#I'm talking about myself really and that shouldn't be offensive

[fairuzfan]

The thing that's never made sense to me is the "Holocaust inversion" talking point and the idea that we are "moralizing" the Holocaust as something you're supposed to learn from which like aside from the fact that israel's entire pr is that it needs to exist because of the Holocaust, I really don't understand how feeling empathy based on past experiences is like... a moralizing action?

Even those who don't feel empathy, they still like... have the universal idea that you shouldn't do bad things onto other people. When you consider that yeah, when you live in the world, you experience terrible things and you relate those terrible things to other terrible things happening in the world. That's just what everyone does. Whenever I hear things happening to indigenous Turtle Islanders I always relate it back to Palestine. When I hear about violence happening to Black people, I think "Ah it must be terrifying" and I think back to my own family members and friends who were killed by Israel. When i think of antiBlackness in arab spaces, i relate it back to the occupation and compare myself to the occupation on whether or not im inflicting the same pain i and my family endure onto others. It's just how you experience the world. No one is asking you to "learn" from the Holocaust, people are just asking you to apply empathy.

A universal example is that you don't really understand the grief of losing a loved one until you yourself lose a loved one. And when you encounter a person who lost a loved one as well, you relate to them in a unique way that you wouldn't have without having that experience of grief before. It's not a moralizing experience, it's just... an experience. An awful one but you don't *learn* anything from it.

So it always confounds me that there's such vehement pushback against the idea that what Palestinians are going through is similar to the Holocaust because it's not like we're making light of the Holocaust? It's that we are asking you, a zionist (in this case one who is Jewish specifically), to acknowledge that there are similarities between the way Palestinians are treated and the ways Jews, Roma, and multiple other people were treated during the Holocaust. It's that we're relegated to second class status, we are considered lesser, we are confined to ghettos, we have our livelihoods stolen from us, we have weapons tested on us, we're survielled like we are dangerous monsters and we experience systematic segregation. And now we are experiencing mass slaughter campaigns within our concentration camps. But what's the issue? Are you offended that Palestinians can even remotely understand the terrible violence that Jews experienced in the Holocaust? Or are you denying that Palestinians are experiencing those things??

People always bring up like "Oh you don't understand what exactly happened during the Holocaust, you're just using it as a stand in for "a very bad thing"" and that's like... never made sense either because what does that mean? I'm not... using the Holocaust out of nowhere, I'm using it because Israel tells US, PALESTINIANS, that we need to be kicked out and raped and tortured *because* of the Holocaust. When us, Palestinians, ask you to feel empathy for us based on what you experienced during the Holocaust, we aren't just pulling it out of thin air, we are using a zionist talking point and pointing out the flaws. "Does experiencing a Holocaust allow you to conduct massacres and unbelievable violence onto other people?" and "Why are we paying for the terrible crimes of Europeans? Why is this our fault that we must suffer for it, as you, a zionist, insist we must?"

It's just so confusing how people would take offense at feeling empathy for Palestinians. We aren't denying the awful, awful genocide of the Holocaust, nor are we "making light of it..." but if you believe that comparing what Palestinians go through is making light of the Holocaust, then you must think that what we are going through is not bad at all.

[patrophthia]

love is sour grapes | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), unrequited love but not really, everyone is an idiot, self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 5.9K

originally posted on ao3 on: 06/28/2022

"Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Or Theodore is a quiet piece of shit and that leads to miscommunication and complicated feelings

Theodore Nott. The one constant thought that has been running through my head way too often for my liking. He was handsome, quiet, smart, lanky in all the right ways and never seemed to be engaged in a conversation —or at least one where he was talking instead of just listening and listening and listening.

Talking to him had always been one of my goals, it shouldn't have, really, it shouldn't. But somehow I had found myself more than just infatuated with him. 

Theodore was an observant person, if he noticed me studying him, he never confronted me about it. 

But, as my friend says it, Theodore Nott is sour grapes. Or, in better words, love is sour grapes. If this even was love that is. 

"I think you should just talk to him," Hermione says kindly. "I still don't think that he would be good for you but if you fancy him that much then go ahead." 

"If you want a death wish that is," Ron snickered. "Honestly, can't you have picked a better guy to fancy? I mean— Nott? Of all people."

"Do you want me to fancy Malfoy instead? Would that make you happy," I quipped, hearing Hermione hide a laugh between closed lips. "Or god forbid, you." 

Ron face contorted to one of offense. "I'm notthatbad." 

"Yeah sure," I murmured, with no malice. And turned to Harry who had been quiet about the situation ever since he found out. "What do you think?" 

Harry shrugged, looking startled. "I don't know," He said first, and then. "I think you need someone better than Nott. You're friendly and thoughtful—" he paused hesitantly. "—and you're quite awfully pretty." 

"Thank you, Harry." My eyes fell downwards with no real intention. I was none of those things. "But I don't think he'd agree." 

"What does it matter if he agrees," Hermione said loudly. "Harry's right. You're all of those things. It's his loss if he doesn't go out with you. You're fit, incredibly so. I would be happy if someone like you were to ever fancy me."

If Ron had a reaction to those words, neither Hermione nor Harry noticed. 

"Well," I said as a group of Slytherin walked into the Potions classroom. Potions would be starting any minute now, and I needed to head into class before Snape does. "I'll keep that in mind. If all fails, I'll just have to marry you, Mione." 

With a final smile, I bid them a quick goodbye and made my way into class. The three of them heading to which ever direction they needed to be. 

The class quickly starts, and Snape wasted no time in assigning me a potion to make. Invigoration Draught. The potion that energizes the drinker. How fun.

The ingredients were mostly easy to obtain. Peppermint, Honeywater, Stewed Mandrake then there's Dried billywig sting: my biggest nightmare.

I was only so tall and the shelves where the ingredients were stored stood so so high. I would've used a stool had it been free to use, but a Slytherin had already been occupying it and it would be rude if I were to take it away from them.

There was a cough behind my back, and then, a hand reached; over me and towards the exact thing I needed. Dried billywig sting: my new biggest enemy.

The person pulled back —jar filled with billywig in hand, and stood still as I turned to them. The jar had a decent amount of billywig in it, if they needed it I could still manage to ask for just enough for my potion. That is if they were kind enough to let me have some.

"Could I—" I paused mid-turn. There stood Theodore Nott in all his glory. Dark eyes, dark hair and facial features that looked like every part of him was chosen by Aphrodite herself, watching me with a raised eyebrow. "—uhm, could I have a few of those? I needed it for my potion but I couldn't reach it."

Theodore blinked once, looking unfazed and handed the jar over.

I blinked twice the time he did, opening up the jar; intending on taking out a few and handing it back over when he stopped me.

"I don't need it."

His voice.

"You don't?" I find myself asking, trying not to breathe too loud or to forget how to even breathe in the first place.

Theodore shook his head once. And reached up for something else. Had he seen me struggle and had gotten it just for me?

"Thank you," I tell him. Theodore nodded once, accepting it as it is. I think you should just talk to him. Goddamn it, Granger. "Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Whether he was scrutinizing me or not, I didn't know. What I do know is that I was wrong and stupid. And my friends were wrong too.

He needed more than me. I might be friendly and kind and maybe quite awfully pretty. But Theodore needed more than me.

"You know what." I cleared my throat, smiling. "Forget I said anything. Have a good day, Nott."

•••

I had been down lately. My friends noticed that. Even Harry and Ron noticed it and they were as daft as they come. Whenever they asked me what was wrong I find myself telling them that I was just stressed over my O.W.Ls.

Which I was. But it was mostly a lie to cover up something I was more upset about. I had idiotically asked Theodore out and now I have to face the consequences of being rejected.

I think —in some ways— him having not even say 'no' or have given a clearer answer was more upsetting then if he had just said no out loud.

It was stupid of me to get my hopes up and think that anything else would've happened. It was stupid for me to even think I was in his league.

It was also late. I hated walking back to the common rooms in these hours but it was my fault for procrastinating my essay until the night before it was due so I had to rush the entire thing in an hour in the library. I had only hoped that Umbridge wouldn't punish me for being out pass curfew.

I had one more hall left to turn before I reached the Hufflepuff's barrels when someone shouted out my surname, halting me in my place.

Fast pace footsteps approached and then, donning from head to toe in pink was Umbridge. Fuck.

"What do you think you're doing out of your dorm at this time?" She asked quickly, her toad like face twitching with irritation.

"I was in the library and lost track off time," I quickly confessed. "I'm so sorry. My dorm's close by and I—"

"It was my fault professor." His voice. "I’d asked for her help and lost track of time. She was trying to head back before curfew but it seems like her efforts were to no avail. I can only hope you would excuse her and blame me for my faults."

Umbridge looked baffled. He talked? Theodore talked? She made that annoying noise that she can't seemed to get rid off. "Well." her voice laced with false kindness.

"I see no point in deducting any points." She then turned to me. "But I will be expecting to see you tomorrow for separating yourself from help at a time as late as this. Merlin knows, it's dangerous for a girl to wander alone at this time."

"Just me?" I asked, slightly confused.

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Do you expect Mister Nott here to be punished for wanting to make sure you got back to your dorm safe?"

That wasn’t what he— okay. Fine. Whatever.

"Now, go off," she said with a wave of her hand. "And Theodore, would you be so kind as to walk her back? I don't want to know the troubles she might cause when I let her out my sight."

Theodore nodded, doing as he was told and took a step forward. He looked behind his shoulders, his eyes meeting mine and tilted his head slightly: signaling that we should leave now before it gets worse.

I avoided Umbridge's eyes and stepped forward, trailing after Theodore. Detention. All because I was too lazy to finish my essay any other time I had.

I think I feel my eyes water. I think it feels harder to breathe. I don't know for sure how I feel exactly despite dejected and disappointed with myself.

If I had just made one different choice, I wouldn't have to have detention with the one professor known to physically harm the students. And to top it off, being walked back to my common room by the boy who recently rejected me whilst bottling up my feelings about everything I did wrong.

"You don't have to actually walk me back." I paid no heed to the crack of my voice. Theodore does though. "It's late." I pointed out the obvious. "You should go."

Theodore glanced at me quickly. His look was so quick that I suspected he had planned to only spare me a second of his time. But something about me, something about how vulnerable I must've looked, had him pausing.

"I shouldn't." He said slowly, his tone so attentively that it made me think that he had saw something in me that I never did. "I can't leave you."

"You can." I don't think I can handle being near him any longer, not when he was studying me so cautiously. "It's only a few steps away, I can assure you I'll be fine."

Theodore eyes flickered down the corridor quickly, finally tearing themselves away from me and looked forward, continuing towards the direction of my common room.

When we finally reached where we needed to be. Theodore stood back watching as I tapped the barrels carefully.

I looked over my shoulder once the path opens up. Smiling slightly when I found his eyes on me. "Thank you for taking the blame, Theo. You didn't have to and you did and spared me way too many house points. I really appreciate it."

He made a noise of acknowledgment, taking my word as it is. And then, as he was about to step away. "Goodnight."

•••

I think I hate life. I might be wrong but life sucks. Especially when you have to repeatedly write the same sentence over and over again with a magic quill that tears through your skin.

That can't have been a legal source of punishment but Umbridge made the rules so it was no use fighting her about it.

My hand hurts. Holy fuck, does it hurt. I don't even have to glance down at it for me to see my skin burning red, bleeding slightly. Curved out in the sentence. I will not be out pass curfew. 

"You alright there?" Came a voice. 

I looked up quick and abruptly, sure that I'll get whiplash from my actions; to find George Weasley watching me with interest. I smiled, subconsciously hiding away my hand. "I'm fine." 

"You sure?" He followed up. "You don't look too good."

I nodded, trying to look as reassuring as possible. "I'm fine, just got a paper cut is all." 

He fixes me a look of disbelief but let it slides. "You should go," he said with a small smile. "I think Ron's looking for you? Something about slimey snakes and what not." 

"Oh." The sound slipped out. "Thank you, I'll go find him." 

It was weird to see George without Fred but I decided that I didn't want to know why. They were probably setting up a prank and I had walked right through it. 

Bidding George a goodbye. I continued down the corridor, turned the corridor and found the trio standing by with Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott by their sides. This can't be good. 

Is this what George referred to when he said Ron was looking me about some slimey snakes? 

"There she is," Malfoy said with mild annoyance. "We've been looking for you." 

"You have?" My eyes drifted to Hermione but she only shrugged, looking as clueless as I was. "Why?" 

