#I don't like my own writing is that normal

[rotationalsymmetry]

countries are really big (and the US is really big for a country), made up of many many people, so one person's worth of difference is small and hard to see. The smaller the scale you look at, the easier it will be to see the difference you make (if you want to make a difference and know that you are making a difference.) And there are a lot of differences that are worth making on smaller scales.

I came of age right in the face of 8 years of Republican presidency and a corresponding (post 9-11) cultural shift towards the conservative, it happens. There are arguments to be made that Trump is worse than Bush, and they are reasonable arguments, but they also tend to focus on conditions within the US and I am very concerned with the whole world, and Bush was very bad for the whole world. Trump isn't great for the whole world, but I'm not convinced he's worse. (Also some things sucked in the US too! This was the age of "that's so gay" and a corresponding rise in school bullying of kids perceived as gay (accurately or not.) Things got worse in the 2000's than they were in the 90's, in this regard, and got better after. (Mostly because a ton of people put in a small amount of work over long periods of time to make it better.) This is common, things change with time, often in up and down ways.

Good things happen during Republican presidencies and bad things happen during Democrat presidencies, the person who's president matters but is not the only thing that matters. It is one thing among many things: how the news presents things, how people talk about things to their friends and family, what's going on in local and state governments, what nonprofits and advocacy orgs are doing/pushing for, etc. I used to be really into advocating for more bike lanes; picking one local cause you really care about can go a long way to seeing when what you do makes a difference in the world. It doesn't have to be a group thing either if you don't want; I notice when benches in my neighborhood are missing the middle bar (anti-homeless architechture); that's going to be the work of one or a couple people doing things on their own.

I like the point about language! This was a little thing, but a few months ago I ran into a woman who was lost who only spoke Spanish, and I ...sort of speak Spanish, and I was able to get her to where she needed to go. These opportunities do come up now and then, and more often if you seek them out (eg offer to write Spanish translations for an activist group's website or email newsletter or fliers or social media page.) I also occasionally run into a serious first aid situation, so I recommend taking a basic first aid and CPR class, and keeping your certification current if you already have. (Extra important for people who can't easily afford hospital/ER/urgent care visits.) (A lot of these aren't explicitly political, but that's ok, about 90% of what people NEED is not explicitly political.) (Some things like naloxone and CPR training are things where normally you'd *expect* to not actually use them -- it's a precaution, like wearing a seat belt or a mask, it's not going to matter most of the time, but on the rare/unlikely occasion that it does matter, it matters a lot.)

5. Doing stuff and emotional management aren't entirely the same thing. It is good to do stuff because stuff needs to be done -- whether you need to regulate your feelings or not. If you need to regulate your feelings and either don't conveniently have something to DO or it's not enough or you just want a different way to regulate your feelings, there's journaling, cbt stuff, RAIN, EFT/tapping, talking to a friend, breathing exercises, and lots of other things.

hi, hopefully this isnt a stupid question -- this is only my second election i'm voting in, and i'm a little confused about results. is it actually confirmed that trump has won, or is it just almost certain based on the counted votes? bc i know that provisional ballots (like mine) probably arent immediately counted, and there was that thing about votes needing to be verified because of signatures, plus to my knowledge the electoral college doesnt vote til december? i'm probably just grasping at an infinitesimal chance of things not being shit, but also i do actually want to understand and google is not helping :( if you can't explain no worries, you just seem to be knowledgable & willing to answer questions haha

This is absolutely not a stupid question.

So everything is currently pointing at what is most likely, not at what is 100% certain, but it's like 99% certain. There are still votes being counted, but in the states where the election has been called it has been called either because enough of the ballots have been counted that the remaining count wouldn't change the results, or that the area is historically so strongly in favor of one party that it's exceptionally unlikely that they'd flip the other way (for example, they're still counting california's ballots but you're more likely to get struck by lightning five times today than california is to flip red in this election). The places that have not yet been called do not have enough electoral votes for Harris to win the election.

The electoral college is exceedingly unlikely to flip their votes against the state/district vote; "Faithless electors" is the term for members of the electoral college who would vote against the vote they are committed to for their region. It was something discussed in both the 2016 election and the 2020 election and flipping the electoral college without winning the election was the motivation behind J6. As shitty and bullshit as I think the electoral college is, if you're going to have one and you're going to have the rule of law, you can't hope for faithless electors because what you're hoping for at that point is that the people representing you are acting directly against the choice of the voters.

I want you to listen to me. I have been voting in presidential elections since 2004. Presidential elections always suck. Who the president is does matter, and does impact your life, but you genuinely do not have a ton of influence over that so you can't let it throw you into despair and inaction, because we should be active and political and protesting the wrongs of the world even if your favored political party wins. Vote in local elections, work with your local community, and if your local community sucks too, work with online communities to both give and get support.

Whenever something like this happens, people pass around the Mr. Rogers quote about looking to the helpers. I like that quote. I think it's good, I think it's hopeful, I think it helps! But I also think that sometimes it's even more effective if you look for how to help. Who are you the most scared for after this election? Who are you worried about in your community or among your friends? What can you do that might make their life easier? What can you do to protect people like that in your community? What don't you know that might make you better prepared to help them in the future?

One thing that I think is a fantastic way to prepare to help is to either begin or continue learning a language that you don't know. I am working hard on my Spanish because I live in California and there are a ton of Spanish speakers here who I might be able to help. Is it directly aiding anyone right at this second that I'm practicing conjugation? No. But it might help someone who is being harassed by a cop, or who is unhoused and needs help, or who is being abused by an employer at some point in the future, and I can get myself ready to help. Learn how to use naloxone and pick up up an inhaler; you might not need it now, but it'll make you ready to help someone who does need it. Order free covid tests every chance you get, even if you don't need them, because then you can give them out to people who do need them. Plan B has a multi-year shelf life. Pick some up so that you've got some on hand if someone needs it.

Maybe there's nothing you can do right at this exact second (though if you are able to donate to gender affirmation fundraisers, border kindness, abortion funds, bail funds, etc., you can absolutely do that), but you can get ready to help someone who will need you someday.

[seat-safety-switch]

In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the people who repair fences, and the people who let them fall apart. These are their stories.

When I moved into my house, the fence was in good condition. In case you're from a country that hadn't invented them yet, "fences" are an artificial construct of humanity meant to delineate the boundaries of property between two or more identical suburban houses. And, being part of your property, they are part of how you are perceived.

Here's the problem: fences are made out of flawed, human construction. Mine was (I think) made out of wood. When that wood rotted, the planks fell out, and maybe a couple posts stayed behind. Suddenly, passersby could see into my property, and see that I was not in fact a Good Person who was Trying Hard To Fit In. Not like themselves, who agonized over every missing flake of Home Depot Eggshell Blue on their own fences after a long, hard winter.

As things degraded further, with neighbourhood children wandering, confused, into my yard after not seeing any fence keeping them from doing so, by-law enforcement was summoned. The belief was that they would punish me for going against the grain, for letting my fence fall apart.

Unfortunately for them, my attorney, who spends most of his spare time writing erotic fan-fiction about our city's specific property-standards bylaws (don't ask to see them, they're really bad, and the main character is an obvious self-insert) was on the case. He actually made one of the bylaw managers quit rather than spend another hour on the phone with him. After all that stress, it turns out that while you can't have a bad-looking fence, you don't actually have to have a fence at all.

One delightful weekend of sledgehammers removed the last of the rotten planks and split posts, and my yard was now full of free-range 1970s shitbox Chryslers. A glorious moment for civilization.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for me to realize exactly why fences are valuable: they keep the undesirable element out of your yard.

Only a few days after my triumph over the decline of mind-your-own-fucking-businessism, I noticed something strange in my yard. Tucked in amongst where I would normally have terrible cars, someone had parked a fully-intact Ford Galaxie, presumably thinking I wouldn't even notice. As if I could not give special attention to a vehicle that still has its hood and its trunk!

The haters won in the end: I was forced to go to Home Depot, that knurled-wood nest of knavery, and purchase the shittiest chain-link fence kit that I could find. No cost was too great to keep the Fordites away from my homestead, with their firestarting dodgy electrics and perfect paint.

[kwimii999]

Tutorial : How to make roads with car parking space

When I first started using the create a world tool, I immediatly wanted to make roads with car parking space. The only world where I had seen these types of roads were in Boroughsburg by potato-ballad-sims. So, I searched up the internet as one would do when you don't know how to do something and nothing until I found this post by krrank on their forum. I already knew how to make roads at that time. In fact, it was only when I saw her showcase of dirt roads, that I saw how there was a way to make roads larger to then add cars parked on the side. Now, because I haven't found a proper tutorial on how to actually do that, I decided to make my own tutorial and share how I managed to do it. It's not as perfect as Boroughsburg in term of sidewalk intersections (because I'm not the best at texture editing) but enough to have the look of parked cars, which can make a town look so much more lively.

