#Also I'm avoiding the death sentence FUCK YOU !!!

[introvertbard]

It's been long enough, but in case people still haven't watched it, SPOILERS FOR DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE!

So I cannot stand how heroin chic is coming back.

People are really saying Channing Tatum "got fat" and he's "too old" to play Gambit, "but he would have been great ten years ago :( " and I just have to stop and reconfigure my brain for a minute.

Omggggg kids these days can't even do fat-shaming right!

Like, my guys. Friends. The man constantly works out and has multiple beefcake photos from THIS YEAR. He looks thirty years old!!! I understand teens and twenty-year-olds think turning thirty is a death sentence, but that is NOT old! Assuming you avoid the "partying and addiction" traps, being a successful actor can basically put you in stasis! Your job means that you are SUPPOSED to look good for as long as you can, and you have the money to DO IT!

If people can drool over Wolverine's dehydrated magazine-shoot abs when Hugh Jackman is in his fifties, and I know because I'm also guilty of this, then do not say a fucking word about my boy Gambit played by someone a decade younger, whose best known role is literally a stripper, looking "bloated" or "stuffed into his coat."

Even if he got "fat," CHANNING WAS SUPPOSED TO PLAY GAMBIT. It's the execs' fault for yanking him around for ten years.

I foresee a shirtless scene somewhere, especially if Deadpool is around to talk about Magic Mike.

Gambit's coat is straining because it cannot hold his deltoids.

Stay mad about it.

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 2. Jackson

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, There Will Be Smut, eventually) Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You meet “the miller family” and get your sleeping arrangements. 1K Words.

Chapter 1 Here

Chapter 2. Jackson

Hours later, you approach the giant wooden gates of “Jackson” the community Joel had told you very little about on your journey here. Joel said approximately three sentences to you the entire time and you were so fucking exhausted you stayed quiet too. Surely to his relief. You see guards with rifles at the top of the gate staring you down and some on the other side of the gate as it opens. You look to Joel with fear and confusion in your eyes to which he just nods. What the fuck is all this, are you being walked to your inevitable execution, has this all been a ploy to get you here to use you for public entertainment, gladiator-style. Why did you agree, at least out there you could starve to death in peace.

Once inside the gates, a man with dark black hair, the same shade as yours but without your gray approaches with a charming smile but also a confused look on his face and he speaks with another southern drawl, “Howdy there, honey, you doin’ alright?” Looking between him and Joel, you realize how similar they look and how the younger man seems like the only person around who isn’t terrified of Joel. Who seems like he must be the town boogeyman by the looks on people’s faces with him around. “I’m Tommy, the handsome younger brother of your walking partner, here.” Again, looking at Joel with the mischievous treachery you imagine he did when the two boys were young, and Tommy was trying get under Joel’s skin.

“I’m uh,” you stumble over your words not sure if you should even tell these people your given name, but before you can decide what to say, Joel answers for you. “This is Ash, found her out there starvin’, alone, figured you could help her. Also, saw a clicker out there, took care of it.” You clock that Joel didn’t mention the clicker almost ripped your head off your neck and that he valiantly saved your life. Interesting, what’s his angle, to hold it over your head, make you think you owe him something. But he’s not even looking at you, he's looking down, avoiding you both. Tommy pipes in, “Okay… just out of the goodness of your heart, for me to help, okay, Joel. Well, Ash. Welcome to Jackson.”

He waves an arm out to the side and behind him to gesture to the town. You realize that you hadn’t even taken in your surroundings inside the gates, too overwhelmed by Tommy and Joel and everything you’re learning about this man who saved you. Jackson is a whole ass working fucking town. Lights, wait, LIGHTS? Electricity…is that a dog, like someone’s fucking pet. Oh my god, food, you smell food. Laughing, holy shit, people laughing. People, lots of them, old people, kids? Is that woman fucking pregnant and smiling and walking over here? “Hi, I’m Maria. I see you met my husband, Tommy.” You look at her stomach again, and her smile and her and Tommy’s hands when they entwine them together and your face, you know, is scrunched in confusion bordering on disgust, “I know, it’s overwhelming, take a deep breath, why don’t we get you something to eat,” Maria says calmly looking you over. Tommy let’s out a chuckle at your facial expression and seems to pick up on the fact that you can’t control your face and that it tells your every thought right on the surface. You nod and let them lead you to the dining hall.

-----------------------------------------

You’re seated in a relatively empty dining hall with Maria and Tommy, Joel hanging back by the door like a watch dog or bouncer. Is he protecting the town from you? God, as if you could hurt anyone here, a bit outnumbered. Prick.  You try not to eat like you’re as starved as you are but it’s very difficult. Maria and Tommy smile politely like two leaders that get a lot of enjoyment out of this moment, watching someone eat and relax before their eyes, it’s what they get to provide. It should freak you out but it all just feels so genuine. “JOEL! There you are!” A girl, with a low brown ponytail and a hoodie, who could be described as like Christina Ricci in Now and Then that tapes her boobs down and punches boys for sport, runs up to Joel and hugs him tight. Okay, he has a fucking kid. That hugs him like that and he’s still that big of an asshole? “Hey, hey baby girl,” he says softly petting her hair, “I’m okay, just got caught up in somethin’ out there on my way back but I’m okay, everythin’s okay.”  You can’t tear your eyes away from this absolutely shocking interaction and the girl’s eyes catch you and you quickly go back to eating only to see your plate is empty, so you look back up at Joel and the girl. She slaps his arm as hard as she can, “How long have you been back and why didn’t you come tell me you were here, you dick and who is that woman staring at us?”

You cough, panicked, Maria and Tommy still watching you and sharing knowing smiles like they’re watching a damn play. Joel sternly says, “Ellie. Don’t-.” But she’s already stalking toward you, “Hello there, why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” And you don’t know what comes over you, but you burst out laughing. Like a full belly laugh, tears in your eyes laughing. Maria and Tommy follow quickly and Ellie eventually starts up too despite trying to act tough moments earlier. Joel makes his way over frowning at all of you like you’ve lost it. Still giggling, you ask, “How the hell do you know that saying it’s from like 30 years ago. People don’t even have cameras anymore; wait, do you guys have cameras here?” Ellie laughs, “I like you, who are you?” “Hi, I’m Ash,” Joel looks up at you when you use his nickname for you, “Nice to meet you. Your dad saved my life from a clicker and brought me here.” Tommy and Maria look stunned at your admission and all three of them whip their heads around to Joel who just clears his throat, frowns and shakes his head.

“He’s not technically my dad but..cool. Well, I’m glad you’re here and not dead,” Ellie smiles big and turns to Joel, shoulder-checking him. “Look at you, ya old softy, saving lives and bringing in newbies, who woulda thought. I’m heading home, see ya later, old man. See you around, Ash!” As Ellie leaves, Joel and you exchange a look, you can’t read exactly what’s going on in those eyes of his but he’s clearly fighting something, maybe he’s pissed you saw him interact like that, soft and nurturing with his daughter. But it wasn’t your fault, you’re just… there. Still feeling his eyes on you is burning you up from the inside, awakening something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. Something that feels an awful lot like desire.

Tommy walks over to Joel and quietly says something you can’t make out. All you hear is Joel saying “No” and Tommy saying “Please” and then Joel sighing, again. Tommy then turns to speak to you, “Look Ash, we’ve got limited space at the moment, we’re working on clearing some small apartments above the shops on main street for people living alone but it’s a few weeks before that’ll be done. For now, we’d like you to stay in the guest room at Joel and Ellie’s. She’s staying in the garage out back so you’ll be in the main house with Joel till we can get you into a new place.” You immediately look at Joel whose eyes are staring daggers at you and if he wasn’t so fucking hot, you might have been scared, but instead you feel the heat of whatever this is between you right at the apex of your legs. Then, your face betrays you, like it always does and all you can do is smirk, you actually fucking smirk at him, and he turns and walks away so fast you almost have to run to catch up.

[rottenpumpkin13]

It’s time to upgrade the vehicle choice to the company helicopters. AGSZC and the Turks + Rufus, who is the best, the worst, and the one who can fly it but can’t land it.

• Sephiroth is an excellent pilot, probably the most competent you'll find. He learned to fly helicopters when he was very young, has a knack for handling even the toughest situations, and his composure and precise maneuvers make him the go-to pilot in any crisis.

*Sephiroth is flying the helicopter*

Lazard: You're going a little too fast.

Sephiroth: Have you ever considered crashing a helicopter, faking your own death, and then living on a deserted island with stray cats until you can repurpose the helicopter’s parts to build a weapon for exacting revenge on your enemies?

Lazard: NO?