Malfoy took a steps towards me. "You've been with Professor Umbridge?" 

"Yes." I nodded. "Why?" 

"Did she give you the quill?" 

What was he playing at? Why was he interrogating me? "Yes." I repeated. "Why?" 

Zabini rolled his eyes and step up, seemingly having enough of Malfoy's dramatics. "Here." He handed out a bottle. "It's Murtlap essence. Suppose to help you with the cuts. Nott made it for you." 

"He did?" I asked, taking the bottle of Murtlap essence from Zabini's hand. I turned to look at Theodore, finding his eyes glued to my bleeding hand that was grasping the bottle. Jerking my hand back, I smiled, thanking him. "Thank you for this, I really appreciate and for uhm— thanks again for covering for me last night." 

Everyone —all but Theodore and I— brows raised upwards, surprised. So they didn't know about what had happened last night.

Theodore showed no outwards reaction, having just watch me with a straight face and patient eyes. Then he turned to Zabini and tilted his head slightly. Zabini seemingly understood, slapped a hand over Malfoy's shoulder and with a goodbye, steered the blond boy away. 

"Bloody hell," Ron said exasperatedly. "Did that really happen?" 

"Nott made you Murtlap essence?" Hermione asked more to herself than anyone else. "How did he even know you needed it?" 

"I—" I stopped, glancing at my hand. "—I was out pass curfew and Umbridge caught me. Nott took the blame for it. I think Umbridge was too surprised with hearing him talk to properly acknowledge that he too was out of the dorms pass curfew. She said she won't take away any house points but gave me detention as a punishment." 

"That's all?" Hermione said. "Why would Nott take the fall for it and then proceed to make Murtlap essence for you if there wasn't anything in it for him?" 

"I don't know," I told her, shrugging. "He also walked me back to my common room and wouldn't leave me when I insisted otherwise." 

"Do you think." Ron started. "Maybe that Nott fancies you?" 

"No." I was quick to shake my head in disagreement. "He's doesn't. He's made that clear already." 

"He has?" Harry asked loudly, brows knitted together. 

"Yeah," I murmured. "That day I talked to the three of you. I asked him during class if maybe we could go out on a date sometimes and he didn't say anything. Not a yes. Not a no. Nothing." 

"That's terrible," said Hermione sympathetically. "Honestly, what kind of person rejects someone then proceed to do things as if they cared for them." 

"Hermione," said Harry cautiously, eyes shifting between me and her. "I don't think that does anything to soothe her nerves." 

"Sorry." Hermione blinked in realization. "It's just— you deserve better. I don't understand a thing Nott's doing and I don't want you to get hurt in the process." 

"He could be figuring out his feelings," Ron suggested making Hermione shoot a sharp glare his direction. Ron tsked. "I'm just pointing it out." 

"Well it's not helping." Hermione said in an obvious tone. Her eyes drifted down to my hand, scanning the words then looked back up. "I think you should head back and take care of your hand. You don't want it to scar now, do you?" 

I nodded, waving. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Hermione let out an agreeing hum and went on her way, Ron pestering her from behind. Harry hadn't moved though, looking at me with furrowed brows. "Could I maybe have some of your Murtlap essence?"

"Yeah." I handed it over. "I didn't know you had to endure Umbridge as well."

"Didn't think it was important to mention." He pulled out an empty ink pot from his bag and twisted it open, pouring just enough essence to not overflow it. Harry put the cap back on and handed it back over. "Don't tell Hermione or Ron, will you? I don't want to be a bother." 

" 'course." I smiled. "I won't tell anyone." 

•••

What are the chances that I get caught being out pass curfew twice in the same week. Pretty fucking high because I was once again being called out late at night. 

Two sets of foot steps stops before me and it took me roughly five seconds to realize just how grave the situation was. Draco Malfoy stood tall and smug with Hannah Abott by his side looking tired —if a little irritated by Malfoy's presence. 

"What are you doing out, badger?" Malfoy asked. 

"I was heading back from the kitchens." Malfoy made a face and glanced down at my outfit that looked way too overdressed to be heading down to the kitchens. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." It was clear that I was caught in a lie. Goddamn you, Radiohead concert. "I must've lost track of time." 

Hannah looked like she wanted to say something but bit her tongue. Not wanting any of her words to be counted as it being biased just because I was her dorm mate. 

And then, as I waited to hear Malfoy state just how many points he wanted to take away from my house. He said with annoyance, "you can go." Unfazed to the look of surprise that showed up on both mine and Hannah's faces. "Tell Nott he owes me one." 

•••

I don't think my head could —or will ever fully comprehend "tell Nott he owes me one." I don't know why exactly but that sentence feels way more ominous than it ought to be. 

ott does not owe him anything for letting me go. 

And I don't think I owe Nott anything for helping me be let go? maybe I could've phrased that better. What I meant to say is that: I owe Nott nothing for his friend's behavior towards me. At least I don't think I do. 

But things works in mysterious way. Like how —despite how ironic I find it— Nott always find out a way to help me out during potions. Especially when it came to the ingredients. 

Though that was the least of my concerns right now. My concern, for now, is revolved between the three books in my hand that I can't decide —for the life of me— which one to buy. 

On other occasions I would buy all three and went about my day but I had only brought enough money for one book and food for the rest of the day at Hogsmeade, and my friend didn't seem like they'd be heading back to Hogwarts for extra cash any time soon. 

I looked over my options once more, trying to figure out which one would be the bang of my buck. 

Option one: All Or Nothing, a novel about a girl trying to navigate relationships with the people she surrounded herself with and see whether they would react differently when she gave them her all, and then; how they would react when she gave them nothing. 863 pages. 

Option two: Glimpse Of Us, a novel about a boy who always —and I mean always, sees his ex in the girls he dates after her. 295 pages. 

Option three: Listen boy, a cheesy novel about a girl who had little to no interest when it comes to going on dates with guys but when her roommate compliments her on the socks she wore, she finds herself wanting to do nothing but go on dates with them. 530 pages. 

Both Glimpse Of Us and All Or Nothing seems like sad book. Maybe it's time for me to find some joy in my life —which seems to seize to exist after whatever happened between me Nott happened. As I turned, intending to put those two books back in their respective places. I was more than surprise to find Nott looking at me with a slight fascinated tilt to his head.

“Which is it?”

"Hmm?" I find myself humming. Should I pick All Or Nothing instead? Wouldn't that make me seem more intelligent than a book about a girl being in love with her roommate. 

"Which one have you chose?" He clarified, and I might've imagined it —no I definitely did because, Theodore Nott's lips did not just curve up at all. 

"This one." I lifted up whatever was in my right hand which just happens to be Listen boy. And there goes sounding more intelligent in front of Theodore. "It seems cute." 

"Is that all?" He followed up and it's then that I realize he was wearing a forest green that had no reasons to make him look as good as it did. Green really was his colour. "Nothing more?"

"No." I shook my head. "Ideally I would like two get these two as well," I told him truthfully. "But I only brought enough for one —technically two, if I stretched it out but that would mean no snacks for the rest of the day so it's a no." 

"I'll get it for you then," he says casually. Like it's something you say to someone you recently rejected. Like he was walking around, waiting for someone to tell him that they haven't brought enough cash for the other books they wanted. "Would you like anything else? I am more than willing to indulge you." 

"No, I don't." I stop myself. Yes, I mean. Because I really did want other books, especially if someone else was paying for it but I know that my poor heart cannot handle it. 

It is already breaking apart at how handsome he looked with his forest green jumper and black ironed pants. His hair, a usual dark brown, just the slightest tinge brighter under the sunlight (which is both a sight for sore eye and a rare view since I only ever see him in the dungeons, hunched over a bubbling pot and disgusting lightings) which flatters him in all the best way possible. 

And no, my heart is not picking up a million paces over I am more than willing to indulge you in that very tone of voice, in that very set of clothes, in very set of lighting, by that very Slytherin that I could not seem to get over.

"You don't have to," I insisted, trying to not shiver under his gaze. He narrows his eyes and it says way more than words could ever say. He knows he doesn't, he wants to. Oh lord save me. "Maybe this one? It's cheaper." 

"That was not my question," he said curtly. "I asked you if you'd like anything else, not which option was cheaper."

What are we even talking about now? Was he planning on buying me the three books in my hands and more or was he planning on letting me pay for my choice then pay for the others I couldn't afford. 

Is my face that much of an open book? Because, without even having to say it. Theodore had already answered my questions for me. "I'll buy you the three in your hands and anymore you'd like. I'd buy you the whole store if you wanted me to." 

I think I'm having a heart attack. Or dreaming. Or both. I can't tell. Maybe I'm dreaming while having a heart attack? Who knows. All I know is that Theodore Nott did not just say that. Did he? 

"No." I shake my head quickly, maybe even too quickly. "No, I— these three are more than enough. I promise to pay you back when we get back to school."

Theodore fixes me a look. One ridiculing me to the point that I wished —more than anything— that I was a bludger being hit so hard I pass through the most oblivious of oblivions. I'm so sure that that would be less stressful. 

"I mean it!" I press all three books to my side. "I promise, and I always keep my promise. I won't take advantage of your money, I will get it and find you as soon as I—"

I didn't see the point in finishing my words because he was smiling. And laughing. I think. It's a mixture of those two and it's so heavenly that I believe in everything ethereal alike. 

Theodore noticed my silence, the side of his lips curved the slightest bit (so so small and tiny that you couldn't even spot it), looking at me with clearly amused eyes. And then, "did you not hear me?" 

"What?" The words slipped out easily. 

"I told you I'd buy you the whole store if you'd like and you think I'd want my money back?" He said slowly. "I couldn't care less about the money. I just wanted to make you happy. Salazar knows, I've made you upset more often than I could count between my fingers." 

Now what the fuck was he on about. He has never made me upset —save for rejecting me that one time,  but I understood it, he didn't like me, that's that. I have gotten over. I think. But I'm more than sure that I could count that one event between his ten fingers.

Unless Theodore only had one finger? Does he? I cast a glance down to his hands and there are those ten fingers. Ten exactly. Not one short or one more. Ten and a couple of silver bands that made me want to do nothing but sit and stare at his long, pale, slim fingers. And how they would feel around my— nope, nope. Absolute not. 

"Merlin, we leave Nott alone and he goes around trying to find his girlfriend." Girlfriend? 

When the owner of the voice, Zabini, finally arrives before me and Theodore, I was no where near surprised to see the other Slytherins in their group by his side. 

Parkinson. Malfoy. And finally, Greengrass —whom I was actually friends with. 

"Well?" Zabini muttered, eyes shifting between me and Theodore, and then landing on him solely. "Are the pair of you planning on standing here the whole day?" 

"No," I said with narrowed eyes. "I don't know what he's doing here, I'm just trying to buy a book." 

Zabini raised a brow. "Is that all, princess?" 

"Pretty much." This feels like a trap. Is this a trap? "Are you planning on going somewhere with Theo?" 

"Theo," Zabini tsked with a smirk. "I've never once called him that and I've known him for about five year now. How cute is that." 

Yep. This is definitely a trap. I think I'm going to die now. 

Theodore, with a roll of his eyes, made his way to my side and pried at the books pressed to my waist. Confused, and a little daze at the warmth of his fingers grazing my hip, I let go of the three books and watched him with wide eyes. 

He seemed (and looked) unaffected by how everyone eyes were now on him. Walking around and picking another set of the exact books I'd picked out. Theodore paid for them without a word, asking for separate bags and handed a set over to me. 

And then, quietly he says. "Zabini's an idiot." He smiled a winsome one and I am so sure I'm dying and this —whatever this was— is just a figment of my imagination that my brain curated during my dying breath. "I like it. Don't ever stop calling me Theo." 

•••

Blaise Zabini is trying to be matchmaker. I'm sure of it. Or else he wouldn't be bothering me as much as he did now. I can't seem to peacefully spend time in the library without being interrupted by him. 

"Hello," he greeted, smiling as he sat opposing me. I raised an eyebrow and he was able to read me quick enough, telling me the reason he was here. "Just wanted to let you know that Nott finished those three novels he bought and he's looking for someone to talk it over with a cup of tea —or coffee, whichever one you prefer." 

Is he implying what I think he's implying? "Why is that any of my concerns." 

"I thought you might be interested." He shrugged. "Since you know, you fancy Nott and all." 

"I don't fancy Nott." I told him. An obvious lie, and Zabini knew that too. "And he doesn't fancy me so it's just a waste of time." 