What I'm assuming before this tutorial :

You're familiar with the CAW tool

you know how to place roads

you know how to create roads using textures provided by EA or CC road textures

You know how to add custom content for CAW (only applicable if you don't own the university EP)

The downside

The only downside with these roads is that sims will walk/run through the cars when going somewhere because we're basically using the sidewalk as parking space. To balance that out, I suggest using hybrid roads in your world : normal roads with normal sidewalks and roads with parking space.

On the left we have a road with car parking space

On the right a normal road with sidewalks

Step 1 : Choosing your road textures

Example of what it should look like :

Possible question #1

" Okay but there's no sidewalk now, what do I do ? " : Simple ! Place independent sidewalks on the side. A bit like this (ignore the fact that this is not completly aligned to the grid) :

Step 2 : Placing cars on the road

I highly suggest using cars that are meant for decoration and aren't high poly. If you're using super CAW do not use the drivable cars that can be bought in game. In my case, I used the debug cars from the university EP meant for decoration and lowered them until it hid the parking curb. If you don't have the university EP, the world CC from Boroughsburg includes deco cars used for the purpose of parked deco cars !

Do not put too many cars on the roads (I only do it because I do not care since I'm making my own personal world, but if you intend to share the world you're making, limit the cars that you put on the streets)

How to hide the parking curb (for university cars) :

Lower your car's position (Y axis, green line) to : 15,4 - (Good enough height to hide the concrete curb and only hides a tiny bit of the car's wheels)

Don't forget to rotate (Y axis) the cars to the right direction. In fact, to be 100% accurate in the rotation placement of your cars, you can write the exact degree in the board that appears when you select an object. So, basically : 90 / -90 OR 180 / -180

Possible question #2

"In what direction should I rotate the cars ?" : Here's a reminder of traffic directions in game :

And that's about it. Hope this will be useful to anyone who was wondering how to make larger roads and add cars parked directly on the street :)

[sicklyworm]

Hi yes I would like to hear your thoughts on Shang Qinghua and his characterization (both in canon and in fanfic). I've always really enjoyed the fics with the like,, BAMF!Shang Qinghua tag, but i also can't decide if his cowardice is an act or not, if that makes sense? Or if it's a bit of both.

Oh my gosh thank you for this ask. Please forgive me anon for the absolute rant that's about to happen because of it!!!

I'm going to break down this ask into chunks so properly and thoroughly answer every part of it!

Starting with,

SQH's cannon characterization:

I spent several hours trying to type out a good yet manageable description of his characterization but I found that no matter how hard I try it's a bit too long for a reasonable Tumblr post.

So instead of just ditching this like a normal person I instead started on a essay going over Shang Qinghua's characterization with quotes and analysis!

At the moment of posting it is not currently completed but I'll make sure to reblog this post with the link to the document once it's done!

Now moving on to,

SQH's characterization in fanfiction:

I'm an avid fanfiction reader myself so I see a plethora of different authors writing different arcs for SQH so obviously he's going to act differently in each one.

The thing I think makes or breaks alot of fanfiction with him is whether the author can properly distinguish between their voice and his. As a highly relatable character a lot of us writers can have a pretty hard time distinguishing him as a character from ourselves! When this happens writers can accidentally take bits and pieces of themselves that don't quite match up with him and kind of force them into the characterization of him!

There's also like the cases of hyperfeminization or character bashing but I feel like those are more of a generalized problem then something SQH specific.

Next is,

Is SQH actually a coward or was it just an act?

This question was one I wrestled with quite a bit when I was first starting to dissect his character.

He plays dead and grovels easily when he feels threatened yet displays tremendous courage when it has to do with MBJ. Whether it be saving MBJ from falling to his death or from MBJ'S own uncle, he is necessarily putting himself in danger just for the safety of someone else.

These behaviors by definition conflict with SQH being a coward but It still feels incomplete to just say "he's not a coward case closed." Because he does act incredibly pathetically at times and has betrayed quite a few people!

So after a bit more deliberation I came to the conclusion that "his coward status is determined by his personal connection towards the subject"

If the subject is not close to him or his heart then it is completely subjected to all of SQHs shady and cowardly tendencies. Even if the subject is kinda close to him I believe these cowardly behaviors will definitely cut back some but under enough threat he will ultimately choose his own personal safety.

But in the case he has a deep emotional connection to the subject he seems willing to show tremendous courage and bravery in order to protect said subject.

Example of this playing out in cannon is:

The Sect - low emotional attachment = full rat bastard mode.

Shen Yuan - mid emotional attachment = normal level of courage but will cave under pressure.

Mobei-jun - high motional attachment = huge levels of courage that won't cave under pressure.

✧✧✧

Extra:

My ADHD was going off the rails with this post so I have no idea how coherent it is.

Anyways i am also a big fan of the BAMF!SQH tag and would love if you dropped off some recommendations in my ask box!

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part One

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Reader's parents work late on Friday nights, which she spends alone. Except Reader hasn't been alone in a long time, not that she knows of at least. Rafe has watched you for years, he's very good at it. He has no plans of formally meeting you, as he's satisfied with the current arrangement. He likes it better when Reader doesn't know he's watching. But his idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when reader catches him in her bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the entire plot. He's pretty pervy in this, I guess. Masturbation (Rafe) in front of unconscious reader, strong/vulgar language, somnophilia (I guess?), death threat(?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: My sneak peek got a few likes, so thank you if you liked it, y'all are the reason I'm finally posting this part! I'm not sure how I feel about this fic so far, I definitely have a habit of overly critiquing my own work and never being fully satisfied with it, but I'm trying to get over that. I don't have plans for this fic, it's just going in whatever direction I can think of as I write, so if you have any suggestions, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE let me know, I'll write pretty much anything. This is my first work published on tumblr and the first thing I've written in years, so I hope it's at least readable, and maybe even a little enjoyable. If just one person enjoys this, then my mission is accomplished. Thank you, I hope you enjoy! And do NOT be shy to share feedback or give suggestions/requests. Again, thank you!

For those of you that DID read the sneak peek, a large portion of this part was included in the sneak peek, but I highly suggest reading it over in it's entirety. This draft has undergone several additional rounds of editing and I believe it is better than the version I published as a sneak peek.

One thing about humans is that we always want what we can’t have, especially when everyone else wants that same thing. It’s just something all humans do; but what happens when you already have more than you need and everything you could ever want? Well, almost everything. Rafe Cameron has more money than he could spend in his own lifetime, he can practically buy anything he wants. Except one thing, you.

At first he just thought you were pretty, but the more he saw you out in public the more and more he liked you. The way you’d talk or laugh when you were out with your friends…god, he could tell just how sweet you are. Too delicate for him to touch, like the wings of a butterfly or the petals of a flower. This is when he went from wanting you to needing you. 

See, another thing about humans is that we admire things. And, admiration can easily turn into obsession. Everyone has been obsessed with something or someone at some point in life, it’s normal. Obsessions will come and go, like a cycle. You get obsessed with something, you get over it, and you let it go until a new obsession marks the beginning of the new cycle. But things are a bit different for Rafe, he has never gotten over anything like, ever. Not once has Rafe Cameron ever let anything in his life go. When Rafe wants something, when he needs something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. And oh, how he needs you.

Rafe’s fascination, his obsession with you has been going on for years. He won’t ever admit it, but his perfectly curated collection of your personal items in his closet proves just how bad he’s been obsessing over you. The first thing he had ever stolen from you was your drink, you had been at the same party and you left your red solo cup about three-quarters full. Nobody noticed anything when he casually picked up the cup and finished the rest of your beer, purposely lining his lips with where yours had touched the cup, which was perfectly marked by the lipstick you had been wearing. After you’d leave a restaurant, he’d take the straws from your drinks. Rafe eventually worked himself up to breaking into your house and stealing your things when nobody was home. And Rafe made sure to explore every single inch of your room. All of your favorite panties? Gone. He’d take everything, your shirts, bras, whatever he liked really. You had noticed things kept disappearing from your room, but you’d just think you misplaced it–whatever it may be, or left it in a bag somewhere. Rafe had a good system. He knows exactly how much and how often he can take from you. 

Rafe knows he’s sick. He knows that it’s wrong to watch you from outside your bedroom window, that it’s wrong to follow you around in public, to purposely bump into you so you have to mutter a ‘sorry’ as you move around him. He just really, really needs you. And in Rafe’s twisted, dark, mess of a mind he believes this is the best way–the only way. He couldn’t treat you like every other girl, no, you were special. You were his and you just didn’t know it yet. Starting early on in his life, Rafe has always been neglected, always pushed into the shadow of his younger sister, Sarah. He’s been told he ruins everything, that everything he touches turns to ash. And you’re way too perfect to ruin. So, he follows you around like a creep, lurking from a distance. Of course you didn't know he’s been following you everywhere…he liked it better that way.