• Genesis boasts that he's the best pilot around and can indeed fly fairly well. But he requires intense focus and hates any distractions. He will snap at anyone who tries to talk to him while he's flying. ....scratch that, it depends on the topic.

*In the helicopter, Angeal sneezes*

Genesis: DON'T TALK TO ME! I WILL FLY US INTO THE FUCKING SUN I SWEAR TO THE GODDESS! THEY WILL BE FINDING VESTIGES OF OUR CORPSES FOR YEARS! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?

Angeal: I think you should scream less.

*Genesis abandons the control*

Genesis: Did you just say loveless? Because I was thinking about the beauty of 'world's end' in act one, and—

Angeal: WE'RE FALLING

• It's a mystery how Angeal passed the pilot test, and even he's baffled why they keep entrusting him with the helicopter. He wishes they'd stop assigning him flying duties.

*Angeal is flying the helicopter*

Angeal: Are you sure I should be flying this thing?

Sephiroth: Of course. You're the responsible one.

*Angeal is flying the helicopter in circles*

Sephiroth: I trust you to land this helicopter responsibly.

*Angeal misses the helipad completely and is now doing zig zags*

Sephiroth: I value your responsibility.

*They are literally upside down*

Sephiroth: Land the helicopter, Angeal.

Angeal: LaNd tHe HeLiCoPtEr AnGeAl—WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M TRYING TO DO?

*And now they're flying into the side of the building*

Sephiroth: Meet the goddess.

• Zack is completely bewildered as to why no one trusts him to fly a helicopter. Sure, he might have driven a car into a ditch once, and maybe he accidentally set a motorcycle on fire, but he's confident in his flying skills! He insists he's super competent and is always ready to prove it—just ask anyone (except Tseng. Tseng hears "Zack Fair" and "helicopter" in the same sentence and has a nervous breakdown).

*In the helicopter*

Zack: Thanks for coming with me. For some reason, the other guys are too scared to fly with me.

Cloud, wearing a helmet, extra padding, and holding a rosary: WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WE CRASHED! WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN!

Zack: Are you dead?

Cloud: No, but—

Zack: Success.

• Cloud's piloting skills are on par with Sephiroth's....though no one knew this until the first time he flew a helicopter.....Cloud doesn't have a license....people are confused and scared.

*Cloud is flying the helicopter*

Sephiroth: Strife, your piloting skills are excellent. Where did you learn to fly like this?

Cloud: Oh, I never learned.

Sephiroth: But you're flying the helicopter.

Cloud: Nothing gets past you, does it, sir?

Sephiroth:

• Rufus is adept at flying helicopters, but he rarely flies them because he has pilots and the turks to fly him anywhere he wants. He's also very stubborn.

Tseng: Sir, you might want to slow down a bit.

Rufus: I know what I'm doing, Tseng. I'll have you know that I fly better than most birds.

*Rufus doesn't avoid the incoming flock of birds and nearly crashes the helicopter into the building*

Rufus: ......

Tseng: They heard you.

[jellybeanium124]

Do you legitimately think men don't harass women in bathrooms? Like genuinely? Cause I can tell you right now, my middle and high school had shared bathrooms and the boys absolutely fucking harassed the girls all the fucking time.

To make fun of them when they heard period product wrappers and to make sex jokes.

I'd love to live in your world where people avoid eye contact in bathrooms 100% of the time, but alas, some of us live in the real world.

You not having a shitty experience with a predator or an abuser doesn't mean others have never experiences such.

I'm sorry that happened to you and I am aware this thing happens sometimes.

on an unrelated note, trans women are women. they aren't men. and they are much, much more likely (MUCH MORE!!!!!!!) to be assaulted than do the assaulting.

on a third unrelated note, you can go into whatever bathroom you want because there are no bathroom police. I (cis woman) have gone into multi-stalled men's bathrooms multiple times and nothing happened. I did not cross dress in order to do it. I didn't have to! because there are no bathroom police. I especially did not have to go thru the mega-hassle of getting T or doing any other sort of medical transition. I walked in there, boobs boobing, hair long, no make-up, and did my business and left. crazy how you can just like, walk thru doorways, huh. that's always the thing that gets me about your arguments. you can go into whatever bathroom you want, and so can everyone else, and the only thing stopping you are societal rules we impose on ourselves. there is no potty police. no bathroom brigade. no privy vigilantes. no can commanders. no facility fighters.

on a fourth unrelated note (brought to you by innuendo studios), you are falling for the conservative framework where bad things either happen, or they don't. school shootings happen or they don't. people either die from preventable illnesses or they don't. sexual assaults either happen or they don't. therefore there's no point to doing anything about it because you can't regulate evil. or, really, you can't regulate all evil. there is no world where every single assault, shooting, death from preventable illness, or whatever doesn't happen. you are leaving absolutely no room for scale. if one woman gets assaulted in the bathroom, then assaults happen and we all need to fear the penis!!!! when that's just not the world we live in. penises are not evil contraptions of the devil constantly trying to penetrate you. most people, regardless of gender, do not give a shit about you. most people mind their own damn business. nobody is out to get you. men are not constantly thinking about preying on you. they're probably thinking about football. or work. or music. or their kids. or shopping they need to do. or about their blorbos. or about plans this saturday they're looking forward to. or a million billion things that have absolutely nothing to do with you, some stranger they will never see again.

I'm not saying we should all go walk down strange dark alleyways at night hugging the wall but like... I am really genuinely sorry if you spend all your time afraid and angry. I've perused terf blogs on occasion. all y'all are afraid and angry all the time. and sure, that's just a tumblr blog. idk what you do offline. but anyways, you don't have to be afraid and angry all the time. you shouldn't be in a community that constantly affirms your worst fears in order to keep you afraid and angry. terfs prey on hurt, confused, scared women and tell them "yes, all men are evil!" and "yes, you are valuable just for being a woman!" and suck them into this ideology of hate (ironically this sentence is also a borrowed observation from the alt-right playbook, and maybe the fact that your movement does the same thing to you as the alt-right does to vulnerable, hurt, confused, and scared cishet white men should be a red flag but idk).

maybe that just sounds patronizing. but I mean it. you really don't have to be afraid and angry all the time.

but if you send me any more asks especially if they're nastier you're getting blocked.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE *  assorted (and slightly adapted to suit this meme format) dialogue from the book by casey mcquiston, adjust as necessary

on purpose. i love him on purpose.

i've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden.

i'm going to have you offed. you'll never see it coming.

take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.

get in there.

you're literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state.

before you, i was all right letting everything happen to me.

i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.

sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again?

you've been warned.

he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.

my life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person.

hey, have i told you lately that you're brave?

i honestly have never thought i deserved to choose.

we're gonna make it work. you and me and history, remember?

if you finish that sentence, i'm gonna spend tonight in jail.

but the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.

i actively wish for the sweet release of death.

yes, good, carry on.

i won't hear a word against it.

we're gonna do it together.

i said you look great, baby!

i meet you in every dream, and when i wake i cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.

i'm so in love i could die.

you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse.

i wonder if it's too late to swan dive off the roof.

i'm learning all your hidden depths today, sweetheart.

you must invent an entirely new system.

a curious thing about grief is the way it takes your entire life, all those foundational years that made you who you are, and makes them so painful to look back on.

he's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is.

i've bloody well had it!

we can unpack the ironic symbolism later.

that's beyond our sense of decorum!

i'm not afraid of anything i feel. i'm afraid of saying it. i'm only afraid of what happens when i do.

aw, you do care.

if there's any legacy for me on this earth, i want it to be true.

straight people probably don't spend this much time convincing themselves that they're straight.

the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed.

you are the absolute worst idea i've ever had.

should i tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams?

can you perhaps stop putting your sodding life in danger now?

what are we even defending here?

history will remember us.

when i sleep, i see you.

i hate this so much.

every person who bears a legacy makes the choice of a partner with whom they will share it with.

we're just gonna fucking fight.

he is my choice.

i can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault.

i've been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mom.

when i wake up in the morning, it feels like i've just been with you.

i can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache.

your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing.

for a few moments, i can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all.

the phrase 'see attached bibliography' is the single sexiest thing you have ever written me.

i promise you, one day we'll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.

i want to set myself on fire, but i can't afford for anyone to see me burn.

you see, for me, memories are difficult.

never tell me the odds.

i wish there weren't a wall.

jesus christ, it's like they can see into your soul.

you're it, okay? i'm never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you.

i'm finished. i don't care.

god, i want to fight everyone who's ever hurt you.

the whole world watched, and history remembered.

are you quite finished?

just so we're clear. i'm about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family.

you insane, hopeless romantic little shit.