"Nott doesn't fancy you?" He's laughing. He's actually laughing. What was so funny about the truth? "What makes you think that?" 

"He literally turns me down I when I asked him out," I said blankly. "It's pretty clear, isn't it?" 

"And what exactly did he say?" Zabini asked playfully, as if he was humoring me. 

"Nothing," I answered. "He just looked at me and said nothing, I don't think I need anything else to tell me that it's an obvious no." 

"Nothing?" Zabini repeated with a grin. "Have you heard of being speechless? Or better yet, you know Nott doesn't really speak right?" 

"That doesn't excuse him saying nothing when I asked him to go on a date," I countered.

"It doesn't," Zabini concurred. "But Nott's an idiot." Funny, Theodore said the exact same thing about Blaise. "Did you know Nott did Malfoy's work for a week without complain just because he let you go that one time you snuck out?" 

No. I don't say. Malfoy did say Nott owe him one but I hadn't thought it important. "What does that have anything to do with what you were talking about?" 

"Because," he says exaggeratedly. "Nott fancies you back. I suspected that he liked you since third year though he won't admit it. He won't even admit that he fancies you now but he's incredibly easy to read." 

I shut my book and looked at him. Really looked at him. Trying to gauge whether he was messing with me or telling the truth. "What am I supposed to do with this information?" 

"Ask him out again," he suggested lightly. "Give him another chance for being the biggest twat there is."

"And have him reject me again?"

"He won't," Zabini says calmly. "He'd burn the entire school down before even thinking of rejecting you." 

I hesitate. "I don't want to embarrass myself again."

"You won't," he says with a roll his eyes. "Look I know being rejected is hard, I think I get it. I've never been rejected before. But I also know that the both of you like each other just as much and it's getting tiring seeing you beat around the bush." 

"Nott won't make the first move. He thinks you hate him now for not answering when you ask so you'd have to ask again —if you still want to be with him that is. Do you? Or else I've been doing all this for nothing." 

Yes. I think. I'm pretty sure that I want to be with him. "Do you know where he is?" 

"Oh," Zabini said delightedly. "He's actually coming here right now. I told him I was coming to find you but never gave him a reason why. He'd be here any —speaking of the devil. Hello, Theo."

Theodore doesn't bother to return his greeting. Eyes heavily set on Zabini in a glare that had me shivering just from the side lines. Then his eyes turn to me and his glare on hardens. 

"Hi, Theo." I don't think I've ever since Theodore like this before. "What are you doing here?" 

"What did he do?" He asked instead. 

"Nothing," I said quickly. "He did nothing. We just talked." 

"About?" 

"Stuff."

"Stuff?" 

"Yes. Stuff." 

"What kind of stuff?" 

"Oh you know," I huffed. "The weather. Coffee. You." 

"Me?" 

"Yes." My lips fold itself into a thin line. "Actually Theo. Could I ask you something?" 

His gaze softens when he nods.I am more than willing to indulge you.I am so sure now, more than ever, that love really is sour grapes. 

"Uhm— would you like to—"

His eyes widened, large as saucers as he processed in my words.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?" 

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing. And I am briefly reminded of everything that happened. 

And then, "yes," he says. "Yes, I would." 

•••

Theodore really did read those books he bought me. This I knew now as I sat under the sun on one of Hogsmeade many benches with Theo to my left. 

This part of Hogsmeade was quiet, it wasn't too far from the shops but far enough for no one to frequent by. A few people passed by trying to move from destination to destination but none noticed the bench wedge into the middle of the place where two fifth years were sat, talking about everything and anything under the moon and stars. 

"So you liked it? You liked 'Listen, boy'?"

"I did." He was smiling and I wished more than anything that I'd had a camera to capture every smile he had given me during the pass hours. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," I laugh and his smile widens. "It just doesn't seem like you. It's a cheesy and corny book and you're always so dark and broody about everything." 

"I'm not dark and broody about everything," he denied. 

"You are!" I countered. "You were even dark and broody when I'd first asked you out."

"That's 'cause I didn't know what to say," he says truthfully. "You could've said yes, that would've made it easy for the both of us," I told him. "I really couldn't. You don't deserve just a yes. You deserved everything, not something so simple." 

"But that yes would've made my week, Theo." 

Theo looked like he was about to say something before he changed his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't say yes when you'd first asked me. Could you ever forgive me?" 

I want to kiss him until his lips, his skin, his hands, his scent, every tiny bit of him is imprinted in my mind. "Yes." I say. "Yes, I think I could." 

Theodore chuckled, his nose crinkling at the motion and something between that laugh and smile of his causes me to lose it. 

My hand reached forward first, palm pressing against his cheek, pulling him closer to me and pressed my lips onto his. I kissed him once then as I reached to pull away; I find that both of his hands had found their way to my cheeks, holding me still as he kissed me back. 

Theodore pulled back, the tiniest of smile on his lips that had the smallest smudge of my lipstick attached to it. And he tells me, as if he had been thinking of this for days, years, lifetimes. "You are the prettiest girl I've ever seen." 

And when I smiled, Theo leans back in. Peppering quick kisses on my lips, my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, anywhere I would let him kiss me; he will cherish it. 

Once Theo finally pulls back —and this was for real this time, no more quick kisses. He looks at me and I know deep down that he will be the death of me when he says. "You are going to be the death of me."

— from bee: the thing about theo is that we know nothing about him so you can’t say that this is ooc :>

[rainbowsky]

Sorry I've taken so long to address this, I've had a very busy day and didn't have time to finish this post (which I started yesterday).

I'm talking, of course, about the incredibly controversial situation surrounding DD right now. I've gotten some messages about it so I figured I'd give my thoughts in a bigger post so that I don't have to keep repeating myself.

(CW: racism, spoilers FPU)

I know that by now most people are aware of the situation, but I'm going to start from square one for those who are just catching up on the topic.

There is a scene in Formed Police Unit where Chinese UN peacekeeping troops need to rescue a group of citizens who are surrounded by terrorists. In order to accomplish this they disguise themselves as people from the community. This being Africa, the troops were disguised using blackface.

Yes, I am saying that DD and his castmates appear in the film in blackface.

I am not going to post a picture of that here. It's just something I can't post on my blog. I understand that many of you will want to see for yourself so I'll link a clip of the scene, which was posted on Weibo. Please be aware before clicking - this is full-on blackface. Always take care of yourselves, and if you think it might be upsetting to you don't click. You don't need to see it to be a 'good fan'.

Background

For those who may not know, this movie was filmed years ago, in 2021. During those years I have seen many anti attacks against DD, claiming that he is racist and has worn blackface. Here's the photo that was circulating back then.

At the time I thought the makeup that he was wearing was likely anti-reflective black paint or camouflage paint such as is used by snipers (which he played in the film). I assumed that he was wearing his own hoodie over part of a military costume, because he was wearing a cammo shirt and what might have been combat trousers.

I was certainly not expecting full-on blackface from this movie.

There's no getting around it - this is extremely difficult to look at.

Blackface is widely viewed as offensive and racist. It shouldn't be hard to understand why. Putting on another person's ethnicity like a costume is deeply insensitive, particularly when you consider that BIPOC (black, indigenous, and other people of color) are so frequently targeted, exploited and marginalized. For those in positions of privilege and power to put on the appearance of the people who they oppress and exploit... it's just shocking and awful.

Blackface is most frequently talked about in an American context, but it's actually a problem globally - including in China. More on all that here.

The film

I have not actually seen the film, so I don't know much about the context beyond what is being discussed in the fandom. As I said earlier, in the film a group of UN police officers need to infiltrate an area in the community, and they take on disguises in order to do so.

In promotional media this film is being presented as based on true stories from real missions*. It seems the situation in question really happened on a Chinese peacekeeping mission, and the UN troops disguised themselves as black citizens in order to infiltrate and extract the endangered captives.

*I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt on this because it doesn't change how I feel it should have been handled.

This is important context that is being conveniently left out of much of the backlash about this situation. People are outright claiming that DD plays a black person in the movie - that he wore blackface to perform a role that a black actor could have played. This simply isn't true, and people making these claims are antis and liars. There's simply no excuse for not knowing the full context.

Having said that, I don't really think it matters how it ended up in the film. I do not think there is such a thing as a palatable or appropriate use of blackface. In this day and age it is nearly universally understood to be racist, and it's extremely controversial.

I can understand if they were trying to be accurate to the mission that they were portraying, but surely there are other ways they could have accomplished this scene (perhaps with the clothing but not the blackface). 'Historical accuracy' isn't as important as cultural sensitivity, not by any stretch of the imagination. In the interest of respecting audiences they could have adapted the scene to make the use of blackface unnecessary.

I really see no excuse for anything like this in 2024.

Audience reactions

Chinese sensibilities around these topics are very different from what we are used to in the West.

According to fan repos audiences initially didn't recognize any of the actors, and once it became apparent that they were in disguise, laughter erupted around the room. In fact, most fans are laughing a lot at the photos and video even on social media (although some Chinese netizens have been upset by it and have voiced complaints to various stakeholders).

It is also being widely discussed on Chinese social media as an exciting scene of heroism in the film.

I feel the need to point out that the laughter and mockery is a huge part of the harm, here. As if it's not bad enough that these actors are performing in blackface and presenting a perversion of black ethnicity, it also becomes an opportunity for audiences to mock and disrespect black people. It's become an opportunity for social media to be filled with racist jokes and mockery.

Roadshow statements

There have been some clips circulating of PR and roadshow moments with black cast members and some black audience members who have spoken up in support of the film and to thank the cast and crew for telling the story. Here's one example.

International fans have been dismissing those statements as ignorant or coerced, which I think is offensive and deeply fucked up. There's no planet on which I'm going to - with a totally straight face - say that a black person's response to the movie is not legitimate just because it doesn't comport with my own view.

This is a complex issue and there are inevitably going to be a lot of different perspectives. I hope people won't exacerbate the problem by supplanting black voices on this issue with their own, no matter what's being said. If there's any manipulation going on, let's assume it was in their choosing supportive black figures to speak for the film rather than claim that the black spokespeople are insincere.

China has a lot of issues with racism, there's no doubt about it. It's a huge part of why so many people try to whiten their skin, or why they mock each other when their skin gets tanned/darker. There is a lot of sinister, fucked up stuff going on in China around race - both in the country and in their dealings with other countries.

But we can't claim to speak for black people in China, particularly when they are speaking for themselves! I would hope this is extremely obvious!

Where's DD in all this?

It's understandable that bystanders will react to what they're seeing and might immediately deem it unacceptable - and DD along with it. Their reactions are valid, but as fans I hope that we can look at him with a bit more empathy. I hope that we can take a moment to try to see things from his perspective.

DD has been interested in and an avid fan of black culture since he was a small child. We've all seen how much he immerses himself in hip hop, street dance and the accompanying music and fashion. And yes, he's been accused of cultural appropriation in the past for wearing locs and durags.

However, I think fans need a bit of perspective here to get a sense of where DD might be coming from. Here's a guy who loves black culture, who has close friends who are black, who regularly works with black artists and who supports black artists, in a culture where racism against black people is prevalent and often extreme.

I think DD would probably be amazed to hear the accusations of racism against him. He likely has very few people in his orbit who are anywhere near as supportive of or as closely connected to black people as he is. He likely stands out in his circle as being particularly into black culture and connected with black artists, and probably regularly faces ignorant questions or digs from people around him about his close association with black artists and culture.

Not just because of racism alone, but also due to the racist parallels the government tends to draw between black culture, street dance, hip hop, etc. and criminality/moral degradation*. It's likely that ignorant people in his orbit have expressed concern or wariness toward him because of these associations.

*That is, until breakdancing became an Olympic sport, then they were suddenly onboard with some of it.

I'm not saying that he doesn't have a lot of learning to do (and if this situation becomes what I think it might become, he'll have a big opportunity to do so), I'm just saying that his ignorance isn't mean-spirited. He's coming at this from a totally different angle than any of us are, and he is immersed in a totally different cultural perspective than our own. In his world, his interest likely makes him a bit of an anomaly.

So those painting him as a horrible racist... it's just not how I see it.

The element of choice

I've heard many people say that DD 'didn't have any choice' about this role, that turning it down would not have been an option or that he would be under some kind of threat if he didn't take this role. I don't agree with that characterization of things. I don't think it's quite as 'gun to the head' as a lot of fans paint it.