Rafe knew the line had already been crossed. Hell, the line had been crossed a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t care anymore, he needs you. Heaven is smelling like you; and not because you had left your scent on him, but because he had bought the same perfume as you. He needed to know what you smell like, how sweet you are…and how sweet you taste. Heaven is watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Heaven is you.

What Rafe has been doing to you for years could be defined as worship. Rafe was worshiping you. He’s your good boy; your loyal man and he was going to take care of you; protect you, even if you don’t know it yet. You’re what he lives for; you’re all that keeps him going, the only thing he cares about. 

Since he’s been watching you for years, of course he knew your schedule. Of course he knew that on Fridays your parents work late at the local bar & grill that they own. This means you slept in your house by yourself practically every Friday night. So every Friday night, Rafe would sneak in through the back door that you always forget to lock. He just wants to check on you, he wants to see his pretty girl sleeping beautifully, he wants to know that his baby is okay. This is not a crime, it’s not a crime to care; he’s not insane, he’s just in love–if you could even call it that. How can it be wrong to protect what’s his? nOh, and god forbid anyone ever get in the way of his stalking routine, if anyone were to take you away from the inevitable path of meeting him…oh, the things he would do; whatever it takes.

One unforgettable Friday night, you fall asleep on your couch watching a rerun of one of your favorite shows. You enjoy being alone. If only you knew you haven’t been alone for a very long time. You’re woken up by sudden, loud noises coming from your bedroom, but you think maybe it’s just the cat, or maybe you didn’t shut your window. You get up from the couch and in several slow, cautious steps you tiptoe over to your room. When you enter your doorway, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of a tall and broad man standing in the center of your bedroom holding the last shirt you wore to his nose, breathing in your scent. The sight of all this makes you immediately freeze and stand motionless in your bedroom doorway, staring at him blankly. 

Rafe doesn’t startle when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Instead, quite the opposite actually. He’s actually a bit amused, relieved even; if you hadn’t caught him just now, he never would’ve been able to work up the nerve to finally talk to you. He didn’t want to have to be creepy about things between you two, but he couldn’t talk to you like a normal person. It’d be too unpredictable, too unknown. Meeting you like this…he has all of the control. 

“There you are,” he grinned. “How beautiful…” The strangely offputting man gloated in your fear and it was obvious.

You take a step back from where you had been frozen. He takes a step forward. This cannot be happening, you think. Your brows furrow in hopelessness and defeat. Again, you freeze where you are standing, even more afraid to move now. 

You feel like you’ve seen the man before, which you have, plenty of times; but he was careful to never have too big of an interaction, so that you couldn’t recognize his face. You have no clue that you’ve been and always will be his.

 “W-wha…who are you? W-why are you in my house?” You try to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the way your words shake with trepidation betrays you. 

The man takes a quick step forward, slowing to a stop and putting his hands up in mock surrender as you jump back. “Woah, woah, hey…calm down, alright?”, he chuckles when he sees the utter horror and complete fright in your eyes. His tone switches into one of a little more seriousness, “I'm not here to hurt you, you don't need to be so scared...”.  If you didn’t feel like your only choice was to look him in the eyes, you might even believe him. But, you had no other option but to witness the animalistic spark in his eyes that lit up with each word he spoke. With each step he took, you took one further back—your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of his cocky, twisted smile and the way he looked at you…like you’re a zebra grazing in your natural habitat and he’s the lion waiting to pounce and attack you in your own home. 

“I just wanted to see you," he leaned up against your dresser, taking in the look on your face. His face almost instantly drops the predatory look and adopts one of mock concern, almost convincing enough to hide his amusement. “Hey, it's okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Please,” you beg. “If you leave I won’t call the cops. I won’t tell.”

Rafe cocks his head and lets out a slow breath, as if he’s disappointed in your reaction; you aren’t supposed to want him to leave. “Hey, hey…I’m not gonna hurt you. Just listen to me…you don’t wanna have to call the cops at three in the morning,” he elaborated. He’s trying to be as convincing as he can because he cannot screw this up. Even so, he still can’t help his smile that only grows at the sight of your terrified face. He shakes the smirk off, adopting a serious expression once more. “Especially when the cops won't be able to do a damn thing.” 

He continues to step closer to you with each word. He stops once his figure is looming over you, looking at you like a lion about to pounce on its prey. “You should really be more careful, sweetheart, leaving the back door open like that at this time of night, when you’re all alone…you never know who might be out there.” His voice is cold as he warns you about the dangers of the world; the dangers of himself. 

“Who are you?” You repeated. The man looks so familiar but you just couldn’t quite place his face anywhere. You just need to know what he wants; who he is. 

“That’s not important right now baby…we’re focused on you, yeah?” The man’s eyes widen, taking in every detail of your face; the only other times he’s seen you this close is when he watches you sleep. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. The look in his eyes tells you to take another step back, but when your back collides with the wall you jump; there’s nowhere left for you to go and that was exactly how he wanted it. He wanted you like this alone, afraid, and cornered. He loved your fear. The man stares at you with a predatory look although aside from the darkness and lust in his eyes, you can see something else, but…what is it?  

“W-what do you want?” You ask, keeping as calm as you can. Even though with every passing second the air gets thinner and thinner. Your stomach is in knots and your throat starts to close up. Not to mention the stinging tears in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Me?” he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body as he blew out a huff. “I just wanna have a little chat, that's all...” The unknown man takes another step towards you, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you as his bottom lip finds a home between his teeth. Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No need to be so scared, baby...”

“T-talk about what?” You have no idea what this man who you don’t know, could possibly want to talk about with you. Why is he acting like he knows you when you’re sure you’ve never even seen him before? Why is he…admiring you? No, that couldn’t be right. The mystery man is so confusing, all his twists and turns giving you whiplash. 

“Ah, you see...” he responds, pausing to place his other hand on the wall behind you, almost trapping you in. You feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your face, burning you like hot steam. His breath was slow and steady. He was completely calm. He liked this. He gave you a genuine smirk, bringing his face closer to your ear. “It’s more of a proposition really…”

“What is it…?” You ask. Not out of curiosity because honestly, you’re too afraid to know. But because you figure things might, just might go better for you if you play along. He stayed silent for a moment—enjoying the look in your eyes and your erratic breathing.

“All this fear…all this trembling...” he trails off as he brings his hand up to your chin, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of your lower lip. “It's nice to finally meet you...” He chuckles and leans in so that his lips nearly touch your ear. “Will you stop shaking like that if I tell you what I want?” His thumb moves from your bottom lip and he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear; he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of your pretty face.“Hmmm?” he challenged. “Or will you still be shaking like a scared little puppy?”

“I-I don’t…” You stutter, not being able to speak or even think clearly with the way he’s glaring at you. 

“Shhhh… ” he tutted, bringing his other hand from the wall to your lower back and drawing you even closer to him—until your body was almost flush against his, his touch surprisingly warm. “You're not answering my question,” he whispers your name as he runs his fingers through your hair, it’s softer than he’d imagined. 

“Please just…” The tears were no longer threatening as they began to fall down your cheeks. “Please…” Hearing this man who you do not know, say your name, was probably the most frightening thing to happen to you yet. 

“Shhh, stop that...” he calmly commanded when he saw the tears falling from your pretty eyes. Rafe's voice was soft but stern—he hated seeing you so distressed. His hand moved from your lower back to your chin, making you look up at him. “Hey it’s okay…it’s okay baby, no need for tears. I just wanna talk to you is all." You almost believe him for a moment with how sincere the glint in his eyes appeared. But you’ve picked up on his manipulative expressions. 

“My parents will be home soon…” You vaguely remember your parents mentioning something about something and blah blah blah…they’re closing early tonight. You really hope it’s true and isn’t just a figment of your imagination; something your mind is making up so you don’t completely give up. 

A cocky smile returned to his face as he let a small huff of amusement slip past his lips. He knew your parents were working late, just like every other Friday night. "Bullshit,” he chuckled. His hand moved back to your lower back, holding you against him. “It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” He grabs your waist and within the next second, you’re on your bed and he’s hovering over you. You can feel his hot breath in your ear, you can smell him, feel the excessive heat radiating from his body. He speaks quietly now, more serious than he’s been this entire time, “Don’t ever fuckin’ lie to me again. Got it?”

His words provoke a small whimper from you. How long has he been watching you? What’s he gonna do? What does he want to talk about? Your mind is filled with questions you’re too afraid to ask. “I-I’m not lying.” He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. Rafe’s eyes are looking straight into yours, admiring the complete and utter fear your eyes possess. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him. But fuck, does he love it.