[harveythememusfr]

Bisexual rishi sunak makes an appearance on your account, this is insane

and so the cycle continues (i get hyperfixated on something before quickly moving on a day or two after)

[reve-writes]

—you bury me; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 1,1k words. ʚ leon and reader finishes a mission. | can be read as a continuation of rotten work. ʚ injuries; zombies and stuff; fluff (no one dies dw). ʚ a/n more of my attempt to write slightly flirty banters between reader and leon. i learned the phrase "you bury me" aka "ya'aburnee" and my life has never been the same.

There are times when you think Leon is invincible, like he has come alive straight out of the pages of a comic book. He barrels through the undead like a machine—all tough exterior and deadly shooting accuracy that has your jaw dropping with awe.

And then, there are times when you are reminded he isn't. He is no untouchable otherworldly alien born with diamond-hard skin and superhuman strength. He's just flesh and bone knitted together and he bleeds. Despite his might, he's just one bad day away from an infection just as everyone else.

“Fuck,” he curses, face all red and chest heaving. “Goddamnit. Fuck.”

Your hands are trembling as you reload your magazine. The scene replays over and over in your mind: rotten jaw unhinging so close to his neck, teeth within biting distance and you think your entire world is coming to a halt.

Leon swivels out of the way just in time.

You're not a religious person, but for that one split second he avoids the death sentence, you think you should sing praises and grateful prayers.

“Are you okay?” You ask over guns blazing. Your magazine finally clicks in and you start opening fire to the growing hoard of zombies around you.

“Never been better,” he replies through gritted teeth. It was a dumb question to ask. You know he's not faring well—he is limping across the field, left foot practically being dragged behind him. He uses one hand to shoot, the other has an open gash through his short-fingered glove down his palm. His sweat-slicked forehead is also red with blood from a cut just over his eyebrow.

“Lean on me,” you tell him, moving to hoop his left arm around your shoulder. He's not a small man—what with trained muscles over his bones and a figure that slightly towers over you. “Let me help you, Leon.”

He tries to shake himself off of you. “Just get to the extraction point.”

“We'll get there quicker if you would—”

“Just run!”

“And what? Leave you here to be their dinner?” You protest, forcefully pushing yourself under his arm. “No way. I haven't even gotten a taste.”

Leon—even with the miserable situation you are in—chuckles. “Really? Is this the right time?”

He relents and lets you hobble him along. The field stretches long—somewhere off of a rural village whose residents are now nothing more than grotesque-looking undead. You've made it two-thirds of the way.

Bullets fly left and right, both from you and Leon. “Shut up, Leon. Walk faster.”

“Told you to run, didn't I?”

Your breathing is laboured from the Sisyphean effort. “Out of the question. I can't have your death on my conscience.”

“Not dying that easily, don't worry.”

He better not.

The helicopter engine roars in your ears as you step closer, dusty air stinging your eyes. You hear gunshots from your rescuer, covering you from nearby zombies. Your whole body is burning when you're finally hauled into the chopper with Leon. You finally let your muscles loosen, tension melting away as the engine roars to life under you.

The rest occurs in quick motion blurs. The usual mission reports and check-ups and then you're walking out the door with a patched-up, healthier-looking Leon by your side.

“Shouldn't they keep you on bedrest?” You ask. “Can't have anything happen to their golden boy.”

“They tried to.” He shrugs. “I'm fine, though.”

You stare at him, disbelief apparent in your wide-eyed expression. “Fine? How are you fine?”

You gesture to the walking stick he tucks under his arm and his splined foot. He waves a hand dismissively. “I've had worse.”

“You were so close to getting bit.”

The words echo into a drawn-out silence as the meaning truly sinks into him. It is strange, the numbness he has developed to the thought of dying. Constant exposure to mortal peril has desensitised him, he supposes.

“I watched it almost happen and for a terrible moment I thought that you were going turn into... into—”

“I didn't.”

He's right. You find comfort in knowing that he is still standing, that he's not going down so easily, but even Leon Kennedy is merely human.

“You know, if things ever go to shit, I hope I... go before you do.”

He's not following. Not exactly. “How come?”

“Don't worry about it.” You don't elaborate, but you know you mean it. A world without Leon Kennedy sounds like a world you don't want to be a part of. As much as he makes you want to tear your hair out, he's the only person who understands and shares your burdens.

He hums thoughtfully, frowning, but ends up chalking it up to your usual rambling. “Okay, then. I'll catch you later.”

He starts walking to the car they've provided for him—chauffeur and all. Must be nice to be the golden boy. Before he has even walked three steps away, you grab his wrist with a slight tug and he halts.

“Go home,” you request. “You better not go and get wasted in some bar. Rest, Leon. You deserve it.”

“I wasn't going to.”

The look in his eyes says that he is most definitely going to drink his sorrows away.

“You're so unbelievably stubborn.”

“Look who's talking.” He holds up his wrist that you're still grabbing, wriggling it out of your grasp to press his palm on yours, fingers interlocking. “Also, if you wanted to hold hands, you could've just asked.”

“You—”

“I seem to also recall you saying something along the lines of wanting to have a taste—”

“Leon,” you interrupt immediately, not wanting to drag out the embarrassment that he's oh-so-generously giving you. “I mean it. Get some rest.”

“What are you? My parent?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You need to recover well. The world needs saving and I need my mission partner.”

His hand is still warm over on yours, now hanging low by your side and the two of you look almost normal. Just two people holding hands waiting for their ride.

“You're cute when you worry about me.”

That has an involuntary smile to bloom on your face as you've used the same line on him before.

“Only when I worry?”

“And on other occasions.” This has you dizzy.

“Well.” He drops your hand and it twitches, already missing the spaces between his fingers. “I better get going.”

He gestures at the impatient-looking driver who has been sitting there the entire time. You shake your head at him. “Poor guy.”

“I'll call.” He gets into the passenger seat. You're standing just a step away from the rolled-down window.

“I might pick up.”

Before he has a chance to retort, you gesture the driver to go ahead and the car speeds off at once, leaving you to spend the rest of the day constantly checking if your phone has rung.

[ ]

[harryforvogue]

hi this is the first date fic that i deleted out of hatred about two months ago. sorry for that! i won't write a part 2 but due to demands, i'm reposting this. fank u <3 harry and yasmine of course.

***

“I want to take you out,” Harry says while clearing the dishes.

Yasmine looks up at him, alarmed. “I haven't wronged you that much, I’d argue.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No. Out. On a proper date.”

“Oh.” Yasmine frowns. “You don’t have to.”

He puts the dishes into the sink, mentally vowing to do them before they go to sleep. Or just him, if Yasmine doesn’t want to stay over in his room for a second night in a row. He’ll try his hardest to convince her anyways. He’s a master at persuasion, but his girlfriend is also as stubborn as a fucking rock.

“Why not?” He returns to her on the couch, throwing an arm over the back. “You really don’t think I’m romantic? I’ll let you know that I’m great at all that stuff. And when finals begin, we’ll get too busy with grading and studying so I think it’s a great time to do that now.”

Yasmine looks torn, which really perplexes him. “Are you so worried about being seen with me, Yasmine?” he jokes.

“No,” she answers slowly. Too slowly. She looks back at the TV. “It’s just that I haven’t been on a real date like that before.”

“Poor baby. But I haven’t even told you what we're going to do. You might hate the idea.”

“The fact that you called it a real date tells me all I need to know.”

He smiles, the back of his hand brushing against her shoulder. “You’ve never been on something called a real date?”

“I don’t think so.”

She looks so cute, frowning like that. He can’t help it. He leans over and kisses her head. She scowls at him. He doesn’t mind a single bit. 

Yasmine doesn’t pull away though. After staring him down with her dark, intimidating eyes, she leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “Fine. We can go on a date.”

“Don’t make it sound like it’s a death sentence, Yasmine.”

“It depends on where you’ll take me.”

He leans his head on hers. “We’ve never gone to a good restaurant and had overly expensive yet mediocre food? Never went out for dessert either and swapped food. That’s what they do in romance movies.”

Yasmine takes his hand and puts it in her lap She squeezes her fingers around his before beginning to play with his rings. “And how many, on average, romance movies do you usually watch, Harry?”

“Oh plenty. I take notes too.”

“You’ve gotta let me see them sometime.”

He says, “No way. Take your own notes.”

“I don’t watch romance movies. Not as much as you apparently.”

He shrugs. “I’m a man with taste, what can I say? Maybe if you switched out a horror movie with a romance once in a while, you would–”

Yasmine shudders. “I’d never do that.”

“I seriously don’t understand how you don’t have nightmares. The last movie we watched, we literally saw someone get sliced in half.”

