#The fact that I managed to finish it at all with my attention span is honestly a miracle.

[darkspace7]

[ - II - ]

That which takes the energies of this world and allows them to play in their garden.

[ The Magician ]

[askhezureviews]

We will all know your thoughts on season 2 of HB soon. I don’t know if you waiting was in response to people saying”you have to wait to see the whole season before judging it” but do you think there’s any ever case where this could apply to reviews?

Actually, that is typically what I prefer to do. I like to binge watch media to their completion for a more rounded review. I know my 45+ min videos are annoying to most, I can't blame them since I too have a short attention span- as well as a terrible tendency to waste half the review summarizing the plot (I'm working on fixing that for my future reviews, apologies for that) but I typically prefer to judge things on an overall basis rather than part 1, part 2, episode 12, season 3, season 6- simply for the sake of video cleanliness. The phrase of "wait until it finishes before judging" is a major player for all media. Absolutely the case with Arcane, because season 2 they had an unreliable narrator as well as a structure designed to withhold information from the audience.

The Owl House and Steven Universe didn't actually even... start their plots until their second seasons, they had a very slow start.

I'm also gonna wait for more episodes of Monkey Wrench and The Amazing Digital Circus before making a youtube review, since they're still pretty early on in production. There's a lot of character information and plot we simply do not have yet- regardless, I'm loving what I'm seeing thus far.

The reason I made an exception for Helluva Boss: They already had at least one season established, and episode 1 of season 2 completely changed the storyline season 1 was heading for. You could see an immediate change in storytelling and pacing due to the fact that the writer changed, as well as the show's priorities shifting to focus on the ship pandering.

If I had been watching Tangled the series in real time, I probably would have also made an exception video regarding Cassandra's villain arc immediately because the set up for that was nonsensical, and true to the start, it remained nonsensical to the end of the show. Helluva Boss had problems before, but the comedy genre allowed wiggle room for making mistakes because it didn't take itself seriously. But now that it has dedicated itself as a romantic drama, investing in character angst and connections, it starts dragging on as plotline traumas start repeating and becoming more dramatic. It is now taking itself too seriously.

Changing Stolitz from a business partners with benefits to childhood friend soulmates was a red flag that stood out to me, because this decision changed the trajectory of the show and omit our characters from any wrongdoing. I've never seen a show flatten their characters like pancakes in a single episode before, it was astonishing.

While some of Helluva Boss's season 2 episodes managed to redeem some nice writing or character moments, regardless, this season has continued to end all stakes for our characters through plot armor as well as humiliating the villains they introduced in season 1.

If you have at least one established season for your show, and your writing suddenly: 1. Drastically changes prior interaction & depth of characters 2. Changes the show's trajectory, focus, and genre 3. Presents the above in a nonsensical manner / no believable set up Then that's a red flag to indicate the show is gonna go down hill, as previous fans are now left confused to the sudden change. There's a high probability you'll lose views/support/money because of these changes. While the show may attempt to backtrack in later episodes, as Helluva Boss has, this creates a separate problem of contradicting itself, leaving the audience confused as to how they're meant to interpret these scenes as the tone flip flops every other episode. (and actually leads to more fandom drama)

I've been waiting for season 2 to end because the initial plot change shock was over, as they continued to double down on their decision. As well as my realization that a different writer was actually now on board, which explained a lot. Thus, I want to go back and review Helluva Boss season 1 and season 2 as a whole instead of the episode reviews I was doing, to help put things into perspective for people and actually get to talk about what Helluva Boss did right so I can lead into where it went wrong.

[dominantslasherking]

Hannibal with a boyfriend (reader) who is js like...absolutely smitten and is so in love with him and will do anything for him

Hannibal Lecter with With Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+.

"My love, are you alright?" You gently asked, taking ahold of Hannibal's jaw to bring his attention to you, as you pulled him into a kiss.

Hannibal leaned into the kiss enjoying the extra flavor upon your lips, savoring your taste once you had pulled away from him. "I am...quite all right...Just a few rude patients that have been...occupying my mind." He spoke with the truth.

Both of you stared at each other for a bit, until a sly smirk slowly made its way to your features, "Perhaps, I shall go grab him for you? Just tell me an address, and it shall be done, I'm afraid we are after all running low on stock." You uttered, watching Hannibal relay a curious glance toward you.

"That would be....much appreciated...if you do manage to, get him--well I'm sure you will: I wonder what reward I shall gift in return for your time." Hannibal hummed out with a thought, as you slowly leaned into him, letting your lips place a kiss on his cheek, "I believe A make-out session is due? Once I get the job done." Your voice held a bit of eagerness, in fact, it enthralled you to see Hannibal get all messy when it came to you ravishing his lips (and any other part of him).

Hannibal nodded his head a smirk crawling up to his lips.

<<>>>><<<>>><<>>>><<>>>

You pushed Hannibal against the wall, fondling his ass with your hands as both of your lips were completely enraptured in one another, You knew, Hannibal wouldn't be in your intensive 'care' for long since, he had guests coming over soon, and he liked to be prepared because he was a gracious host.

However, you did make sure to leave marks on his shoulders and somewhat on his neck, the ones on his neck easily hideable with formal collars of course.

"My love--I--" Hannibal's voice was cut off by your lips tenderly kissing his your hands tugging on his waist. "Yes...yes I know," You slowly purred out, as you pulled away, Hannibal was dazed for a split second before fixing his outfit. It was also the rare occasion that you would join Hannibal's little dinner parties, with other guests.

For you, the dinner was slightly a blur, as you didn't pay attention to the guest's rude chitter chatter, you were immersed in staring ahead at Hannibal, while takin bites out of the food he had made.

But what did catch your attention was one of the guests had blatantly disrespected the food, commenting this isn't what they had requested Hannibal to make, as if he was some type of personal chef.

"I mean c'mon, look at this...I can barely stomach to look at it." Altogether there were four guests, and let's just the single one had doomed them all. Slowly lifting your knife, in a span of a second or two, you had jammed it right into their temple.

You had slipped the knife out swiftly, a gentle smile on your face, as your gaze had never left Hannibal's even when blatantly killing the man. "I must say, that this food, might be one of the bests you have made." Your voice rang out, dealing with the woman on your other side.

Hannibal was swift to deal with the other two, all four of the guest's dead bodies had laid at the dinner table, their faces planted into their own respective plates of food.