I think it's more likely that he simply didn't realize that the role would involve blackface when he accepted it, or that he thought that blackface in this context - to infiltrate a terrorist cell and save civilians - would be fine. We don't need to depict China as forcibly compelling actors to take unwanted roles if we want to make sense of this. There are simpler, more logical explanations.

DD wouldn't have been the one deciding how to depict the scene - he didn't have that power in 2021 - but I also doubt he would have had a major problem with it given everything we know.

We must overcome our Western tendency to see things only from our own perspective. This has a totally different cultural context in China, and the voices we listen to about it should not be issuing exclusively from white faces that are not at ground zero of this situation.

Final thoughts

This film has had me worried from day one. I think most people have been expecting it to be full of offensive portrayals and propagandistic fuckery. There are so many ways in which a Chinese film about the UN is potentially a sticky, tricky mess. This blackface thing is likely just one problem on a towering pile of problems.

However, I'm not going to sugarcoat this - this has the potential to be a real shitshow for DD, and I am concerned. Especially if this film gets an international release.

We need to brace ourselves, because I don't think this is going to just disappear. DD has endorsements with international brands, and this could definitely cause backlash for those brands unless the issue is addressed and the scenes removed. There's no planet on which brands like Chanel and Lacoste can afford to have one of their spokespeople plastered everywhere in blackface.

If this film gets an international release and those scenes are left intact, it's possible he will lose some brands.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that, but let's face it - things like this have consequences, and that's why it's so important for producers and artists to be sensitive about what they're portraying.

While I think there's some endorsement risk here for DD, and the potential loss of some international fans, I want to be clear about one thing: I don't think this will threaten his career overall. In China this just isn't an issue in the way it is internationally.

I do hope the film team addresses this issue in some way, ideally by removing the scenes. They just finished doing a massive edit to remove ZZH from the film, surely they can handle something like this. But let's not hold our breath...

Everyone has the right to make up their minds about DD. As I've often said, being a turtle isn't for the faint of heart. That's not just because turtles are frequent targets for bullies, or because we have to constantly live with uncertainty and doubt.

Being an international turtle also isn't for the faint of heart because there are a lot of cultural and political minefields to navigate, and many ideological differences to adapt to. There's a huge learning curve and a lot of unknowns, and turtles who want to survive have to make peace with the fact that we and the boys are from different worlds in many ways. We may never know where they really stand on issues that are important to us.

However, in this case I feel confident that I know where DD's heart is on this issue. He simply doesn't hold hatred, disrespect or disdain for black people. Quite the contrary.

I think we'd all just feel a lot better if he had a good grasp on how to be a better ally.

And while we're waiting for that, I think we should put our money where our mouths are and learn more about these issues ourselves, both in China and locally at home. We want DD to be a better person; let's be better people too.

Edit: more on this here.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to argue with my boyfriend?

Alright, so.

My (25F) bf (27M) loves arguing and discussing. I appreciate discussions as long as we're both being respectful and we're actually talking towards something, when it gets to discussing for the sake of it (and I can tell it's happening when he starts attacking all of my points of view and I start getting confused about what we are actually disagreeing on) I just can't. I start shaking and I have to take a break before I get mean or irrationally defensive.

Last time we fought it was about "standing up" for oneself. He got really unpleasant with a clerk at the bank because his computer wasn't working, made a scene in the bank and a woman even told him that if he didn't stop she wouId stop being a civilian and become a police officer, and he'll have to deal with offense to a public officer (we live in france, if it matters).

I hated every second but I just tried to ask if there was anything to do about the computer, and when the poor clerk told me no I thanked him and told him (and my bf) that it wasn't the clerk's fault at all, it's something that happens and we couldn't do anything about it.

When we were out of the bank, I confronted him about it, telling him that I found it unpleasant and he had been really disrespectful, and he told me that I always do this, always stay too calm and accomodating even when I shouldn't be, that when he requires a service he needs it done, I reminded him that human beings can't be machines and always "function perfectly" (and well, not even the machines can), we argued a bit, he refused to have lunch with me and we parted ways (we don't live together).

We talked again about it a couple of days later, and he told me that he gets this need to argue with me every now and then and when he can't provoke a reaction in me he starts losing it.

The thing is that I'm really hard to rile up, and I like this about myself, also because I don't really like who I become when I get angry and I'm not given the chance to calm down by myself for a while ( I get really defensive and never admit I'm wrong, sarcastic and cold).

He loves the provoking part of it, saying things just to make me mad and get an angry reaction out of me, it's how he argues with his family and he seems to need it.

I know this, we have been together for nine years now, and when I was younger (especially at 17-22) I was much more hot headed, but now I don't really see the point honestly.

We couldn't reach a definite agreement about how to handle this, even though we talked about it for literal hours, we both agree that it's not a deal breaker but we didn't get much past this.

So, AITA for refusing to argue with him when he seems to need it? He told me again and again that he never means to get disrespectful towards me during those discussions and that they never change his opinion of me (yeah, I'm a bit anxious), so it's not like he's insulting me? Should I just play along a bit and let that part of me loose for a while? I'm really not sure, and again, we already eviscerated this from every point of view and didn't get a conclusion, so I need an outside perspective.

(english isn't my first or second language so if anything isn't clear I'll be happy to explain!)

What are these acronyms?

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

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

LIKE MY WRITING? WANT MORE? Tell me so! Want in on the tags?? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

[majimasleftasscheek]

'The Majima Dilemma' Anon here, looking for some feedback on how would one write Goro Majima's other half Goromi so that it doesn't sound offensive or cringe-worthy. I have the basics - like some stuff noted from the game, but would like to hear someone's idea on Goromi-chan - how she acts around Kiryu or other people etc.

ohoho so I think that the best way to write her (subjectively of course) is to treat her sincerely. of course there's the elephant in the room depending on how you interpret her - I'm going to be viewing her as genderfluid cuz that's my thing so for my purposes, she's an amab dude in a dress. as such, I don't point out said elephant unless the point of my story is to talk about that specifically and with it often comes discussion of gender, etc etc. if I'm not talking about that, I talk about her as if she's any other woman doing her thang.

example: if I had a basic scene where she's putting on lipstick, I'm not going to write her as if she's struggling or being incompetent "because man unga bunga." I'd just have her put on lipstick. that same scene could change depending on the "when" too. maybe early Goromi did struggle but! it's important to portray that struggle with sincerity. write her being anxious, clumsy, etc. don't try to make it comedic tho as it'd be inappropriate imo. if there is anything funny, it shouldn't be at her expense.

so, the game treats the Goromi encounter like a joke, basically just a reason for Kiryu to fight her on the basis of "haha man in dress doesn't that just piss you off." so if you take anything from the game, the conversation they have in the minigame is where it's at, in regards to how Kiryu feels himself around her, how he doesn't have to put on airs, how Goromi's genuinely surprised, things like that. with such a short encounter, you really have to rely on your own imagination to expand upon it but even just that lil bit of exchange is a good base. beyond that, I wouldn't take away from the game that much tbh.

I write Goromi pretty much how I write Majima, with all the usual vulgarities and mannerisms since the way I see Goromi is that she's still very much the same person but with a femme flair. I know some do like to write her significantly different as a personality of her own so that too is an option if that's your thing. I project a lot of my genderfluid experience onto her so when I'm personally feeling flip floppy, I'm not really anyone new, but the way I act, the way I carry myself does differ to varying degrees.

so when Goromi's around Kiryu, for example, she's still up to kicking his ass and being a rude lil shit but she'll carry herself a bit more refined, generically ladylike but surface level - some of it being playing the stereotype of a woman, another part her actively trying to be someone else or "removed from being a typical man." for example, if I wrote Kiryu flirting with Majima, I'd make him get embarrassed but in a sort of aloof way with performative confidence typical of Majima. flirting with Goromi tho is different as she's being very vulnerable, very open about herself and when you love her, you love a part of Majima that he may feel self conscious about.

speaking of the previous mentioned elephant, if you wanna talk about Goromi being a dude, I think that's fine tbh if done with tact. I make it a point in my art to portray her as masculine because for me, the cis part of being genderfluid is just as important as everything else. so I like to see Goromi with her beard and muscles and dick bulge cuz fuck it. I don't shy away from that stuff but I don't make fun of it either. one of my best friends is a transwoman and respecting her as a woman no matter how passing she is, is very important to me. but it's not sunshine n rainbows either. if you do talk about that sorta thing, it does come with baggage and handling that doesn't always have the most right or the most appropriate answer. comes down to respecting people as people imo and I think with common sense and empathy, you can certainly write something well intentioned.

interaction-wise, I think she would try to act the part around most people, maybe being at odds with herself because she's not ignorant to how to she looks or behaves so she tries to be more elegant, more ladylike in order to be likeable, acceptable. but at the same time she's still very much Majima and that crassness doesn't just bleed but hemorrhages out of her. it's a battle within herself to decide how to behave so when people are being genuinely nice, she fumbles. I think it'd be normal even around people she's close to cuz even tho she knows she has their respect, it's almost unreal and she gets very flustered 😌 to an extent, I like to think she even rejects some of that kindness cuz her self doubt makes her think she doesn't deserve it or that people are being dubious to get on her good side.

she's good at faking it too. if you need her to be a perfect lil peach or put up with a lotta crap, she can do it. she'd more so do this if the situation required it so I can see her being polite around those of a higher status or if she was in a situation where she shouldn't be a goblin. she'd be pleasant but cold towards strangers, cautious you can call it, until she can place their vibes. there's an RGGO story (idk if you know what that is but it's basically yakuza gatcha on mobile) where Goromi (before Kiryu ever gets to Club Shine) very seriously plays the part of a hostess and wildly excels so she can very much be a totally different person if need be.

whenever I write an upset Goromi, I like to make her revert to tough guy Majima strats where she'll do her damnedest to not let anything get under her skin but it never goes well, especially if it's personal. if she's not crumbling under depression, she'll be snappy then pissy, handling anything with a fight over pouring her heart out. she's prone to spiraling and holding grudges, preferring to suffer in silence alone which is very much how I'd write Majima normally.

a happy Goromi is bombastic, moreso than Majima if that's even possible. and depending on the context, very very sincere. because the theater in my brain never stops replaying the same scenes over and over, I always have this mental picture that Kiryu says something sweet about Goromi and she's just on the quiet side smiling in a sad sort of way like she can't even believe he actually means what he says. and he looks at her worried like he said something stupid and she has to reassure him she's just happy to be so lucky and that tough exterior opens up just a lil more each time. Majima is a big softie and as Goromi, I feel he can explore that a lil more freely if hesitantly.

I hope this stuff helps! it's my own thoughts so of course take things totally subjectively. I think writing Goromi sincerely does rely on taking considerations of femininity, especially in regards to how a man would approach them and how society would view that. it's a lotta reactionary stuff and I think if you can empathize with that, you can write her well enough. Goromi is a divisive topic for people so you're not going to please everyone but trying to write her in order to please everyone wouldn't be sincere imo. she's a mixed bag of things, some good some ugly, so write her in ways you feel good about while also being considerate/respectful of course.

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 8 - Rain

prev - chapter 1

"Huh." Hosah stood over the dirtied, coffee-stained notebook page that sat in-front of him.

His assistant leant in uncomfortably closer, his brain left to wonder what the hell it said for far too long by now, "Well, can you make it out?"

The shifter kissed his teeth, unsure whether to tell the truth and have to read all what it said out loud, or if he should keep the team waiting until somebody else had interpreted and written it up in an email.

"No, no yeah, pretty much." To be fair, he wasn't sure of a couple of ink-smudged words, but as long as he got the gist of it, that would be enough to move the case forward.

As eyes of anticipation bore into him, Hosah realised now was probably the time to start reading. With a heavy sigh, slightly contemplating what he'd gotten himself into, he began;

"You fucking vermin. You don't know me, and frankly, I don't really know you either, but I know enough to come up with the conclusion, that you're all, fucking leeches. People worry about the rats that scurry all around the city, in the subway station, in the trash and down the dark alleyways, but the real fucking rats are right in front of us."

