.”

“O-okay?” Kirishima said, and Izuku stepped out of the way to let him leave.

“Deku!” Ochaco’s hands were the next to land on Izuku’s shoulders, less carefully than their teacher. Izuku fought the urge to flinch and smiled at her. “Did Bakugou do this? Are you okay? Oh my god, you’re bleeding a lot…”

“It’s just a head wound,” Izuku explained. “They bleed a lot.”

“Do you have a concussion?” That was Tenya in front of him now. With how much his vision was swimming, it probably was a concussion.

“Don’t worry!” Izuku said, trying to wave them off, but then Tsuyu was also in front of him, looking worried. “I’m okay! I’m sorry for interrupting the lesson!”

“He looks like he’s gonna pass out,” Denki commented.

“I’m not going to pass out!” Izuku said. “I’m fine!” He had a concussion, sure, but he’d gone to class with a concussion before. He would probably miss most of the notes, but that was okay. He could catch up later. “I need to text Kirishima…”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Aizawa was there again, looming over Izuku’s classmates. Izuku winced, dropping his eyes to the ground. He was definitely going to get in trouble. “Everyone, back to your seats. Stop crowding him.” Izuku moved to obey, but Aizawa’s hand blocked him. “Not you, Midoriya, stay where you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” He risked a glance upwards and saw Aizawa’s unreadable expression, his mouth more downturned than usual. “I should have… I thought I could help. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a hero, Midoriya,” Aizawa sighed, and Izuku had never heard anyone say the word ‘hero’ with so much weight. It didn’t sound like a compliment. “Of course you thought you could help. Can you walk to Recovery Girl, or should I carry you?”

“I can walk, sir! But I really don’t need to visit Recovery Girl. She… doesn’t want to see me anymore.” Izuku winced, thinking back to all the times she had threatened to stop treating his injuries if he didn’t stop visiting so often.

“That isn’t her decision,” Aizawa said in a tone that allowed no argument. “Her job is to treat our students. And my job is to protect them. Now, for the rest of you, I expect you to behave while I’m gone. Start any more trouble and you will be expelled when I return. I’m not lying this time.”

From the dead silence that met his words, no one doubted him.

“Come on, Midoriya.” A hand was offered, wavering in Izuku’s reluctant vision. It took him two attempts to accept the hand, his depth perception all but gone. Eventually, though, Aizawa’s fingers wrapped around his, and Izuku was led out into the hallway. Aizawa’s grip was gentle, but Izuku could still feel the callouses on his fingers and palm, the marks of a lifetime of hero work.

It was easy to focus on that warm sensation as Izuku stumbled down the hallway after Aizawa’s long-legged strides, his head spinning.

“I really am sorry, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Save it until it’s time to tell your story,” Aizawa told him. “I won’t make you go over it while you have a concussion, but we’ll talk after.”

“Okay,” Izuku said meekly.

I hope Kacchan is okay, Izuku thought as he followed Aizawa into the elevator, trying to stay on his feet as the world spun around him.

--

Eijiro leaned back against the wall, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

Katsuki was curled up with his head on Eijiro’s lap, his favourite stuffie tucked under one arm. Eijiro’s cheek hurt, where Katsuki had gotten a strike in before Eijiro’s quirk had been able to protect him. Eijiro’s quirk was what made him able to be Katsuki’s caregiver, able to stand up to the worst of his tantrums. And today had been a bad one.

The walls were scorched, and even Eijiro’s hair was blackened. Eijiro had tried not to fight Katsuki, but eventually he had to protect the room from being set on fire. It was always awful, holding Katsuki down as he screamed threats and struggled and wept. But eventually, the tension had drained from his body and left him sobbing, and Eijiro had let his skin soften and pulled him into an embrace, Katsuki melting against him.

Katsuki had fallen asleep as soon as he’d stopped crying, and Eijiro had no idea what mood he would be in when he woke up: ready for another fight or craving cuddles and nostalgic cartoons.

Eijiro thought of Midoriya’s face, all red and wounded but trying to smile, waving away Eijiro’s concern and worrying only about Katsuki.

We can’t keep going like this.

Midoriya didn’t deserve the treatment he got from Katsuki, they all knew that, but there was nothing they could do. Katsuki turned on his friends just as fast, accusing them of taking the other side. Eijiro only knew bits and pieces of the pair’s history, and it had always disturbed him, but… it had never seemed like his business. Now he wondered if he should have put his foot down sooner.

Something was wrong with the two of them. Midoriya, all bloody and raw and waving them away with that innocent smile, as if he didn’t feel the pain at all. Katsuki, desperate for affection, screaming as Eijiro’s arms had wrapped around him, struggling until he was too exhausted but accept the simplest kindness of human touch. Constantly lashing out at anything that tried to help him.

Eijiro had always wanted to stand by Katsuki, but sometimes he found himself scared of Katsuki’s actions and where it would lead them. He wanted to believe that he would stand up to Katsuki if he ever went too far, but…

The image of Midoriya’s tear-streaked, smiling face flashed in Eijiro’s mind again.

How far is too far?

Eijiro closed his eyes and tried to push away all the big questions. He needed to rest so that he could be ready for whatever mood Katsuki would wake up in.

Maybe they could figure this out. Maybe he could ask for help, explain what’s going on. Someone else must know better than him. He was only fifteen, after all. How was he supposed to help, really? Why hadn’t anyone stepped in already? It felt like something was terribly wrong, but maybe this was normal. Was he worrying too much? Was he worrying too little?

Eventually, Eijiro managed to fall asleep like that, sitting up against the wall with his thoughts running in circles and Katsuki’s head resting softly in his lap.

[alarawriting]

Poodle Pressure

(I wrote this for my first college-level creative writing class, in 1987 I think. The assignment was for a group of us to take an existing classic title -- ours was “The Turn of the Screw” -- and re-imagine a completely different story based on the title. We decided to write about a college student who is cracking under the pressure (I wonder why college students would pick such a topic... :-))

I have edited this slightly to remove some cultural references from the time period that don’t make sense anymore and add some from later time periods that do, and I’ve changed the title, and it’s nowhere near complete enough to be a story on its own -- mine was part 2, and I also did the part 4 but without 1 and 3 I can’t actually even see how 2 related to 4 anymore -- but I thought I’d post it because I didn’t know jack shit about neurodivergence then but I bet a lot of people will find this relateable.)

TW for fantasized violence against dogs. No actual dogs within the fictional universe were harmed during the making of this story.

--

That damn dog is barking again.

It never fails. Every goddamn morning at 7 am, the dog wakes me up. There’s this idiot down there who won’t walk the dog until 7:30, and never mind how many people the dog wakes up. Maybe I should organize a lynching party. You know, maybe get together with ten other people who aren’t too stoned to help. “We’ve come for your dog, lady!” We could grab the dog – and the girl would be screaming, of course, “My puppy, my baby! Don’t hurt my Tootsie!” or whatever the thing’s name is. Then we could drag it out and hang it by its leash to a telephone pole. Cut its throat, maybe, to warn the other dogs. All its fluffy purebred fur all bloody. This can happen even to a purebred poodle, you mutts. So shut up!

What would we have then? Dog retribution? Would the neighborhood Shepherds and Dalmations and Dobies circle around my door at night, with a Gary Larsonesque human doll to burn in effigy? Ah, the hell with it, Berke, you could never get a lynch mob together anyway. Not even a petition.

Why don’t I get up and tell that woman off? “Lady, get your dog to be quiet or I’ll burn off its goddamn fluffy fur.” Yeah, that’s it. Think I will…

Berke, who the hell do you think you’re fooling?

You know, I was up late last night, studying for my goddamn Bizarre Equations class, aka Physics That Make No Sense If You’re Euclid or Newton. I don’t need this. Don’t need a fluffy dog yapping because its mistress (take that any way you want) won’t let it out. It’s 7:10 AM, do you know where all your cramming went? Do you know where your sleep went? Don’t you want to kill that dog?

Why don’t I just put on my slippers and go downstairs and knock on that woman’s door? “Lady, get the lead out, you’re gonna have to scrape your dog off the wall if you don’t let it out.” I said this already, didn’t I?

Okay. Truth time. I don’t have the guts. That’s it in a nutshell. What if I went down there and she called the cops on me? That’d be all I need, with a goddamn exam coming up today. Ol’ Papa Einstein, “I want to know God’s thoughts, the rest are details.” Okay, Al, why don’t you tell me what God thinks of a barking poodle?

You know, I bet if her window broke, that poodle would jump right out and splat itself all over the ground. And wouldn’t that be something. Release, you know? The poodle’s all bottled up in the environment, full of energy. Lots of pressure. So you puncture the apartment and release the poodle pressure, and the poodle comes rushing out and turns itself into a bloody pancake.

---

I don’t know why I did that.

I thought I had it all out of my system, you know, writing it down’s supposed to be the next best thing to talking to a shrink or a friend, assuming you have one of either, right? So I just finished writing about the poodle, but it was just getting me madder and madder. So I picked up my sneaker, went out on my balcony, leaned way over like this is one of those cautionary tales where the young man planning mischief falls ten stories to his death, except I was smart enough to keep my foot chocked against one of the bars so the worst I’d have done is shatter my tibia, and I took my big heavy waterproof hiking sneaker and I threw it through her window, just to the right of her balcony.

As in through. As in it didn’t bounce off like I half expected it to. It shattered her window and went in. And now I have no sneaker.

I don’t know why I did that. I mean, the dog didn’t shut up or anything, in fact it just got louder, and now I’m going to have to go around in my socks all day. How the hell am I supposed to go to class in my socks? I could cut class, but what do I do about my exam? “I couldn’t take my exam because my sneaker was stuck in some lady’s apartment because I was too chickenshit to go ask for it back.” What the hell kind of excuse is that?

I suppose I could try to steal the sneaker back. When she takes the dog out – and it still hasn’t shut up, you know – I could sneak downstairs and into her apartment and take the sneaker. I mean, I can’t ask her for it – “Excuse me, I’m the guy who threw a sneaker at your window, can I have it back?” Maybe I could make an excuse. “Uh, yes, I was – I was testing the wind, yeah, I was testing the wind by holding my sneaker out the window, and it slipped, yeah, that’s it, and, and the wind blew it through your window. Yeah, that’s the ticket!” Nah. I’m gonna have to steal it back.

My God what’ll happen if she catches me? She’ll know it was my sneaker. It fits my foot. “Excuse me, sir, but why the hell did you throw a sneaker and break my window?” What can I say? “Your dog was bugging me?”

Oh, fuck, this is not going to work. Maybe if I wear six or seven pairs of socks, nobody will know the difference. Yeah. “Hey, Berke, like your new shoes.” “Uh, yeah, they’re the latest thing. Flexible Footwear. They’re eco-friendly.” I could say I was adapting to Japanese custom – “I left my sneakers in the lobby. I didn’t want to mark up the nice floor.” “It’s covered by a rug, moron.” “Well, uh, I was Japanese in a past life, you know?” No. That won’t work. I better steal the thing.

What if I cut? “I had to miss the exam on Einsteinian physics because of dire emergency. I had 24-hour AIDS.” Oh, yeah. Right. “I broke my leg but Magic Leg Glue helped me fix it right up! Only $29.99 if you order now!” “My mother died and I had to be present at the reading of the will or miss out on $30 million bucks, you can have a million of it if you just pretend I took the test and got an A.” No, I can’t cut. But how’m I going to steal that sneaker back?

Well. What if I call her up and pretend to be her boyfriend. I’ll tell her to meet me at the usual place, and I’ll burglarize her apartment while she’s out. Only one problem. I don’t know if she even has a boyfriend. Or if she even likes guys. Or her phone number. Or what her name is. That’s four problems, I’ll come in again.

I don’t even know her goddamn name, and I’ve broken her window.

There she goes! Walking her dog! I can just go downstairs now and get my sneaker back. Just slip on down…

There’s someone fixing that window from the inside.

Oh, shit, this has got to be a nightmare. Things like this don’t happen to real people. Why the hell did I throw that sneaker? Did I really believe the poodle would jump out? It was just so vivid… And so stupid. How the hell could I be that idiotic? Why did I throw that sneaker?

I’m tired…

---

My exam is taking place right now. I can’t go. I’m a sneakerless prisoner here.