Upon finishing your last bite of the meat, you set your napkin down and spoke, "Let us deal with the mess now."

Hannibal let out a low hum in agreement, as he set down his fork and knife, with exceptional table manners: As he normally would display.

[elisysd]

The List – Maisie Peters

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

So can you talk? You know I'm stacking up Until the night I'm not enough And you're just someone else I disappoint

Monaco was becoming bearable to Lyanna. She wouldn’t say that she liked the city, but she was warming up to it. There was something special in its air. In the span of three weeks, she managed to make two new friends. Charles obviously, she was starting to see him as a friend more than an acquaintance, and Kika. They instantly clicked during the dinner at Charles’. They had so many things in common. They both loved fashion, old movies that no one knew about, and random facts about animals. They were both career oriented and pretty independent. They quickly exchanged their phone numbers and promised each other to stay in touch and to organize something if they both landed to be in the same place at the same time.

As for Pierre, she didn’t have much time to get to know him. Truth be told, he was intimidating to Lyanna. He had such a big persona. The way he carried himself with such confidence was something she admired. If only she could be a little more like that. But she knew that she could learn to be his friend, at some point. After all, they had a huge common point, as they were both French. Obviously, this brought them closer.

Lyanna also admired Kika and Pierre’s relationship. They were like two sides of the same coin. They were laughing at the same things, finishing each other sentences and had the exact same look on their faces whenever they were looking at each other. It was cute. When she shared her thoughts with Kika, the young woman had admitted that it was not that easy at the beginning. She got a lot of hate because of the age gap between them. She felt alone but Pierre had never given up on her. He could have, it could have been easier. The hate was strong and she knew that it had also been a difficult time from the Frenchman. But in the end the experience had only strengthened their feelings for each other. Somehow, she was glad that it happened this way. Now it was okay, she was still receiving nasty comments from time to time, but it was easier to manage.

Naturally Kika had asked to Lyanna if she had someone special in her life, to what the actress had confessed that she didn’t have the time to date. She wanted to focus on her career, that was the most important thing to her. She had been single for three years now, and she was fine with it. She was still learning to appreciate her own company.

“My last relationship ended up with my heart shattered in pieces and a psychotherapy that is still ongoing. I don’t want to go through that again. I’m fine with me being alone. It’s not as bad as people make it out to be.”

“Yeah obviously. But still, wouldn’t you like to have someone you know you’re going home to?” asked Kika.

“I don’t even know what home is. I’m always away. I’m renting an apartment in London that I barely occupy; you know. I’m living more in my suitcases than in my place. And it’s fine, I chose it. I don’t regret it.”

“As cliché as it’s going to sound, sometime home is where the heart is.” Kika murmured, her head naturally turning to Pierre.

That night, Lyanna fell asleep with a smile on her face. It had not happened for a long time.

The days passed again. Lyanna had started filming and it was going relatively well. A little better than she had expected. David continued to behave like a total moron and some of his remarks towards Lyanna were inappropriate, but the young woman didn't pay much attention to them. She knew how to put him in his place when he needed to be put in his place, and even if this sometimes weighed on her, it did not make the atmosphere on the set intolerable. But she was wary anyway, she couldn't shake off that sick feeling in her stomach every time she met his eyes when the cameras were off. 

But after a few weeks of working almost non-stop she finally had a break. She was not needed for the next three days and she was looking forward to a good sleep and doing nothing. On her way back she met Charles who was heading back from his evening run. Naturally, she asked him if he wanted to hang out, she had become accustomed to the presence of the driver in her life.

“Since you're free tomorrow, would you like to come with me so I can show you the most beautiful view of Monaco?” He offered her.

She accepted with great pleasure. However, what the Monegasque failed to mention was that he would be knocking on her door at dawn the next day.

“I knew you would have said no if I had told you that I would wake you up at 6am but trust me you won’t regret it.” He excused himself.

“Just like you oh so conveniently forgot to mention that we would have to walk. I hate exercising Charles!”

He just laughed while she tried to find in her bags and closet something appropriate for a hike. Once ready to go they headed to the underground parking lot to take Charles’ car. When they were both ready to go, Charles took a banana, a carton of juice and a croissant out of his backpack. No way was she going to walk on an empty stomach, he told her. The last thing he wanted was to have to walk back carrying her because she had a hypoglycemic episode.

“You would deserve that Leclerc. You woke me up to make me walk I don’t know for how long; you deserve all my grumpiness.” She told him.

And indeed, how grumpy she was. She decided to complain all the way. At some point Charles suspected that it was more to annoy him and tease him than real complains. For almost two hours they walked along the small footpath. Charles was ahead of Lyanna and had to stop often to check that the young woman was following him and had not turned back. When Lyanna wasn't stopping regularly to catch her breath, she was admiring the speed and ease with which Charles was moving.

Soon enough they finally reached their destination and Lyanna’s breath was taken away.

“Welcome to La Tête de Chien, the place where you can have the best view of Monaco” murmured Charles.

From where they were, they overlooked Monaco. They could see the Marina and its yachts and the mountains in the distance. The sun was not yet high in the sky and the air was breathable, so Lyanna understood better why Charles had insisted that they go there so early. There was something peaceful about this place.

“It’s absolutely beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.” Lyanna said in awe.

Charles smiled gently and his hands in his pockets he approached the edge of the path and sat down on the small wall, motioning Lyanna to do the same. She looked like a little kid to him, trying to see everything all at once and absorbing every little detail.

“I want to stay here forever.”

Charles felt a sense of pride but didn’t mention it. There was something really beautiful about watching Lyanna truly appreciate Monaco for the first time and he didn’t want to break the magic of the moment. Instead he took his phone out and took a picture of the view before posting it as a story on Instagram. He also took a picture of is friend while she was not looking. He wanted to keep a trace of the instant.

Lyanna decided to do the same. It was time to announce that she was shooting a new movie and what better way to do it than by showing this beautiful view. A story with a quick caption would be enough, she didn’t need to do more. The marketing team of the movie would be a better job than her but still, she liked to keep people up to date with what she was working on.

What they both did not know at the moment and did not expect was that two simple stories would make everything go downhill.

Twenty-four hours after the hike, Lyanna received an unexpected call from her agent. Sophie never called her when she was shooting a movie and when her name popped out on Lyanna’s phone, she immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Do I have to sit for what you’re about to announce me?”