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles as he presses his face into your hair, taking in your scent. He can’t believe he’s finally this close to you. He didn’t think it’d ever happen, and if you didn’t catch him tonight, it probably wouldn’t have. It’s meant to be, he thinks. “What did I tell you about lying, hm baby? I know you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me, so you wanna try that again?”

Before your brain could muster up some bullshit response, the sound of the front door unlocking echoes through the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe holds his breath and puts his hand over your mouth, causing your eyes to widen as he leans to the side to glance down the hallway at the front door. “Shh…”, he whispers. You weren’t lying. Your parents came home from work early and they’re about to turn the doorknob and come inside the house. Rafe looks at you, the look in his eyes beyond unsettling. “Tell the cops…tell anyone, and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you, okay? This is our secret. Don’t make me come back and hurt you babe, I really, really don’t wanna have to do that, alright?” 

He has to be bluffing, right? But, when you look up to meet his gaze, you can tell; you can tell he meant every single syllable that he spoke. It’s not like the cops would believe you if you said you had a stalker anyways, you’re a pogue. And cops never believe a pogue. Rafe doesn’t need a response from you, the fear in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

 Just before you hear the front door open, Rafe smirks at you. “We’re gonna have so much fun together baby.” Reluctantly, the disturbed man leans back and takes his hands away from you. Without another word, he walks over to your bedroom window and pushes it open. Before ducking to climb out, the large man looks back at you. Your breath hitches even further if that’s even possible.

 “Goodnight puppy.” The outline of his smug grin is visible even in the darkness of your room. Just as you hear the quiet voices of your parents enter your house, the dark figure turns and exits your window. When the man is outside you sit up and rush over to shut and lock the window behind him. 

With caution, Rafe watches as your mother comes to peek her head in your bedroom. She only lingers in your doorway long enough to see your dark shape laying in bed. Covered in blankets, you pretend to sleep, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold a casual conversation with your mother at the moment. And the last thing you want to do is raise any alarm. Not while he’s out there–whoever he is. Hot, salty tears fall from your eyes, wetting the soft skin of your cheeks. When she shuts the door, you let out a shaky breath, finally being able to breathe.But, you keep your eyes sealed shut. At least then you can’t see if the man is still watching you from outside your window. You lie awake for hours, how are you meant to go back to sleep after whatever the hell just happened? All you can do now is wait. Is he coming back? When will he come back? Who is he? Why does he want you? There’s a million different questions and worst scenarios circling around in your head. So, you just wait, it’s all you can do. 

As you wait, the hours turn into days, days turning into a week as the next Friday approaches you; you spend your time worrying about having to be home alone again. There still had been no sign of him since your encounter last week, but you decide to stay the night at a friend’s house, not wanting to take the risk. The second Friday after you came face-to-face with your stalker, you get a friend to spend the night with you. And now, after four weeks of waiting there’s still no sign of the deranged man. Although, if you had no knowledge of him stalking you for years he clearly is good at staying hidden. As the fourth Friday approaches, you think over your options. You can go to a friend’s house or have a friend stay over, as you’ve been doing. But, you’re tired of waiting for something to happen. You’re sick of not feeling safe in your own home and of having to look over your shoulder at all times. You used to love being alone, and now it’s been weeks since you’ve spent any time to yourself. You’ve had enough. This Friday you’re not hiding, you’re done being a coward. You will not allow this creep to keep taking away everything you love; you won’t allow yourself to waste any more time worrying about that psycho. So, you stay at home by yourself. He’s not gonna show, right? He was just bluffing or on drugs or something, that’s what you convince yourself.

You pull back the fluffy comforter on your bed and climb in. You pull the covers up and completely over yourself, you used to do this as a little girl when you’d have a nightmare or you’re scared of the thunder or the monster in your closet. If the blanket could protect you when you were little it should work now…right? Well, maybe it’d still work if you had a nightmare, but logically, what is it gonna do against your stalker? But no matter how much you force yourself to believe that he’s not coming back, you still find yourself praying. You’ve never been very religious, but recently you pray to whoever will listen. 

You had bought some sleeping pills from the store a few days after you discovered your secret stalker. They helped you sleep, since your brain hasn’t once stopped thinking about him since the whole fiasco. Reaching over, you pull out the drawer of your nightstand. You grab the bottle of pills, you swallow a couple dry and set the rest on your nightstand. The pills start to kick in quite sooner than usual, must be because you took double the amount…you’re gonna need them to fall asleep tonight. Your first night alone in weeks. In just a few short minutes, you’re out cold, buried underneath an absurd amount of pillows and blankets.

Rafe spent the past few weeks feeling overwrought after what he did. He feels wrong–a feeling he’s not used to experiencing. But it’s because he knows he’s ruined any chance he might’ve had with you. Before you caught him in your bedroom, he had a chance that you could meet him regularly and think he was just a normal guy. But now, all hopes of you ever thinking he’s ‘normal’ have been abandoned. He actually feels shame and…regret for his actions? He’s been seeing less and less of you, and it’s making him angry, so fucking angry. Your schedule has been relatively the same for the past years and now you’re switching it up? You’re hiding from him; running from him just like everyone else in his life. Maybe the things his family has been saying about him for most of his life is true; maybe everything he touches does turn to ash. God, why does he ruin everything? 

You are the one thing, the only thing that Rafe did not want to ruin. You’re the one thing in his life that’s too perfect to ruin…too innocent. But, the damage has been done. He doesn't have many options left. He could leave you alone, but then he’d be weak for not sticking to his word and he can’t have you thinking he’s weak and that you have the power. He could go back, but then what would he do? There was absolutely no way in hell you’d seriously talk to him, and he didn’t want to force himself onto you. He really wanted you to need him back, you have to want it. But everything you do or say now will be out of fear, it’ll be you trying to stay alive. He wanted you to be desperate for him, not desperate to get rid of him. Either way, you’re never gonna forgive him; you’ll always hate him now. Since you’ll feel the same no matter what he does now, he decides that he just needs to see you, he needs to talk to you again. It’s been far too long since he’s been close to you. He can’t take another goddamn second without seeing his reason to live.

He hurries over to your house, parking an entire block away as usual. He makes sure no eyes are on him as he sneaks around to your backyard. Rafe tries peeking through the curtains that block your window to see if you were in bed or not, but he can’t get a good view. He needs to know if you’re home. He needs to see you. 

Rafe sneaks around to the side of your house, checking all windows and doors in the process, but he has no such luck. But he doesn’t give up yet, he’ll get in, he’ll find a way. He tries the side door that leads into your garage. He lets out a giant breath of relief when the door clicks open. Once he’s inside the garage, he takes a quick glance around to analyze his surroundings and burn every inch of your house into his memory. When he finally enters your house, he takes his time to look around. Obviously Rafe knew you were a pogue–he knew everything about you, but you never really looked or acted like one. However, the inside of your home puts your life on display, making it very clear you’re a pogue. 

You sleep soundly, only being interrupted by the occasional dream; completely unaware that your stalker is making his way down the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe opens the door quietly. Your room is dark like the rest of your house, but the moonlight shining through your thin curtains provides just enough light that he can see the outline of your sleeping body. Now that your presence has been confirmed, he feels like he can finally breathe and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Before he became totally obsessed with you and he’d see you occasionally in public, you used to just make him horny. He’d catch a glimpse of your smile or hear the softness in the way you spoke, or the innocence in your sweet laugh and his dick would be hard within seconds. And when his obsession grew and he’d watch you more frequently, sex with other girls started not doing anything for him. He needed you…he needs you. When he actually started paying attention to the way you spoke, the way you acted, he fell in love–what he thinks is love anyways. Rafe realized you’re the sweetest, most pure person he’s ever known. He didn’t think people like you really existed. His discovery led him to watch you more closely, he started taking more risks just because he needed to find your flaw. There’s no way you’re actually this perfect, it has to be an act. Now, after years of watching you he can confidently say that you really are just that perfect. Rafe needs you for more than just getting off now, he needs your comfort, he needs the kindness that radiates off of you. Which is why he’s always trying to find a way to get closer to you, he needs to absorb your sweetness. But hes really done it now; he’s fucked up big time. You hate him.

He hadn’t realized that the hate he brought upon you would tint the kindness that radiates for your being. He has to get you to let go of the hate he’s caused you, he needs you to be yourself again. He just doesn't know how, if it’s even possible.

 As you sleep soundly, his large frame towers over you as he stares down at you through the darkness. You look so peaceful, so innocent. It physically pains him to know that he’s taken away parts of your innocence. All he can do is stare at you as he mentally curses himself. He can’t wake you up and ruin your small moment of peace. It’s better if you don’t know he’s there. 