Maybe I should borrow a shoe from Wood. He’s an asshole, but he’s my size, or close enough… still time…

I think I’ll go back to sleep. When I wake up everything will be normal again and I won’t have lost my sneaker and I won’t have missed my exam. Okay?

You listening?

---

I met a girl the other day.

She wasn’t what you would call a real girl, she was a fake girl, you know? Like some mad scientist boiled down a hundred girls to get to the essence of girl and then poured it into a composite body. Like the Bride of Frankenstein, All-American version. Or what if Professor Utonium didn’t put Chemical X in the mixture so Bubbles grew up without superpowers, as a pure construct of sugar, spice and everything nice. A 3-D printed girl from a high-res mold. One of those anime PC idol girls who comes to life. I kept expecting her to disappear in a puff of smoke or something.

---

I want to go home.

Which is not to say I want to go to my house, the place where I live. No, I want to go home. I’ve never been there before. I don’t think anybody has. I don’t think it exists.

I want to live in a sci-fi dimension where the laws of physics are the same but human nature changes so I’m normal and I’m not alone and I feel like I belong. I can’t even imagine what it would be like, a place where I could be at home. But if I ever find it, I’ll know.

[jyndor]

so I was talking to my friend @timelordthirteen about some shit and I decided to just share with you all about the importance of actually explaining shit instead of just saying it. the Left, I am looking at you bitch (ily bitch but)

lol would put a read more but tumblr's being a petty little bitch today ❤

shitposting is fun. dunking on asshat right wingers is fun. you know what is not fun? seeing people not understand the basic terminology that we use in the ~discourse*

but. if we are going to use terminology, if we are going to inject regular old laypeople conversations with (imo) unneccessary amounts of academic terms, then we should try to use them correctly** because in many cases misusing them means we as leftists do not have a full understanding of what the fuck we're on about. this dilutes both the meanings of these terms and their purposes. I know I am wordy as fuck and can be hard to understand sometimes (thanks adhd) so what I am about to say is a little ironic, but clarity is fucking important when it comes to strategy and organizing.

so I am going to examine some commonly misused concepts and terms today. yay.

1. THEORY, PRAXIS AND FRAMEWORKS FOR ANALYSIS weeee yes I am fun at parties tyvm

what is a framework? a structure, in this case, for analyzing some bullshit we deal with irl. that's it lol but I use it a lot so I figured I'd define it here. examples of frameworks are: intersectionality, marxism, queer theory. seriously, if you can think it, it has already been analyzed through the queer lens.

what is theory? ideas, knowledge in the abstract based on looking at shit happen and analyzing that shit. it is useful because it can help us articulate what we are going through in our shitty lives. this is why I often recommend people learn about chomsky's manufacturing consent (theory of why we get the info we get from the media tl;dr), not because I think chomsky is the ultimate leftist grandpa but because this site needs some media literacy lmao. and btw, this clip narrated by amy goodman is a great, trippy little 4:30 min long video that explains the basics of manufacturing consent so you don't have to open a book or use drugs!

theory can help serve as a framework to understand what the fuck is happening to us irl, but imo is kind of an incomplete understanding of shit without lived experience (aka - theory v praxis). this is one reason why we should listen to marginalized groups on their own shit and not talk over them - because all of the research and theory in the world does not make me a Black woman living in Flint (aka - ground up organizing v technocracy). it is not about being nice, or politically correct, although we should be nice and we should care about people just because they're people. if you understand the why of listening to marginalized groups, you understand that it is mainly about communities knowing their own problems best and therefore having the best solutions for those problems.

2. MARXISM, CAPITALISM AND OTHER BUZZWORDS (and leftists need hobbies)

so marxism is a framework for socioeconomic analysis observed by mr kpop himself, karl marx (and his sugar daddy friedrich engels). because leftists love to argue, there are so many kinds of marxism, and if you ever feel like you are shouting into the void too much, just look up some arguments between stalinists and trotskyists. it's just... magical. no, I am not defining tankie here.

as many people smarter than I am have said (read: kwame ture seriously watch this video it's iconic), karl marx did not discover socialism or invent it or whatever, he observed capitalism and saw how shitty it is, like any other sane person would do. the point of marxism is not karl marx (which he would say) or tankies or fuckin guillotines***

things that marxism is:

- an analytical tool for looking at the world

- a theory which was used to develop the basis of different kinds of post-capitalist economic systems like communism and socialism

things that marxism is not:

- a system of economics or government lmao marx did not govern dick

- scary

marx looked at capitalism and said "this is definitely gonna fail someday because it's clearly unsustainable, I mean the proletariat is bigger than the bourgeoisie who owns everything uh yeah so I can do basic fucking math. if I have one capitalist and fifteen hundred workers, eventually that capitalist is gonna lose his damn head because he is gonna hoard all that wealth and his workers are gonna get pissed that they don't have their basic fucking needs met. lmao now put on some kpop, freddy" or something. idk that might not be a direct quote.

what is capitalism? (besides horseshit) a system of economics where industry is privately owned. and yes, this includes publically traded corporations because they are still owned by individuals (shareholders) even if they aren't privately owned by one person or a group of partners. truly a nightmare to live in, and we hate to see it.

what is the proletariat? well, the working class. and the bourgeoisie is the owner class, the capitalist class. the rich.

and this is something else that we need to discuss, tumblr. if you are going to say "eat the rich" please understand who you are talking about. we're not talking about random actors or musicians, or doctors or lawyers, even if they make better than a liveable wage. even if they often have zero class consciousness, meaning they don't ~see class, like colorblind racism for classism.

anyone who has to sell their labor for wages and is not part of the owner class is working class. this includes people who cannot work for any multitude of reasons (disability, can't find work, caretaker, etc) and also white collar workers who might be well off in relatively high paying jobs because they don't own the means of production, or capital that is used to produce shit. so yes, that rich actor who is a part of a union is actually part of the working class in marxist theory. when we say eat the rich, we mean jeff bezos, not john boyega. jeff bezos owns the means of production. john boyega is a working actor who is in a union.

this is important not because we shouldn't get pissed off when actors and celebrities do tone deaf shit like singing about imagining no possessions in their mansions while people starve during a pandemic. they need to put their money to good use, have some class consciousness, instead of asking fans to donate to causes that they could fund. but they are not the bourgeoisie until they start owning the means of production. and there is no doubt that many of them do, which is why we might eat gwyneth paltrow but we won't eat john boyega.

and by the way, eating the rich is metaphorical, a reference to french revolution-era philosopher jean-jacques rousseau's quote: "when the people shall have nothing more to eat, they will eat the rich." obviously I don't even need to explain it but I will anyway. basically, the people will forcibly redistribute the wealth of the rich if they have nothing else. this is why there are some very smart capitalists who are in favor of reforms and raising taxes, because they recognize the danger to their necks in not providing for basic needs of the working class. no, "eat the rich" does not mean be pro-cannibalism. but there are many capitalists who would prefer to die than lose their hoard so

oh, and one last thing. "no ethical consumption in capitalism" is tossed around a lot and it's a million percent true, but I need all of us to understand that it is not an excuse to support harmful practices but it is also not meant to shame consumers. it is rather an understanding that we as consumers are not responsible for the monstrous impact of capitalism. we live in it, we have no choice but to consume, and sometimes (most of the time) that means we have to buy shit that was produced in unethical ways. unfortunately supply chains being what they are, all consumption causes harm in some way.

it is a reminder that individual actions are not going to have the impact of collection actions. this is why plastic bag bans, though well-meaning, are not going to have the same impact on climate catastrophe as, say, banning fossil fuels would.

I am a vegetarian and I can recognize that I am doing a whole lot of nothing by not supporting factory farms, and when I was a vegan I wasn't doing much either. boycotts without mass support don't have much evidence of working. this is why bds exists - boycott divestment and sanctions. boycott, meaning don't support goods from various conpanies connected to something, divestment, meaning get companies/countries/institutions to remove their money from something, and sanctions, meaning getting countries to penalize a country for their bad behavior until they comply.

this is what the anti-apartheid south africa movement did and what palestinian rights organizers support for israeli apartheid.

do not allow legislators to put the burden of fixing the ills of society that capitalism created on consumers' shoulders.

3. INTERSECTIONALITY (because it deserves its own section)

I don't have as much to say on this as I did the last bit because holy shit capitalism, man.

intersectionality, a term that was coined by law professor kimberlé crenshaw in the late 80s to serve as a framework for people to critically assess how legal structures impact Black women differently due to class, race and gender. it is not incompatible with marxism (in fact marxism has been argued to be a form of intersectionality).

intersectionality can and should be used to examine why the Black queer experience is unique, for example. I also want to acknowledge that professor crenshaw isn't the only person to come up with intersectionality; sojourner truth spoke about it even if she didn't coin the term, for example. patricia hill collins, another influential af Black feminist academic****, created frameworks for viewing intersectionality. also you can read her book black feminist thought here for free.

intersectionality has been used - improperly - by liberal feminists***** to excuse bad behavior from leaders who pretend to care about women while creating and enforcing legislation that harms women. anyone who stans politicians at all needs help. it has also been misrepresented as essentialism, which it is also not (essentialism is the idea that everything has some assets that are necessary to its identity) because intersectionality isn't saying that every Black queer woman has the same experience, just that Black queer women might experience similar issues because of a system that negatively views them as Black and queer and women.

intersectionality does not excuse kamala harris for prosecuting poor moms of truant kids.

okay if you guys have things to add please do because I want us to educate each other instead of always talking shit. both is good.

* I am not calling out people for not being academic enough or not speaking english or not reading enough theory because LOL I am a 2x neurodivergent college dropout who radicalized by working retail and not by hearing karl marx talk dirty to me. also, not everyone speaks english like, I am truly not shitting on people.

** I recognize that language is fluid and ever changing, and that is a good thing. But diluting terms that serve specific purposes is not ever going to be good.

*** and I don't want to dismiss intra-leftist theory discourse (🤢) because I know how annoying it is to hear bernie sanders lumped in with liz warren, or bernie sanders lumping himself in with post-capitalists lmao of course I get it. but twitter discourse is not dismantling capitalism so ANYWAY

**** actually crenshaw built on collins' work (black feminist thought) and the collins built on crenshaw' work we love to see it.

***** I should go ahead and define liberal feminism as well as rad fem and terf and shit because people use them all very very loosely, especially terf (not every transphobe is a terf but every terf is a transphobe, it's like the rectangle/square thing). but I am exhausted with this so next time.

[hermitreunited]

TUA Feedback Fest!

💜💜 Favorite Fic Writer 💜💜

I could have split these all up to go under various rec theme posts, and maybe I will, but the gosh darn truth of it is that I love every fic by @sunriseseance​ aka Oceansweather so dang much that I needed to make a post about all of it. A very detailed post. It’s long, but she and her work deserve it. <3

A Hard Rain’s A Gonna Fall

Summary: In 1963, most citizens of Dallas had no idea where Vietnam was. He knew that because none of the people he passes as he walks look particularly dead inside. The sidewalk scorches his feet even though the sun hangs low in the sky. The air is hot and wet and it feels like a jungle growing in his chest.

aka, A Fourth of July fic about Klaus, trauma, family, and history. Takes place in 1963.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Implied Klaus/Dave⎜Word Count: 4k+⎜Complete (1/1)

This is true for all of her fics - the writing style is so engaging and good and smart! This fic in particular, though - WOW the narration is incredible. Gets you very deep into Klaus’ headspace for a gripping, panicky experience. He’s dealing with the fallout of a traumatic event that is about to happen to most of the people around him. So complicated and sad and intricate!

He wants to warn her that, hey, in 6 years your little boyfriend is going to get drafted and he’s going to go to a country you couldn’t pick out on a map and he’s going to kill people who he shouldn’t kill and every week he’ll write you a letter promising you that when he gets back you’ll move out of the city and your baby will have a real forest to play in and then he’ll kill some more people he’ll go to hell for killing if there’s a hell to go to, and then, well, he’ll get shot in the chest and the blood will come out of his mouth, too, and you’ll have to know that you weren’t there, weren’t fast enough to hear his last words or offer him some last comfort and he’ll be dead and for what? 