“Lya, good to hear you. And no, I don’t think so. But we have a B type problem on the way.”

A B type problem meant that it was related to Lyanna’s private life and that it was still under control. It was more like rumors and it didn’t involve the press. Yet. In that case it was a A type problem and signified that Lyanna’s privacy was going to be deeply impacted and turned into a shitshow. But still, B type was not good.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Do you by any chance, know the Ferrari racing driver Charles Leclerc?”

“How did you…”

“Someone on Twitter that is following both of you on Instagram pointed out that you posted the same landscapes at almost the same time. You can easily imagine wat they are deducing.”

Lyanna gulped. She didn’t imagine that something like that could happen. It was naive from her; she knew Charles was popular and she was too. Statistically, it was bound to happen that they would have followers in common.

“We are not dating, if it’s what you’re implying. We’re friends. He’s my neighbor actually, there’s nothing going on between us.” Justified Lyanna.

“You do what you want with who you want Lyanna, my job is not to monitor you. I’m just saying that for now it’s rumors, but you how fast things can escalate, I’m not going to teach you that. You do wat you want from this information. I’m just saying that he has a huge fanbase, he draws a lot of attention from the media, I checked him online. And I know how you feel about being involved with people like that.”

Another mistake that Lyanna did was that she never checked is social media presence. She should have, she could have but she never thought about it. She was not a social media person; it never crossed her mind to search Charles on Instagram or on Twitter or anywhere to be honest. She quickly typed his name on the Instagram search bar and almost choked when she saw the number of ten million followers. That was almost as much as her with her twelve million.

“Oh shit.”

“What do you want to do?”

She hesitated. A huge part of her valued er relationship with Charles. It made her feel good, she felt herself with him. Not Lyanna Michel, the actress, but just Lyanna. And it had been such a long time since that happened. But another part of her, smaller but more vicious could not help but reminder what happened the last time she was involved with someone famous and how it turned her life upside down and not in the good sense of the term.

From Charles’ end, it’s his little brother Arthur who taught him the rumor by texting him.

You didn’t tell me that you were involved with Carla’s favorite actress.

What do you mean??

Check Twitter.

And Charles did. And Charles first thought was, what did he do in a past life to be involved in two dating rumors in the span of a few weeks? His second thought was directed to Lyanna. He tried to call her but he went straight on her voicemail. He insisted two, three time but no answer. He texted her but no answers as well. He then went to her place. He knocked and waited but still, no answers. He insisted on knocking louder but nothing changed. And e knew she was there, he could hear noise from inside. She was shutting him out. And it made him upset.

“Lyanna, open the door. I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing but if she wanted to be stubborn, so was Charles. Two could play that game.

“I won’t leave until you open this door. I will knock and knock again until you talk to me. I know you saw Twitter. We have to talk about it Lyanna.”

Finally she opened. A little, just a crack but enough for Charles to slip through the gap left by the opening. And then she was there, observing him, not saying one thing. It was like all the progress he made with her; all the trust that took a little time be built vanished. All of his work reduced to nothing. She was acting like a scaredy cat. She didn’t say a word to him.

“We’re friends Lyanna. Don’t shut me out.” He began.

“You are more famous than what I thought.”

Charles didn’t understand what she meant by that and how it was a problem.

“I’m still Charles. Famous or not. I didn’t change between yesterday and today.”

“You’re drawing attention. People have expectations. People are talking.”

She was rambling and on the verge of a panic attack. Naturally Charles made a move toward her but was surprised when she backed down.

“Lyanna, it’s not because that we are both under the public eye that we can’t be friends. We are human and human have friends.”

“I don’t want famous ones. I want my peace and quiet. Going out with you was a mistake. Posting on social media was a beginner mistake. Now, people are making up stuff.”

“I don’t care about what people think.”

“I do care!” She yelled. “I do care about my privacy being displayed online as entertainment, I will care when the press sees that as an opportunity to twist the truth and creates a story that I have no control over.”

“You can’t always control everything. You have to trust people. You have to trust me. We are both impacted here. I don’t care about the rumors; I only care about the truth and both you and I know it. And it’s enough. I won’t hide Lyanna. I’m free to do whatever the hell I want to do, no matter what people think. You should do the same, you have to. This is why you accepted to play Sally, right?”

“Well excuse me, but in the equation, I never thought to add going out with a celebrity.”

“Stop giving me that celebrity image Lyanna! I never thought of myself as such nor did I ever think of you the same way!” He snapped. “And I could have. But I didn’t because it’s not fair. I know you and…”

“That’s the thing Charles.” She cut him “You think you know me, but you don’t. We have known each other for what, three maybe four weeks. You can’t pretend to know me. Just like I can’t pretend that I know you.”

“Let me get to know you then. Let me know why you’re acting this way, let me know why you’re so scared that you don’t let me come near you! I want to Lyanna. But you don’t let me.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to! Maybe because if I told you all the twisted things I have been through, you would not understand and then you would leave me alone.”

“Don’t make this decision for me. Let me understand.”

“And for what? People leave when someone baggage is too heavy. And then what will I have left? Nothing. I won’t take that risk.”

“You’re not being fair. You have you own demons to face, I get that and I want to be there for you. But I won’t if you don’t help me understand. I can’t be a good friend then.”

“You would not understand Charles! Why are you so stubborn?”

The conversation was starting to be heated. Both of them refusing to meet halfway.

“You are scared and you’re acting as a coward Lyanna. I don’t know what you went through but you can’t let past events dictate youre life and your choices.”

“As if you knew something about hard times Charles! You grew up here, in a privileged world. You live the perfect life. You are not going to make me believe that you know something about traumas. You don’t know what it means to lose people.”

That hurt Charles more than anything. Scared to say something that he would regret and because they were not both in any state to have a real and appeased conversation, he decided to leave. He looked at her one last time before closing the door.

========

taglist - if you want to be added let me know @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali

[scatterbrainedart]

The biggest struggle with ADHD for me is how much time everything takes. A good example of that is schoolwork and writing. I'm a writer, a write a lot. I like it, I'm good at it. Yet, my 500 words long text took me a full weekend to write which included me staying up late pretty much every day to write. I've also been writing the same book for four years now (albeit I did start over after 50000 or so words).