“And it was wonderful.”

He gives her a look. “Have you considered therapy?”

“Even more therapy? Give me a break.”

Harry’s arm is completely around her now. She’s left her hair out so it brushes against his cheek. He doesn’t mind that either, enjoying the feel of her soft strands. She usually keeps her hair in ponytails or buns, so he takes advantage and runs his fingers through it.

For some reason, Yasmine immediately feels the need to explain herself. “When I showered this morning, I didn’t dry it so I couldn't put it up.”

Harry shakes his head. “I love when it’s down.”

To this, Yasmine scowls again. “Stop.”

“I can’t stop.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He bites his inner cheek to avoid smiling. “I’m looking at you how I always do.” His fingers trail down, ghosting over her jaw. “Can you give me a kiss?”

Apparently not only has she never been on a real date, but she’s also never been with someone who shows her affection so outwardly. When she gets embarrassed, her defenses immediately go up, hence the blush currently spreading across her cheeks.

“No.”

“No?” He tilts his head. “Please?”

“No.” She looks away. “Go away actually.”

Harry laughs softly, wrapping his other arm around her too. He lifts her up into his lap and tightens his hold, making sure she can’t get away. Yasmine doesn’t exactly push him away, but doesn’t look at him either.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, kissing her head again. “We’re dating. I’m allowed to–”

“You say things like that,” Yasmine interrupts, her face hot to the touch, “out of nowhere. It catches me off guard.”

He laughs again. “Okay. Sorry. I will give you warnings before I say something similar.”

“Good.”

“Yasmine.”

She begrudgingly turns her head. “What?”

“I am going to say something very ridiculously romantic and cheesy. Please brace yourself.”

Her jaw tightens. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Can I say it? Please, oh please?”

She crosses her arms. “Go ahead,” she mutters.

“I think,” he says quietly, twirling her hair between his fingers, “that you are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. And I’d really really like for you to kiss me.”

Yasmine’s face is so red, Harry wants to laugh once more, but he holds back, watching the words settle around in her head. “I hate you,” she whispers, her hands balled into fists. “You just say things.”

“I do say things,” he whispers back. “Because I want you to know precisely how I feel. I reckon one of us should be good at communication.”

“I am wonderful at communicating!”

“Oh yeah?”

Her lips thin. “Don’t oh yeah me.”

“Does it bother you? Poor baby.”

Yasmine’s eyes are narrowed. She stares at him menacingly for a full 3 seconds before her fingers slide into his hair, and she kisses him so deeply, he’s pushed back into the sofa. His grip tightens around her waist, a smile curling onto his lips. She may not be good at communicating verbally, but her body language gives it all away. She’s just as infatuated as he is. Harry’s other hand holds the back of her head. Fuck, he thinks to himself when she slides her hands down and grabs his collar, pushing herself further into his lap. She pulls away to steal a quick breath and then kisses him again. This woman.

Harry tilts his head back and lets her adjust herself on his thighs, her knees on either side of his hips. It seems like they always fall into this position whenever one of them is over and the other’s place, and if they’re together, he’d very much rather be doing this. No wonder they haven’t gone on a “real date” when this is all they do.

Yasmine pulls off of him, her eyes a bit glazed over but the frown still intact. It’s honestly impressive how dedicated she is to being upset with him. He cups her face. “You like me so bad.”

“I don’t!” she answers breathlessly.

“Are you refusing to go on a date with me because we can’t be doing this in public? Trust me, when I get you home, we’ll do this and so much more.”

She pinches his earlobe. “That’s not it.”

“I’d love to know what it really is then.”

Yasmine looks away, removing her hands from his collar, tucking them into her lap. She sighs and stays silent for some time while gathering her thoughts. Harry only watches her, too mesmerized by the expressions on her face before she speaks. 

“I don’t know what to do on a date.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “What to…do?”

“Yeah,” she grumbles. “How to be normal.”

“Well, I can pick the first place to go. I actually had something in mind. Something we’d both like.”

She sighs again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that dates are awkward and so far we haven’t been like that so I don’t want it to sneak up on us.”

Harry smiles. “Yasmine, first dates are definitely awkward. But we’ve been together for two months now. I don’t think there’s any weirdness between us or you wouldn’t be sitting in my lap right now.”

As expected, she immediately goes to roll away. He snickers and holds her down.

“Besides,” Harry says. “I think we get along very well. I just want to treat you to something nice. I didn’t think it would take this amount of convincing just to get you to go to dinner with me.”

“We’ve had dinner together.”

“I most certainly don’t hope you mean at the dining hall.”

“No…” She very clearly does.

He gathers her up in his arms. “Dinner this weekend then.”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me?”

“I tried that. Now I’m ordering you.” He kisses her softly. “You will have dinner with me this weekend or else.”

She frowns. “Or else what?”

“Or else I will make you watch my favorite movie with me.”

She blinks.

“Of the Star Wars variety,” he finishes.

“No!” 

“Yes!”

She starts wiggling out of his hold so he lets her go. She’s on her feet. “You can’t make me!”

“Oh I can and I will.” He shrugs. “Wear something fancy, by way. I’m paying so all you have to do, my frightening girl, is show up and provide me with your company. It won’t be that bad.” He reaches for her hand. “Come on. I know you want to go out with me. I can tell.”

She doesn’t deny it this time. He’s mentioned the date so many times, so she's probably accustomed to the idea now. When she answers, it’s a nod, and when she tells him it’s late and she needs to go back, Harry tugs on her hand until she falls against him and says, “Wanna stay?”

(Yasmine’s glad he asked because there’s no chance in hell she’d straight up give him the satisfaction of asking him.)

***

At night, they’re cuddling in his bed when Yasmine suddenly turns her lamp on and moves to face him. He’s had his face buried in her hair, arms around her tight from behind, ankles crossed with hers. His eyes open when she turns, adjusting his hold.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey back.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“I’m answering, so I guess not.”

“Hmm.” She searches blindly for his hand. He laces their fingers together. “When you say dress fancy, what does that mean? I don’t think I have fancy clothes.”

He closes his eyes. “You remember that one dress you wore a while back? The one that kind had a corset sort of middle?”

The silence that follows is so deafening, Harry opens his eyes to check if she’s fallen asleep. Instead, she’s staring at him with a weird look.

“What?” he murmurs.

“I only own one corset dress. The black one?”

“Mhm,” Harry says. “That one. The one with the sleeves that kept falling down your shoulders. So pretty.”

“I wore it a year ago.”

“Yeah.”

“How the hell do you remember that?”

He smiles. “Remember everything about you.”

“You didn’t even know me then.”

Harry hugs her. “I’ve always known you, Yasmine. You just never looked at me.”

“Oh I did plenty of looking.”

“Looking not ogling.”

“I don’t ogle!”

“Sure. But yes, wear that. With those black heels boots you wear with your dress pants for seminars. And leave your hair out.”

“You have so many demands.”

“Don’t let them fool you,” he murmurs. “I like you just as much in sweatpants.” Yasmine’s silent again. Harry chuckles. “Too much?”

“You are always too much,” she whispers. Despite her words, she snuggles in closer. He kisses her forehead.

Yasmine doesn’t ask him any more questions. She falls asleep against him, still holding his hand.

***

The day of the date comes, and Harry’s gone all out. Currently, he’s standing by her door, bouncing on his heels with anticipation.

He doesn’t even have the time to compliment her outfit and her beautiful hair. Yasmine looks at him and then the flowers in his hand, and then promptly shuts the door in his face. Harry leans against the frame and laughs quietly. “Oh come on! I couldn’t resist it.”

“No.”

“We don’t have to take them with us.” He reaches for the door handle, stepping into her apartment. “I just wanted to see that look on your face.”

He holds the flowers out to her, looking at her pointedly. “Go on. Take them.”

She slowly wraps her hands around the stems and takes them. As expected, her face is flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“You look beautiful,” he continues, sweeping her into his arms. “The dress is just how I remembered.” 

Yasmine pulls the dress down a bit. “A little short though.”

“Oh I know.”

“Of course you do.” 

Harry watches her set the flowers neatly on her kitchen counter. She turns to him. “You look great too.”

“I know.” Harry’s gone for a more casual look with a black shirt, jeans, and a jacket. He has a hand tucked into his pocket, and he can tell just from how she’s looking at him that he looks damn well better than just “great.”

He holds a hand out. “Are you ready for a wonderful night with just me and you?”

She takes his hand and lets him tug her close. “Yes, however, I’ve thought a lot about it and I can’t agree with you paying for it all.”

“No, Yasmine. This is a real date.”

“I mean it.”

“I mean it too.” He holds her chin. “I really am.” 