Your stalker slowly raises his hand and uses his thumb and pointer finger to pull your blanket down to your knees. Even with the blankets pulled down most of your body was hidden from him. Almost everything is left to the imagination in the loose, patterned pj pants and the oversized, long sleeve shirt that you’re wearing. He can only see a small portion of your lower stomach due to your shirt slightly riding up. And that small bit of skin is enough to trigger his memories of you. Because of course he’s seen you countless times; he’s got your body memorized.

He’s practically panting as he takes in the sight of you, imagining that you’re unclothed beneath him; his memory is sharp enough to almost see it. His cock grows to press against his jeans and his eyes trail up to your beautiful face. The ache in his needy cock starts to become unbearable. Your name slips past his lips in the form of a mumble when he starts to palm himself through his newly tightened jeans. 

Okay, Rafe has definitely jerked off to the thought of you, your smell…everything about you makes him lose whatever control he ever even had to begin with. Something he hasn’t gotten to do yet is jerk off with you right in front of him as a live viewing source, fresh for his eyes. He’s gonna be able to cross that off the bucket list soon enough; he can’t wait any longer. His hand stops its ministrations over his jeans as his head turns and he moves over to your closet, grabbing a pair of delicate, worn panties from the top of your laundry hamper. He brings the treasure up to his nose to smell you. God, he could cream his fucking pants right now. He quietly walks back over to you, taking a look at the pill bottle on your nightstand. He picks it up with his free hand, eyes quickly scanning over the label. He smirks as he sets it back down. Rafe turns his head to look back at you. His smirk grows even wider as he leans back, cocking his head as he observes you. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be out for a while.

With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he stands over you. Your panties between his hand and his cock as his fist slowly pumps up and down his length. His other hand meticulously pulls your shirt up to reveal your chest.

“Fuckkk…” he whispers under his breath as his bottom lip is held captive between his teeth. Your perfect tits are spilling out of your bra as you lie asleep on your back. He lightly fiddles with the ends of your hair as his hand pumps over his dick repeatedly and without rhythm. He takes his time, Rafe never likes to rush this. Especially not with you.

Your subconscious mind reacts to his light touch and sounds, pulling you into a wet dream; seeing as a main side effect of the medication you took was vivid dreams. You’ve also been unusually horny lately, probably because you’d been too afraid to touch yourself when you thought you were being watched twenty-four/seven. His fingers trail up your stomach and into the valley of your breasts with feather light touch.

You stir a bit, not because you felt him, but because the dream you’ve been thrown into by your subconscious is starting to get your body all worked up. You’ve been extra horny recently and keep having sex dreams since you haven’t been able to touch yourself the past few weeks, having a stalker and all. As he leans down to lightly kiss the skin in between your boobs, a moan slips past his lips, vibrating off of your skin and interrupting the mostly silent room. The only other sound that can be heard in the quiet room is that caused by Rafe’s hand quickly moving up and down his cock; the friction caused by the soft fabric of your panties generates a quiet noise. Pre-cum leaks from his slit and seeps into the fabric of your recently worn panties. He leans back down to create a hickey on your chest and hopes that you won’t wake up from the sudden feeling, although if you did that might be even better. Shaking the selfish thought out of his head, he sucks strongly at the smooth skin between your beautiful tits. He pulls his mouth off with a pop! Leaning back to see the mark he left, he smirks knowing you’ll see it too eventually. The already rhythmless movements of his hand gets even more erratic the closer he gets to reaching his orgasm. 

The man standing above you runs his hand back down your chest and abdomen as you sleep. Completely unaware of what's happening to your physical body right now, you begin to get all wrapped up in your dream. You only ever get sex dreams when you’re so overly horny, which you’ve been the past few weeks. That combined with the sleeping medication you took, made this particular dream feel different; it felt so…real. The only dream-like part about it was that you couldn’t see the man's face for whatever reason. 

While you’re in a deep sleep, you involuntarily let out a needy whine as your active mind plays games with you. When Rafe hears you he thinks he imagined it, until he hears you do it again. He wonders if you could feel him, except he’s not even touching you right now. Realizing that's clearly not the reason, he furrows his brows in confusion. He pulls the duvet cover completely off of you to reveal the way you keep periodically squirming as your body searches for the same feeling your mind is experiencing; and the way your toes tighten up and curl as you’re tricked into thinking you feel pleasure. 

He can’t take it, not when you look like this. The man hovering over your unconscious figure lets out a lewd moan that corrupts the silence as hot strings of his cum spurt out of the pink, glistening tip of his cock and onto the pair of your panties that he's got clenched in his fist, immediately soaking into the fabric. Surprisingly, when he gets through his orgasm, he adoringly covers you back up with your blankets and leaves your house, locking the door he entered through to be sure you were safe. He got enough to satisfy him for now as he works on a plan to change the way you think of him.  He’ll be back for more of you soon enough. He has to fix this; the biggest mistake he’s ever made and the only regret he’ll ever carry. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable and not a waste of time. I spent a lot of time on this part, especially with the editing since I never really feel done with anything. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them, there's not much I won't write!

[leighsartworks216]

My Heart Will Always Belong To You

Zayne x gn!Reader

I've been working on another Zayne fic that I've been grappling with because I feel like it may be out of character for him to do some stuff + I just don't know how to continue it, so in the meantime here's something that I needed to write for my own sanity

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, domestic fluff, cuddling, kissing

Word Count: 864

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Despite how uncomfortable it must be, Zayne spreads out along the couch, his long legs stretched over the armrest. Normally, he would fit - just barely. Tonight, however, he lays like this so he can rest his head in your lap. It was your idea, really. He’d just got home from work, his exhaustion weighing him down more than usual, and you’d offered immediately to help him relax.

His eyes are closed. One hand rests on his stomach while the other holds your hand, which he keeps securely over his heart. Whatever you have on the TV plays on, but he isn’t listening to it. All his focus is on you.

The way you carefully remove his glasses and set them aside. The brush of fingertips as you sweep his bangs from his eyes. Your fingers combing through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, drawing out all of his tension so effortlessly. Your breathing, your pulse under his fingers, the heat of your thighs under his head.

You love seeing Zayne like this, for as rarely as it seems to happen. Face relaxed, worries stolen away, resting his eyes and trying not to fully fall asleep. Not that you’d mind if he did. With the weather getting colder and Wanderer attacks ramping up, he’s been busy seemingly nonstop trying to keep Linkon healthy and healed. No matter how many times you remind him to take a break, it never seems to be enough to fully relieve the burden from his shoulders. To know that you have the power right here, right now to do just that only encourages you to find ways to do this more often.

You lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips. He sighs contently as he returns it, his nose pressing lightly into your cheek. It’s slow and delicate, with quiet breaths shared between you both as you kiss again and again. There’s no heat, nor is there any expectation for there to be. It just needs to stay like this, and you’re both happy to keep it this way.

When at last you do pull away, he opens his eyes to look up at you. The light of the TV highlights the planes of his face, accentuating his nose and the cut of his cheekbone. He’s gorgeous. Sometimes, it’s still so surreal that you get to call him yours. That he chose to be with you, of all people. Not that you feel he’s out of your league or that you’re unworthy of the way he looks at you; it’s just hard to believe sometimes. (If you did ever feel that way, he’d ensure you are thoroughly aware of how untrue they are.)

His hand squeezes yours. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice raspy as he whispers.

You smile and trail your fingers down his cheek. He leans into the touch without hesitation and without thought, eyelids fluttering at the sensation. “I’m thinking about how pretty you are,” you say. “Especially your eyes.” He opens said eyes again to look at you. The light catches just right, turning the muted jade green of his irises into something closer to sour apple candy.

“Hm.” His eyes flicker across your face, before meeting yours again. “I’ve never given them much thought.”

“You should. You hold the whole world in your eyes, dear heart.”

“Can you see your reflection in them?”

You brow furrows slightly as you look. In this lighting, however, it’s impossible to see anything but the glint of light from the TV. “No.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Then how can I hold the whole world in my eyes?”

You laugh quietly and playfully pinch his cheek. He shakes you off with a smile. “That was cheesy.”

“Careful, or I’ll start to think you enjoy my bad jokes.”

You laugh again, a bit louder than before. It draws out his own chuckles, just seeing you so happy. You free your hand from his hold just enough to loosen his tie. “I must be getting delirious from sleep deprivation, that’s all.”

He grabs your hand to pull it away from his tie. “Alright. We can go to bed now.”

You’re loath to let go of him so he can sit up. You think, if given all the time in the world, you’d dedicate so much of it to simply holding him. With all the stress of his job, he deserves as much time as possible to rest. You wish you could give him that.

Overwhelmed with the desire to do just so, you hug him from behind before he can even get his legs off the armrest. He holds your hand again, turning his head to try seeing you. “Darling?”