Last book I read was Frankenstein. Loved it, but it took me over a year to finish. Today, my only goal was to finish writing my notes for this one assigment. I wrote four sentences in about 6 hours (after another 4 hours of procastinating). Drawing also takes me a very long time compared to others. And is very much not supported by my short attention span and lackluster motivation.

The fact that it hasn't always been this bad is the worst part, I think. I like school and studying, I like learning things, but things are always too slow or too fast for me. I'm glad I'm a fast learner and can compensate for my attention span and godawful working memory with those streghts I have. But it is not efficiant and it will not work forever, and I'm like 99% certain it's the reason I get so quickly overworked and burnt out.

The second worst part is when people overlook this and think I should be able to handle it just because I'm "old enough to take responsibility" of these sort of things now. Which, yeah, I guess. But I'm also a full-time student who is doing her darndest to balance school, friends, student associations, hobbies and every other responsibility, obligation and commitment that may be thrown her way. Which, realistically, I would be able to handle on their own. Seperatly. Aaaghh. Anyway.

It shouldn't be unreasonable to ask for a bit more time to manage it all. Dropping the ball doesn't mean I'm not trying hard enough. If I could choose between it being easy and it being hard, wouldn't I choose for it to be easy?? Like,, cmon

[theromaboo]

Hi! What are your thoughts on the show domina?

Hello!

I apologize for being a little late to write this but I've recently been dubbing Peppa Pig in Latin so I've been a little busy.

How engaging it is: 9/10

Personally, my attention span is like 0. I really struggle to finish shows or books, so it's honestly extremely impressive that I managed to finish this show. I did get kind of bored at the last episode, but it's a miracle I only got bored at the last episode.

Character's appearances: 7/10

I absolutely love Domina's choice of actors. Everyone looks exactly like they look in my head. Apart from one person. Augustus! He doesn't look that bad in the later episodes; the only major thing I don't like is hair color. But in the first two episodes, I could not get over his hair. what is that haircut im gonna cry

I'm sorry, that is not Octavian.

I just don't know what happened. Like, they could've gotten any random blond twink off the streets to be Octavian and I would be happy. But they really had to make Octavian look like that, huh.

But I do have two things I like about the young Octavian. Number one, his actor is actually the right age for once. The actor is in his twenties, so he's actually around Octavian's age at the time. Which is an actual miracle. Movies always use much older actors for people like Octavian and Britannicus. Number two, he's much smaller than Agrippa! Eeeeeee! I give that detail the 100% historically accurate stamp!

Which leads me to Agrippa. HJKFDKJHFSKS I love the actors they got for Agrippa. Both young Agrippa and old Agrippa, they look perfect! Words can not describe how much I love Agrippa's physical appearance in Domina.

Meanwhile, for older Augustus, I can look at him and go "Huh, I understand that this is Augustus" but I don't like his appearance.

I like how everyone else looks. Tiberius is a little too hot to be Tiberius, ngl.

Dialogue: 8/10

A lot of people complain that all the characters use the f word all the time which is anachronistic because the word "fuck" was invented after ancient Rome or some other dumb reason like that. But the fact they are speaking in English is anachronistic! I'm sure if the ancient romans had that word they would've used it all the time. Anyway, my only problem with the entire thing is that they literally don't use any other swear word. Come on, if the ancient Romans had English, I'm sure they would be more diverse in their choice of swears.

Overall, not counting their overuse of fucks, I quite like the dialogue. I'm still thinking of this part:

[Context: Augustus is really sick and was "speaking" with the dead]

Augustus: I just saw my mother.

Livia: Your mother? How is she?

Augustus: Oh, you know. Dead.

Augustus and Agrippa: 4/10

They hug a few times, I guess. And they're cute together sometimes. And occasionally they just have a moment that reminds me that they're besties. But it's not enough for me. I know I'm sounding picky or critical but you'd understand if you watch it. I'd actually like to show you some statistics.

(by the way, i was an ABOSLUTELY AWFUL data collector. there is no guarantee that this is going to be 100% correct, but it's close enough)

In the Domina fandom of AO3, there are around 3 fics where Agrippa is shipped with Octavian and around 8 fics where he is shipped with someone else.

Meanwhile, in every fic with Agrippa, excluding ones in the Domina fandom, there are around 22 fics where Agrippa is shipped with Octavian and around 5 where he is shipped with someone else.

Something is clearly wrong here.

(I'll probably make another post about these statistics and in that post I will count better so I'll know for sure what the numbers are. But for now, these are the numbers I counted but you shouldn't put too much faith in them)

Historical Accuracy: ???? I forgot but I think it wasn't bad.

Well, of course, Domina is very Livia-centric, so I shouldn't expect many good Augustus and Agrippa moments. But that's pretty much what I signed up for. I would like some more Augustus and Agrippa. I'm not even close to finishing Masters of Rome, but I quite like how they were written in it (apart from the MILLION times Colleen just had to remind the audience that augustus and agrippa were Totally Not Gay. listen, i heard you the first time) So maybe the writers of Domina should've taken inspiration from there.

But I'm not really mad though. This is just a little personal thing that I would've liked to see. But Domina can do whatever it likes. And there *are* cute Augustus and Agrippa scenes in Domina. Just not many. It's fine.

I didn't watch for the historical accuracy, so I honestly forgot if there were any big issues or not. But, it's a drama, not a documentary, so I'm a lot more lax. I'm totally fine with them adding new characters and changing up events as long as they don't make a historical mistake that makes me cry (if the characters of domina went to the colosseum, i would honestly cry) It's a drama. As long as it isn't pretending to be factual, I'm fine with them taking artistic license. But if you were watching for the SHEER accuracy of EVERY event, you might not like it.

Family friendliness: 2/10.

It's not a bad thing that it got such a low number, but I'm just saying that you shouldn't watch Domina with your mom or your kids or something. I'm pretty sure only actual porn has more sex than Domina does. If you watched HBO Rome, you'd understand. And like, there's no warning. One scene is totally normal and the next scene is gay sex.

I think I should do math about this. How many sex scenes are in each episode of Domina? (and hbo rome if i got the time) And what's the average amount of sex scenes per episode? I'm guessing 7. Reblog with which number you're guessing! (guys if you actually reblog with which number you're guessing I will actually be forced to calculate it so make sure you do)

General prettiness: 10/10

The entire show is so beautiful. I could take any screenshot and make it my phone background or something.