Happy Birthday, Johnny

Summary: It’s a nice place. Allison made sure of that when she chose it the first time. Three stays ago. God, they’re only 23 (And they are 23 now, or close enough). Three times? She may as well be lighting her money on fire.

Still, the chairs are comfortable. The visiting room is empty, of course, apart from a man with deep, heavy bags under his eyes. Fluorescent lights hum above her as she waits. They wash everything out, cast everything in a harsh shadow. Not that anything about the experience isn’t harsh. This is stupid. She knows it, now, as she feels her heart beating in her throat and the backs of her legs and her fingers.

What if he doesn’t want to see her? What if he was asleep for, what, the first time in 13 days? That’s how long it’s been this time, right? What if he hates her? (What if he’s right to do so?)

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Gen⎜Word Count: 3k+⎜Complete (1/1)

Get ready for your heart to break from the Allison and Klaus feelings (and hold onto them, because she’s going to do this again, Allison and Klaus feelings is her brand). Being Hargreeves siblings is complicated, so so complicated, especially for these two, whose circumstances could not be more different, but when it comes down to it, they are quite similar. It’s pre-series, so it’s Sad, but boy is it ever a detailed look into these two excellent characters.

On their 13th birthday, before everything went wrong, Klaus snuck into her room at midnight with a magazine he stole and a cake he made. The smell of smoke stuck to all of his clothes, his skin, his hair. He gave her the cake, all of it, and the magazine. The smile that accompanied them haunts her.

He asked if he could sit with her, and she said yes. He asked if she’d ever smoked before, and she said no. He asked if she wanted to, and she said yes. He asked if she wanted weed or a cigarette, she said cigarette. That’s what the movie stars did. He gave her a look, a laugh, and showed her how to hold it so it didn’t burn her fingers. Not that he’d lit it yet. He wanted to make sure she had it down before he set her on fire.

Slow is in My Blood

Summary: Dave touches him, sometimes. In dances through root systems lit by a diffused moon, Dave puts a hand on his lower back, his arm, his shoulder. To help, he says. Your balance, he says, it isn’t good. I don’t want you to fall. These pits are endless, he says. You don’t like the dark. A touch to help. It helps.

aka, A meditation on Klaus and allowing himself to be loved. Dave doesn't die at the end.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Klaus/Dave⎜Word Count: 1k+⎜Complete (1/1)

I am biased, I suppose, because this fic was a gift to me. But like!!!! This fic!!! It’s sad and beautiful and lovely and so perfect. I can’t not think about Klaus and Dave’s relationship without thinking about the dynamic in this fic, about how Dave initiates and Klaus keeps himself from running away. It’s gorgeous.

Maybe it’s not one sided. Maybe he touches Dave on the back of his neck just to watch his skin react. Maybe he hopes the reaction comes from the touch itself, and not the chill Klaus carries with him. Maybe he lets the touch linger long enough for Dave to smack his hand away. Maybe he knows, somewhere, that smack is the wrong word. Dave doesn’t smack. He holds, and moves. He lacks a violence somewhere at his core. Maybe it’s the only way Klaus has something Dave lacks, and maybe it’s the only thing Klaus wouldn’t share if Dave asked. 

I’ll Be Cleaning Up Bottles With You on New Year’s Day

Summary: Sitting behind him on the windowsill, in a truth that still feels false, is Dave. Quiet, right now. Rubbing Klaus's neck. Kissing it occasionally. New clothes, even, though still only things Klaus saw Dave wear in life. The closest he came to fancy enough for New Year's was the outfit he wore on the night they first kissed. The dates still get muddled in his head.

Dave still smells like Dave. Klaus can bring that back, too. The earthy-clean skin, the slight scent of sweat, the cotton of the polo. Something else, underneath all that. Something that Klaus could recognize anywhere, could follow to the end of the world, could die to protect.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Klaus/Dave⎜Word Count: 1k+⎜Complete (1/1)

OKAY Okay okay. This fic was the equivalent of a bottle of wine when I read it on New Year’s Eve, because it just took these 1092 words, and suddenly I was crying and telling my friends how much I loved them. Me talking about it here is not going to do justice to the warmth and love that you will feel from this. You just have to read it. If you want to experience a moment of perfect contentment and peace that will probably put happy tears in your eyes, read this.

His family is together. Really. They sit in the living room, wearing out couches that have lasted centuries. Allison spills her champagne. Luther only moved Klaus to the slightly-opened window when Klaus started smoking.

Diego's puzzle, which he insists isn't his, keeps finding more pieces. Five and Diego work on it together. He watches them work on it together. He watches Luther help, before getting up to change the record on father's phonograph.

Karma, Leave These Kids Alone

Summary: Klaus is right, because he usually is. Their childhood was worth fearing. But it wasn’t all bad, she thinks, and some guilt pangs her. I wouldn’t wish this on us, but I’m glad I got him out of it. I’m glad Claire is safe.

She holds out her hand for him, and he takes it.

aka, A meditation on Allison and her traumas, guilts, fears, and loves. Centered around her and Klaus, their love for one another, and how that changes her love and fear for Claire.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Gen⎜Word Count: 2k+⎜Complete (1/1)

Allison and Klaus complicated feelings part deux! Now with added Claire feelings! The story centers around Allison’s fear of her daughter having powers, which I would read 100 fics about, and because it’s an Oceansweather fic, it doesn’t stop there. The Hargreeves are adults now who are trying to understand their childhood, and how they relate to each other. It’s complex and sad and it hurts but also it’s healing and growth and love.

He laughed that familiar laugh.

Why would she see the dead? Well, she has an imaginary friend like you used to. She has nightmares. Klaus, I am terrified for her. How did you know it was real? He was quiet, and then he said, well, I could see them. I always could. If she doesn’t see them, she doesn’t see the dead, right?

And Allison said yes. That makes sense. And then Klaus was quiet for a while longer, and then he gagged, and then he said, well, why are you terrified for her? She heard the venom in his voice.

Same As It Ever Was

Summary: He tries to love the heels. Really, he does. He knows Dave loves him in them. He knows, hey, it’s his job to look good. Right? Dave fixes cars and Klaus fixes dinner and cleans the house and looks oh so pretty. So, yes, he has to wear the heels. He doesn’t own any other shoes and he can’t go walking around barefoot. Not with his toenails painted black. Why were they black again? And, say, why did his wrist look so blank? He traced a shape that he couldn’t place onto his skin and waited for something to appear. Like invisible ink. aka, Life is perfect for the Hargreeves, which must mean something is wrong. How fortunate that Klaus is smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Klaus/Dave, Diego/Eudora, Five/Delores⎜Word Count: 8k+⎜Complete (1/1)

This fic is so. freaking. cool. It’s closest probably to a horror story? It’s definitely creepy and uneasy, but it’s also melancholy and thrilling and - very importantly -it features Smart Capable Underestimated but Badass Klaus! I am willing to bet you have not read anything else in the fandom like this, and that you are going to be absolutely captivated. I know I am!

Klaus doesn’t want to see Dave, which is not a feeling he should have. He knows this. He knows he wants to see Dave every day for the rest of his life. So why is he running? Why are his feet carrying him to the bathroom? Why is he locking the door? The tumblers clang into place. His hands shake and he’s going to fall over and brain himself if he doesn’t catch his balance. He can only remember feeling so terrified twice in his life—except he can’t. He can’t remember it at all. So he can’t remember ever feeling this terrified.

It’s just Dave.

[awkblkwmn]

Tuesday - February 12, 2019

To say that I have a tendency to pick the wrong type of men is an understatement.

But I would like to point out, for the record, that I've on more than one occasion been the wrong type of girl.

No, I don't mean that in the way of me not being good enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough - though those are definitely internal battles I have on more than one occasion.

I mean it in the "Who in the goddamn hell do I become when I decide I'm super-like with someone?!" way.

Why do I become this woman, this idiotic young girl, that for whatever reason feels the need to hover, and panic, and overthink, and despair, and panic, and get flustered, and overcompensate, and panic, and panic, and FUCKING panic!

I don't know what it means to wait for a man because its so ingrained in my soul and DNA that even the thought of such a thing is ancient and archaic and sexist and - fuck, just wrong.

But nevertheless, I pay for it every time.

WHY do I have to wait for them to make the first goddamn move?

I'm pretty - a solid 7 out of 10 on an average day and 9 on a day where I'm actively trying. I'm strong and confident (sometimes) and I'm I make good money with my exciting millennial job.

Why can't I just do the modern thing and give it a go myself?

I think in some cases, most cases, women are allowed to do this without the consequence of this setting the tone for the rest of their relationship.

But it seems I just don't have the ability to do that.

Let's take into fact that I'm 25+, really tall, black, and (slightly more than averagely) successful. Men are chickenshit and afraid to go after anything bigger than their pea-size shadow.

And I do mean that both physically and metaphorically.

Yet, I'm supposed to just sit here and wait ...and wait... and wait... and fucking goddamn mother fucking wait... for the mother-fuckers to get a clue and just make a damn move already.

How many times do I have to flip and twirl my freaking weave like an idiot school girl for you to catch the hell on???

There are not enough hours, enough minutes, enough seconds in the world for that...

So, why am I all "hot and bothered" in the least sexual way ever today, you might be asking?

Because apparently when it comes to the "men" I decided to zero-in on, they have a consistent habit of deciding to be like: "Hey Paiton - fuck you. You'll always be there. I'll get to you when I get to you."

And I'm just like LOL

It's fine.

Me. Little ole me is just so understanding and helpful and full of

"don't worry, we'll figure it out, it's okay,"

instead of:

"No it's not okay you FUCKING CHICKEN SHIT PUSSY EXCUSE OF A MAN!"

because that's not, that's never been the Paiton way. ... ... ...So maybe It's not - I'm not - exactly fine...

But here I am - venting aka typing aka writing this out of my system as best I can, so we must be going somewhere different than last featured program.

It's just...

Yes, I have daddy issues.

Which is fucking ridiculous because yes, my biological father and I have ...issues...but I have a Daddy (my step-father) who has and always has been there for me. It's not like I come from a family that doesn't love or care for me. If anything I'm a spoiled brat who's been doted on by my entire family for as long as I can remember...

But...

...I have to admit...

It hurts when you feel like your in one-sided predicaments when no one else gives a shit about your feelings except you, yourself, and - fuck, you again...

It hurts even more that I do it too myself.

Where in the hell are my self-confidence and dignity when I continuously throw myself at the feet of men - fuck that - boys who haven't done jack-shit to better me for me.

They don't even have decent sex on the table of things they could offer me.

All they have is this tangled string of desire tied to me, this draw...this outlier of a deep want I have for them to want me for one second as bad as I want them...

Physically. Mentally. Sexually. Fully.

I haven't decided if its a power thing or not.

But God, to I demoralize myself over and over again by pleading and breaking and bending and curving and aiming desperately to be where they are when they need me, who they want when they see me, and what they want when they call me.

It's probably the thing I hate most about myself in my life right now.

I wonder if it's biological.

Do women, due to there genetic make-up and institute after a certain age just drift into this mild mindset of almost desperate madness to be with someone who loves them?

Maybe it's because I've been single for so long, too long, but the slightest touch of skin-to-skin contact sends me reeling. Makes me jump in un-expectation and flush with anticipation of things that just don't happen in real life. Things that only happen in my dreams.

Things that only happen in my nightmares.

Being touched-starved is apparently a real thing and I never knew, never truly believed it myself, until a lover of a friend touched my waist in a playful joke and it felt like my soul, my entire being had set on fire.

It really is embarrassing how utterly single and alone I am, sometimes...

There's a part of me that wants to go out into the thirsty world and just FUCK someone. Rock their world. Give them something they wouldn't have imagined, been able to handle, something beyond there wildest dreams - because I know...I'm more than capable, in just one go

But, that's exactly why I hold back.

It isn't simply the sex, the hard fuck, the feeling of finally being alive and recked and full that I crave alone.

But the intimacy, the love, the freedom, the full worship and soul-bearing honesty of that wonderful sacred moment when two bodies connect and collide.

The teeth-clashing, the back-clawing, the silent whispers of adoration, the surprise giggles of giddiness, the sensual moans and whimpers of abandonment and trust and lust and love and...

...Yeaaaaah It's not just the sex I'm looking for, Too much of a sadistic romantic for that. Too much of a freak for that.