“We’ll see.”

“Yasmine,” he murmurs. “No.” He bends down to kiss her gently. “Now let's go. We’ve got reservations and I’ve got an Uber waiting downstairs.”

“Oh I can–”

“Which has already been paid for.”

She’s staring dagger at him when he smiles, pulls away, and begins to lead her out the door. When she’s finished locking up, he takes her hand, and starts to walk to the elevator.

“It’s going to be a good night,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I promise.”

[fluideli123]

[IMAGE ID: User @yikes077 replied: Did Deadpool want to be a hero? He specifically spent 2 whole movies avoiding the x men, not wanting to be a hero, and actively being bad at being a hero / END ID]

I wanted to answer your reply in a separate post since I had a lot I wanted to explain! For those who want to know the original post this was asked on, here is a link!

For a short, precise answer: Yes, Deadpool wanted to be a hero.

But if you want an response that answers your curiosity and more? I'm more than happy to explain all three movies and how they build up and showcase Wade Wilson's Guide To Wanting To Be A Hero But Never Being Able To Achieve It.

It all started in the first movie in the very first act in which Wade threatens the pants off a pizza delivery man he was paid to make apologize and rethink his life choices. This was because there was a young woman who was being affected by the guys stalker tendencies. The young girl, looking at Wade's hard work for getting the job done, calls him her Hero.

Now Wade immediately deflects, refusing to be under that title because, "I'm just a bad guy paid to fuck up worse guys."

This explains how Wade originally viewed himself before he was forcefully mutated. He doesn't see himself as a hero because he's a bad guy. In his opinion Heroes are good, they don't go about things the way he does, which is threats, blood, guts, and stirring shit up at a merc bar.

Later on, when he discovers he has Cancer and is told he can not only be cured but become a Hero, he cries it out and than leaves in the middle of the night. Why? Because in his eyes being a Hero is saving the people you love and he was saving Vanessa by leaving her. To keep her from the ugliness he oozes with his terminal disease. He chose to do something he deemed Heroic for the reasons Heroes do.

It's seen very frequently that Heroes will sacrifice something they cherish in order to save something else, especially if that other person means more than what they sacrificed. Being Heroic is all about doing stupid shit in the same of love. Spider-Man did it, getting revenge for Uncle Ben. Hell, if you've ever seen The Crow (1994) Eric does everything in his power to bring a bunch of assholes to justice for the shit they pulled. Even Death Sentence (2007) applies!

Is it Spider-Man's finest moment nearly taking that shot to get revenge? Did Eric spend his time correctly instead of getting himself killed? Did the father really need to get the rest of his family killed for his prized son? You can have your own opinion on it, but at the end of the day when you do something for the sake of others, no matter how fucked up it is and how much it sacrifices everything, it is a version of Heroism.

Heroism isn't pretty and can't be fit into perfect boxes because that's just against not only human nature, but the very act of complex Heroing itself. To be a hero it's about being between a rock and a hard place 24/7, being the cause for lives lost and lives saved. And if you think Heroing is entirely selfless than Miles Morales would have to be kicked from the field. He does everything for the people he loves, to make the world a better place for them.

So, Wade goes and gets himself mutated. He does it for Vanessa, to make life better for her. He doesn't see her to make it easier on her and himself, because the thing is that Wade Wilson hates himself even before the mutation.

He doesn't think he's worth a damn and crawling back to someone he became a monster to save is like the hardest fucking thing to do. One, because you're scared shitless of their reaction because you care about it. But also just, because will you be hurting or helping? Wade dances around Vanessa not because he's being an asshole but because he is fucking paralyzed by the thought of hurting her, seeing the hurt he's already caused.

In the second movie because he was witnessed literally saving Vanessa's life which is blatant Heroism 101 despite still believing he isn't worth shit. Because, my beloved, dear, scrumptious reader, self hatred affects people a shit ton and when they place a title in high regard and believe they are so much more below it, unworthy to even reach it because he "is incapable" being the stereotypical hero. Of course he's going to deny it. It's like being denied you're loved, you don't feel like you should be because you feel like you've done nothing to earn it.

But Colossus hasn't given up on him, Wade has been trying but he isn't like the other heroes. He doesn't understand the No Kill rule, he doesn't know how to defuse situations without being an ass and he sure as fuck doesn't fit the public image of what a hero is in the MCU. So, yeah, you're right, he is actively bad at being a hero. But a specific label of hero. A specific ideal. An expectation he's incapable of reaching because it means removing half if not all of himself.

That doesn't mean he doesn't want it, though. Because if he doesn't than why try at all? Why try to help Vanessa? Russel? His family? He fucks up on the job in the second movie to PROVE he isn't worth the hero label, that his existence actively goes against it. Using my example from before, it's like doing something actively bad just to prove how much you're unlovable.

If you want further explanation on how this shows up in the third movie, I recommend this post I made.

But either way, I hope this explains how Wade wants to be a Hero but actively sabotages himself and doesn't believe he can be because he's aware of all his faults and so do others. Because, in the end, Wade cares and tries to do something about it. He genuinely does, and I think that's meaningful in a way he isn't able to accept as a character currently.

[irisintheafterglow]

Hi, first of all I would like to say that your blog gives me so much comfort. You seem like such a loving and kind person and I love to read your writing. I adore the co-parenting series and am honestly looking forward to reading more parts <3 (no pressure tho, just wanted to say that I love it)

Actually, I wanted to make a request. The song 'Deep Sea' by 'Snail Mail' has been stuck in my head for weeks, the lyrics kill me every time and I could imagine some heartbreaking angst based on the song. I saw that you don’t write reader or character deaths and it doesn’t have to be that. Maybe a breakup or something like that, it’s really up to you and up to whatever the song might inspire you to write. For the pairing I love Gojo and also Getou or Choso, but I just want you to write whoever you like! 🤪

I had the idea for that request earlier today and made a post about it (that I have since deleted) because you came to my mind and I just really wanted to try my luck and ask you if you would maybe like to write about it 💞

Hope you’re having a great day, thank you <3

it took so long to know someone like you (gojo x you)

cw: breakup, chest-aching angst, swearing, emotionally constipated satoru where he doesn't know how to be vulnerable with someone so his first instinct is to push them away :))))))))))

note: HI!!! thank you for the love, i'm so sorry that this is so late, hopefully you still like it. pro tip, listen to travis atreo's cover of "when she loved me" along with the song mentioned to make reading this extra painful. again, thank you for the love and the ask. i hope you like this!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

"don't look at me like that."

"if you don't like it, stop looking," you laugh humorlessly, feeling your heart twist like a wet rag with every shallow breath. "you just told me you don't want me; i think it's valid i can look however i want." your voice breaks off at the end of the sentence and you blink at the darkening clouds above. a storm was coming, but you felt like one had already devastated you.

"that-that's not what i meant," he says through gritted teeth, avoiding your glaring eyes in shame. "i just need a break. is that so bad?" every word felt like a separate cut to your soul and you were slowly bleeding out in the fucking mall parking lot.

"but, why? i'm just not good enough for you?" you practically spit your questions like snake venom. you hoped they stung, hoped the burned into his memory like his promises that he'd give you a future. high and mighty gojo satoru, reduced to a puddle in your arms and vowing that he was yours forever. pathetic. "finally got tired of me, is that it?"

"no," he croaked. "no, no. i just-i don't know who i am when i'm with you." the sky was falling and you hoped the ground crumbled beneath your muddy shoes. "and, that scares me."

"you don't like who you are when you're with me," you echo hollowly, taking a shaky breath and pulling your jacket closer to your body like a safety blanket. "that's really a shame, since i really liked how you were with me," you huff another painfully mirthless laugh that turns into a sob. on instinct, he reaches out to touch you but you pull away like he was radioactive waste. "making all those lofty promises, letting me think that i was your forever and eternity and everything after that. you're really an asshole for that one, you know that?"

"i never said anything like that," he protests even though you know damn well that he's lying. raindrops start to catch on his hair, making it glisten like he was sent from heaven. too bad his words didn't match. "even if i said those things, i can't guarantee i actually meant it, so i'm sorry."

ouch.

"you're sorry? you're sorry?" you have to take a step backward or else you'd have actually slammed your knuckles against his infuriatingly perfect cheek. "gee, thanks! i'll remember that next time anyone says they love me," you hiss and relish in the way he flinches. "they could just be kidding, after all, right? stupid me." it took so long to finally get through to him, to stand steady enough that he let down his walls, and suddenly he was throwing them up again and shutting you out.

if you were completely honest and without your stubborn pride, you'd admit that you understood what he was talking about. it was a little lonely being with him, especially when you didn't have any more time for self-discovery without worrying about another human being. you lost track of time when you were with him and lost a little bit of yourself, too, and you weren't sure if he was adequately filling that emptiness. you had no idea how to discuss it, let alone navigate it, and it struck a crack that only grew larger. neither of you knew how to cope with this, it seemed, and that's how you ended up sobbing on the asphalt in front of the man you believed you were going to marry.