Eugh. Cliche. Boring. All the other adjectives Hosah couldn't quite think of right in that moment,

"But, I've found myself growing fond of you. Watching you from afar. I find myself both loving you, and hating you. The lines have blurred by now. I understand you are human, or at least, that is what you parade yourself around as, but honestly, I'm not too sure you're anything at all. Completely devoid of life. Just an empty pit of nothing hiding in a cold, flesh shell. I see you sitting alone at bars on a Friday night, and I have to really stop myself from sitting down next to you, buying you a drink, taking you home with me, keeping you forever. But I'm not that selfish. Maybe later. You make me furious, because I love you. And I shouldn't, that's what you want, after all, you act cute and helpless, vulnerable and fragile, that's what draws everyone in, you've got that ginger prick hanging on your every word, and look at you. Hot and cold, nothing that you say is what you really mean, you work people up just to run away when they start to act on feelings they thought were returned. It's cruel. But, I can be crueler. We would've made the perfect pair, if you didn't drive me so crazy. You're going to be the death of me, Hosah Seung Levi. And the death of many, many others. I don't know, see how I feel once this gets to you. Let's talk more over drinks next time, though."

Ew. Was this really the type Hosah attracted? Serial killer stalkers? I mean, sounded about right. Some of the note seemed pretty heartfelt, some downright offensive, and some offensively corny. If the whole murder aspect wasn't the main thing that put him off, it'd be the cheesy way they spoke about him.

"I've never even told anyone my middle name." The shifter's voice shook, clearly disturbed by the contents of the letter, despite not wanting to admit to being so.

Teddy leant back in his chair, hands rubbing his face in disgust, not saying a word, just groaning endlessly.

"Man." The giant pushed himself forwards again, eyes fixated on the paper, "Got ourselves a next level freak."

If you were to listen closely, a small, unsettled 'Hmm' could be heard from the tiny man sitting before the sheet. There was so much information to rack his brain on. Hosah hadn't even been to the bar in weeks, meaning this killer had been at the whole stalking game for a while now. He wondered if it was just the fifteen they were guilty of, or if years worth of unsolved homicides were all on their hands. Maybe he'd have to take up the offer to chat over drinks, just to pry all of this information out of the twisted individual with his bare hands.

He wondered about what specifically he’d done to attract this kind of attention. If anything, the shifter thought he’d been keeping his head down lately, staying out of trouble, but it seems the more he tries to avoid these kinds of people, the more attracted to him they become.

The contents of the note echoed in his head, everything else becoming white noise. Vermin he could handle, Rat he’d heard a million times before, but there was something far, far more hurtful about the brutal reality of the situation;

Whoever wrote this, was completely right.

Thinking back to how he’d previously behaved, his cold attitude towards Teddy for no other reason than he felt threatened that there was an off chance of him opening himself up to someone again. It was all true. Sure, Hosah wasn’t a serial killer of any kind, but god did he have it in him to be cruel.

Hit with an unexpected punch in the gut from a little something called shame, the shifter couldn’t help but hang his head down, letting out a troubled sigh,

"Should send this all off to the police. Let them know about the painting and shit. Report the stalking. Get a protection order of some kind. I don't know.. Anything, nothing, I.. I'm just tired to be honest." Hosah sat, cross legged, burying his face in his hands, brushing through his hair as he usually did under stress.

Teddy agreed, "God, yeah definitely, shouldn't reported the painting yesterday. Shit. Well, they'll be over later in the day, can lay down the basics then." In all honesty, nobody knew why they didn't come the day prior, it's not like Jeanne didn't try calling, unlike that useless security guard, so the reason for their no-show was seemingly a mystery.

God, as the days went by, Hosah felt more like Fred Jones rather than any Sherlock Holmes, all he needed was a talking dog and a brightly coloured mini van.

As the shrunken man lost himself in his thoughts, a finger reached over, giving him a gentle rub on the back. The touch almost made the shifter jump out of his skin, but it only took a split second for him to melt into it. Surprisingly, it did its job pretty well, easing Hosah's mind, just a little.

"I'm glad I can be of help for you. Keep you safe and stuff. Just not sure if your secret admirer is all too on board," the giant teased, although it wasn't the best of times to be cracking jokes.

Hosah didn't care to get offended, or to laugh either, instead focusing on making the most of what little physical contact he'd gotten to receive in months. He was too tired to care, really. The whole ordeal tuckered him out. Just the thought of being where he was, working for another few hours, almost lulled him straight to sleep. Sure, being stalked by someone that had a kill count possibly in the twenties was probably about as interesting as his life was ever going to get, but Hosah really didn't have any damns in him left to spare.

Thinking back to his dreams, he wished he could be at a little cabin on the lakeside. Spending his days fishing, collecting firewood for his makeshift oven and heating system, his evenings cooking his catch of the day, and his nights watching the stars, skidding rocks over the surface of the crystal water, looking at the moon in its clear reflection. Summers could be spent riding his horse companion around the forest, herding the sheep on the mountain side, making sure they weren't eaten by any wolves when the sun went down. That was the life he was destined for. Maybe he could spare a couple days of the year to paint such a scene, although it'd have to wait until he could safely return to his own apartment.

Teddy rested his head in his folded arm on the desk, much closer to the shrunken figure, with a much better view of him. He looked tired. At least, more than he usually did. The pronounced fat under his eyes always gave him that sort of sleepy look anyway. The giant felt very, very bad for him. The kind of sympathy you feel guilty just for feeling towards someone. Pity was probably a better way to put it. He was sure Hosah could carry himself as well as anybody else in the building, but his assistant just wanted to crawl inside of his brain and figure out just about everything there was to know. What secrets he kept, what he dreams about, what he thinks of everyone he meets, the songs that get stuck in his head.

Teddy seriously had no idea how anyone could miss just how blatantly human the tiny man is. Maybe the killer had gotten their names mixed up, because it was the 'ginger prick' that felt as though he were a dark, endless pit of nothing, using a human shell to disguise himself.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, this was just about as close as he could get to opening up Hosah's skull and crawling in, and he'd take what he could get.

The shifter shrugged, burying his face deeper in his knees, "This dream I keep having." , he waited for Teddy's 'Hmm?' of approval to continue, "Living by lakeside, never having to work again, spending every day fishing, or painting, reading, just thinking.. It's been my dream ever since I could remember. To do nothing."

"Fishing, painting and reading doesn't sound like nothing."

"You know what I mean, not paying my way in society, living off the grid," Hosah sighed, satisfied with the idea. "Would you come with me? Once this is all over, at least."

Yes. Of course, a thousand yes's. "Haha.. We'll see"

-~-

The rest of the day, Hosah spent on edge. Not that he wasn't constantly in some state of fear anyway, but the whole devocoale had sent him down a spiral of anxiety. In the taxi back to Teddy's place, he convinced himself the car behind them was following him, a creek in the old apartment buildings hallway must've been someone scoping the place out and preparing to break in, the people sitting out on the benches outside must be waiting for him to come out so they could grab him. In summary, Hosah was not having a fun time.

As the shrunken figure sat at the windowsill, watching out of the cracks in the blinds, his eyes squinting to make out any activity in the poorly lit streets, he wondered what kind of person had written him the letter. Obviously, he knew what they were roughly, a monster capable of causing large scale tragedy for the likeness of New York's shifter population, but on the surface, it had to be someone he himself wouldn't peg as such a threat.

He thought about everyone he'd ever interacted with, or at least, within the past month or so. Cashiers, strangers on the tube, people in cars giving him the right away to cross the street. Anywhere he could find any sort of answer, Hosah thought about intensively. The shifter felt his breath shorten as he got himself more and more panicked, he'd felt fear before, the kind of fear that the breath you'd just taken would be your last, but nothing like this. The kind of fear that comes before fight or flight, the lingering feeling that something is extremely wrong. His heart in his throat, Hosah reluctantly closed his eyes, trying to steady his readily increasing heartbeat and his uncontrolled breathing.

"Hey. All good there?"

The voice took him out completely, the shifter momentarily feeling his soul come out of his body as he frantically gasped for air, "FUCK, don't.. sneak up on me like that.." Hosah clutched his chest with one hand, the other wiping he sweat that had built up on his brow, "Scared the shit out of me."

Teddy didn't quite understand the gravity of the situation, as he laughed instead, "Sorry, sorry. You looked lost in thought," the giant leant in closer, his elbows at either side of the man before him, "Something bothering you?"

'Oh, nah, just the fact he'd learnt he was the victim of intensive, violent stalking', was what Hosah really wanted to say, but he didn't want to make any more enemies after learning such a fact.

"Just that note. Trying to remember everyone I've got bad blood with, s'all.." If that was all, he wouldn't be such a ghostly white colour right now, starkly contrasting his usual sienna-adjacent tone.

His assistant turned, lifting himself up to sit on the window sill besides the tiny man, "Never really thought you were the type to go around making enemies," Teddy commented.

"God, not now, no.. But definitely in my early twenties." Ah, the good old days, as most would put it. For Hosah however, these were probably the worst years of his life.

The shifter had tried his best to keep everything he got up to around this period a secret, but of course once he'd gotten settled at his first position when first joining the agency, Jules had to and spread exactly the kind of things he got up to around the office like wildfire. 'Just to break to ice' , as she put it.

He winced at the memory, adding, ".. You've probably heard it around work. Always resurfaces every couple of months. Everyone in that place is so fucking bored man, I mean, isn't homicide enough for them?"

"I haven't heard anything, actually. If you don't want me to know, I'm okay with that. Sucks to have your dirty laundry aired out. I know the feeling." Teddy's eyes lingered on everything else that wasn't the shifter besides him, although his hand seemed to inch closer and closer by the second.

Maybe the two were more alike than they'd initially bargained for.

Hosah shrugged, despite knowing he wasn't being looked at, "It's not that bad. I was just a bit of a.." his hand brushed through his hair, pulling on the strands just a little, as he tried to think of the best way to both vaguely and accurately put it.

"A twenty year old? Hah, we all did shit we regret back then. I'm not gonna judge you for any of that, I know I'm not the same person I was like, five years ago."

Not wanting to push the topic any further, the shrunken figure moved himself directly in front of the hand, leaning over and resting his upper body against it. All he could mutter was a quiet, almost unheard, 'I'm tired,' , his eyes instinctively closing once more. He was definitely going to struggle to get a good nights sleep after the day he had, but it was worth a try.

It turns out, going through emotional turmoil does in fact tucker oneself out, as Hosah seemed to have slipped into unconsciousness right then and there, only now awaking after a night filled with the type of dreams he could only assume to be bad omens.

The dream that awoke him however, was one he recalled clearly, although this time, there seemed to be a twist.

None of that mattered though, as Hosah was back to his full height of five foot seven. The only problem is, he must've stripped off as he was so used to doing whilst in a between state of both awake and asleep, leaving him with no size appropriate clothing.

There was only one option for the shifter, unfortunately.

"..Teddyyyyy,"

The yell was immediately met by a creak in the bedroom door, as if his assistant had been stood outside of it this whole time, waiting for the OK to enter.

Teddy covered his eyes as he walked in, making his way straight towards the wardrobe and throwing the first things he grabbed at the shifter.

"I know, I'll go over and get some of your stuff in a few minutes. Just.. put these on for now whilst I make breakfast."

Ew. Hosah didn't get it. Beautiful people should wear clothes that are of the same level as beauty as the individual, but, in all honesty, the guy dressed like shit. The tattered t-shirt only just hung on to the shifter's slender shoulders, and the pants were a complete lost cause. Instead, he opted for the classic 'My shirt will cover all it needs' look, wandering his way into the living area, where he could smell something cooking in the next room over.

The, for once, regular human sized man peaked over the hollow door frame, watching as his new found roommate flipped the final pancake onto its uncooked side, listening to the sizzling of the mixture against the hot pan rather than starting any kind of conversation. He wondered if things would be different, now that they were on equal grounds to each other.

It didn't take long for Teddy to feel the eyes boring into the back of his head, turning to greet his single audience member, "Morning," He froze for a second, looking Hosah up and down.

Teddy knew he was taller than most, but he didn't expect the shifter to still be so small even when at his regular size. Not only was he much shorter than himself, but he was also much thinner, his knobbly knees poking out from each side of his legs, and his collar bone extending all the way out and to his shoulders where it stuck out like a spike of sorts.

Still, the stark difference in his height from what Teddy had grown used to was definitely going to throw him off. He almost found himself reaching his hand out, the same hand the shifter once lounged in less than a day ago, comparing it to his current size.

"Smells good," Hosah commented after a brief moment of silence, whilst his assistant took in the change of perspective.

It took him a second to get his words out, his train of thought being halted by the sudden spark in conversation, "Yeah, thanks. Should be done by now. Then I'll go and pick up some of your clothes."

He tried his best not to look the shifter in the eye, as he felt his face become progressively redder with every word that came out of his mouth.