That side of me isn't just meant for anyone if anyone.

It's meant for the man I'll be riding, grinding hard into our bed night after night after night after night for the rest of our lives, for as long as God allows our time together.

So that when the morning comes and I look at him with pure eyes of love, innocence, uncertainty, hope, and un-afraid admiration - I don't have to worry about if he'll wrap me up with his arms when it's all over. Or if he'll kiss my forehead and tell me he loves me and he loved last night and he loves last night's "me" and he loves this morning's "me" because I'm a vulnerable freak that doesn't know how to not be trustful and love half-heartedly - because I only know how to love something or someone completely and with everything inside me.

And while all these thoughts run through my crazy mind a million miles a minute, and I grow more and more insecure as he looks at me he says:

"Good Morning love, how are you?"

I melt as any ridiculous, ugly, crazy thought I had about inadequacy fades away in an instant. . . . ... I wouldn't say I'm the "cheesy type" exactly.

But my God, what I wouldn't give for just a piece of that...  

P. FUCKING S.

Nick Miller (not his real name) sucks balls, he's a fucking phony, and I REFUSE to continue to let men like him treat me like a second choice. I don't give a fuck how NICE they are when they do it.

Its still fucking burns.

I'm still fucking hurt,

I'm still fucking scarred.

And I will NOT let people make me their second choice anymore.

Period.

- Payton Tulie

[girlonfilmmovies]

Welcome to Friend Island: "Love Island US Season 3" and the Gaping Sores of America

So I foolishly thought that in the new year of 2021, the world would be in a better place than it was the previous year. After all, we were coming out of the "worst" of the most horrifying pandemic of the past century, a middling presidency that at that point served only a wealth of TV soundbites and less actual damage to the political system, and we were looking forward to a brighter future and a return to what some hoped would be "normal". The past was the past, and this was going to be a new moment.

Oh how naïve we all were.

As of this writing Covid-19 cases are hitting staggering new highs in the southern US, with Florida (of course) somehow hitting a record amount despite vaccines being easily available in the country for months. The death rates are at almost the same as last year. The middling disaster of the 45th president had one more trick up its sleeve, a firebomb brewing for dozens of years that went off in one of the most embarrassing fiascos of American political history. Misinformation has already implanted itself so thoroughly among half the country that people would rather die than admit they were wrong; the spread of such chaos being happily spat out through the algorithms of corporations only intent on raking in dollar signs. All the potential benefits that could have come from this once-in-a-lifetime moment are being briskly swept away: offices demanding their employees come back, no respect given to science and healthcare workers, the country's clearly weak infrastructure forced right back into action as if we didn't just see its gaping holes. The earth is dying and the people who actually have the resources do something about it instead have kickstarted a capitalist space race.

2021 has gone to show that old, toxic habits die hard.

Sigh.

Yeah, I watched Love Island again.

Despite my... let's say mixed feelings regarding last year's shitshow, I couldn't help but admit that it was the closest thing that I've had to appointment viewing TV that I've had in a long time. In an era of streaming and DVR boxes, it's a bit of an actual feat to get someone who works a fulltime job (especially one with erratic scheduling) to go out of their way to watch something the second it premieres. Love Island brings the family together, so they can engage in our favorite pastime: pointing and laughing at young, dumb, fame hungry cis-hets.

Plus, the second season had offered a fascinating glance at how to contend with a pandemic while also trying to stage a typical dumb reality show. The tropical island villa was swapped for a luxurious hotel rooftop in Las Vegas -- a literal ivory tower of ignorant hedonism looking down upon a plagued nation. You could feel the sexual tension of the hot, hyper-sexual adults forced without physical contact for months finally allowed to relieve themselves the only way they know how: toxic relationships. It was trying so hard to be an oasis in a desert yearning for frivolous content, but the façade was clearly visible to the point of satire. It was a wonderful thing to experience firsthand as what I originally thought as merely me dipping my toes into the genre.

Season 2 was the show that we deserved at the time, a funhouse mirror reflecting all the callous stupidity that had led us to this moment in world history. It attempted to offer a happy ending, a look towards the future: a black couple finally winning a reality show, a first for such a mainstream program (both of them actually kind of turned out to suck, but shhhh...).

It also allowed America to completely break the hearts of people while watching them fall apart live on TV. It was cruel, it was stupid, but most of all, it was fun as hell.

Season 3 is not about torturing the competitors. It's about torturing us.

In all fairness, there were a couple of lovely positive developments for the series this season. While still struggling with racial diversity a little bit, as evidenced by them casting only one very specific kind of black man like five times, strides are being taken elsewhere in the lane of body diversity. Alana makes her debut as literally the first woman on this show who isn't a size 0-2, looking absolutely gorgeous in every single shot.

The almost aggressively heteronormative nature of the show is slowly being shaken by a more openly queer cast than previously expected -- multiple bisexual/pansexual contestants participated, even though there wasn't any overtly queer romance shown (also almost all of them were women, with them describing their sexualities being confined to streaming exclusive episodes, which isn't... great). It's certainly a step in the right direction for a show that unceremoniously shuffled off the only queer member of the Season 2 cast overnight once the internet found his gay porn shoot. Ironically, they also ended up booting off the most openly queer member of this cast too, the purple haired proudly pansexual TikTok-er Leslie, but for the more legal reason of smuggling weed into the villa.

It's not terribly surprising that both Alana and Leslie garnered a lot of positive attention both inside and outside of the villa -- they stand out so much against the otherwise predictable casting that we've come to expect from this show and white American media in general. Alana is a woman with actual curves who looks stunningly gorgeous in comparison to the monotonous supermodel figures of everyone else. Leslie almost falls into a stereotype from the way she appears: dyed purple hair, tattooed all over, obviously queer, vaping weed constantly, exuding the kind of chaotic yet weirdly fun energy that only a former stripper can. Yet she obviously grabbed the attention of the contestants because while people like her abound in real life, in the fantasy land of reality TV she's an absolute rarity, a far cry from the sanitized beauty pageant-esque standards that they seem to pluck girls from. The men are still dumb, bland, boneheaded idiots in this show, but by offering some actual variety, they get to actually pursue people they aren't "traditionally" supposed to, while an outsider audience member like me gets to see women like herself be offered up for titillation in the same way "conventionally attractive" women are.

It's kind of cool, even if it is just playing into the icky sexualization of everyone, but hey...progress?

In an odd "two steps forward, one step back" kind of situation, the show has somewhat dialed down the outrageously toxic relationships of last year into a more relatively subdued level of toxicity. Gaslighting/cheating is at least kept to a relative low in this season compared to the nightmare that was last year, although this year's ratio depends on how much of that corresponds with sexy Columbian boy Will's obviously flimsy grasp of the intricacies of the English language. He continued to be plagued by the cliquey-ness of the cast until the very end but his genuinely sweet couple with Kyra still did enough to sneak into the final two.

The actual main problem this year was an almost unbearably long love triangle between Cash, Trina, and Cinco that refused to solve itself for nearly a month. Cash and Cinco perennially kept flip-flopping in their feelings for each other, bouncing between failed partnerships despite so obviously being into each other. Trina ended up roped in as Cinco's partner for a while, a constant victim of his own lack of courage to make up his damn mind. Cash, freshly single and in horny jail (aka Casa Amor), coupled up with the handsome and mysterious Charlie.

Now we need to discuss how bizarre Charlie as a cast member. Not only is he the only member who is, looks, and acts like an actual adult, but he also seems to show no adherence to the rules of reality TV: he's very relaxed and unassuming, seems genuinely uninterested in the "game" aspects of the show, and only perks up during rare moments of actual romantic potential. He's a fascinating spanner to throw into the machine of Love Island, and once Cinco was eliminated in the competition, Charlie had to sit there while Cash only continued to openly and aggressively pine for a man who isn't even her current partner. Proving once again to be an anomaly in the cast, he actually decided to do something about this: he unceremoniously dumped fan favorite Cash like a sack of bricks, sending her home while hooking up with the previously mentioned Alana. This smart decision was met derisively by viewers, despite him being the only person there who actually acted like a fucking adult for once. Ironically, this got him and Alana into the finals, where they finished in last place with the same trademark lack of enthusiasm that we've come to expect from him.

I suppose now we need to uncork the problem of the season and by extension the franchise as a whole. You might have read that previous situation and thought, "gee, a fan favorite got tossed aside while a guy that everyone hated ended up making it into the final four? That seems weird."

But by that point it really wasn't at all.

See, the problem with the voting is that you don't usually get to pick who goes; the audience only gets to pick who to prevent getting kicked. At that point, the audience control is out of our hands and now into the contestants', and if there's one thing we all learned in high school it's that cliques are very much a thing. The contestants seemed dead set on booting anybody who was new the second they had the chance, so many potentially exciting people were so quickly thrown out. Instead of the exciting potential we could have seen, we got a love triangle sucking anyone nearby into doom, with everyone else being a relatively stable couple or part of the Jeremy/Korey wishy-washy railway. Casa Amor was an absolute bust, with people making half-assed couplings despite still being in love with somebody else (it speaks a lot to the weakness of the Casa Amor men that Olivia literally preferred to come back single than with any of those planks of wood).

Part of the problem did rely on factors that nobody could control at all though. "Romance novel come to life" Slade seemed like a threat with his rugged handsomeness, twangy accent, and classic southern charm, but had to quickly leave due to ambiguous family troubles. Similarly, the nearly perfect Josh and Shannon, who seemed like an obvious shoo-in winner by virtue of being probably the only actual relationship on the show, had to depart in the middle of the night due to the tragic death of Josh's sister. Aforementioned chaotic pansexual Leslie was unceremoniously removed in the middle of the night once they had realized that her classic vape pen was actually full of weed, an especially tragic circumstance considering she basically had Cinco wrapped around her finger and was about to bring that love triangle crashing down (also tragic because she has gone on record saying that she was fully crushing on Genny while they were both in there, robbing us of any potential of a queer couple).

But part of the pain as always has to do with how the producers control everything no matter what: what we see, what we hear, who gets the villain edit and who gets the hero edit. It's why they seem to play Jeremy as dumb hot surfer bro instead of the actual funny and charming guy he is. It's why Trina was treated as a bitch and Cash as a woeful victim despite the roles more often than not lining up the other way around. And most embarrassingly, it's how the biggest joke couple of the show ended up winning it all.

Now, look at this picture right here: the poses, the awkward hand holding, the very strange smiles between those two. No, this is not a picture of two teenagers going to prom together who just met only five minutes ago and are taking pictures on their parents' front lawn; these two are the winners of season 3, the supposedly "strongest" couple on the show. This is Olivia and Korey.

Korey is a charming boyish sweetheart by way of an absolute fucking dumbass. He's sort of like last year's beloved and wonderfully stupid Carrington: a very sweet and nice teenager who seems to have "13 Going on 30"-ed his way into an adult body. He's childish in a way that's very cute and friendly but also woefully unattractive to anyone who's an adult. Just like Carrington, he notched up a staggering amount of dates with pretty much every single beautiful woman that came into the villa, all seemingly very interested in him. Carrington, for as dumb and childish as he is, could bag anyone because he was outrageously confident too. Korey on the other hand seems incapable of making any decision, following any girl who pays him the time of day like a little puppy, constantly looking up to her with his big puppy dog eyes. It's very telling that for all the dates he had, almost none of them actually went anywhere because it's just not that appealing to anyone. If you're looking to win, he's not someone who can scheme and play the game. If you're looking for love, he's not going to cut it because he can't seem to even understand the concept of romance. If you're looking for a friend, he's probably the best damn one you'll get in that villa -- but as constantly established by everyone, this show isn't called Friend Island.

Olivia is a bit of a thornier subject. She habitually couples up with people that you can kind of tell she's not at all into. She started the first half relatively unassuming and not particularly interested in the men that she was supposedly attracted to. But you could basically see her panties drop when Slade walked in, ready for him to pull her up into the saddle and ride away into the sunset. But his sudden departure only left her more empty, desperately grasping onto whatever random attraction she could. She went off to Casa Amor single and had the gall to come back without coupling up with any of them (although once again, they really dropped the ball with the men compared to the stunning Casa Amor women). And somehow in the midst of all this wishy washy mess, she finally settled on the one single man who she hadn't coupled up with and supposedly suddenly had feelings for: lonely, little Korey.