"don't you wonder who we could be without each other? we could be anyone," he insists but nothing gets through to you.

"i don't know who i am without you, satoru," you whisper defeatedly and it's like you can hear his heart start to crumble. he did this to you, and you watched him realize it in real-time. he didn't know what he was saying anymore. he felt too far deep in that he didn't remember why he was asking for a break in the first place. all that he knew was that he was hurting you and every nerve in his body screamed at him to fix it, fix it, fix it. you sigh tiredly, shivering in the cold sheets of water that were starting to fall. "look, if you need time, then take it. take all that you need."

"but-"

"no. i can't do this to myself if you won't even try anymore. goodbye satoru. a stupid part of me still loves you." as you slip into your car and accelerate away from him, he doesn't have the chance to say it back.

to tell you that the stupid whole of him still loved you, too.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[lordadmiralfarsight]

I (main blog of avantlalettre) will butcher you my beautiful saber and throw your remains in a river if you dont publicly denounce vaspider for calling ME,a female of 16 years,a perverted man. And furthermore your soul shall go to hell afterwards where it shall forever be trapped in a pool of flie's larvae,ice,and human refuse wherein you shall be tormented by your demonic hosts and force to pursue the Adversary's standard through this ocean of purulence for the remainder of eternity. However you can avoid this if you denounce vaspider,apologize to me,and delete your reply

Don't be surprised that people assume you're a guy when the name of your blog is Karl prince of darkness, Karl is a typically male name and people are gonna assume, doesn't matter how long you've been a female.

I didn't see anything about perversion in Vaspider's reply, so I'm going to guess you tacked that on yourself and that it's your opinion of all men. Nice essentialism there dipshit, but switching "woman bad" with "man bad" doesn't make you a genious or anything close to good, it makes you a narrowminded asshole. As a man, vas te faire retourner par une chèvre, suce-merde.

I don't believe in your soul thingy, so your threats mean fuck all to me.

Even if I somehow took into account your worldview, calling you an idiot on the internet wouldn't justify that severe of a punishment, especially for eternity, so you claiming that shows you are either exaggerating or you have an incredibly inflated opinion of your own worth on a metaphysical level. Either way, your threats are worthless even in your own belief system.

Reading the first line made me wonder if I had somehow gotten a yandere stalker. If you want people to give you the time of day, try not to talk like a deranged lunatic.

The overly wordy way you write is also doing you no favor, as it makes you sound like a melodramatic twat. You don't sound smart, you sound arrogant. Just in case, and so you understand, here's a TL;DR in your own language : I, Farsight, Lord Admiral by the Grace of my Shipping Heart, do declare that your vile perfidy and obtuse demagoguery are most unwanted upon these hallowed piers, that your hackneyed threats are as void of meaning as the soul of a gull is of decency, that your biases are a stain most revolting and that your very presence is neither wanted, nor tolerated. Begone from my dock. Or, for normal people : blocked. And if you somehow contact me again, I will contact the police regarding the very real and actual death threat in the first sentence of this bullshit. And as I live in France, where death threats ARE legally penalized, that means legal consequences :) So fuck off my dock, and never come back. Vas te faire voire chez quelqu'un qui en a quelque chose à foutre de tes conneries.

[hyperfixated-on-musicals]

"Learning love is not a crime."

[Inspired by @catboyrichardkarinsky 's Quotev story]

Sexuality scared Marvin. Not in the way that a horror movie would scare a child but in the sense that opening up about it would make him want to cry. School has always been tough for Marvin.

The feeling of sitting alone, letting the rain fall onto him as he held himself where no one could see him hurt but it also felt safe. Across the soaking wet grass, Marvin spotted a boy who looked to be around his age, probably 16 or so surrounded by a group of boys.

Marvin hated confrontation so he sat back and listened.

"Fucking fag!" One of the boys shouted.

"Get the fuck away from me! What the hell did I do to you?!" The boy in the middle shouted.

"Why don't you get your boyfriend to come help you out?" Another boy taunted him.

At this stage, Marvin stood up and walked over to the group of boys, trying to get closer but avoid confrontation at the same time.

The boys kept hurling insults at this one seemingly defenseless kid.

"You know what, Whizzer? We would've almost thought you were normal if you kept the act up."

"If you don't do exactly as we say, we'll out you and your faggot boyfriend to the whole school."

The boy, Whizzer, tried to stand up for himself.

"I don't have a boyfriend. And so fucking what if I did?! It's just a guy I like."

Marvin felt slightly proud of Whizzer as he moved closer.

Crunch.

The leaves cracked under the weight of Marvin's feet, causing the slight moment of silence to be broken and for all of the boys' eyes to be on him. Marvin froze.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt..."

He did mean to.

"Do you have a problem?" One of the boys stepped forward.

Marvin gulped, trying to ignore the anxiety building up in his chest.

"Whizzer, right?"

"Yeah..."

Marvin leaned in closer to Whizzer, his lips close to but not touching Whizzer's ear.

"On three, we run," Marvin whispered.

One.

Steady breathing.

Two.

Don't think of the guys that want you dead.

Three.

Running as fast as they both could, Whizzer and Marvin made it to the safety of the back of the school. It was the only place that Marvin felt comfortable in so it was something big for him to introduce his safe space to a stranger.

"Are you okay?" Marvin asked as soon as he got his breath back.

"They want me dead. I want me dead too."

"Huh?"

"I'm gay... They want to tell the whole school, practically sentencing me to death or at least banishment from this school due to isolation," Whizzer mumbles his explanation. "So, yeah, I'd rather kill myself than have people know what I am. And that isn't some joke. I'm not just saying that to lighten the mood. I... I've... Why am I even telling you this?"

"I'm gay too. I haven't told anyone. Not even my parents know," Marvin confessed.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're not like... playing a trick on me and planning to humiliate me, are you?"

Marvin frowned at how cautious Whizzer was being but on the other hand, he couldn't really blame him. Those boys tortured him for being queer.

"It's just... I've tried to kill myself. The bullying became too much to handle. I couldn't take it."

Whizzer started tearing up. His world was falling apart and all Marvin could do to help was pick up the broken pieces. They skipped school that day. Growing old together was all that seemed to matter to both of them.

[toomuchracket]

lol feeling a bit angsty today, thinking about matty and taylor and the timeline of things lol. but Jamie was at the concert tonight with matty and maybe he travelled with our beloved dh assistant. And matty and taylor are together now and assistant had to be professional and maybe she’s dazzling the room with her professionalism and her charisma, but maybe she has a full blown panic attack about it all when she has a moment to think about the whole thing, maybe needs some air and maybe matty finds her having her moment and doesn’t know what to do

OH this inspired me to do a fic, rather than a blurb. beware of angst (but it's an AU and i am not doing a part 2 lol everything is actually nice in d word matty-land. also for a partial explanation of dh assistant being there, it's bea opening alongside phoebe and you're there for vaguely manager-y stuff. and matty plays during bea's set but not for pheebs lol. it'll make sense in-fic!)

gone four weeks

the irony of walking into the stadium while taylor is soundchecking 'midnight rain' isn't lost on you.

following jamie towards the small group of people gathered at the front of the stage, you try not to focus on the lyrics, or the familiar mess of curls moving side to side in time to the music ahead of you, or the melancholy blooming in your skin at the whole situation.

you should be excited. ecstatic. elated, for fuck's sake. you're seeing one of your label's artists - and a fairly good friend of yours to boot - support taylor swift, an artist you've enjoyed and admired since you were an actual kid. instead, you're feeling worse with every passing step, bile and tears threatening to spill out of various facial orifices as you get close enough to hear matty singing along quietly and say something to bea.

it's only been four weeks since you last heard him, but the inflections of matty's voice seem completely unfamiliar to you. they say that the voice is the first memory you lose of someone after a death - apparently, this also applies to the death of a relationship. that, or he's let his accent be influenced by his new girlfriend, aka the beautiful, capable woman singing onstage right now.

bea glances over her shoulder and grins at the sight of you and jamie, walking to meet you and opening her arms out to hug you both in turn. your boss moves on to hug matty too, but you stay put, bea's arm over your shoulder; matty makes no effort to near you, either, staying a good few paces away from you. whether he's trying to avoid overstepping any boundaries or preparing for a duel with you, you can't decide. the former, probably, from the way he nods politely at you and asks "you alright? the flight was ok, i take it?"; you smile emotionlessly back at him - an easy feat, considering your body has gone numb from the sheer agony of seeing him again - and answer affirmatively to both. matty nods again, and gets a look on his face that you instantly recognise as "i have something i want to say to you", but he's interrupted by taylor's arrival on the stadium floor before he can.

despite yourself, and the awkward situation you're all in, you can't help but be awed by her - tall and graceful and even prettier in person, that famously-red-lipstick-lined smile so dazzling and contagious that you begin to genuinely smile too in response. you keep it up even when she hugs matty and he kisses her head sweetly, despite your want to scream at the fact that his lips are on her and not you. but you keep calm, keep smiling, no matter how sore or fake it feels, and remind yourself that it's partially your own fault he isn't kissing you any more.

the smile becomes genuine again when taylor comes over to you and introduces herself, sweeping you into a big hug accompanied by a "so amazing to finally meet you! i'm a big fan of your work in keeping the label running", the latter sentence followed by a wry smile.