You lift your cheek from his back to rest your chin on his shoulder, squeezing him a bit tighter. “I love you.”

He smiles. You let him raise your hand to his lips, where he places a lingering, reverent kiss to your knuckles. His thumb strokes over your palm, opening up your hand so he can place another kiss to the center. “My heart,” he whispers against your skin, “will always belong to you.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton

[puimoo]

Some thoughts on Dick's parents, away from the rose-tinted glasses.

[Obligatory ‘new to comic canon’ warning!]

I was working on writing up my thoughts on young!Dick in general, when I kept getting stuck in my thoughts around how there are particular personality traits he likely already possessed before coming into Bruce’s care. This led me down the Grayson family route, which is always interesting. In everything I have consumed so far, this is always portrayed as a very loving relationship that hasn’t really been explored in much depth in canon. Which leads me to…

I completely understand why Dick loves his parents so deeply and don’t doubt at all that they loved him, but there is also this interesting selfishness with them that I find difficult to ignore.  I can’t help but keep coming back to this: they included Dick in an act where they chose not to have a net.  A position where, if he makes a mistake, it could mean his death or (probably worse for Dick) the death of his parents. This isn’t a situation that occurred out of necessity, his parents chose to do this: they could have chosen to use a net when they started involving Dick in their act, but they didn’t.  They could have chosen to wait until Dick was older and more able to make a call about what risks he could and couldn’t take, but they didn’t.  When the options were to adapt their act to protect their son or to keep it as they wanted to, they chose the latter – and I would say because the act wouldn’t be the same if they did.  I very much doubt it’s because they didn’t realise the risk involved, and rather that it wasn’t enough to get them to make changes. 

And so, you have an 8-year-old Dick Grayson who has likely been training for years under the knowledge that if he doesn’t get things perfect – if he makes a mistake – he and his parents could/would die (and it would be his fault).  You have an 8-year-old Dick whose parents are willing to risk his well-being for the ‘greater good’, and he sees this as normal – this is how families are, the payoff is worth it. You have an 8-year-old Dick who likely doesn’t value his own life quite as much as he probably should, because his parents didn’t exactly appear to, either.  You have an 8-year-old Dick Grayson dealing with adult responsibilities and adult consequences. 

This is all drummed into Dick at some level before Bruce even enters the picture. It helps explain why young!Dick struggles to understand why he shouldn’t be able to fight at Bruce’s side – his parents included him in situations that could (and did) turn deadly, and they didn’t feel the need to include a physical or metaphorical safety net.  This is going to sound really harsh, but I think it’s also kind of true: they didn’t value Dick enough to. The act was more important, and the show must go on.

I don’t doubt at all that his parents loved him.  In some ways, it’s even worse that this comes from a place where there is likely love because it gets as deeply ingrained as those healthier, positive parental elements.  However. There is an interesting prioritising of their act over Dick, and I’d love to see this explored more.  Less the perfect, untouchable parents and more the actually somewhat morally grey parents who had both a positive and negative impact on their son.

(or: we really throw the cat amongst the pigeons and hypothesize that the reason they don't use a net with Dick is because it is part of his preparation for the Court of Owls, but that is not simply taking off the rosy glasses but smashing them completely!)

[sugdenlovesdingle]

post US election hangover WIP Wednesday

thanks for tagging me @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @captain-gillian

this whole US election mess is giving me war flashbacks to the Dutch election from last year with unfortunately a similar outcome... and the less said about that the better. I'm normally a news junkie, but today I turned off the breaking news notifications. I've had enough of things happening for now.

I'm also a big fan of sticking my head in the sand and pretending certain things don't exist so I've been writing ficlets all day - mainly for bucktommy (the brainrot is real at the moment) but here's a little something for tarlos with Judd that's been living in my drafts for a while. I don't really remember where I was going with it but maybe this will get the creative juices flowing enough to finish it.

---

“Whose face are you picturing?”

Judd looked up and saw TK leaning against one of the machines in the firehouse gym.

“My own. But I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“Ok.” TK shrugged and sat down on a bench with the weights. “I’ll just sit here and watch then.”

“You want to watch me work out?”

“No, not you. My dad is trying to convince Carlos he’s allowed to use the gym here instead of paying for the one down town.” He explained. “And I do want to watch him work out.” He grinned and winked at Judd.

“Can’t a man just work out in peace here without you making eyes at your fiancé?”

“Sorry, not today.”

Judd rolled his eyes and focused on getting a few more punches in on the bag. If he could just work through his frustrations in peace, the world would be a better place.

“Yes Carlos I’m sure. I’m the captain here and I officially give you permission. You’ll be my son in law in just a few weeks, you’re family.” Owen said, gently pushing Carlos into the gym.

“It’ll only be a few weeks. Just until the gym at the station is done. It’ll be done when we get back from our honeymoon.”

“You can just keep using it after that too, nobody here minds. And like I said, you’re family.” Owen turned him around and patted his shoulder. “Have fun.” He said and left, leaving Carlos standing in the doorway.

TK got up and walked over to him, slipping his arms around his waist.

“If dad says it’s ok, it’s ok.” He insisted. “Come on, we can work out together.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow.

“What? Here? Now?”

“Not that kind of work out. We can do that in the bunk room.” TK teased, a little too loud so Judd would overhear.

“As long as you do it on your own bed and not when I want to sleep, I don’t care.” Judd told them and turned back to the punching bag.

“You alright Judd?” Carlos asked, walking further into the gym and somewhat timidly setting up one of the treadmills.

“Judd is in a mood but he doesn’t want to talk.” TK explained, sitting back down on the weights bench.

“Judd just wants to work out in peace without some smart ass know it all bothering him.” Judd snapped but TK ignored him.

“I can go…” Carlos trailed off.

“No you’re alright. It’s your fiancé that doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m just sitting here admiring my future husband in his workout clothes.”

---

tagging: anyone who wants to share something to make the sucky parts of life suck a little less today.

And also my askbox is always open for prompts! (for tarlos or bucktommy - but please no crossovers because i suck at those)

[flightyalrighty]

Hey there! Hope you're having a great day & getting enough rest! I found Infested awhile back before Chapter 2 started,& while I'm not normally a big fan of horror/angst/gore & all that,I was really interested since it was about Shadow,who's one of my absolute favorites & it was really interesting & now I'm hooked,lol. Just curious though,you said that you always wanted to do a Sonic horror story,but what keeps you inspired to keep doing so much angst & emotional whiplash? Is it the challenge of writing the characters in situations that they normally wouldn't be in or other things? And I know you don't like to answer too many questions about the bugs to keep suspense up,but I gotta ask. Do the bugs know when another infected is nearby? Like they infect one person,then run into another person who was infected,do they have like "bug telepathy" or something so they don't kill each other?

Hello! Happy to be kinda like a gateway into this kinda stuff for you! I hope you enjoy Infested the whole way through!

A lot of it really is that I wanted to make a story and that I deeply love these characters and I especially love Archie Sonic and I mourn its death every day of my life.

Equally, this story comes from feelings that I had to explode onto these characters as a means of therapy for me. It's not as bad as it once was, but my world is still so small.

I do still feel trapped where I am, clawing for a means of escape, but it was so much worse before. I've had all too much time to myself, stuck in my thoughts, thinking of how much more living I was once able to do with my life. I needed an escape from this. I've experience suicidal thoughts before and I was scared they'd find me again.

So I step into the shoes of characters that bring me joy. I rummage around and poke at the things I personally find interesting about them. I take a horrible scenario and inflict them with it -- Not out of spite, not out of cruelty or any sort of anger, but because, in the end, perhaps they can handle things better than I ever could.

Perhaps they can hit their absolute lowest point and find strength within it.

Now, with all that said, I'll answer your bug question:

Yes, she's aware of when she's near hosts outside of her own. She's a hivemind, and connected to herself in that way. Hosts don't attack other hosts.

[thewhitespiderwitch]

Can you write Buckynat adopting Liho and/or Alpine for the first time? 💛

Yesssss 🤍

🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️🦾🕷️

Of Mountains and Misfortunes

Prompt: The two stray kittens that Natasha and Bucky feed eventually get adopted.

Pairing: Bucky X Natasha

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff

It was a rainy day. Usually like most. Natasha quite liked the rain, it is comforting to her. Bucky on the other hand did not. The thunder reminded him of HYDRA, something he didn't like at all.

The two cuddle for a while. "Shh, It's going to be okay, James. I promise." Natasha whispers soothingly. She kisses the spot where the flesh of his left arm meets the metal arm. It was something she did to comfort Bucky.

Natasha gets her boyfriend to go on a walk with her. The pair enjoys it for a while. They dance a bit in the rain.

That's when they notice a kitten covered i mud and a black kitten cuddling under a crack to stay warm from the storm. Natasha sighs. These were the same kittens that the couple often gave food to.