As a watcher of two seasons of this shit, I've seen a lot of fake relationships, but this one is just ridiculous. The chemistry is really nonexistent; she seems more annoyed or at best partially amused whenever he tries to say anything genuinely sweet to her. She reacts like how you would when a little kid tries to tell you they have a crush on you, an adult: you just kind of go, "aw, cute, thank you!" and walk away chuckling. It's genuinely comedic in how tragic it is, a boy who thinks he's finally found someone when all she's found is a trip to the bank.

And what did the editors do? They tried their very best to sell this as genuine, as actual romance. We know what romance is -- we basically saw it with Shannon and Josh, and to a lesser extent Will and Kyra. And yet they whipped out that expert level edit to say, "wow, look at these two lovebirds, huh?" It's ridiculous, especially since only in the final episode did they suddenly remember that Jeremy and the stunning Bailey (aka the combination of Gal Godot and Ashley Judd circa-2001) were an actual couple and even they looked more real than the winning couple.

Love Island is, if nothing else, a reflection of America.

It's an outdated tradition desperately grasping to what's left of the typical western idea of romance. No matter how many beauty pageant contestants they pick, men like women who aren't size 2s, or with natural hair/skin, or with family-friendly occupations. Women are probably tired of the big muscle bound hunks they usually put on here, the nearly identical men that they seem to cast every single season who have all the looks but zero of the confidence or personality.

It's an example of how our choices are an illusion, how our influence can be easily overwritten by those in charge. Votes that don't matter when they change the rules on the fly, ripping out the actual choice of the people in favor of letting them decide what stays and what goes.

It's a testament that even in the face of a viral pandemic that's quickly turning into part two, as the lives of millions are being further destroyed across the world, there will always be some asshole who has more than you and looks better than you, vacationing on a tropical island stolen from its people, ignorant of everything else that's happening around them.

Love Island hates everyone. It hates it's contestants. It hates the viewers. It hates change. It hates me.

But I do still kind of love it.

[malakvis-blog]

( ben barnes, 32, cismale, he/him ) — wait, is that who i think it is? that’s MALAKAI REED. i’ve heard they’re the BUSINESSMAN / HITMAN living in 507. according to google, they’re originally from BOSTON, USA but they moved into sunrise towers around TWELVE YEARS ago. their facebook says they’re CHARISMATIC & VENTURESOME, however, i’m sure they’ve got a HEDONISTIC & IMPULSIVE side to them as well.

hi wow hello!! i’m caitlyn, 23, she/her, cst timezone. and honestly?? i am in fucking AWE of every single one of you ?!!!!!! from the bottom of my heart, thank you for taking interest in this rp & for being as encouraging and positive as you have been. words cannot express how grateful i am for each and every single one of you ?!!! whenever this idea came to me and chey, i don't think we every expected it to take off like it has & the out pour of love and support we got yesterday was absolutely incredible. i could go on and on for hours about how much i seriously do appreciate it, but i'd turn into an emotional lil bitch and ain't nobody got time for that so moving on !!

i’m here 2 introduce this absolute trash prince ( who's highly based off of billy russo from the punisher, i can't even lie but like... billy russo meets frank castle, if ya feel me ) to ya’ll because i am notorious for playing trash characters… guess that makes me trash too ?? who knows, anyways, i’ve got a basic ass list of plots up right HERE & a wanted connections tag HERE !! if ya’ll wanna peep those and then maybe come plot w me?? now time to cue me being an extra heaux bc there's a lil bit of everything about mal under the cut

( tw: mentions of guns, weapons, murder, blood, drugs & alcohol. )

PAST

grew up in boston, being tossed around from foster home to foster home because his father vanished right after his sister was born and his mother, well, she's a piece of work & cared more about drugs than she did her own children so the state took them from her.

both of the siblings were tossed from family to family, usually only staying in one household for a few months, the longest time was almost a year and so on.

this caused malakai to become EXTREMELY protective of his sister, meaning that if the foster parents had any other children living with them, they ended up hating mal because of how much he protected her and stood up for her.

that continued up until he was like 14 ?? up until a family finally adopted him, which kinda made him feel really, really torn ?! he was happy to get out of the foster care system and finally stay with one family, but they didn't adopt his sister which not only shattered his heart, but pissed him off. cue the first time he realized he had anger issues !!

said anger issues caused him to become a pretty problematic & bratty child, never listening to his new parents, not doing as he was told & so on.

however, this only lasted a year due to the fact both of his parents were ex-military. they let him grieve and act how he wanted to for that long and one day, his father sat him down and set him straight, telling him that if he didn't act right, he'd get grounded, that he wouldn't be allowed to play games or watch tv, the usual parenting stuff.

this of course, shocked mal because his mother ?? didn't give a shit and let him do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted so the threat wasn't taken lightly and he basically started acting like an angel child, great grades included.

and as the years went by, he could feel the connection grow between him and his adoptive parents, something he never had before, so he held onto it as hard as he possibly could. and his parents took note of it and became even more hands on than they were before as they realized that interacting with him caused his eyes to light up in ways they hadn't seen before.

however, due to their military pasts, the ways they 'bonded' with mal weren't so... conventional. his father constantly taking him to the gun range so that he could teach malakai the ins and outs of guns.. for safety reasons, of course.

and one day, while they were there, his father told him it was his turn and handed over his pistol to mal.. low & behold, malakai landed four head shots & five heart shots to the target with ease and his father was beyond impressed.

but what his father didn't know was that gave mal a taste of power, something that ended up consuming him from a rlly young age. but he kept it locked away, knowing that he'd get lectured for feeling that way because his parents taught him better.

things continued like that for years, his father taking him to the range and "graduating" malakai on gun sizes, up until they got to a sniper, a gun that his father knew would kick back so hard it'd knock kai on his ass, but mal wanted to try it and his father wasn't one to say no.

sure enough, it knocked malakai on his ass, but to his father's surprise, he'd still hit the target dead center. which should have raised some sort of red flag for his father, but it didn't.

after they'd gone through every gun imaginable, malakai asked his mother if he could be taught how to fight.. or well, fight properly. so she taught him self defense, with and without weapons, how to hurt people and hell, how to kill a target if it ever got to be a bad situation that there was no other way out of. what she didn't know was that those skill she'd just taught her son would come in handy not four years later.

fast forward those four years, mal had just turned eighteen & was waiting in the car for his father, who was in the convience store getting him the chips he'd asked for not an hour beforehand. mal had been so busy playing a game on his phone that he didn't pay attention to the three masked people walk into the store right after his father. hell, the only thing that drew him back into reality was the all too familiar sound of a gunshot. followed by another, and another, and another.

the rest of that eventful night played in slow-motion as he watched the people flee the scene, as he ripped himself off of the seat he was sitting in, his eyes never leaving the counter, where he'd last seen his father standing as he began to pay for the things mal had asked for, but his father was no where to be seen. something that hit mal in the chest like a ton of bricks, but the scene inside would only make it worse.

the sight of the cashier and his father laying lifeless on the floor wasn't something he had been prepared to see, and as he curled up on the floor, his father's head in his lap.. a phrase his mother told him when they were training flooded his mind 'we don't hurt who we have to, but we hurt those who hurt us or other people, got it?' and that was the day he promised himself that no matter what, the people who took his father away from him would pay.

but he knew he couldn't do anything, not yet at least.. the case was still extremely hot and all of the weapons in their house were registered to either his father or his mother and could easily be traced back to him.

so he began teaching himself how to hack into security systems and in turn, finding the answers he needed when it came to his father's murder.

the group that'd done it was stupid, sloppy even. some gang that'd just made it's way into boston and had been looking for a quick dollar. which they'd made, sure, but their worst nightmare was yet to come.

he watched their activity through cameras, monitored phone calls, emails, everything that had to do with this group and waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. that opportunity came in the form of a 'usual' run for them. aka them exchanging drugs for a bunch of weapons with another small gang.

unarmed, and unaware that malakai had been watching their every move for months, they got the surprise of a lifetime as each and every single one of them hit the ground faster than they could turn around to see who was putting them in their graves. but he didn't just take out the gang responsible for his father's death.. he took out everyone.. covered it all up by making it look like it was gang on gang crime and walked away with only minor bruises and abrasions.. oh, and a shit ton of unregistered guns.

that feeling of power and justice that rushed through malakai was met with mixed emotions. a part of him felt guilty and a part of him felt proud that he'd given his father the justice the police never could.

but he knew that couldn't be his life, knew it would be far too dangerous for his mother, so he continued focusing on school and ended up getting accepted into harvard, where he took classes on all things business, but by the time he was ready to graduate, he didn't want to move back to boston. there was too much pain there, too much grief.

so he used some of the money his father had left behind to move himself out to los angeles, the city of opportunities. both legal... and well, not so legal.

that's where he got a taste of true freedom and damn, he loved every single second of it. but he was smart, too. began investing in businesses all across la, even buying some out from underneath the previous owners, rebuilding them to become million dollar businesses.

and with that money, came the hedonistic streak that continues to follow malakai around, he spent money on booze, drugs, women, guns, cars, clothes, a penthouse and whatever the hell else he wanted.

and things stayed like that for a while, until he saw an article about a gang with an all too familiar name. the same gang that'd been in boston had people in la too.. and that caused his anger issues to rise once more and before long, he was tracking them again.

and sure enough, they were planning the biggest drug run of their lives and he found that as the perfect opportunity to do what he thought was right. but what malakai didn't know was that the fbi had been on their tales far longer than he had, and had also learned about this run.

so whenever he took all of them out, making it look like one big car accident / explosion, the fbi was watching his every move. but they let it slide, the people watching him seeing potential they couldn't afford to put behind bars.

three days later, they sent him the video of that night, along with his id, his parents ids, and everything else in between with a message telling him to meet him at the specified location or they'd leak this to every police officer in the area.. so of course, he had to oblige. and to his surprise, he was greeted with badges who didn't want to arrest him, instead they wanted to give him further training, set him up with his own training facility to train other people like him to be as good as him and to hire him as their own personal hitman.

he wasn't going to go along with it, it seemed too easy.. but the six figure paycheck that was given to him as a 'welcoming' gift was rather hard to refuse and before he knew it, he was training with fbi agents, and months after that, he was the one training new recruits.

his training facility was off the grid, only bringing in fbi agents, police officers and so on and after they left that facility, they had the option of continuing on with their regular jobs, or to move into malakai's line of business. most chose the first option because it was the 'safest' of the two, but after a while, malakai had over twenty-seven people in his roster.. all of which would be there to back him up in any 'mission' he needed them to be & they also became a far more violent version of the secret service in a way.

fast forward to now & malakai is their go to guy when it comes to anything they can't be seen doing & he's making HELLA bank from it and the many, many businesses littered through LA that are now owned by him.

which of course, if anyone were to ask where his wealth came from, he claims its his businesses and investments.

PRESENT

now he continues to do whatever the fbi needs him to do, continues to buy businesses left and right, continues to train more and more potential employees at his training facility & does it all while keeping the stupid ass smirk he's known for plastered on his lips.

not to mention he's even more hedonisitc before and still drinks & does drugs on occasion... yike

however, even though he still drinks & does things he probably shouldn’t be doing, he doesn’t let that get in between him and his job. as he gets a high from his job that no drug has ever been able to match.

and as he’s getting older, he’s starting to realize that maybe a “normal” life isn’t the worst thing in the world.. however, the impulsive & well... kinda power-hungry side of him doesn’t allow himself to explore that feeling any further than that.

he’s extremely outgoing and is rarely actually in his penthouse but when he is... he's got someone over, a hook up, a business partner.. it doesn't matter... there's usually SOMEONE at his place.

is extremely into flaunting his wealth and can be seen driving numerous expensive af cars ( his bugatti is his fave, though ) & wearing thousands of dollars suit and whatnot.

hes..  not exactly opposed to meeting new people and actually has been trying to get to know the people he lives around…. many, many years too late. but, better late than never, right?

he’s basically always working, so nine times out of ten, he’s in a hurry or extremely tired from a long day but ?? is still 100% down to shoot the shit, drink, party, hook up, flirt... all of that.

can come of as a little stand-off-ish and it’s not because he doesn’t want to be where he’s at, it’s just due to the fact that he guards his feelings and keeps them locked away from everyone other than his mother ( and sister but he doesn't realize she's living in the same building yet whOOPS ) because he doesn’t want anyone to actually get to know him as he knows it's dangerous and tbh he knows he can't take losing someone he truly cares about again.