Hosah, more casual than ever, just propped himself up on the countertop opposite his assistant. "Cool."

As his eyes fixated on everything else in the room, Teddy couldn't help but compare the countless trinkets and decorations he kept laying around the place to the, once tiny, man.

As the day went on, he found himself seeing Hosah in all different kinds of places. A butterfly resting on a flower as he walked past the park, countless erasers lying around on his desk where the shifter sat not so long ago, without even realising it, Teddy had been staring at his hands for the last five minutes. He should really get back to work.

"Here's what I'm caught up on, how the fuck does this guy know my middle name? It's literally only on like.. My legal documents. That's it."

The shifter's words took Teddy out of his trance, "What?"

"The note." now leant against the desk, Hosah sighed, "I'm just thinking about who would even have access to any of that stuff. Jules is the only one with the skeleton key for all the filing cabinets and shit,"

"Is it on your ID, maybe?"

Eyebrows furrowing, the shifter thought about the question for a second, ".. Shit. I don't know. Maybe? Fuck, yeah, since in the note it said about the bar.. But I don't even get ID'd anymore"

"I don't want to scare you but.. Could be premeditating for longer than you'd think." Teddy instantly regretted the words as soon they left his mouth, "Maybe. It's just an idea. Might be wrong too."

He looked at his hand, then back at the shifter, and then back and forth a few times more, not really listening to whatever was being spoken at him. The clothes on Hosah's body hung loose on his frame, despite them being his own, maybe this wasn't his full height after all, or maybe he just hadn't had the chance to get more form fitting options for a while. Something about the bruises Teddy had noticed scattered across the shifters legs, and the fact he could now see his sunken features much clearer, evoked an urge to protect him.

Hosah had made it clear to him that he was in no need of protecting. Just watching him make his way around the apartment when he was a mere three inches tall solidified that fact, but that still didn't stop the assistant from wanting to help him. He could want all he wanted, despite the fact it's not what he necessarily needed, which sort of made Teddy feel better about pitying the man.

Instead of focusing on Hosah’s chatter, his assistant couldn’t help but reach for the phantom weight in his pocket. There used to be someone in here, but now he’s not, and that hurt Teddy’s heart, just a little.

".. Anyway, I'm gonna go see my doctor tomorrow. Im due a visit. I'll meet you back at your place, if... if you still think it'd be better if I stayed." The uncertainty in his last few words concerned the assistant slightly, only just know focusing back into the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah, no I don't think you should risk staying at your own place for a while. At least not alone, anyway." Teddy reached his hand out for Hosah's, trying to give a reassuring touch, but instead, he became focused again on his size change.

The hand that once held his entire form could now only wrap around his wrist, and that Teddy did. He didn't even realise it until Hosah commented,

".. What are you doing?" the shifter asked, arm raised as the hand gently grabbing it had pulled it in closer.

Noticing the fact, he let go, muttering a quiet 'Sorry' , his face now burning up.

Fortunately for the assistant, Hosah did not take offence, or get annoyed at, the action. He didn't even lower his hand, instead, he just smiled.

"It's ok. It's weird right?" the shifter spun on his heel, leaning over Teddy in his seat, placing his hand down next to his assistant's resting one, "Just yesterday, I was right here. Aha."

It's almost as if he took pleasure in seeing the seated man become progressively more and more flustered.

As Hosah's fingered inched closer to the other person's tightly closed fist, he also began to think about the shift in perspective. He also thought about telling a white lie the next morning, making it out that his shrinking had been just so unpredictable lately, forcing him back into the same hand that rest besides his own.

No, not yet, at least. He had stuff that needed to be done at this height still. Besides, he hadn't pulled that trick since he was much younger, when he wanted to spend the day home from school, or to get out of any kind of family gathering he wasn't particularly bothered to attend. Those were the days. Lounging around on his dad's shoulder, spending the day doing nothing at all productive. Just hanging out, sometimes not even speaking, and enjoying the silent presence of each other.

Ah, there's another thing he had to do, call his dad.

"Well," Hosah stood back up to his full height, his hand now moved to pat his assistant on the shoulder, "Back to work."

Right, work. The shifter still had about an hours worth of security footage to try and make out. Why Scotty wasn't doing this, he had no idea. Hosah always seemed to get saddled with the short end of the stick when it came to big investigations like this one, even if he himself was a highly regarded target to the killer.

So far, there was nothing. Almost as if the package just appeared out of thin air. The fact the computers ran at what seemed to be a frame-per-second wasn't helping either. Rewinding took a whole minute, then the footage would buffer like crazy. He should've really just brought a notebook to jot these things down in, as Hosah thought of a new objective that needed to be met; complain to Jules about the dated technology they were saddled with in the shifter specialised unit.

As he sat, staring at the forever spinning wheel that was the computer loading screen, Hosah could only think of one thing, just how badly he wished to be tiny again. The thought had never crossed his mind before, but now, being reintroduced to the feeling of being held in a single hand, the shifter found himself longing for that touch.

He knew he should’ve just kept his guard up, stuck to what he knew and kept Teddy at an arms length, but Hosah always found himself in these kinds of situations. Finding love and warmth in all the wrong places at all the wrong times.

And when you have a crazed killer out to get you, you should probably avoid becoming distracted with meaningless things like touch deprivation. After all, there are bigger things to focus on, and, despite his height, Teddy was not one of them.

[bluecrocss]

Those Annabeth "fans" lol

I really wanna let this topic go, but if I have ONE MORE non-black pjo fan, come on to my page and explain to me how "they grew up seeing the book characters (they're literally only talking about Leah, btw) one way, and they just can't reconcile it with the show 🥺", I might commit serious bodily harm...

They act like only white kids read PJO. I was little black girl reading it in middle school and annabeth was my favorite character. Do you think I was like, "oh she's blonde and white, how can I ever relate to her??" I didn't really have that choice, cuz as a kid MOST of the books/shows/plays/movies I had growing up, most characters didn't look like me. The hunger games, harry potter (forgive me, I was a kid), nancy drew, every disney princess movie, you name it. I notice how only white people complain about "struggling to connect" with characters that don't look like them, cuz POC have always had to do it. When POC ask for representation, it is because we have historically been ACTIVELY excluded, not because we can't connect to the characters otherwise 🙄

When it was halloween, and I dressed up as my favorite princess (Belle) and my brother dressed as his favorite superhero (superman), we just wore the wig and the outfit. I didn't need to paint my skin white to see myself as Belle. Yet every year there's this new controversy of some white person painting their skin or doing some offensive cosplay when they dress up as a POC character, because they see the race of POC characters as INHERENTLY part of the costume.

Why does your perception of Annabeth and the pjo characters trump mine, because you're white and I'm not? I fully viewed Annabeth as a white girl when I read the books, and when I saw Leah was cast, that didn't change my view of the character because her race was never central to the character. The author has stated the same thing. If you can't view a non-white/non-blonde version of annabeth (I am not speaking about the writing of the show or Leah's performance because this discourse started as soon as she was cast) as annabeth, then the parts of annabeth that actually mattered, the parts that Rick has identified as the most important, the part that I and millions of other non-white, non-blonde girls connected to, never connected with you. Rare representation of Neurodivergence in a female character, being underestimated (which had nothing to do with her being blonde lmao), perseverance, emotional vulnerability, overcoming generational curses and broken family life, abandonment issues, I could go on...

If you managed to grow to the age of maturity and still struggle to connect with people and view people as equal beneath their physical/material presentation, that is a YOU problem... the rest of the world shouldn't have to hold your hand through this.

And once again... NOBODY FORCED YOU TO WATCH THE SHOW. You don't like the casting, DON'T WATCH. Stop, coming to my comments and explaining how you're the exception, and you're not being ignorant, how, in fact it's the author, the casting directors, and the majority of the fanbase, who just don't understand her character the way you do 🥺

Give me a break.

[cum-villain]

being autistic means i don't know tone well, i dont know how to talk to people. my words always have meanings that i cant read, in a language i was never able to learn, that i may never learn.

i've been told there's such a thing as being "rude". in the dictionary, i'm told it means "offensively impolite", "ill mannered", "abrupt". I don't know what those mean. i know polite means "courteous", which means "showing courtesy", which means being nice to people. i think. the dictionary tells me it means "showing politeness in attitude and behaviour". i don't know what attitude means. mother tells me i have one. but when i say "courtesy" means acting nice to people, i'm told i'm correct, so maybe the dictionary doesn't know everything. maybe this word has meanings that cant be expressed in my language too.

i'm know being polite and being courteous are the same, and i've been told that, but i think "polite" has a secondary meaning i never learned. "polite" is defined as "having or showing behavior that is respectful and considerate of other people", being courteous, but it's also defined as "relating to people who regard themselves as more cultured and refined than others". I don't quite know what cultured and refined mean. Cultured should mean knowing culture, but when i share all the things i know, i'm called that allusive word "rude". refined should mean formal, using a fancy vocabulary. mother told me i was smart for my big words, but i lose that intelligence every day. i wonder if i ever was that smart. nowadays i'm called "stuck up", which i'm told means "rude".

abrupt is about timing. it means to be rude. it means "sudden and unexpected" in the dictionary. i never know when i should speak. maybe they never wanted me to speak at all, with my pretentious words. mother says i need to learn to listen better, but they're all speaking in a language i never understood. "body language", they call it, but i always see it as angry. but when i think they're angry they yell at me for daring to think that. i'm sorry mom, i wish i was smart like you said i was.

the dictionary hasn't helped me learn the word "rude". i've seen examples, though, to help me understand. "rude" is like rude words, crass cusses, fuck. "rude" is saying what shouldn't be said. i'm sorry, mommy, i didn't mean to accuse you of being mad, i'm sorry. "rude" is saying sorry too much. but i dont know what else to say to make you feel better. i never learned the language. "rude" correcting. i'm sorry i interrupted you, but i'm really not that smart anymore, see, you can tell i'm not smart because i'm always too abrupt, too uncultured. "rude" is my existence. "rude" is me speaking, trying to connect. i'm sorry. but i still want to be here, even if it's rude. but i'm sorry for being so rude. i try not to be myself nowadays.

or maybe i don't know the definition of rude. i never learned the language allistic people speak in the first place.

[itskattkm]

New York New Rules Pt. 4

Warnings: Violence, Trauma, Fluff, maybe Smut, mental health, blood

Summary: Y/N meets the survivors of the last events in Woodsborrow and gets on Ghostface's list. But there is also a darkness in Y/N wich path is she going to choose

Female Y/N x Tara Carpenter

Sorry for bad writing. I'm using a translator and hope you guys can enjoy it. Also, this is going to be a slow burn

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

I'm 11 minutes away and I have missed you all day

I'm 11 minutes away, so why aren't you here?

I think I missed you callin' on the other line

I'm just thinkin' all these thoughts up in my mind

Talkin' love but I can't even read the signs

I would sell my soul for a bit more time

You stain all on my body like you're red wine

You're the fuckin' acid to my alkaline

Stupid. Frail. Perplexed. Fearful. Offensive. Sharp and Hurt

„Y/N you rather feel nothing again" I said to myself as I stared at the ceiling of my room. I've probably been lying here for 15 minutes because 11 minutes ran at least three times in a row. In fact, this was one of my favorite songs. But why actually? I know that I have a feeling for the darkness. But why were pain and suffering so self-evident for me? No matter which movie I watched or which series. My darling was always the villain.

There are really people who just hate them because they have the title of villain. But why are they trying not to understand? What about Katherinen Pierce from the Vampire Diaries? This woman suffered and that only because she wanted to be loved and loved? She lost her family. Her child and was hunted for centuries. The man she loved hated her and didn't believe that the love between them was real. Maleficent... rejected and hunted because she was different? Kylo Ren, Star Wars... who let a big wait on his shoulders... not to forget that Luke wanted to kill him. Wanda Maximof... one of my favorites. What was wrong with creating your own world in which you could be happy? Especially if you had lost everything you had left.

Was I the evil one? Did I want to be the bad one? Sometimes I'm not sure but the feeling I felt when Tara looked at me and asked where I was during the attack... I won't forget this so quickly because at that moment I felt like one of the bad guys. But I also felt misunderstood.

Did Tara hate me? How did Tara think about me in general? Since I've been friends with Mindy, I've met her maybe five times. And we didn't talk much to each other. Most of the time our conversations were about the university. I tried to get closer to her. However, I always had the feeling that I was always failing with her. One second I thought I had full self-confidence but then a look into Tara's eyes and my brain shuts down. I had really never felt something like that before. Especially not towards a woman.