Normally they couldn't bring the kittens inside as the apartment they both lived in didn't allow for it. Bucky had tried to get Natasha to adopt them on multiple occasions despite this.

Now they both owned a house. "Doll, we should adopt them. Actually adopt them this time." Bucky says softly to his girlfriend.

Natasha shakes her head. "They're too much work, James. Besides I could never take care of a pet." Bucky puts a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "Cats are low maintenance, Doll. They're mostly independent." Bucky says softly. He tucks a lose strand of hair behind Natasha's ear.

Natasha didn't like having attachments. Bucky was really the only exception for her. Natasha sighs softly as she sees how scared and cold the shivering black kitten was.

She gently extends her hand out and the kitten nuzzles her head against Natasha hand. Bucky smiles and gently takes the kitten covered in mud into his arms. Natasha then carefully picks up the black kitten.

"So you agree that we should adopt them, Doll?" Bucky asks with a smile. "Yeah, I think they need a home." Natasha responds with a slight smile.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The couple of assassins then go to their house. Natasha then starts a bath for the two cats, before Natasha and Bucky place the kittens there to wash them.

The muddy kitten seems to enjoy it and loved playing with the bubbles but the black kitten quickly jumps out seemingly terrified of water.

Natasha gently takes the black kitten, drying her softly with a towel. "So you don't like water, huh?" She asks the kitten with an affectionate smile.

Natasha held the black kitten close, whilst Bucky washed the muddy kitten gently and then took her in his arms with a smile. He dried her to reveal her bright white fur.

The black kitten cuddles close into Natasha's arms. "We need to take them to the vet." Natasha states. "Yeah." Bucky agrees with a smile.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next day the couple went to the vet. They wait for their appointment before smiling as they see the veterinarian.

The veterinarian smiles as she leads the two to her office. "Hello, I'm Dr. Sarah. What brings you two to my office?" "Well my boyfriend and I decided to adopt two stray kittens and we're wondering if you could give them a checkup and their shots?" Natasha says softly.

Of course the young burnette woman says with a smile. She works pretty quickly examining the two female kittens for any illness or injury. Dr. Sarah smiles when she doesn't find anything wrong with them.

"At least these two are fighters. They don't have anything wrong with them." Dr. Sarah tells the couple. She then gives the two kittens their needed vaccines.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Natasha and Bucky then take the two kittens back to their house. The two assassins sit on their couch talking about the kittens. Natasha gently strokes the black kitten, whilst Bucky tickles the stomach of the white one.

Bucky speaks up "So we took the kittens inside, washed them and gave them vaccines....I think all they're both missing is names." He says. The two assassins had already given the kittens food and water.

"This one is definitely an 'Alpine'." Bucky says with a smile, motioning to the white Angora kitten. Her blue eyes and snow white fur reminded him very much so of a mountain.

Natasha continues stroking the black kitten gently thinking for a while. "How about 'Liho' for this one?" Natasha asks with a smile. "Misfortune?" Bucky asks knowing that that was the translation for the Russian word.

Natasha liked it as the black kitten reminded her of the superstition and Halloween a bit. "Yeah, it's cute." She says with a confused smile. Bucky chuckles softly and kisses his girlfriend's forehead.

"Alpine and Liho, welcome to the family." Bucky says softly with a smile.

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[doink-boink]

Finally drew my interpretation of Zach's parents!

Have had these fellows in the works for a good while!

Really had to lock in when doing the writing here lol - my handwriting is normally a weird hyper mix between cursive and print. But messier. Hopefully its legible! Enjoy some more yapping about these guys below the cut >:D

Must mention this is within my own AU! My interpretation of Zach specifically is a trans man. So uh! No way in hell Arthur is supportive in that regard. He is a miserable man whose only concern is furthering the family business and his public image.

Really looked to both Moral Orel and Bojack Horseman as inspiration for how these two would be. Did not intend for Arthur to share a name with the character he is inspired by lol - but uhm! He specifically is like Arthur Puppington when Clay was a kid: Distant, cold, though not physically abusive. Emotionally? Oh brother, you bet.

Regarding Kim and Arthur's relationship, that was really dead in the water. Kim is a self published author, or rather, an ASPIRING self published author. She mostly writes crime novellas/dramas, though needed some outsider input regarding the legal side of her stories. So, of course, she decides to reach out to the biggest law firm in the area.

It is initially a short and sweet interaction: "I ask you questions, you give me answers and insight when you can." However, she grows to enjoy Arthur's company, falling for him quickly. VERY rushed marriage ensues! Good god! (Of course not ASAP, within a few months time of dating/correspondence) Not too certain as of right now where Zach comes into the mix, but definitely in that honeymoon stage of a relationship where you don't quite know the person yet to really gauge if things will work out or not.

I mean, things absolutely do NOT work out in the end, but they don't know that yet. Arthur I feel is the type to want a family ASAP. Need that sweet sweet heir to the company. Will accept nothing less than a son. Sucks for him, doesn't end up coming to fruition until much later! AFAB child, disappointment on Arthur's behalf, compassion on Kim's. Like a night and day difference - even after Zach does eventually transition (his mother is deceased by this point) his father refuses to accept it until he dies. By until I mean: "You still are not my son." *flatline*

Kim was there for Zach until the day she died, which would probably be around late middle school to early highschool? In that age range. Old enough to have fond and in depth memories. Which! Arthur is the one who discovers what had happened. Busy writing a novel when wham, sudden cardiac arrest - alone, as she tended to keep to herself. Entire family dynamic changes from then onward, though the abusive aspects of it were ever present. Arthur is generally unsupportive of Zach's endeavors, frustrated that he is going into science and robotics as opposed to law. (Though I do think he'd have been trained or prepped for a career as a lawyer throughout his teens-adolescence)

Zach is the closest to his mother, with most of his fashion sense coming from her. Gotta love the turtleneck sweater! @novazentryx came up with the idea that he inherited his early black sweater from Tazzy Chris from her after it shrunk in the wash, loved that so y'know what! This totally applies here. Not only did he inherit the sweater, but also her V-necklace! (Which, if you have seen Zoey, is where she gets it from! As well as she looks strikingly similar to Kim. On that front I think that was a surprise from Aviva, knowing how close he was to her)

Spitballing with this one, but I think it would be interesting if Zach had assisted in pitching ideas for Kim's stories! What aspects of it I do not know, but maybe names for the characters. Mayhaps that is where he gets ZACH from? Don't ask what his deadname is, haven't thought of that and would prefer not to lol

I think that concludes my rambling! Do not really have anything else that is coming to mind at the moment, so feel free to ask questions or leave suggestions about these two! I will more than likely respond ^^ (To asks or replies) Thank you for humoring me and reading all of this if you're here lol, I really appreciate it!!

[loadedberetta]

5 Minute break // Ghost x Reader (fem no body desc)

cw mentions of smoking, guns and shooting

You planted your back against the tall brick wall just below the sign that proclaimed this very spot as a smoking area. A tall tree hung over the top of the wall, shading the whole parking lot. It filtered out most noises of the city, making the inner courtyard a cosy little space. From the other three sides, a tall, glassy apartment building encased the little asphalted eden. Smoke almost always rose from the spot you stood at, as all the people working in the multi-storey office building came down to have a break. As you did too. But the people close to you in the office knew you didn't smoke, and stopped offering you cigs long ago.

"You wan' one?" A new voice asked from moderately far away, as you just finished guessing the daily word in the game on your phone. As you registered someone coming closer to you, you looked up. He was a Brit, comfortably in his 40s. If you wouldn't have been an expert in men his age, you would have easily taken him to be a bit younger.

The thick but carefully trimmed locks of dirty blonde hair suited him, sometimes even falling towards his forehead, covering some of the gathering wrinkles below them. His browbone directed your gaze down to his eyes, brown pools of mature coyness. If dark chocolate, coffee, and brown leather had a lovechild, it would be that colour. His nose bent in a sharp line, that set a commanding effect to every small movement with his head, you imagined. Disappearing below a cloth mask that was pulled up to cover his ears halfway too, hid an angular and sharp face; that was all you could figure out before he pulled down the mask. His mouth angled downwards, pink lips contrasting the scars littered across his face, one particular one tearing into the supple flesh of his upper lip.

You noticed yourself staring when he disrupted the line of his mouth with the white, slim body of a cigarette. It stuck to his mouth as he spoke:

"Hey, I asked d'you wan' one? You look like you need it."

Shaking your head a little, you looked up embarrassed, to meet his inquisitive eyes. As soon as you saw he read your gaze, his crow's feet deepened, and he nudged your limp hand beside you with the box.

"Take one."

You finally found your voice again. Or so you thought. The words came out breathy and cracked.