PERSONALITY

hides behind a wall of sarcasm, cockiness, anger and lust.

doesn’t really care to get to know people and had a tendency to push people away before they get too close to him. because he really… doesn’t want to get hurt again & doesn't want to put them @ risk.

wears glasses to read and mess w computers, but hates them a lot and probably won’t wear them if people are around.

wears a shit ton of suits???? but also wears tf out of jeans, v-necks, sweats, leather jackets and anything that makes him look like your typical fuckboi ?? it’s kinda his aesthetic.

is …. stubborn as hell and refuses to ask for help with anything.

his cars are literally his babies ??? like he ?? has a problem ??

a hotmess

loves halloween so much?? even though it’s his birthday?? he gets so hype for that holiday it’s unreal.

fluent in a lot of languages, picked them up so that he didn’t need translators at meetings and the likes.

lowkey worried that people will figure out that he’s actually v hurt inside because that’ll cause him to start having to deal with his feelings again, and he doesn’t wanna do that.

is the biggest flirt you will ever meet?? like if he’s speaking 2 u… its usually flirty as hell unless it has 2 do w business or he’s just known u for centuries ?

will try to get everyone to go to bars n parties with him because that’s his life in a nutshell ??

hella nerd on the inside though like owns so many comic books, loves to play video games, read books, plays piano / gutair & all that jazz.

super, super intelligent. could probably work @ nasa but instead he decided to do what he does & he honestly... ain't complaining.

drinks..heavily..  like every night?? it’s a problem tbh.

he cares… god he cares so much about people and the world but he pretends to hate everything because it’s easier than letting people in.

full of horrible and cheesy pick up lines and jokes and frequently texts people said pick up lines and jokes.

owns a book that is full of nothing but blank pages and keeps it on his coffee table because he ‘relates’ to it.

is still a highkey hoe but he keeps it on the dl

speaking of….. might ( he is ) be a highkey dom yikES

super into fitness as it’s a way to keep him away from drinking every evening.

loves boxing so much and can be seen at the gym quite a bit.. also has bruised knuckles 24/7 because of it as it’s a way to take out his aggression and feelings out on a punching bag?? esp whenever he hasn't gotten a 'mission' in a while

actually super kind and caring once you’re able to see get past his wall?? which is really hard to do due to his job but if u do it he’ll cherish u.

is one of those people who’s instagram feed is nothing but pictures of his dogs, suits, cars & food.

has a bad habit of smoking whenever he’s stressed out, which is usually all of the time so he smokes…. more than he should

will also talk about his dogs more often than he talks about his life.

highkey into cuddling and all the cute shit like that but would literally never tell a soul because then they’d see that he isn’t such a hardass.

is a burnt cupcake who has really good intentions but has EXTREMELY horrible execution skills. ( and no i don't mean the violent kind bc he's actually v good @ that )

STATISTICS.

FULL NAME: malakai cassius reed.

NICKNAME(S): mal, kai, cass or cassie ( his adoptive dad called him that just to mess with him )

AGE: thirty-two.

DATE OF BIRTH: october 31st.

ZODIAC SIGN: scorpio.

PLACE OF BIRTH: boston, usa.

GENDER: cismale.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: bisexual.

RELIGION: n/a.

OCCUPATION: businessman / hitman.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, french, spanish, welsh, russian, korean, japanese, italian, romanian, greek, gaelic and bulgarian.

ACCENT: american.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

FACE CLAIM: ben barnes.

HAIR COLOR: brown.

EYE COLOR: brown.

HEIGHT: 6′ 1″.

WEIGHT: 225 lbs.

BUILD: athletic.

PERSONALITY / TRAITS.

LABEL: the hedonist.

POSITIVE TRAITS: charismatic, venturesome, intelligent, outgoing.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: hedonistic, impulsive, cocky, flirtatious.

FEARS: claustrophobia.

HOBBIES: playing video games, reading books / comics, boxing, pool, going to sports events, soccer, football, going to the gym, playing guitar, playing piano, cooking, hiking, camping, fishing, golf.

QUIRKS: believes in karma, fights for animal rights, fights for gender equality, fights for human rights, fights for marriage equality, wears mismatched socks ( sometimes ), counts stairs, plays with fire, plays a musical instrument, boxes, enjoys nature, tells the truth / can be brutally honest, uses bad puns whenever possible.

FAMILY.

FATHER: charles william frey.

MOTHER: susana marie alcott.

ADOPTIVE FATHER: graham james reed.

ADOPTIVE MOTHER: isabel rose reed.

SIBLING(S): melody carlyle.

PET(S): two siberian huskies named balto and steele.

FINANCIAL STATUS: upper class.

TESTS.

MYERS-BRIGGS: estp-a

ENNEAGRAM: type 8 ( the challenger. )

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful evil. ( the dominator. )

TEMPERAMENT: choleric.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: slytherin.

[openbonesarchive-blog]

muse rundown.

bael: hellhound, owned by felicity. “top dog” of her hellhound army. a very bad boy to anyone that isnt felicity. likes to chew on stuff. won’t accept anything else, he wants whatever you have & that’s it. just because he’s sometimes goofy doesn’t mean he won’t eat you whole real quick.

beck: werewolf. a good girl. goth / grunge aesthetic. avid coin & crystal collector. taxidermist. can pole dance.  super short but will still kick your sorry ass. dont call her the mom friend. easily stressed out.

dylan:  ((( very ))) low ranking angel. flies under the radar a lot, so he gets away with a lot of shit he’s not supposed to do. really likes flamingos & the color pink. lowkey kind of a fuckboy but doesn’t mean to be. meme lord 9000. just wants to have a good time & make people laugh. has the voice of an angle ( lmao ). he’s lovin life.

felicity: high ranking demon. really loves hellhounds so she adopts literally all of them. she’s small & cute but don’t let that fool you. she a bad bitch. kind of a trouble maker but only when the mood strikes. really like chocolate.

heaven: human.  lives in a tiny apartment with a grumpy old cat shelter cat named norman. manga / comic artist & cafe barista.  college dropout.  trying to live that main character life to see if anything actually interesting happens

hercules: doll, affiliated with 1 of my main blogs / tala.  strongest doll to be made yet. bodyguard for hire. people call him daddy but he is actually grandpa. let him eat his applesauce and rest. too tired to deal. looks bangin in leather.

hixdus:  alien / god. part of a series i once had where the universe(s) are maintained & created by 6 individual gods. hixdus is the star maker aka father of stars.  kind of an asshole & a sucker for romantic stuff yet doesn’t have much interest in dating. just wants to pay rent.  he’s a good guy, promise.

monroe: witch of poison. immune to toxins, both natural & manmade. has a garden of dangerous plants & an assortment of dangerous animals, mainly venomous snakes & frogs.  does medical research to help develop antidotes to toxins / use poisons to develop medicines. scary looking dude but honestly doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.

lafayette: doll. he was made for medical practice, specifically to test out medications without the risk of harming people. has online friends, kind of an anxious guy but suppresses the fuck out of it.. judgmental as fuck.

michelangelo: human. nicknamed ‘angel”. has his own co-ed stripclub called “heaven’s gates” and the strippers are called angels as well. he’s a really fun dude. just wants to have a fun time. really fucking relaxed, but runs a tight ship when it comes to the club. don’t touch his dancers.

orion:  phoenix. literal sunshine. runs a bakery  / coffee shop with his younger sister, angelina. he’s not very good at baking or decorating but he tries his best. he’s mainly handling customers. don’t let him have coffee. wants to be friends with everyone.

rafiane: alien / god. hixdus’ brother. makes planets / strings together solar systems. high energy. kind of an idiot but still pretty damn smart. kind of new to the whole earth thing, but hixdus has pretty much got him settled in real quick. really loves sour things. can eat a whole lemon. sweet dude but easily confused.

rosalie:  vampire. bubbly as fuck. generally a nice girl, but can get violent at the drop of a hat. she doesn’t like hurting people, but she isn’t against it. very much into lolita / cutesy fashion. she’ll let you borrow her clothes. her hair literally drags on the floor. she’s a vampire Rapunzel.  has royal english blood, but that was a long time ago, so she got that old money keeping her filthy fucking rich.

toka: fear eater: mechanic / street racer. makes money mainly off of motorcylces & sports cars; both repairing & illegal racing — he’s pretty damn good at winning bets & gambling. really fucking creepy & not an approachable guy. he’s already scary looking, but he’ll try to look even scarier to avoid conversation. hates his neighbors. he’s not a bad guy —- he doesn’t intentionally want to physically hurt anyone, just spook them for a good meal. usually he feeds in the form of manipulating dreams to nightmares, since he won’t scare people half to death, but it produces less energy for him to soak up. he’s pretty indifferent about causing people emotional & mental scarring when it comes to scaring people; still would rather do it painlessly through dreams though. boy’s gotta eat.  chaotic neutral. 

valentine: human. owner of the grand rosette hotel.  magic is rooted in both his blood & the hotel. it’s basically like a whole new world, or several worlds. he can kind of play god, being the blood owner of the hotel. the elevators will fuck you up for 5 minutes every 2 hours, meaning that when the clock strikes, the elevators will actually take you to different worlds inside the hotel where several people live. valentine can control these worlds.  really likes wine. kind of a neat freak. wears a lot of fur; both fake and faux. has a few cats that live in the hotel & just wonder. friendly guy. kind of a huge flirt. very proud of his family.

[lagroupie]

Interview: Consensus

Consensus at L’Ecurie in Geneva with Dr Koul, through my good old Canon.

Two years after his last visit in Switzerland - opening for Mos Def aka Yasiin Bey at Les Docks with C.O.T.I. - I met Consensus again, in Geneva this time. Back when I met him, he had released an album called ConCERNed, in which he rapped about CERN’s research about particle physics! Since then, he has released many new records. During this interview, we catch up before his show at l’Ecurie. Consensus tells me more about his life these past two years, his influences, his latest projects Controversé and SubContext, and touring in the United States and Canada to perform and give talks at universities.

Consensus’ show was so much fun, full of good vibes. The concert ended in an epic freestyle where Consensus was joined by Imagine, Dr Koul and Hip Hop Taoists.

Many thanks to Consensus, C.O.T.I. and the great staff at l’Ecurie for their kindness!

What is your life like in London?

My life now is crazy! Last year in January I was contracting and working part-time, but I stopped and became full-time music. That allowed me to go and travel. But also, my grandma was sick and I would go look after her every week. It was just very different because this was the only thing that was regular every week, while everything else was constantly changing– sometimes I went away for two weeks or something. I also went to Ethiopia and Colombia. At the beginning of this year, my grandma died so I had to deal with the process and writing a lot. So I was writing with Bikuta, who sent me lots of beats. We’re playing near where he lives tomorrow, so I think he’s going to come to the show. I was also writing for another project, so I released two records: Controversé and SubContext.

Then I was doing all of these shows abroad. So it was very random, there was not a lot of structure. It was a lot of me just creating opportunities and stuff. I don’t really regret quitting my job, because if I didn’t do that, then I wouldn’t have done a tour in America and gone to Canada twice. I enjoyed it! I got paid more, which was good! (laughs) I was giving talks at universities and performing. When you go there as an artist, they make a massive deal- they give you good hotels and all this stuff. This year was quite difficult, but I am good at self-motivating!

Let’s talk about SubContext – the lyrics are very personal compared to what you have done before.

Yes, it was like my personal view on things. Because I always do themes, like I did with educational projects. Before I did the next educational project, I wanted to express myself. So SubContext in particular was very much the things I don’t say, or the undertone. It was focused on mood. Each track is a mood, and it’s quite energetic. I wanted to have a lot of performance tracks as well. I feel like people appreciate them better, the tempo is faster.

I also think that the beats sound really cold, and the cover really matches with the music. You look like a futuristic sci-fi character!