"you're a big... what?" you splutter, pulling away. "i don't even do much!"

"oh, please," taylor sighs. "everyone - jamie included, by the way - says you're the mastermind behind everything. i think we have that in common."

out of the corner of your eye, you see matty wince at taylor likening the two of you. good, you think. let him be uncomfortable. "well, you are the reason i got into music," you say, smiling. "i picked up a guitar for the first time after hearing 'fearless'. i mean, i did put it back down when i realised i was kinda shit and my interest in music would be better served elsewhere, but still. thank you for that."

"that's so cool!" taylor squeals, pulling you into another hug. after it ends, she turns to matty with an accusatory look. "i can't believe you wouldn't tell me this! i thought you said she was your best friend."

ouch. you sink your teeth into the back of your bottom lip as you shift your gaze to matty, attempting to keep your face expressionless in spite of the friendzoning revelation wound. he looks apologetic - whether towards you or taylor, though, you can't tell. "to be fair, i didn't actually know that."

"yeah. you don't know everything about me, healy" you reply, your attempt at lightheartedness falling a bit flat amidst the slight tension of the conversation.

matty scoffs. "i know enough."

the loaded comment stings, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes to match it. luckily, bea moves the discussion onto something else all technical and musical, giving you the opportunity to pull out your phone and pretend to be answering emails so that you don't have to look at matty and have him see you're upset. he notices, though, of course he does - matty knows your body movements like nobody else, like the back of his own calloused hand, and the events of four weeks ago mean he's also well-acquainted with what you look like when you're hurt. if you looked up for even a split-second and met your ex-boyfriend's gaze, you would see the clear regret and concern for you in his dark eyes; you don't, though, you keep your eyes on your phone until the soundcheck resumes and you and jamie are dragged off by taylor's parents to talk management and business.

and you're alright, initially, for the next few hours - you're busy having work-related discussions about promotion and marketing and getting some insider knowledge into taylor's career and the tour itself, which is eye-opening for you from both a career perspective and as a fan. bea's set is a bit of a challenge to get through, what with matty making a surprise appearance part-way through to play guitar on some of the songs he co-wrote with her; for the most part, though, you can zone him out, and focus on the fact that your friend and client - a girl not too much younger than you - is playing a stadium show on one of the biggest concert tours in history, cheering bea on proudly and singing along.

phoebe's set is different. sure, you don't have to see matty onstage - come to think of it, you don't know where he is. before you can stop it, a memory of you and matty together crosses your mind; a pre-show fuck in a random dressing room in buenos aires, an encounter that matty later claimed was "the reason why that show was our best ever". you briefly wonder if that's what he's up to now with taylor, her long legs wrapped around him, before choking both the thought and the vomit in your mouth back down to the circle of your own personal hell they appeared from, and focusing as best you can on the performance in front of you. which is a mistake, really, considering phoebe's set consists of all the songs you listened to non-stop after you and matty called it quits; by the time the intro to moon song begins, you're holding back sobs, quietly backing out of the vip tent and entering the inner corridors of the stadium.

you have no idea where you're going, but that doesn't bother you - the song is muffled by steel and concrete, so it's less painful, and your all-access pass means security just wave you through doors without stopping you. finally, you find a deserted spot in a corridor by the stairs, where you slump to the floor and just cry, overwhelmed by the jet lag and the emotions of phoebe's songs and your shitty love life and this whole fucking day in general. head in your hands and sobbing loudly, you don't notice the footsteps hurrying towards you, only registering the fact you're not alone anymore when a familiar voice speaks. "oh, princess."

matty, crouched down so he's eye level with you, looking sadder than you've ever seen him - well, with the exception of four weeks ago, that is. your lip trembles at the sight of him, and you cry even harder, speaking through wails. "please don't call me that, matty."

"sorry, sorry - force of habit," matty says quickly. "are you ok? actually, stupid fucking question, you're clearly not, but... i had to say something. i hate seeing you upset."

"well, you've been pretty good at making me that way recently."

matty sighs, moving to sit beside you against the wall. "could say the same for you, you know."

"really making me feel better here, man."

"sorry."

there's silence for a minute - your breathing is beginning to regulate, just out of the muscle and sense memories brought back by nothing more than matty sitting closely beside you, and you fucking hate it. with a sigh, you break it. "i'm sorry about what happened, you know. i just... got scared. didn't mean to be hurtful."

"s'fine," matty shrugs. "i'm sorry i ever brought it up."

"hey, less of that," you turn to matty, touching his arm softly. "it's what you want, and it's good you mentioned it, even if i panicked and disagreed. really."

matty makes a noncommittal sound. "i just hate that i ended up hurting you with it. i never want to do that, regardless of if we're together or not."

"same here."

with a small smile at you, matty checks the time on his phone. "phoebe's almost finished. you coming back down?"

"in a minute," you nod. "you go ahead."

matty gives you a quizzical look, but leaves with a "see you in a min" when you wave him away. taking a few deep breaths, you wipe your eyes and listen to phoebe's voice resonating through the stadium before you follow matty.

anyway, don't be a stranger...

[isekai-crow]

Mashle 2 Episode 2

Other Episodes-> ep1 ep3 ep4 ep5

This episode was a riot. It was so much fun.

SO many random HP easter eggs and we get some new fun characters!!

Specifically, Margarette Macaron!!

I love them. Non-binary, music magic, and a love of tartar sauce (and a motorcycle in the ending credits!). (It me? maybe.) Despite seeming like an overused Okama-trope, I have hope based on the spoilers I went searching for. I'm so hype for more of them in the next episode.

VA Squee: They're voiced by Koyasu, Takehito!!! The voice of Dio Brando! Touji Fushiguro! Faust VIII from Shaman King! and Clayman from TenSura!!! A very masculine voice that can also take on feminine tones and a perfect fit for Margarette. Manga Spoiler: I wonder if they'll have another va...

Ep 2 Spoilers Under the Cut! Warning IT'S SO LONG THERE'S SO MUCH.

We open in the middle of the decision to execute Mash or not, and Dumbledore, Harry, and Draco having a stand off lmao

We learn that Whalberg/Dumbledore is a famous wizard because he fought with Innocent Zero in his youth.

Does this mean the shadowed Innocent Zero who was called father by Cell War is the equivalent of Grindelwald, and Evil Jesus(Cell War (or cell wall if you wanna be a pun) is Voldemort? (Also is it father or Father lololol)

ALSO, ARE ALL THESE NAMES FROM A RNG OR PUNS CAUSE I CAN'T TELL YET lmao

We get a little speech from Wahlberg reminiscent of one of Dumbledore's speeches, but more importantly, WHAT IS THE SIGNIFICANCE OF RAYNE ALSO BOWING???

Also his protecting the headmaster is a cute touch

I get that he is one of the Divine Visionaries, but is he more important than the others? He's still a student, wait, HOW DO STUDENTS HAVE THIS MUCH POWER IN THE GOVERNMENT?? NO WONDER ITS FUCKED UP??? Did I miss something??? (His reasoning for not wanting Mash dead also being the flashback to Rayne thanking him for taking care of his little brother?)

And of course Mashle can't be executed, so they set they give him a task to delay his sentencing...

The original goal Mash had in the first place, so ABSOLUTELY NOTHING HAS CHANGED.

Them backing the fuck up as Mash punches the floor is fricken hilarious. The best parts though...

1) Innocent Pero / Innocent Gyro - Thats a great subtitle translation choice, because they can't do a straight translation. Mash calls them Innocent Pero, with pero being the onomatopoeia for LICKING something in Japanese (WHATS THAT IMPLYING :EYES:), so Innocent Gyro is a good choice XD

and 2) the scene cuts to the bad guy's lair... which also seems to be shaking...