Overall: 8/10

I managed to finish it, and I quite enjoyed it. I love how Agrippa looks. I love how beautiful every scene looks. Storytelling-wise, I'd say it was good. My main problem is Octavian's appearance. But it isn't really a big groundbreaking problem (okay actually young octavian is an earthshattering sin. the ghost of julius caesar himself will haunt you forever if you can look at him and go "this is fine") And I'd also like more Augustus and Agrippa scenes. But overall, I'd recommend this show.

[not-orphaned-account]

You, Only You - Chapter 3

They're both very straight, trust me.

One of the things everyone loves about Suguru is that he has the patience of a saint. Shoko has said it enough times watching him put up with Satoru’s antics—though Satoru thinks it has less to do with Suguru’s patience and more to do with the fact that he is awesome and funny and charming all the time—but it’s the most apparent when he’s with the kids. He puts up with a lot, only really scolding them when they do something dangerous or unkind, never for wasting his time or asking silly questions. To be fair, that can be said for most of them, as no one really has the heart to actually discipline them, and they’re still pretty much kids themselves. But Suguru takes it the extra mile, always putting their best interests first, doing his absolute best to help them grow and thrive.

It’s because of this that Satoru tends to find him in situations like this.

“What’s going on here?”

Suguru opens one eye, peering up at him. He’s sitting cross-legged in the grass, Tsumiki and the twins kneeling behind him in a sort of train: Suguru, then Tsumiki, then Mimiko and Nanako.

“Tsumiki’s teaching us how to braid!” Nanako says, holding up the loose, messy braid she’s managed to do in half of Tsumiki’s hair. Mimiko doesn’t look up from her half, expertly weaving Tsumiki’s hair in an intricate-looking pattern.

“I learned it from one of my roommates,” Tsumiki says with a sweet smile. “She’s got hair all the way down to her hips!”

“Wow,” Satoru says, plopping down on the grass beside her, “seems like a hassle. Hey, have you seen Megumi?”

“He’s reading in the dorms,” she says. “Why?”

Satoru watches her fingers move, reaching beside her and grabbing a flower from the pile she seems to have picked before weaving it into Suguru’s hair with practiced motions. He thinks his bed frame, and the suspicious gnaw-marks on one of the legs that look an awful lot like the work of a poorly-trained demon dog.

“Just wondering,” he says. “That looks good, Miki.”

She beams at him, and he’s helpless not to smile back.

“Thank you,” she says politely. “Geto promised he’d keep it since he doesn’t have any missions right now.”

Satoru looks over her handiwork, at the delicate flowers tucked into the braids that span the back of Suguru’s head, letting the rest of his hair fall in smooth waves and drape over his shoulders. It’s pretty, and something about it makes Satoru’s heart twist strangely in his chest.

“Want me to show you how?”

Satoru starts, looking over. Tsumiki was watching him—for how long, he doesn’t know. He shakes his head.

“No, thanks,” he says with a little laugh. “Not really my thing.”

Tsumiki squints at him for a second before nodding.

“That’s okay,” she hums, going back to her task. “It’s kind of hard to pick up at first, so it’s not for everyone.”

Satoru splutters.

“Are you saying you don’t think I could do it?”

Tsumiki shrugs.

“I didn’t say that.”

She yelps as Satoru bullies her aside, squeezing next to her and holding his hands out expectantly.

“It can’t be that hard,” he challenges. In front of him, Suguru snorts, catching his attention.

“What?” he demands. Suguru raises his hands.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says with an audible grin. Satoru huffs.

“Too many people not saying things,” he grumbles, ‘accidentally’ pulling the section of hair Tsumiki hands to him and smirking when he grunts in pain.

As it turns out, the braid is surprisingly simple, especially with Tsumiki guiding his hands. He takes over after a few minutes while she handles the flowers, and by the time the hairstyle is finished and the flower pile is gone, he has to say that it looks pretty good.

“Thanks for helping, Gojo,” she beams, even though he’s pretty sure that having to teach him was more of a hindrance than a help. He pats her head, making sure not to mess up Mimiko’s braiding.

“Thanks for teaching.”

“You picked it up quick!”

“Well, of course,” Satoru says, tossing imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I’m good at everything.”

“Tsumiki,” Nanako whines from behind them, “I’m bored.”

Tsumiki looks over her shoulder.

“Oh?”

“I wanna play,” she says, resting her chin on Tsumiki’s shoulder and giving her best puppy dog eyes. “You promised you’d play with us!”

“Well, is Mimiko all done?”

Mimiko nods silently.

“She’s done,” Nanako supplements, “so can we please go play now?”

“Alright, alright,” Tsumiki laughs, getting up and brushing the grass from her skirt. “Thanks, Geto.”

“It was my pleasure,” Suguru says, smiling up at her. “You girls have fun.”

With that, the twins drag Tsumiki off across the grounds, one clutching each hand. Satoru watches them go, unable to keep himself from smiling.

“She’s so good with them,” Suguru says, turning to face him. “I do feel sort of bad, though; she’s hardly had a moment to herself since break started.”

“I’m sure they’ll settle down soon,” Satoru says. “Remember last summer? The novelty of having the other kids back will wear off eventually.”

Suguru hums.

“That’s true.”

He stretches his arms out with a jaw-cracking yawn, then flops back with his head in Satoru’s lap; Infinity lets him past with ease. 

“You’ll mess up your hair,” he scolds without any heat. “And after we worked so hard on it.”

“I’ll be careful,” Suguru murmurs, eyes closed and hands folded over his middle. “It’s hot out, I’m tired.”

“You’re such a wimp about the heat,” Satoru teases. He cracks one eye open and looks up incredulously.

“Oh, am I the wimp? Mister Suguru-buy-me-four-packs-of-popsicles-right-now?”

“They’re an essential summer staple!” Satoru argues. Suguru snorts and closes his eye, relaxing further into his lap as if in defiance.

“You’re an actual child.”

“Takes one to know one,” Satoru shoots back intelligently, wholly disproving his point.

He leans back on his hands, turning his face to the sky and closing his eyes. The sun is warm on his face; it’s still early enough in the summer that the heat isn’t unbearable, and the air up in the mountains always smells fresh and clean. It’s a good day.

“So, do you think we’ll be able to get to the exchange event without a mission?” Suguru asks. Satoru snorts.

“Funny.” 