It’s like this character, Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat! He works with ice. That’s also a play on words, SubContext/Sub-Zero. I co-produced this with a producer called Subkinetik. He focuses a lot on drum’n’bass, grime and electronic style. We went back and forth, I would send him tracks and he would edit them, send them back and I would structure them and create the songs. I had a lot of input in the structures of the songs, and I was free to say what I wanted. Sometimes you work with producers and you’re limited – they expect you to do a certain track.

Could you also tell me more about In the End? The lyrics are so fast, and it’s difficult to understand everything for a non-native speaker like me! (laughs)

I think I started with the first or the second verse. I did a collaboration before and that verse never got used, so I just adapted it. I wanted to do a chorus with very fast rapping because you never really hear that anymore. I had the beat for ages, from a few years before, but then Subkinetik added the 808 and made it even better. The chorus is about racism in a way: “You don’t really want it/We’ve got knowledge to the coffin/that’s why we’re covered in black”. It’s like a metaphor, because I am thinking about black skin, but you dress in black at a funeral. You don’t want black people to be smart. It’s a social commentary on the image of black people, “I’m like them in the end, you’re like them in the end.” So it’s a really deep thing, but because it’s really fast, most people don’t need to get what it is to get the feeling! Actually, I want to do a video for this track that’s not only about color. For example, the color of anarchists is black. It’s about anti-establishment, not just about race. If I do the visuals, I’ll probably experiment with the idea of wearing black as well as being black.

I also wanted to talk about Controversé, your project with Bikuta.

It was really important for me to have some kind of French word in the title, because Bikuta speaks French! This project has more to do with the lyrics. The beats are slower, so you can take your time. Again, I am saying controversial things. The first song for example, Average Guy. “The will of the average guy kills” is a profound statement. If you don’t strive for more, that can end up killing you. In the verse, I talk about this metaphor of the slow-boiling frog- if you put the frog in the pot and then turn up the water, it will boil slowly, but if you put it in the bowl when it’s already hot, it will jump out. It’s quite edgy, some people might disagree.

Yeah- I mean, there’s nothing wrong with having a 9-5 job that doesn’t really excite you and pays well, but if you can you should find what makes you truly happy.

Exactly! In the last verse, I say that I’ll just keep going until I am happy – until I have done all I wanted to do.

I also really like the song Feel No Way. Could you tell me more about it?

I did a song called Human Race in 2015, and people really liked it. It has a similar feel, it’s about feeling good. I often write very energetic songs about fighting the system. But this time I thought, “I want to do another song that makes you feel good”. I am making the same social commentary, but I am basically saying “it’s okay to feel like that”. Because ultimately, you can move past it. The song is quite open and understandable.

I also like how open you are regarding production – you can rap over very different styles.

I started as a Grime MC, it was only when I was older that I began to rap over hip-hop. I have always been listening to hip-hop though. It’s crazy, but hip-hop was my inspiration for my grime. I would listen to conscious rappers, I was like a conscious grime artist! When I changed to the name ConSensus is when I decided to rap more than do grime stuff. It’s very easy to get into beef in the grime scene, fighting with people. That kind of stuff can happen, I experienced it. I thought “I just want to do music, I want to be an artist”. So I didn’t limit myself to grime. I’d love to do some live music stuff as well, but the organization of bands is a nightmare (laughs). I really respect these guys like C.O.T.I. and people who have instruments and shit, because the more people you deal with, the more ego you have to deal with. My experience of working with other artists is not too bad, but generally the best things I’ve had happening is when the producer has been as enthusiastic as me.

Consensus with Dr Koul and Imagine from C.O.T.I. after the show.

What can we expect from Consensus in the future?

I think I’m gonna do a track with Dr Koul soon. I am also looking to try and get funding for my next projects, so I have two things: one is a project about law and human rights, and it will be with jazz artists, some reggae singers and stuff. I will basically study law, put it into lyrics and make it consumable for school. The second one will be a sequel to the ConCERNed album, so I think I am going to do a project on the origins of the universe. When I went to tour in America, I visited the Kennedy Space Center. I met scientists who are interested in working and collaborating together, and the scientists at CERN at interested in collaborating again. In the meantime, I will just be releasing singles.

https://consensus.avr-music.com/

[veronixmoore]

°☽ — hello little babes :’) it’s chelly again, or firstly, for those who i have yet to meet!! this is my second child veronica; i’m also lorenzo’s mother and i rlly rlly love my lil babies and i hope y’all will too. i’m 20 & from the EST, too!! i feel like that’s always important lmfao -- anywho! all of ronnie’s little tidbits and info are going to be under the cut, and if you wanna plot, PLEASE hmu !!! for either veronica, enzo if we haven’t, or both :’)

that’s not ASHLEY BENSON walking around?? nah, but VERONICA MOORE gets that all the time. SHE’S actually from LOS ANGELES, though they live in THE GASLAMP DISTRICT now.  you’ve probably heard that 23 year old CASHIER of SUN DIEGO being referred to as the ARTISAN of this place. you know, i always see them SURFING or blasting STUCK BY THE ACES on their lunch break..whatever.

TW: drugs TW: overdose TW: violence TW: death

"LOOK FOR ANSWERS, I NEVER USED TO WONDER WHY. SEARCH FOR LOVING, BUT THAT ALWAYS COMES IN TIME. MAKE IT LOOK EASY, WISH I DIDN’T HAVE TO TRY.”

+ 3 adventurous, spontaneous, resilient - 3 naive, reserved, tempestuous

So this is my lil baby Veronica aka Ronnie or Nica, she will respond to either or both honestly. Although most people who know her from surfing or through sport are going to call her Ronnie, and that’s got a funny little story behind it. When she was younger there weren’t a lot of girls competing in surfing competitions when the big swells were coming in, and all she wanted to do was compete. Whenever a girl would enter a competition, if they were even allowed, they were usually flagged and written off before even catching a wave. So Veronica would sign up with the name Ronnie Moore and she’d even go to her hairdresser and make sure her blonde locks were nice and short and always easy to conceal under a hat when she would go to the sign-up booths. No one ever really suspected her to be a girl, and even when she started placing in the competitions, she never revealed her true identity. It was easier not to and no one seemed to care until she started placing first and there were a few odd looks from fellow competitor parents when her supporters and surf instructors would scream out things like “That’s my girl!”. Once she couldn’t avoid the questions anymore and she hit puberty, she didn’t stop signing up as Ronnie, but she did start letting people know that yeah, she’s a young lady and she’s been kicking all the boys’ butts for years.

No one really seemed to care, least of all the friends that she had made surfing that already knew, and it ended up getting her serious recognition in the community. It wasn’t as if she was ever lying, of course. People just assumed with her looks, locks, and name that she wasn’t a girl, and she never objected until it became too hard to just let slide anymore.

So, yeah, for those she surfs with or knows her from the surf shop, she just goes by Ronnie and doesn’t think anything of it. For other people, she’ll introduce herself as whatever rolls off the tongue the easiest, and it’s never bothered her

As alluded to, she is a foster child but has since been officially adopted by two pretty loving parents. She was always in and out of the foster system; her birth parents were both drug addicts living in one of the poorest and roughest areas of south central LA. Veronica was so used to the flashing lights of police cars and sirens that she, even occasionally to this day, has a difficult time falling asleep without them. The cops were frequent visitors to her residence for a multitude of reasons like overdose, stabbings, the sound of gunshots, domestic abuse, some nights all of the above. The sight of a police officer was comforting to Veronica as it meant that she would spend a night at the station with someone who would actually feed her, comfort her, play with her. There were times where she would get placed into group homes until her birth parents were able to attend classes or rehab or spend fifteen days in jail until they could get their ‘little girl’ back. Being in group homes was worse to Veronica than being with her birth parents, but she would always suffer no matter where she was. The only thing that ever offered her some condolences was the surfing club that ran through her school.

She’d ride the bus for almost an hour with other kids her own age before being able to touch the sand with her toes and escape for a few hours. Her surf instructor, and the head of the local club, was a kindhearted and  beautiful woman who ended up fostering and later adopting Veronica. She was the one that helped Veronica learn how to surf, perfect her technique, pay for her, and enter her in competitions. She was her best role model and parental figure in her life

It was shortly after Veronica turned nine that her mother overdosed and flatlined, leaving her with only one legal guardian left in the world, and her father was never able to stay clean or attend the proper classes or actually give one shit about his daughter, so he was never able to gain legal access of Ronnie. It was an ongoing battle for almost a year until it was clear: Veronica would never be returned to her birth parent and that was when her surf instructor and her husband, Angela and Maxwell, decided to foster her. They had had their license for a few years, finding themselves fostering a few kids here and there, but they always had a feeling Veronica was going to be their daughter by the end of it all, and for all intents & purposes, she was and is.

She’s been through so much. Has seen so much. More than anyone should ever really have to, and there is so much that Veronica has repressed. Including the countless times her father would carry her in his arms while begging on the streets for someone to give them money, you know, ‘in order to support his daughter’, but really it was just to pay off debts and buy more drugs. Or when she would end up with her mother’s hand in hers, walking to the local clinic to participate in free needle exchanges only to then be dragged to a back alley where her mother would buy heroin off of some dealer.

Surfing, sport, athleticism ... that’s always been what Ronnie has had on her side. Has had to fall back on. Sadly for her, it’s never been intelligence as she has always wished it could be. When in school, everyone else seemed to much smarter and farther ahead, but Ronnie never had much of a chance. Her studies suffered, just like everything else in her life did, and she was never a real candidate to attend university. She knew this, of course. She knew she would never be able to compete with 4.0s, even average SAT scores, volunteer efforts. She was the volunteer effort, not so much the other way around. Now, she’s not an idiot, no, of course not. She’s a smart girl with so much experience, but she hasn’t had a lot of favors in life either. So college was never something she ever considered; she’s just been working in and out of surf shops and offering lessons, even heading tours and selling boards that she’s crafted herself on the side.

Angela’s recently suggested to her that she try getting her employer at the mall to give her just a couple of board spaces on display to showcase her artwork and crafting. She’s pretty handy with a saw and sander, and she’s been able to start forging her own boards and hand painting the most beautiful designs on it. Aside from surfing, art is the best thing she has in her life

So when she found out there was a spot that opened up at Sun Diego in the Fashion Valley mall, she had to apply for the job. Angela and Max had started a small college fund for Ronnie once they adopted her; it wasn’t much, but it was something, and they promised her that if she could find the job at the mall being promising, they would cover her rent in the Gaslamp District for as long as she was making it work until her boards made her rich and famous and then she could return the favor. The thought, the gesture, everything ... it brings tears to her eyes every time she thinks about it

There’s hope ... there’s a chance for a real future, and that’s not something Ronnie every thought she would be able to have in her entire life, let alone at such a young age being supported and loved by two, essentially, strangers. She’s grown to call Angela and Max her mother and father, as they legally and emotionally and physically are, but she also knows they will never erase her birth parents who did go through serious stints of trials and tribulations to try and be true parents. It’s difficult; a real sore spot for the blonde, but so much has been romanticized for her.

In her dreams, nightmares really, is when she is most often confronted with the horrors of her realities. But one reality that has seeped into her everyday life includes the drug dealer who knows who’s daughter she is; her father’s so, so in debt to this man and just as she’s starting to move on in her life, she gets torn right back down. He’s demanding she pay her father’s debt, a slew of promising threats and weapons targeted her with every meeting. Even for such a strong and resilient twenty three year old, it scares her to her core, and all because of someone she hasn’t even known of in over a decade.

as for wanted connections, i am working on her page tonight but !!!! i’m really and honestly open for anything, no matter how dramatic or seemingly ‘insignificant’ !! once i finish up her page though, it’ll look similarly to enzo’s if you need ideas :’)

[cupcakeblake]

Of course, of course! Let me use names, it might make it more understandable :) But feel free to switch their roles! "Modern AU: Clarke can't sleep at night; Bellamy often wakes up with nightmares. He ends up seeing all of her late night Snapchats and Instagram posts. Cue adorable late night talks, etc." Hope this helps!

I twisted it a little bit because Im incapable of writing angst… So it’s Bellamy having weird dreams and Clarke not sleeping at night! Social Media Au!

thank you @bellamybb for reading this over! tagging some people who showed interested in this @francyfifty @prongsno​ and also @selflessbellamy​ @marauders-groupie​ @boob-morley​ @hiddenpolkadots​ because i want your thoughts on this

Keeping me up at night

ClarkeGriffin: Should I stop drinking coffee or should I continue not sleeping atnight?