(I went and installed a gif maker for this >.>)

DON'T TELL ME. IS THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS UNDER THE BUREAU OF MAGIC????? (This is my theory and I'm sticking to it. Season 1 semi-stuck with random Philosopher's Stone plot points and the secret rooms, so it can be a semi-safe bet that season 2 might follow Chamber of Secrets?)

We then jump to an outing at the near by town to celebrate Mash Avoiding Death.

↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ The normal one ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓

Finn is the only actual normal one, WITH STYLE AT THAT, and I love him for it. (However he might also be the target of a Brother Complex and end up on the receiving end if Rayne can get over himself>o>)

The fucking Koalas...

What The Fuck Lmfao. That's all I have to say (but also this is a common gag for Japanese comedians and high school boys so... Still WTF. (This had my Beetle killing himself with laughter))

3 Wizards and a Macho walk into a wand shop and...

And the Macho is the one to get a wand. I'm so fascinated by this. How much damage is this thing going to do when Mash finally yeets it at someone???

The entire second half episode is so cute. Mash is so happy to have friends... I'm so happy for him....

But Also. Poor Finn. Look at these Freaks (affectionate).

YOU'RE ONE TO TALK. But Also Poor Finn.

The last bit. Our introduction to Margarette Macaron.

The fucking... shrimp.

Literally

It took Too Much Time for my ace-ass to realize they're THRUSTING the shrimp into the tartar sauce.

I love them? I love tartar sauce too. It's delicious.

They are so over the top. I love everything about them.

I've added too many photos to this post and tumblr is yelling at me.

So I will leave off with my hype for Rayne vs Margarette in the next episode!!!

↑↑↑↑Imagine me making this same face in anticipation↑↑↑↑

[fractualized]

hi I sent that last ask and I appreciate you so much. I love how chill you are. I love that you speak up and aren't afraid of others people's opinions of you -- because you talking about that helps me realize exactly what you were talking about about.

my critical online space that shaped my brain was Tumblr growing up, much in the same way reddit or 4chan or anything else was for others, and as positive as it was and as much as I stay here, there were some HEAVY years of thought policing and performing perfectly at all times and I really think it fucked with my head!

not to trauma dump, but the way it related to starting off by policing each other in fandom just happened to spill into every other aspect of my life too. every thing is black and white. every interaction is perfect or you are flawed and not worth anything at all. people literally judging you off stupid fandom shit behind a fake name dressed up in sparkles and curiosity was enough to call you a monster who deserved to be alone. the fuck??

from fandom cops telling me that portrayals of fictional characters in my head were an actual meter that we can base if we're deserving of human connection made me think about what ELSE could be important. aren't there things a little more pressing than fictional characters?? the words I use. the way I behave. move my face. micro express, leave pauses in sentences, judged by everything! I've been taught that the LITTLEST OF INDICATIONS OF HUMANITY were going to be the death of me. I couldn't exist. all because of fictional themes that creators are allowed to make, but fans are not allowed to enjoy unless it's the "right way". even though the people CREATING it are also exploring it. rules for thee but not for me.

it's gross. I felt like a monster and when the only other people who are kind to you are monsters, it really makes you wonder why fandom cops find themselves so much morally superior to others 👹

People have told me I'm chill before and I'm always like, "excellent, they can't tell I'm yelling on the inside." 😂

Sometimes I wonder if I would be different if the show Heroes hadn't ended as such a clusterfuck. And by that I mean that my experience with that show ended on such a sour note, I wound up drifting away from fandom for 5-ish years. And it wasn't because of the Heroes fandom itself! It was because by the end I was hate-watching the show, and that kind of headspace is just no good. I wasted too much energy being mad at something that wasn't going to improve, and my other fandom interests weren't strong enough for fic, etc. I still lurked here and there, but otherwise I focused on life stuff.

At the point I left, tumblr was popular but I was still a livejournal (and journalfen) holdout. As a result, I was simply absent during the most intense tumblr years. I have a general idea of what it was like from everyone's descriptions, but from my point of view, five years passed, Telltale Batman: the Enemy Within came a-calling, I started writing fic again, and uhhhhh things sure were different.

Not entirely for the worse. For one thing, as someone who unavoidably grew older, yeah, I do keep in mind that there are children running around these parts. The increased focus on tagging your work is also good, so people can avoid what they don't want to see. And it's just always been a good general rule to be mindful when getting into sensitive topics, and I was seeing more of that.

Buuuuuuuut yeah, with that it seemed like "don't like; don't read" was out, and witch hunting was in. Some slight mistake might indicate you were actually one of the Bad Ones all the long! And everyone must know! I mean, there's always been fandom police, but fandom's mainstreamification definitely made it worse for a host of reasons. And I actually was unnerved by it for a while, even though the Enemy Within finale had me indulging in fluff. I was probably safe-- but then again who knows what blunder or improper deference to a sensitive subject could bring a swarm of strangers!

But eventually I was fluffed out, and chatting batjokes with people was giving me new ideas that would have me explore and indulge in (gasp) darker ideas. And by that point I was just like, I'm a freaking adult. I tag my shit. I'm here to have a good time with people I like, not worry about a bunch of randos who probably get as much anxiety making a cold call as I do. And yeah, why are fans supposed to be judged on a different metric than the creators?? I'm going to do what I want!

And with that rallying cry… I mean, nothing ever happened. 😂 Not the first time I've built up worries in my head for nothing.

I can see it taking me longer to get to that point if I'd fully marinated in the thought policing, though. I think people get that instinct because of the age-old lack of control elsewhere in life (especially nowadays, with all the… everything). Surely if someone can get everyone in their orbit to behave in just this way, then at least things there will be okay. Nothing bad will happen! (It's not as if rigid mindsets hurt people and their relationships, or performatively good people still do atrocious things. No, surely not.)

I don't have a good closing, so here's an Reno 911 icon from the old days:

[sparklecareforrealjustice]

well since ur mod barry... got anything to rant abt involving barry? how hes treated or written or w/e?

Oh, you have no idea. Barry is my favorite character in the whole comic (hence why I'm mod Barry) and recently I've been getting a lot more pissed off as to why exactly he's hated by the fanbase. One of the main reasons I see for hating Barry is "He's mean to Uni!" Now do keep in mind I'm not saying you HAVE to like him, but if you're going to hate a character at least have an understandable reason.

As for that lame "excuse" as to why he may be hated, I am gonna go out on a limb here and say that, if anyone had the right to be mean to Uni, it'd be Barry. Barry has schizophrenia and uses science to ground himself in reality, as stated many times. However, even after saying something about it, Uni still carelessly uses her magic around him knowing how he's going to react negatively to it, and he has every right to be upset that his well-being is being ignored by someone who he's supposedly close to.

Let me put it into perspective on how frustrating this is. Let's say that you have a roommate, and you're really sensitive to loud music due to a disorder you may have. But your roommate loves loud music. So, one time you react negatively to your roommate blaring loud music, and you say something about it. Your roommate nods and tells you that they'll try to avoid listening to loud music around you. And then for the next month, they keep blaring loud music. You react negatively again, only for your roommate's friends to gang up on you and tell you that YOU'RE in the wrong because you can't handle something as small as loud music.

This, as I just described, is basically what Barry deals with. He is shamed by both the readers of the comic, as well as characters in the comic, for not being able to handle magic. Which, if you're aware, is lowkey ableist. They expect him to just be able to get up and brush it off, which is hard to do when it's affecting how you think and how you see things. But the fans don't think about it. It's always "poor, poor Uni uwu cinnamon roll". Keep in mind I'm not saying "Oh Uni can't use magic EVER!!!", I'm saying that she needs to be more mindful about her surroundings and who she's around, especially if she has feelings for Barry. The last thing she'd want to do is have him be upset with her in that case.

Aside from that, I also want to bring up the fact that KC made him look even worse than he already did by making him sexually harass Polly. Which, you know, is EXTREMELY out of character for someone who doesn't even like being touched. He'd know that colder properties carry more bacteria and that being around Polly could be a death sentence, but of course he oh so conveniently forgets common fucking science!! Realistically he'd be avoiding Polly like the fucking plague.

For Barry supposedly being a self-insert, KC is very ignorant when it comes to writing for Barry, especially since she kitself has schizophrenia. Out of all the people to know what it's like to have your needs flat-out ignored and ridiculed, it'd be her. But she makes it a joke in this stupid ass comic, as well as things like sexual harassment. This comic is a fucking embarrassing excuse for writing, especially something as serious as delusions and mental illness -🧪