Suguru sighs, and he tilts his head down to look at him.

“Why, you wanna watch?”

Suguru shrugs a little.

“It’s Haibara and Nanami’s last year,” he says. “Thought it would be nice to cheer them on.”

Satoru snorts.

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be funny to watch Nanami get his ass handed to him.”

“And why do you think they’ll lose?”

Satoru rolls his eyes, pinching Suguru’s cheeks together.

“Because we’re not playing. Duh.”

Suguru opens his eyes and gives him an unimpressed look, the effectiveness of which is greatly lowered by the fish lips he’s giving him. He bats Satoru’s hands away and reaches up to flick his forehead.

“I’d say you were full of yourself,” he says, half-heartedly swatting at Satoru’s hand as he tries to get to his face again, “but I think those words have lost all meaning.”

“You love it.”

He doesn’t know how, but their fingers end up tangled together, hands hovering in midair between them. Satoru stares at them, at Suguru’s olive, slender fingers interlaced with his own pale, knobbly ones. Suguru has nice hands; it's not the first time he's thought it, and he doubts it'll be the last. When they first met, his palms were calloused and his fingernails were dirty from doing work around his parents’ farm; now, they're not so calloused, but they're strong and muscled from fighting, and the dirt is gone, but often replaced with curse residue. His nails are clean now, though, and Satoru smiles a little to himself as he runs the pad of his thumb over the smooth ridges.

“What are you doing?” Suguru sounds amused, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Satoru shrugs, watching the slight ripples of his knuckles under the skin as he flexes his fingers.

“Nothin’,” he says, then frowns when Suguru moves their hands and knocks his knuckle against the bridge of his glasses. “Ow.”

“You should get those adjusted,” he says, unfolding his fingers enough to push the glasses up Satoru’s sweaty nose. “They’re gonna keep falling down.”

“It’s fine,” Satoru whines, but his voice comes out less whiny and grating than he means it to, sounding almost soft in his own ears. Or maybe that’s just because of his sudden muffled hearing, ocean waves filling his ears and muting the sounds of the garden around them.

“You’re so stubborn,” Suguru murmurs, and his voice sounds similar, though it flows with the rushing tide instead of being swept under. His fingers extend, not dislodging from Satoru’s hold, but stretching towards his face, brushing cool and soft against his skin. He’s hot and cold, now, and he feels like he’s shaking but from the inside, and he instinctively melts into Suguru’s familiar touch.

“You love it,” he says on reflex. Something in Suguru’s eyes sparkles to life, and he can feel himself grinning, and he doesn’t realize he’s been leaning down until they meet in the middle.

Suguru’s lips are chapped; he’s been biting them again, probably not drinking enough water. They’re hot, warmer than Satoru’s, and he suddenly realizes that he’s never actually kissed anyone before. It feels fitting that Suguru is his first, honestly, as trying to think of kissing anyone else in this moment feels tangibly wrong.

And then he realizes that he’s been thinking during this whole kiss, and Suguru’s lips are leaving his and no, he didn’t even get to enjoy it. He opens his eyes, unaware of closing them at any point, to see Suguru looking up at him with something in his expression like horror, and he looks like he’s about to do something stupid, like stop touching him, so Satoru takes matters into his own hands and kisses him again.

This time, he makes a conscious effort to keep all the thoughts he can out of his head, letting himself be guided on feeling. Suguru’s hands are hovering, like they do when Infinity is too far out, and Satoru can tell he’s being hesitant. He curls his fingers under Suguru’s jaw and pulls him up, further into the kiss, doing his best to make him stay. Slowly, he can feel Suguru’s hesitance melting away, and finally he brings his hand up to slide it around the back of Satoru’s neck, pulling him closer.

Their noses bump, and suddenly Satoru’s glasses slip, falling off his nose and onto Suguru’s face. They slide to the ground as the two of them part, surprised.

They stare at each other for a few moments before Suguru’s mouth screws up, eyes squinting as he tries to hold back his laughter. He’s unsuccessful, and his nose crinkles as he lets out a loud, full laugh, eyes squeezing shut with the force of it.

Satoru just watches him, for once not put off by the obvious ridicule. He brushes a strand of hair away from Suguru’s face, breath hitching a little when Suguru opens his eyes and grins up at him.

“I heard they’re flying Mei Mei out to help monitor the team battles,” he hears himself say. “Maybe she’ll let you watch if you ask really nicely.”

Suguru snorts.

“I don’t think I have enough digits in my bank account to ask Mei Mei nicely.”

The sun is warm, and the air is clear, and Suguru’s weight in his lap is comforting and familiar, and his lips are tingling a little as he grins back, pinching Suguru’s cheeks together again.

[rigaudon]

highly controversial (esp for tumblr) take under the cut, brought to you by me, less than 24 hours after running out of my antidepressants

i hate the continued trend of "quirkifying" (thing i made up just now) mental illness, but I especially hate how recently tumblr has latched onto, specifically, adhd and autism and turned them into personality types that people slap on a name tag to show off how unique they are. I hate that being neurodivergent has become the go-to excuse for terminally online people to justify their shitty behavior. I hate the sentiment that being unmedicated is something to be proud of. I hate that wanting to be fucking normal is a cardinal sin, because ew why would you want to be like those boring neurotypicals.

I hate it. I want to be normal. I started taking medication for ADHD when I was four years old and I have never, not once in my life, thought it was a Fun Thing To have. I hate that I've spent the last 15 years slowly coming to terms with the fact that I'm probably--no almost definitely--autistic, but am still vehemently opposed to it and unable to reconcile that fact despite all the evidence. I don't want to be autistic. I don't want to have adhd. I don't want to make these things a part of my identity that I share with people in the same breath as I talk about my favorite video games or dnd class.

It's not fun. It's not a cute, exclusive club you get to be part of.

It's miserable and alienating and people don't take it seriously. Because you're just lazy and not trying hard enough. Why haven't you done this task you promised you'd do six months ago. Why did you fail out of college? Why did you squander that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Why don't you finish anything you start? Having a low attention span isn't an excuse to not communicate like a normal person. I've had to tell you this five times why can't you just remember? Why can't you save any money? Why are you so fucking weird? Don't you ever think about anyone other than yourself?

Why can't you Just Be Normal?