"I don't smoke, thank--" You coughed into your elbow a few times, thanks to the small amount of saliva that you inhaled when trying to clear your throat. So much for first impressions. He didn't bat an eye, but his hands did stop mid-air.

"No, it's fine, light it." You told him after clearing your throat one last time. He lowered his hand, however.

"I'm fine actually. I'm… trying to quit."

Looking up at him with sorry eyes, you flashed a weak smile at him, not knowing what to say. He pulled out the box again and put the white stick away. You had just noticed how he was wearing all black. Boots, trousers, and shirt. All black. Something still showed through it all. A concealed bulletproof vest was comfortably hugging his frame. And to top it all off, the belt you mistakenly took for a utility belt until now, holstered a standard issue pistol, some cuffs, and other accessories of a security officer.

"…head security officer."

Dumbfounded yet again by him in the last two minutes, you looked up at him, meeting his eyes that harboured a strange darkness in them, as if they could tell a thousand stories.

"I'm the new head security officer. Simon Riley."

Finally coming to your senses, you managed to answer without swallowing saliva into your lungs. In the next moment, you had to realize though, that you have in fact swallowed nothing into your lungs. It felt as if he created the air unbreathable around you but in a good way. When you realized you were supposed to tell him what you were doing at the complex, his hand was already out to shake yours. You barely managed to blurt your own name back. He practiced it once, and a small smile settled on his face as he pronounced it back correctly.

"I'm… the sales director at John Rigby on…"

"…the third floor. I know."

Ah, he probably knows it from…

"…the safety briefings. I had to learn the place from the inside out, including all the people who work here. It's sort of… compulsory." For the safety company. A gun manufacturer's sales office is a bit conspicuous and would stand out for every trained eye. Just like his, as they were surely trained on you. From the first moment, he was surveying you. Breaking you down to sheer components, and putting you back together, without as much as saying a word. And you could deal with him, picking you apart. You wanted to remain composed and divert his attention from your features, so you commented snarkily on his appearance:

"Why have you got a safety vest then, and I don't?" You crossed your arms, coercing your delicate breasts upwards, forcing him to choose between talking while looking into your eyes or talking and staring at your tits. He chose the obvious third way, and darted his eyes with painful precision across your body, raking in every last drop of the sight.

"Because bodies like yours don't get shot at." When the compound higher-ups hired this new company, you had high expectations. Optically, they were in the clear so far, and you filed away that for later.

"And what if they do?"

"Then we did our job fucking poorly." He said with a hint of swagger, yet still sounding responsible and capable. After all, he was your new security officer.

After a moment of silence, you decided your break was up. If you spent any moment more out here, you were sure your clothes would have melted off of you, you were so hot. Despite the sun not being able to reach you through the high concrete walls around the spot, you felt hotter than ever, a damp patch growing in your panties with each passing moment prompting you to leave urgently.

For now... As you knew you hadn't seen the last of him yet.

my first long-ish work in a hot minute, I'm very insecure about it. have at it I have more thoughts on security guard Ghost. not betad by a long shot; it might contain some mistakes for which I apologize, this was like a year-old piece I renod

[inkskinned]

you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.

you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.

instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.

you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.

your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.

because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.

so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.

all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[necrotic-nephilim]

i think stephcass could have been potentially interesting if fandom let steph be herself and not ultimate uwu girl boss erasing all her negative traits. where is her jealousy? unhealthy obsession with her crush and complete lack of understanding of the concept of boundaries ESPECIALLY if that person is already dating someone? where is her almost manic urge to push away other potential love interests (and at this point i realized she would NOT have been so chill with ives if tim had come out much earlier yikes)

BIG AGREE OH MY GOD YOU PUT IT INTO WORDS.

because i love TimSteph for the reasons you listed!! there's something very unhealthy and teen girl-ish in the way Steph approaches relationships. she's angrily jealous and she thinks about Tim in a possessive way. like she is just so consumed by him and it's meant to be male comic writers writing how they think teen girls write about boys in their diaries- but it comes off as incredibly toxic. it's one of her deepest character flaws and what endears me so much to 90s Steph. she throws herself so deeply into romance when she has it, like she's afraid if she lets go of it for even a second it's going to leave her. and god forbid you be the person she falls for bc you will never maintain a healthy relationship with someone she views as competition, she *will* sabotage it. and to me these are all pros of her character. i *like* seeing how vigilantes struggle to maintain normal relationships- *especially* teenage vigilantes. Steph struggles to balance her "regular" life with being Spoiler and what things deserve a Stephanie Brown reaction and what things deserve a Spoiler reaction. and when she's dating, it's almost *always* going to be a Spoiler reaction and she shades her relationships through that lense. it's why civilian partners for Steph never really interest me. (besides the fact they always feel forced and clunky, like Steph's recent think with Maps' older brother?) it doesn't explore the way Steph loves to her fullest extent and how far she goes when she's into someone. there's no sweet puppy love for Steph, when she's all in, she's *all* in. she will do what she thinks is best for Tim oftentimes by her own will without his knowledge or approval, and sometimes massively fucks things up for him. bc she's just so wrapped up in what she believes is best, consequences are secondary.

and sure, she maintains healthy friendships. bc most fodder with StephCass is very healthy and soft. bc it's a *friendship*. and it changes radically when Steph is involved romantically. it's why there's such a difference in how Steph regards Tim when they're just friends as to when they were dating. she loves him and he's always going to be important, but that obsessive passion isn't what drives them anymore. so it's something you have to consider with *any* Steph ship in which it's a character she's had a friendship with- that how she interacts with them as a friend doesn't necessarily inform how she'd regard them as a lover. and that's the issue with StephCass. even the StephCass content that *is* comics informed (tho, a lot of it isn't and while i don't think fanon needs to be based on the comics to be good, i do think Steph and Cass are difficult characters to tackle if you aren't at least semi-familiar with their canon content bc of how warped they are in the fandom-) comes off with such a rose-colored lense that sours it for me. hell, even on Cass' side, things she's *canonically* done have been weird and obsessive about Steph. but that's never explored.

(tbh dare i say it's something to do with the phenomena in fandom that yuri is morally pure and perfect and yaoi is always dirty and bad- there's this almost sanitizing of sapphic ships sometimes to make them perfect and cute together and while i'm not here to yuck someone else's yum, i do think it's *telling* that women in fandom never get to explore the complex depths of unhealthy and toxic love in the way men do bc if you make a woman evil, it's misogyny. if you sexualize a woman too much it's misogyny. if you write her doing morally fucked up things even with the understanding it is her canon character, it's misogyny and you're villainizing her. i can sit here and say Tim is canonically shitty at relationships and ppl will not. if i say the same about Steph, then i'm critiquing a woman and holding her to an unfair standard. it's exhausting. it feels like StephCass only ever exists to depict Steph and Cass as morally pure and in love angels kissing in the background while the men get to do complex and nuanced and fun things in the foreground. this thought has probably been far more explored by others with more developed nuance on it, but i just wanted to point it out bc it's a very real thing i keep seeing *especially* in the Batfam fandom-)

and equally i think Cass' reaction to this intensity and obsession from Steph could be interesting. Cass historically has had poor reactions to knowing everyone is attracted to her and thinking about her, so that level of intensity i think could cause some negative reactions out of Cass that would add some very layered conflict to the ship. some of Steph's most negative traits *do* clash with Cass' wants and needs. it makes the ship more fun! it puts Steph's flaws on display as well as Cass' flaws and her internal issues surrounding romance. StephCass could be so weird and fucked up. but it's been defanged by this fandom in a way that turns me off to it. i love both Steph and Cass and i love exploring sapphic Batfam ships, so it *should* work for me. but the irony of it being popular in anti spaces combined with no one being able to acknowledge the flaws either of these characters have for the sake of making them kiss just. bores me and it's sucked any interest i could have out of it. bc god forbid women just be a little fucked up. </3

[quatregats]

Something I've been thinking about is how Patrick O'Brian manages so skillfully to write characters whose actions contradict their beliefs, which I think is honestly a big part of why his characters feel so real. Mostly with Stephen and Jack—e.g., and perhaps most notably, Stephen has notably leftist sympathies (honestly I have no idea how to characterize his politics in period terms) who nonetheless becomes very comfortable with his rise to the landed gentry, while Jack is a card-carrying Tory who much of the time sympathizes far more with working class sailors and farmers than with the upper classes—but I'm sure he does it to a lesser degree with some of his minor characters (James Dillon, while perhaps not precisely minor, comes to mind), and I love that he's able to do that, especially the way in which he embeds it in the narrative. We see how they're all unreliable narrators of themselves; we understand how they want to be seen and how that does and doesn't coincide with the reality, but most importantly, this isn't presented as something reprehensible, just as a part of their own humanity. They are not their expectations for themselves, but they don't need to be those expectations to be beloved.