           Octavia Blake, Raven Reyes, Wells Jaha and 6 others likedthis.

           Wells Jaha:you’re gonna die at 30

           Raven Reyes:you could never stop drinking coffee. Rip friend. Nice knowing you.

Clarke wasn’t a big sleeper. Everhad been. Apparently, she didn’t need a lot of sleep to function.

However, she needed a lot ofcaffeine.

Her phone vibrated with a newFacebook notification: Bellamy Blakecommented on your post.

          Bellamy Blake: I knew you were a fake. Idon’t sleep at night by my own means thank you very much.

She smiled and immediatelyanswered.

           Clarke Griffin:yeah you’re right. Coffee got me awake since im a baby…

           Bellamy Blake:clearly. Don’t do drugs kids.

She didn’t know Bellamy thatwell. She only met him once for one of Octavia’s birthday party but theysomehow ended up following each other on most social medias. She wasn’tcomplaining because he was fun and he seemed to not sleeping at nights, justlike her, and they always ended up talking through the night… She liked him.

Clarke laughed out loud when she saw the picture Bellamy sent her inreply of her story. She opened the messaging system and typed:

           C: so what’s the problem tonight mister-weird-dream?

           B: Have you ever dreamed you were in space?

           C: of course. what do you think am i? an amateur?

           B: fair enough.

           B: but how was it for you? because it was weird for me

           C: you sound like you tried some new weird sex thing

           B: why are you messaging me again?

           C: i like the weird sex stories (:

           B: this conversation is over.

           C: come on… distract me im bored

           B: well go to sleep.

           C: haha funny

           B: I try.

           C: anyway when i dreamed i was in space i was alone floating in thesky something aesthetic like that?

           B: okay…

           C: what? What did you dreamed about?

           B: earth was destroyed, people lived in space in a weird ship? Andthere was a fucked up system where people were sent in prison for anything? idk

           C: you’re really weird

           B: thanks.

It was actually a little weirdthat they didn’t run into each other yet. They did live in the same city. Theydid have friends in common. It was only a matter of time… And apparently, timewas up.

Clarke had her eyes fixed onher phone, her bag falling of her shoulder, her hair falling in front of hereyes, the phone in one hand, a cup of coffee on the other one. She bumped intosomebody, spilled her drink. And of course, it was Bellamy.

“Oh I’m so sorry! I’ll get youcleaned up, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking!”

“Relax, princess, I wasn’tlooking either.”

Only then – only after hearingthe nickname – she leveled her gaze up and met his. Bellamy Blake was wayprettier in real life.

“Oh it’s you.” She just saidand she winced because what the fuck wasthat?

He laughed. “I’m sorry to be adisappointment.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no! Ididn’t mean… I’m sorry-”

“Hey relax. I was just messingwith you.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. Clarke simply blinkedtwice.

“You’re still wet.” She said,because clearly she was weird and he had a bad effect on her. He raised aneyebrow at her, a small smirk forming on his lips. “I mean… You still coveredin coffee…”

He licked his lips then andClarke blinked once more.

“Clearly” he said “but exceptif you have a shirt in your bag I don’t know how this situation would evolveany time soon.” The smirk was fully on his lips then. So she rolled her eyes.

“Okay Mister Smart-Pants. I’msorry I ruined your very basic and very brown shirt. I’ll buy you another oneone day if you want.”

“Wow someone is cranky.” Buthe was still smiling.

“I need coffee to function.But you got my cup all over yourself so…”

“How is it my fault now?”

“You did say you were not lookingeither, remember.”

“It was your coffee! Youshould have watch out!”

“Okay Mister-Weird-Dream youshould stop right now because-”

She didn’t have the chance tofinish her sentence because Octavia showed up right at this moment. Oh right.She was supposed to meet Octavia. Not her brother.

“Hey O.” Bellamy said, thesmirk still on his lips.

“Hi… Bellamy? Clarke…” Octaviahad a confused look on her face and Clarke couldn’t really blame her.

“So I was going to the malland Clarke spilled her coffee all over me… I’m gonna go now!”

He went in the directionOctavia came. Clarke could still see him smirk at her and wave as he lookedover his shoulder.

“Why were you flirting with mybrother, Clarke?” Clarke choked on nothing and scoffed.

“I was not!”

Later that day she received atext from Bellamy.

10:34pm [Bellamy] You owe me a shirt.

10:35pm [Clarke] Well you owe me a coffee jerk. She replied. Andit was only later that she got the date subtext… Oh well…

@bellblake: had the strangestdream. Was a salmon, got eaten by a bear. #wtf #terrifiedforlife

          @thegriffinprincess@themurphylife and 4 others liked this

@thegriffinprincess: @bellblake Iraise you with my became-a-real-life-dragon-and-destroyed-earth dream

@bellblake:@thegriffinprincess from what I’m hearing you became world’s ruler and I goteaten… which is worse?

@thegriffinprincess: @bellblake surelyit’s being world’s ruler too much responsibilities.

@bellblake:@thegriffinprincess you’re right as a salmon I lived a pretty nice life

@themurphylife:@thegriffinprincess @bellblake please go be eaten by a bear. BOTH OF YOU.

Bellamy couldn’t help butsending her a private message.

           B: i see youhave been having weird dreams too. welcome to the club

           C: I hardlysleep… and it was maybe when I was five?

           B: you dreamedyou were a dragon destroying earth at five?

           C: yeah

           B: you’refucking terrifying.

Clarke smiled at her phone,fondly.

BellamyBlake: any ideas for things to do when you cant sleep (aka every night?)

           Octavia Blake and John Murphy liked this.

           Clarke Griffin:Read, watch TV, have sex, learn a new language, draw, pull pranks on yourroommates, cook or eat, do your laundry, dance naked on your living room, takea bath, write a novel, watch videos of funny cats on youtube, rewatch yourfavorite tv show, go visit the city at night, take pictures, annoy all yourfacebook friends with pointless posts?

           John Murphy:Are you volunteering to have sex with Bellamy, Griffin?

           Octavia Blake:Clarke, you can’t… You just can not tell my brother to have sex like it’snothing and getting away with it…

           Nathan Miller:Clarke you can’t… You just can not tell Bellamy to dance naked in the livingroom. Sometimes I get up at night and I don’t want to be terrified for life.

2:45pm [Clarke] So I’ve got you anew shirt.

3:02pm [Bellamy] Great. I bet Icould find a place to find you a new coffee.

3:03pm [Bellamy] meet me at CostaCoffee? At 5?

3:05pm [Clarke] in England???

3:05pm [Bellamy] why are youmaking this so difficult?

BecauseI’m nervous as hell…

Clarke breathed deeply beforeanswering.

3:07pm [Clarke] Yeah okay

It was definitely a date. Ifwe were defining it by how much Clarke was freaking out. She was pacing. Shealready thought of changing of outfits to look nicer. She checked her make-up,her hair. She was freaking pathetic.

She only had herself to blame.She sent him the text. But she had missed him… Since that Facebook post hedidn’t interact with her as much as he used to. And she missed him.

3:34pm [Clarke] I might like yourbrother a little more than I thought

3:35pm [Octavia] shocking

She smiled at her phone,seeing in her friend’s sarcasm a blessing of sort?

3:35pm [Clarke] i might have adate with him?

3:35pm [Octavia] what do you mean /might/have?

3:36pm [Clarke] well we didn’texactly use the word “date” but we’re meeting for coffee?

3:37pm [Octavia] just go clarkeyou’ll figure it then

And she did. She showed up afew minutes before 5 but he was already there. She resisted fixing her skirtand walked to him. He welcomed her with a big smile and her heart did a funnything.

“Hi, Clarke.” His voice wassoft. He looked perfectly calm and at ease. She sat in front of him and relaxedunder his gaze. “What are you taking? My treat.”

“Well, it was the deal” shegrinned. But her face immediately turned into a horrified one.

“Wha- What Clarke? What’shappening?”

“I… Err, I forgot your shirt?”

He didn’t say anything for afew seconds, didn’t move an inch. Clarke began to take a deep breathe butBellamy bursted out laughing.

“That’s seriously notimportant” he smiled a little shy but with the same soft face.

She bit her lips, suddenlyoverwhelmed.

“You’re paying then? I thinkgonna take a mocha and a donut and…”

@bellblake: why am i alwayshaving these weird dreams

@thebetterblake: @bellblake ualways had these dreams y r u questioning this now

@bellblake: @thebetterblakeim allowed to be concerned of my mental health

@natemiller: @bellblake@thebetterblake i can tell u if u want: u r freakin mad

@bellblake: @natemiller@thebetterblake i knew we were friends for a reason

@thegriffinprincess: @bellblake whatwas it now?

@bellblake: @thegriffinprincessi was elected president and trump ate me

@thegriffinprincess: @bellblake wowyou like getting eaten

@thebetterblake:@thegriffinprincess @bellblake clarke……………………..

@thegriffinprincess: @thebetterblake@bellblake I MEANT LIKE THAT OTHER DREAM HE HAD

@bellblake: me featuring inmy weird ass dream of last night

          @thegriffinprincess@thebetterblake @natemiller and 45 others liked this

Clarke barely heard her phoneringing under the shower. She made it in time just before it goes to thevoicemail. She answered it without looking at the number.

“Hi?”

“Clarke, hi?”

“Bellamy?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry… I shouldn’thave called… You probably have other things to do.”

“Bellamy it’s 2 in themorning… I have literally nothing to do right now. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing really… But youwere the only one I know who could be up this late…”

“No problem seriously.”

“I had this dream…”

“You always have weirddreams.”

“It was more like a nightmareactually…”

“Oh.”

She listened to him as he toldher about this nightmare. How he dreamed he was 10 again when his step dad beathis mother and how he would hide Octavia to protect her. And then he was backinto the present time and this man came back into their lives and manipulatedOctavia who ended up in the hospital because of him but blamed Bellamy foreverything…

Clarke listened as his voicebroke with a few sobs sometimes, showing how deeply he loved his sister and howimportant she was for him.

When he was done, shewhispered a few words, letting now that everything was okay, that he couldcount on her. Always.

They moved on on another topicand spent the night talking to each other, discovering the last parts theydidn’t know about each other.

1:54am [Clarke] are you taking ascreenshot of every one of my snaps?

1:56am [Bellamy] yes and?

1:57am [Clarke] nothing.

2:03am [Clarke] i do the same

3:02am[Clarke] I still have your shirt.

3:04am[Bellamy] my shirt?

3:04am[Clarke] you know the brown hideous one i got you to replace thebrown hideous one i’ve ruined with coffee

3:05am[Bellamy] oh that shirt.

3:05am[Clarke] yes. want it?

3:05am[Clarke] im at your door.

Bellamyopened the door and it was the most beautiful view Clarke could imagine.Bellamy wearing a large shirt and some sport pants as pyjamas. Looking at herlike she was stars.

“Could we date?” She blurted out. “Like really date?With kissing and maybe more. And spending afternoons at each other’s place. Andhold hands, I really would like to hold your hands like always.”

She seemed to realize that she said that completelyout of the blue and blushed. But it wasn’t really out of the blue, was it?

“You know what I mean… I got your shirt” she addedlifting a bag.

“I couldn’t care any less about the shirt, Clarke”Bellamy said, his voice deep.

“I’ve made of these efforts to find the exact same oneas this ugly shirt you wore that day and you’re telling me you don’t care?That’s rude, Bellam-”

“Clarke, shut up” he said as he put a hand on herwaist and bringing her against his chest. She laughed and put a hand on it. Sheraised her eyes then, to meet his and smiled, biting her lips slowly.

“Could we date?” She repeated as his lips weredescending to hers. She was smiling way to much to be a proper kiss but shedidn’t care and he didn’t seem to either. She fold her arms behind his neck toput him even closer and he almost lost his balance.

“Let’s date” he finally said between kisses.

Octavia Blake posteda new picture of you.

Herewe go. Bellamy and Clarke being the worst couple ever. Delete them from theInternet please.

          Nathan Miller, Jasper Jordan,Raven Reyes and 54 others liked this.

credit to @mrsiriusblack​ for the last manip!