I would give anything to just be a shitty, irresponsible person who makes bad decisions out of carelessness or lack of empathy. I would give anything to be a "boring neurotypical". Because I could work on that. I could become a better person. i could learn from my mistakes and have that actually mean something practically rather than just cognitively.

It's an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. Accepting that my brain just does not work correctly and no amount of positive thinking, or bullet journaling, or time management skills, or even medication will fix it. It will always be a struggle. It will always be a ten ton weight shackled to my ankles that I have to drag behind me through any task that doesn't result in instant gratification. There will never be a permanent solution. I will never wake up one day and suddenly be able to do these basic fucking tasks that everyone else does without issue. I will always have to remind myself to brush my teeth, or to eat breakfast, or to take a shower, or to make sure my cats get fed. It will always be an ordeal to get the mail or to go grocery shopping or to keep myself from sabotaging every good thing in my life for the umpteenth time.

It's exhausting. I'm so tired. I'm so sick of fighting against myself every waking moment of every single day. I'm so sick of being told that I don't deserve any kind of accommodations or allowances or compromises and there is no excuse because "everyone else has to do these things and you don't get special treatment".

I don't want special treatment. I don't want everything different or "wrong" with me to be painted on my skin in bright red ink for everyone to see. I don't want to be reduced to a bunch of boxes so people can just glance at the labels and decide that's all they need to know about me. I don't want to stand out. I don't want to be different. I want to fucking blend in and be unremarkable and boring.

I just want to be fucking normal.

[imhereforscm]

Hello 😊 Can you write a Karno x female reader fluff? The reader is worried about her upcoming exams and Karno comforts her. Just something sweet and cozy. It's still very cold here.

Thank you. ♥️

"Let's recharge"

Genre: comfort

Warnings: none

A/N: It's very cold here too, so it was a pretty thematic request, haha(⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

Sighing through your nose, you buried your face in your palms, your brain feeling numb and too tired to flip the next page. Rubbing your eyelids, you returned your attention to the handwriting in your textbook, but that was only physical, since your attention span wouldn't cooperate with you.

You were exhausted, but you refused to stop there. Exams were just around the corner and you wanted to pass, which had resulted in many nights, just tossing and turning in your bed, your stress not allowing you to even sleep properly.

Sitting here to study frustrated you, yet not doing it stressed you and made you feel guilty. Your own self was your biggest opponent and as everyone knows, fighting your own self is the hardest battle.

Your hands tightened into fists and you brought your forehead down on the desk and began to sob. You were physically and emotionally tired, but your constant stress kept you in a tight leash, not offering you even a split second of peace.

A warm hand fell upon your head and you flinched at first, before you heard his voice. "Is my sweet ophelia in a difficult position?"

You nodded, not managing to use your voice through all the sobbing.

Karno turned your chair around and gathered you in his arms. He let you cry, as he rubbed your back, enveloping you in his cinnamon scent as you let it all out in his chest. He rested his chin on top of your head and began rocking your body from side to side, humming soothingly, the vibrations of his voice against your cheek.

You pulled away a little, so you can look up at him and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. "I'm so stressed, I can't even focus." You uttered, confessing your struggles to him. "Everything looks so big and the fact that I need to get through it scares me." You hiccupped, fresh salty tears spilling from your eyes. "I have a time limit too."

He rested his forehead against yours, whispering while looking deep into your eyes. "Take a slow, deep breath..." He inhaled deeply and you followed, exhaling when he did. "That's it..." He smiled sympathetically at you and brought your hands up to his lips, kissing their knuckles softly. "First of all, Ι'm gonna need you to calm down... I'm here and we can see things from a practical point of view together."

Gazing deep into his brown eyes, you repeated the breathing pattern he showed you.

"Better...?"

You nodded and he smiled sweetly, kissing your forehead. "Alright, now let's try this again." Holding you hands in his tightly, his warmth soothed you as he explained calmly. "Let's make a schedule. We're gonna sort out the subjects so you can study a certain, progressive amount every day, so you can finish on time and actually learn something. Alright?" He checked to see if you were still following him and he was pleased to see you did. "Good. Now, let's focus on you." He gently tugged on your hands and you followed his lead and flow, getting up from your chair.

"I'm so tired..." You breathed out shakily and he nodded in acknowledgement.

"I know, my ophelia." Karno snapped his fingers, bringing forth a steaming mug.

"What is that?" You asked, peering into the mug with curiosity.

"Voila." Karno said with a smile, offering you the mug of hot chocolate.

You smiled softly down at the steaming beverage and took a long, satisfying sip, the sugary taste coating your tongue. "Thank you."

"No, I am the one who should be thanking you."

"Why?"

A sentimental smile spread across his lips, emotionalism coloring his features into kind wrinkles. "For smiling again... Now," He clapped his hands together. "let's do something about the cold in here." He looked out of the window at the snow pilling up everywhere, snowflakes still falling from the clouds and blurring the glass of the window ever so slightly. With another snap of his fingers, the limited warmth in the room rose and you sighed in content, your muscles relaxing at the comfortable temperature.

Karno took a seat on your bed and opened his arms, waiting for you to flop down into them, with a tender and welcoming smile on his beautiful face. "Come on. You deserve this."

You placed your warm mug on the bedside table and crawled onto the bed, burying your face in his warm and cinnamon scented clothes.

Karno wrapped his arms around your exhausted body tightly and rubbed your back, humming a lullaby. "Let's recharge, my sweet ophelia." He whispered, until your tiredness rose to the surface and your eyelashes dropped, your brain hushing as you slept peacefully, enveloped in Karno's comfort.

[punkass-diogenes]

17, 25, 61, 100, 119.

17. a book with a yellow cover

This book is a very old favorite of mine. I first heard of it when I read one of the stories in The New Yorker in a doctor's office when I was 13. It resonated with me then in a way that few things do or ever have. I bought the book and read all of the stories many, many times over the subsequent years. The best way I can describe the tone of this book is magical realism meets Southern gothic (Florida gothic, specifically). The stories all focus on the loneliness and alienation of its characters, who are mostly children, in a world that is simultaneously dreamlike and magical, and grungy and disappointing. And, oftentimes, truly scary dangerous. It taps into the liminal space between childhood and adulthood in a way I have seen few works do. I have also experienced the stories losing resonance for me as I have gotten older (and am not older than the author was when she wrote them), which is sad but also perhaps fitting.