I always stayed away from relationships or physical contacts. As soon as it went in this direction, I always pulled back and hid in my bubble. However, there were days when I would have liked to go to the next bar with my dirty thoughts and have been looking for someone for a hot night.

But as I had analyzed myself so far and with the help of Dr. Stone, I knew what my problem was.

The music in my headphones stopped. I looked at my cell phone and saw that my alarm clock that I had set after talking to Sam was now active.

Should I? Shouldn't I?

"Fuck it," I said to myself and made my way to the Blackmoore. I would prove to them all that I am not Ghostface and if they do not meet me then I will also permanently delete these people from my life.

Slowly I played with the ring on my finger. It wasn't special. I didn't like fancy jewelry either. But this ring carried good memories with it and that's why I always wore it with me. When I saw the carpenters and their friends in front of the Blackmoore, I hesitated slightly. Everyone was sitting on the benches of the university and Mindy seemed to be holding a monologue. She was the only one standing in front of them and gestured around like crazy with her hands.

"Why am I doing this to myself?" I asked myself desperately and approached the group. Drier than I thought, I said "hi" when I entered the inner circle and drew all attention to me. There was a free place next to Quinn, so I sat down with her just as she opened her mouth but Tara was faster and said "you came?" I avoided her gaze and looked coolly at Mindy who looked at me with pinched eyes " Y/N Perfect timing..."

Mindy went to explain the rules and that we were in a franchise. I really famous myself to listen to her, but the voice in my head was too loud.

Don't look at Tara. You must never look her in the eyes again. Is she looking at you? Are the others watching you? Do the others know what happened at the police station? Do they know about my state of health? Did they thought I was Ghostface?

"Am I gonna die a virgin?"

Wait a minute? My full attention was back. I looked at Ethan and then at Mindy.

"Weird overshare but that brings us to our current suspects. Ethan! A shy dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky"

So I wasn't the only suspect? I felt a slight feeling of relief.

" Quinn! The sexy sluty roommate"

Quinn looked at Mindy slightly irritated

"Sex positive but thanks?"

"How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" She asked but Sam answers "we put an anonymous ad online"

And Tara replied "and her dad is a cop"

Mindy took a step towards Tara and said in an aggressive tone "and that makes it more likely that she is the killer because having a cop that is a great cover! Do you not remember how this movies work Tara?!"

Now Mindy gave everything. That reminded me too well of the many discussions we had about movies. Then Mindy even suspected her own girlfriend. Like wow… this whole thing was really serious.

"Never Trust the Love interest..." she said coolly and her look was serious. Suddenly there was a tension in the group. That sounded pretty deep... I mean in the first stab film it was also the love interest, among other things.

"Y/N!" Mindy called and smiled at me dirty. I sighed, pinched my eyes briefly and looked away from the group but Mindy came one step closer to me. "my dear friend Y/N... you are also new to our group," she began.

Did she say group? What did she mean by that? Was I part of the group?

"As your best friend, I know that you are going to therapy"

Oh no Mindy, please don't. Not again. Not again. Why me? Why?

"But you never told me why you are going to therapy... would you share the reason with us?" I avoided her eyes and looked nervously at the floor. My heart was beating so fast that I felt the pulse pounding in my ears. Again I played with the ring in my finger "Mindy she doesn't have to tell us anything..." said Tara after a short silent, low-key.

Surprised, I looked at her and our eyes met.

Relief. Relief? RELIEF!!! The first word that went through my head. Did Tara just defend me? Why had she done that? And there she was again. This gentle darkness, and the little white lights, like a light at the end of the tunnel that rested me to tell me here you are safe.

Stop it. I tore my eyes off her and stared at my ring. "okay then tell us at least where you were during the attack..." I looked at Mindy "home... and you are welcome to ask Maria when I entered the building and when I left it last. As I know her, she can even tell you the exact time" Mindy nodded in agreement to me, she knew Maria "okay. Good alibi. Nevertheless, you are suspicious. You don't like to socialize and maintain the good girl, reading books and sitting at home image"

Confused, I looked at Anika, was that something good or bad?

Anika said "that's not fair, if then we are all suspects, including you"

Mindy agreed with her and said to Sam "especially Sam" confused I looked to Sam, I had the feeling of not knowing something and because of the looks of the others I could see that I was right.

After that, I turned on the conversations of the others and tried to look at everyone unobtrusively. I started with Quinn. Quinn's emotions were neutral in order not to be completely present. Anika seemed very calm and attentive. Sam seemed tense. Chad hmmm I don't have to worry about him, he was fully focused on taking notes. I wanted to skip Tara and see Ethan directly, but our eyes met. Had she been watching me? After not even a second, I broke off the look of contact again by looking at my ring. Suddenly Quinn got up, then Anika moved to Mindy. The group disbanded.

"We have to stay together, that's the only way we are safe and can rule out who the killer is," said Mindy, "you could all come to us" said Sam and now also stood up.

Did she mean me with everyone, too? How exactly did they think of all this here now?

Confused, I asked her as if I hadn't even been present at Mindys Monologue "I don't… wait, I don't look through. What's the plan now?"

Chad replied when he got up "we're going to Sam and Tara... stay together... and try not to be killed" he didn't give me more information when he left. Chad, were you serious? Confused, I looked after the others when they were almost gone.

And then I suddenly noticed a person next to me. Before I could turn around, there was a hand on my right forearm. And then I was back in the tunnel... tried to get to the light. "Come to us tonight and we can tell you everything," Tara whispered to me, slowing down my nervous pulse. I could listen to her for hours when she talked to me like that. It was so reassuring. Warm. Pleasant. Right.

Her eyes fell on Sam when she nodded in agreement with Tara "maybe you can bring another pizza right away," she said and slightly raised the corners of her mouth. Tara pressed my arm slightly and looked at me at with bright eyes "by the way thank you for the pizza... after this hangover I needed it".

What was that feeling at once? Joy or nervousness? I had to smile unconsciously and nodded "special wishes?"

Tara snapped her finger and began to list different toppings and looked at Sam to see if she agreed with her "The main thing Jalapeños... registered" I said and stood up. "You have our address?" Sam asked again and I nodded in agreement. She raised the corners of her mouth again before putting her hands in her jacket and set off. Tara followed her.

Before my brain realized what my body was doing, I grabbed Tara's hand and hoped she would turn to me again

"Why did you help me earlier?"

And again this pure placid and sweetness to recognize in her face "what happened in the police station was just fucked up" we both had to laugh about her word choice and Tara's dimpels came to light.

Damn, how could Tara be so beautiful?

Okay, pull yourself together Y/N! How was that again with Tara? Never looking into the eyes again? Now I just wanted to sink into them and that even though I could never keep eye contact. Simp

"And I wouldn't want that either... if I imagined that someone would have done that to Sam..." she looked back briefly to the her. Sam stood a few meters away from us and waited for Tara "and see that as a leap of faith Y/L/N... don't spoil it" dryly I laughed and shook my head "I wouldn't even have a good motive" she squeezed my hand briefly.

Did we hold our hands all the time? How could I miss that? I mean... with this face you forget everything, she gave me a grin with sharp eyes and whispered "but there's always a motive" and then she disappeared.

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

As someone with high-functioning autism and significant social anxiety, which can cause times where social cues are particularly difficult to pick up on especially when it's over a text format where it's even harder to discern tone and inflection without blatant indicators, there's a part of me that doesn't really get all the complaints I've seen about a lack of communication when it comes to "plotting". I mean, I can understand the perspective that it can come across as a partner being unenthusiastic whenever they're given ideas but don't really try to hash those ideas out themselves. On the other hand, it's also possible those same partners could really just be fine with the ideas they're being given and don't really have anything to contribute, maybe they'd rather get right into writing the thread out instead of just shooting ideas back and forth? I know that's usually what I'm thinking most of the time. A good part of the reason why someone like myself would be a little disinclined towards sharing much in return is also because I'd be afraid of taking one too many liberties with someone else's ideas or maybe crossing a line with anything I might contribute. I'm sure we can all agree how quick to take offense people on here can be and, having been on both sides of the fence on this, it can be upsetting both when someone wildly misconstrues things about your muse's characterizations and headcanons just to fit whatever idea they might have in mind, and when having to correct those misconceptions or explain why certain ideas wouldn't work very well. It just creates disappointment all around, and when people aren't willing to talk out any disagreements like adults, all it does it shut down the plotting just the same as giving canned answers. It's also worth considering that some people may be geared creatively different. It can be difficult sometimes to come up with something when you may not know another person's character, or their own particular brand of characterization, very well, and sometimes the ideas just don't come to all of us unless we've really gotten a feel for another person's character and we can see the potential for things. Some people may just be wired more towards improvisational writing at that and really don't start fleshing things out until they have a premise in their hands, coming up with possibilities and exploring them during the actual interactions. Not to mention there's also roleplayers out there who do nothing but plot, and when it comes time to actually write the thread, they simply just don't want to bother with it because… Well, you already know how the story's going to go at this point because you talked it over. Why bother actually having back and forth replies about it when you pretty much wrote the story already by plotting? I've had that experience plenty of times with others myself. You spend all this time laying the framework for where the interactions will go and then nothing just gets done with it beyond the planning phase because, hey, you already talked about everything by now. I just hope that by pointing these things out that everyone might realize they shouldn't generalize partners who may not communicate as much during the "plotting" phase and are just straight to the point, give short affirmative answers when offered ideas. I think the only fair way you can tell if someone really is just putting all the work off on others to come up with ideas is if you can see them repeatedly doing this, especially if they never act on it. That right there would be the surest sign of someone being disinterested or just lazy. Then again, there could also be reasons for this as well, like maybe your characters just don't really have any sort of chemistry for any kind of meaningful interaction – and that's okay too. No two people are always going to get along or want to have anything to do with each other, and sometimes it takes some attempt at communicating to figure that much out.

[one-flower-one-sword]

so aside from 2x02, 2x05 is so far my favorite ep from season 2, simply for the fact that we get to see Hua Cheng fight. in previous posts, I've already analysed scenes from the novel in regards to Hua Cheng fighting while blind on one side and the logistics of his disability in general, so now I want to try it with the donghua as well. caveat and disclaimer that while I am disabled myself, I am not so in regards to my vision, so everything I know comes from research I've done rather than personal experience. if anyone reads my analysis and feels like it's wrong or offensive, please do let me know and I will correct it.

I mentioned in previous posts (like this one) that there are several instances where Hua Cheng seems to deliberatley turn his blind side towards people and that the reasons for this vary depending on context. in 2x05, Hua Cheng starts off facing Xie Lian and the others directly after he stood up from where he'd been pushed to the floor by Xie Lian:

while he's talking to them about "Ming Yi" though, he starts walking off to the side while having his blind side facing them completely. here, it comes off as a power move - a way to convey "I don't feel the need to keep you in my line of sight at all since I don't consider you serious threats worthy of my attention", without having to say any of that out loud at all:

while the action is the same, the reasoning behind it as well as the way it comes across seems very different to when he has his blind side facing Xie Lian while he's with him in Paradise Manor's main hall in the previous eps:

Xie Lian sat down first, and then Hua Cheng chose to sit with his blind side facing him. like I've argued in previous posts, Hua Cheng seems to do this when he wants to hide his expression and thereby his emotions from others. in this case, I assume it's for the same reason he withdrew from Xie Lian's touch in the ox cart - he's afraid of getting too excited and making Xie Lian uncomfortable with it. of course, he does turn his head and look at Xie Lian several times during their conversation here, but the point is that this positioning gives him the option of hiding when he feels it necessary - like when he offered the dice for Xie Lian to keep and got adorably shy about it. because while on the one hand this was a strategic move to make the whole rescue "Ming Yi" thing work, it was also a genuine gift he was offering to his god:

back to 2x05 now with a brief word from our sponsors, Hua Cheng's beautiful fingers carressing that sword hilt:

ahem. moving right along

Hua Cheng has drawn E'ming now and this is where I get less coherent because ooohh oh wow look at this. first of I love how casually threatening this comes off. most importantly though please look at the way he's holding E'ming and how it's mirroring and accentuating the angle he's standing at, the positioning of his arms, and the direction his gaze is pointed at. beautiful and deadly, no notes

then Xie Lian starts talking to him again about how he understands now that the fault lies with them but to please make an exception and show mercy, to which Hua Cheng replies in this regretful but resolute tone that there are some things one shouldn't get overly involved in. he's stopped pointing E'ming at them and switched it from his right to his left hand. but his stance has been made clear, underlined by the fact that he's now switched to facing them with his seeing side - he won't just let them leave. since Xie Lian is there, he seems wary about being the one to attack first though. this is speculation, but I assume He Xuan understands why Hua Cheng would rather be on the defensive than the offensive in this situation, hence why he twitches his hand here to remind Shi Qingxuan of his presence and his injured state and spur him into action:

now we've arrived at the parts that really got my heart racing. I'm sorry I'm just like Xie Lian in that regard - I love Hua Cheng and Iove swords and sword fighting. or in this case, fan fighting:

the way he effortlessly snatches that fan out of the air is so smooth and badass. also the way he's holding E'ming behind his back and the scimitar again mirroring the line of his body... *dreamy sigh*

his fighting here gives a nice glimpse into that "arrogant, rebellious confidence" that Xie Lian is going to feel so weak-kneed over in the future. it's also proof of Hua Cheng's skill - he had to make this look real and convincing while also making sure his attacks were of a nature that the others could defend against without too much trouble. while I assume that in the name of authenticity, it would have been okay if Shi Qingxuan and "Ming Yi" got hurt, the same does not go for Xie Lian - hence how broken up and angry at himself Hua Cheng is when that does happen in the end. I could also see him choosing that fan in particular because he knows Lang Qianqiu is on the way and knows his sword can neutralize that fan - and if he's facing off against Lang Qianqiu, that means Xie Lian will be out of the line of fire.

I've hit image limit on this post, so we'll continue in part 2!

[punsmaster69]

29/NOV/20XX

sure you've noticed, but i haven't had a proper conversation with asgore in a while.

sorta hard to look the guy in the eyes for some reason.

shame?

guilt?

tori's influence?

tori in general?

can't help but feel like i'm doing something wrong by him for

nah.

i'll just blame it on the lack of one of my own eyes for today.

he's a busy monster who really tried his best to find a better time to see me; settling on about eight am.

still a bit early for me, but doable.

caught up about small stuff, and recent ventures.

in short, he's:

mayorin' it up, doing botany again on the side, and a bit of cooking okay-ishly sometimes.

"same."

"But, enough talk about me. What have you been doing, Sans?"

"same as always. fat load of nothing, with a little journalling sprinkled in."

"Journalling? Ah! Frisk had mentioned that, I believe. Is it going well?"

"it's going."

"on one hand, it is bit nice to have somewhere to jot my thoughts down at the end of the day."

"on the other hand, i'm getting real loose with what i call an entry. always tired, somehow."

"injury'll do that to you, i guess."

"I was meaning to ask about that. No offense intended, but you look a bit rougher than last I saw you."

"none taken. got a whole eye out, can't imagine it's all that pleasant to look at."

"I've gathered bits and pieces of the story from Papyrus and Undyne, but I would like to hear it from the one in question directly."

"What happened?"

"it's a lot of medical stuff. don't wanna bore you with that."

"You will not, I can assure you. It cannot be any more boring than the meetings I have to sit through."

he chuckled a little to himself at that.

"well."

"my soul.."

"decided to make a real big fuss."

"too much magic, 'parently."

"so it made a real big stink about that, and knocked a few lights out in the midst."

"Too... much?"

"yeah, don't know either. soul's being overdramatic, if you ask me."

some old rock song started from his buzzing phone, interrupting what he tried to say next.

"..Ah."

"Very sorry, Sans. I will have to cut this short. We ran out of time a little faster than I had hoped."

"no harm done. was running out of topics, anyway. unless you wanted to talk about the weather."

"seeya, fluffybuns."

"Take it easy, Sans."

"See you....?"

he waited expectantly.

"sometime."

didn't have a good answer for him.

"Sometime."

"Oh!"

remembering something, asgore dipped behind a door and reappeared with three flowers in a ribbon.

"Would you... be so kind as to give those to Toriel, for me?"

"I have not had the time to do it myself."

i looked at the flowers in my hand.

a lily of the valley, a chrysanthemum, and a zinnia. (had to look that one up.)

"...sure."

——

still have them.

they'll.. probably expire if i don't put 'em in water or something.

guess i should do that.

...

they're nice flowers.

..it'd be a shame to waste these to by letting them wilt like this.

giving these to tori feels...

like something i shouldn't do.

i should. for sure.

that's what he asked, and all.

maybe it's because i know how she'll react.

just can't bring myself to.

sorry, fluffybuns.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not cutting contact with someone my partner doesn't like??

i don't want to state ages or genders, but i'm polyamorous and dating several people. all of my partners are aware of this and perfectly okay with it. i often talk about crushes i have on other people or flirt casually with friends of mine, and my partners are aware of this as well, and have no problems with it.

well, i started talking once in a discord server for my close friends about how i'm crushing on this girl, but she's a little odd and i'm not sure how to feel about her. she's very nice, shares alot of my interests, talks to me regularly and seems to care about me quite a bit, but she's said a few mildly strange things here and there that threw me off a bit is all. one of my partners immediately stated i should probably distance myself from her, and then asked who it was. i gave away her name; she's someone whom this partner barely knows at all, besides them being in a mutual server together a while back, which the girl i'm crushing on then left later. after i said who it was, this partner once again tried to tell me to leave and distance her, and was acting kind of snappy and angry with me. they tried arguing that she's a bad person and an islamophobe. the islamophobia claim comes from an event that happened in their old mutual server, where girl im crushing on was acting rather ignorant and asked a muslim in the server if muslims are all homophobic. this caused a big ruckus in that server, and i agree that it was a really weird and offensive thing for her to say, and i even told her off in dms over it. she ended up apologizing alot, and said she never meant it that way, and was just misinformed. i saw this as a genuine apology, and don't see her as islamophobic.

i told my partner firmly but calmly that i'm going to remain friends with her, and nothing they say will change that, but that i definitely won't be dating her any time soon despite my small crush on her. my partner stopped responding after that, and now i feel a little bad. was i being too harsh?? i felt like they were pressuring me and overstepping my boundaries, but maybe i just misinterpreted what they said. nonetheless, i feel like they shouldn't be so insistant on forcing me to cut off someone they barely know themselves over one small slip up that happened months ago.

AITA?? should i apologize to my partner and cut her off anyway???

What are these acronyms?

[muirmarie]

id love to hear about #5 and/or #11 👀 -margot

tyyyy - i answered 5 (hear thoughts) here

for #11 - one bed - oh man, so the fact that the one bed fic isn't finished yet is actually a travesty - i got side-tracked with the enemy within fic and put it down, but it's sitting pretty at ~12k, and it probably needs about....4-5k more? or so? Absolutely doable! Honestly I should just sit down and finish it, BUT it's also the most explicit fic I've ever written, so I get gun-shy about it lmao

I've talked about it on the discord, but that was months ago, now: it's McKirk to McSpirk, where McCoy knows Spock is in love with Kirk, knows they'd be good together, loves Spock as well, and wants Kirk to pursue a relationship with Spock (in a poly sense, so they'd both be dating Kirk). Kirk, meanwhile, is 100% positive that Spock is into both of them, and has been trying, lo this last month, to convince McCoy that they should both pursue Spock. McCoy, not wanting to blow up his friendship with Spock, has adamantly refused.

And then, what do you know, there's a storm, McCoy gets scratched up in some bushes and twists his ankle, they end up in some lodgings, and there is, of course, drumroll, please:

Only One Bed.

This shouldn't be a big deal. But.

But Spock and Kirk are doing their absolute damnedest to OT3 this situation.

McCoy, the idiot that I love and adore, thinks this is because Spock thinks that this is the only way Spock can get into Kirk's pants. Meanwhile Spock is doing his level best to get into McCoy's pants. I'd call it consensual dubcon, because it's specifically stated out loud multiple times that if they're making McCoy uncomfortable, all he need to do is tell them Stop, but he does say a lot of variations of if you think for one second, and there's no way I'm gonna let you, and I'm going to murder you with my bare hands. Like, they are absolutely pushing his limits, but importantly, he is allowing them to do so.

Anyway this story is like.........I mean, I don't think it's necessarily all that Much when it comes to what other ppl write, but it's a LOT for me lmaooooo, so I get soooo shy about working on it, but I really should just push through.

putting a safe for tumblr snippet under the cut

______________

“Jim, why don't you take the middle,” McCoy says, looking at the bed. It's a large bed—the inhabitants of this planet tend towards relationships that involve more than two people, and the size of the bed will easily and comfortably accommodate the three of them.

At the end of the day, though, it's still just the one bed.

“Nice try, Bones,” Kirk says, flashing a smile at him, “but I'm taking the side nearest the door, like I always do, in case there's any trouble.”

“Spock could take the side closest the door, and you could take the middle,” McCoy says. “No offense Jim, but he is stronger than you.”

“I was reminded of that from how easily he carried you up the stairs,” Kirk says, still smiling. “Although I've certainly managed to carry you to bed a few times myself.”

McCoy rubs the back of his neck, dully aware that he's probably flushing.

“I don't think Mister Spock wants the gory details.”

“If the captain carrying you is what you consider a gory detail, Doctor, I'm left to worry if I've just taken unspeakable liberties with you by carrying you myself,” Spock says, that little insufferable smirk he gets twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Don't worry, Spock, I'll tell you when we get to the unspeakable liberties stage,” Kirk laughs.

“In that case, I'll take the side nearest the wall,” Spock says, still with that insufferable smirk.

[the-smallest-star]

"Why is hospital food so ropy, like... food thats meant to be solid is either mush or a rock." Patch sighed, glancing at Gritt. Though his brother seemed to be in his own little world, "You alright G?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm good." "Mhm... you might be the better liar of the two of us, but I see through you. Whats rattling in the ol' cranium?" "It doesn't matter, you need to focus on getting better." Gritt pushed back, trying to close off the subject.

Patch wasn't having that.

"My body fixes itself on its own clock, whether I want it to work faster or not. You're upset... and its not just cos of me." He reached over, prodding the superstar's head, "Tell me or I'll keep poking you." A few pokes was all it took, and Gritt took a deep breath. Patch wasn't going to drop it.

"... I dunno if I should of accepted being Baron." Gritt confessed, making the younger twin blink. "I accepted it for three reasons. I didn't want to loose my friends, I wanted to keep you and my family safe, and no one else was being offered it. Imps, Hellborn, they need a voice. But... I feel I accepted it for the wrong reasons, like I did it because I felt I had to. To do the right thing and look out for everybody. But I just... bleached myself to do it."

".... you want my honest opinion?" Patch asked, Gritt nodded in reply, "You shouldn't of accepted it. You're not a baron."

"I'm... not?"

"No, you're not. And no fancy title is going to change that." Patch continued, "You care about the people sure, you touch their souls with your music, and if you come across somebody who you can help, you will. Because you're a good person. But you're a free spirit, a wildfire that does what they want. Suppressing that and pushing yourself into a fitted suit is going to hurt you."

"But what can I do? I can't just quit. Who'll help hellborn? Who'll keep you safe, I-... I don't even know what I can do. You do charity events all the time with your friends, you used to cater royal banquets and know the decorum and shit, and... I'm not you."

Patch mulled it over, tail flicking, "... I mean... this is just an idea. Royalty is all about bloodline right? So shouldn't you be able to pass on the title to someone else? Stay as Gritt the rockstar. I could be Baron."

"You'd want to be Baron?" Gritt said, stunned at the suggestion. "Well I like royal festivals, I like fancy clothes and big palaces. I'd want to use power and influence if I had any to help fix things. And maybe some people would stop throwing gazpacho at me for being cold. Plus, no offense, I'm not still recovering from a lifetime of trauma. I've got a therapist, I'm as stubborn as you. And I've lived in Pride even longer than you, I know where its problems are for hellborn. I could still have a restaurant, annnd given you're my brother, it should keep the birdy happy if your friends want to talk to you and hang out as 'The Barons brother'. And it'd be a big fuckin' middle finger to Gillian for throwing out and disowning her 'Baron' son."

The... suggestion did make sense. While Patch's contributions were unnoticed, he really did focus on making Hell a better place for people. The first argument Gritt had made at the start; There were others who'd done more for Hell than he had.

Patch was Gritt's blood. Gritt could step down, let Patch take his place... if he could get royal approval. His brother was better suited to support hellborn on a royal level, Gritt knew this. Patch was good at holding his own in a battle of wits and words.

"... I'll talk to Lucifer."