25. a book by your favourite author

Exhalation by Ted Chiang. Particularly the story "The Life Cycle of Software Objects." Chiang is everything I want to be as a writer - cerebral and soulful in equal parts.

61. your favourite horror novel

The first thing that comes to mind is not a novel but a short story (seeing a trend?) called "Divided by Infinity" by Robert Charles Wilson. This story is a masterpiece of existential horror that tackles what I consider to be one of the most terrifying concepts in philosophy. I won't say anymore about that! If we are going to go with actual novels, I would go in a different direction and say Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn. This book is not technically classed as horror - it is a psychological/crime thriller - but, at its heart, it is a gothic horror story, and it makes my skin crawl. Flynn does an amazing job of creating the most nauseating, suffocating atmosphere of total dread and exposing the unspeakable grotesqueness that writhes and festers beneath the ideals of femininity. I literally felt sick to my stomach after finishing this book, and there are parts of it that made me feel real sweaty-palmed terror. The fact that none of it is fantastical only makes it scarier.

100. your favourite gothic novel

Again, I have a tendency to veer toward short-form here. "The Yellow Wallpaper" and "The Cask of Amontillado" come to mind as my favorite works of classical gothic fiction. Both of these have been very influential on my own writing. I have a hard time with 19th century language and my attention span, which is why I have not read many of the classical novels from this period. However, a modern gothic novel that I really liked was The Secret History. Nothing beats stories of a group's collective descent into Dionysian darkness and insanity. And "beauty is terror" lives in my mind rent-free.

119. your favourite summer read

I don't have any books that I particularly associate with summer, but maybe The Expanse series, which I am still working through. Also shout-out to the works of Blake Crouch, which are super fun mind-fucky high-concept page turners that also all manage to casually feature some of the most nightmare-inducing apocalyptic scenarios. Also any collection of Bradbury stories. Summer for me means sci-fi.

[whateverthereason13]

Fuckit

Couldnt feel more goddamn frustrated. Diagnosis check. On new meds check. Are they doing good things?

yeah

but No one wants to listen when I say its not addressing a major issue. Its nice having some motivation, not feeling like Im going to be stuck in a sit pit all day however...

This isn't address my attention span. This isnt addressing any memory issues, or the fact that I jump from task to task all day long feeling productive only to end up exhausted by 6pm and the house looks like NOTHING has been done because I couldnt manage to actually finish a task...

Theres help for this somewhere...

[i-the-explorer-blog]

Another role to add to the endless list of roles in my life: an anthropologist.

I've been terribly busy during my long break from blogging (ahem, I meant the period where I forgot such a thing as my blog existed.) Experiences to be had, relationships to be developed and sustained, sport to be played, music to be made, money to be earned, places to be seen, things to be done..

Finally entering my final semester of BCom, I have been faced the task of doing five papers, none of which relate to my major, which is Infosys. To finish off my degree ASAP, I'm now doing two International Business papers, one Management paper, one Marketing paper and finally the subject of this little declaration of mine: Anthropology 105G.

I find it quite interesting that this is the paper that I am putting the most effort into, and attending all lectures and tutorials even if its a general education paper; we only have one two hour lecture and one tutorial for an hour, that's it for the week. The me that existed an year ago would have bunked most of the lectures and tutorials for the following reasons:

there was only one lecture a week.

it was a two hour lecture; pointless and a waste of time to attend since my attention span in lectures is magnificent if I make it through 20 minutes without yawning cavernously.

the tutorials had tests which were worth only one mark each.

most lectures and course materials were made electronically available to us anyway.

it was a general education paper.

Now if you consider the fact that I have never worked as much through my seven semesters as I am in this one, these reasons would give me great excuses to not bother about this paper much and focus more on the others. Why am I so interested?

Firstly, I think that it is simply because it is extra knowledge. The sort I love to have, and the sort I usually strive to get. Knowledge that I can get, not must get. I am an information gatherer, and we generally prefer to go about our business with no pressing compulsions on the information we need to gather (even if this will not decrease our efficiency in information gathering, its just annoying.) I don't need this information right now to keep my life on the path that I intend it to take. Simply that fact about anthropology makes it interesting to me.

Secondly, and more importantly, because this is an 'arts' science - not biology, physics or chemistry. It is a human science, with humans as the subjects of its scrutiny, exploration and theories. I am fascinated by the animals we call homo sapiens, and how easily we forget our resemblance to our fellow hominids. I am enthralled by me and everyone else due to the fact that we simultaneously live our lives as nothing more than great apes with lesser hair, yet distancing ourselves to an entire new plane of existence with our ingenuity.

Racism. As an Indian who has a basic grasp on his history, I am no stranger to this word and its implications, especially since I live in a 'white' country. Not that I have been explicitly or implicitly discriminated against, but the Land of the Long White Cloud is no different from its Commonwealth counterpart across the ditch in terms of racial undercurrents, particularly in such a multicultural society. Racism. Its such a powerful word, and even more powerful practice; entire nations' histories have been written and re-written due to the idea of one race being superior or inferior. The plants which have grown from those seeds persist in their existence today.

And this paper has woken me up to them. Its so bloody easy to lead a cocooned life where everyone treats everyone equally, especially as a university student in such a country where the nature of its society is such that racism is very rarely brought into the limelight explicitly. You just don't have the time to think about it, much less notice or observe it. Such a small country.. leading to such a small mind. No wonder Kiwis love travelling. It really opens up their mind to the variety of issues outside their fairytale land of comfort and security.

I've always been a staunch science student but never an arts student, other than music. Anthropology somehow comes across as an arts major, yet another one in their plethora of seemingly misplaced majors. And I've never studied humans, other than in a biological or psychological sense. You may argue that this is a psychological sense as well, but it is so much more. The study of racism is so much more than just mental attitudes, ideas, history or even the present.

And I have not even scratched a single cell off the proverbial surface on this topic. I have found it interesting enough to keep me reading a 45 page chapter which I had to read (which would put me off straight away) till 3 at night, and be inspired enough to return to using this instrument of expression we call a blog immediately to express my reaction. It interests and affects me how I have been oblivious to this reality just because I have led a very sheltered life in sheltered countries and societies, and makes me grateful for being having forced to take this paper ultimately.

Wow, I never imagined that reading a 45 page chapter in a book written by a raving white anti-racist about white privilege and its widespread prevalence at 3am at night would be so fascinating.

Fascinating? I can't seem to find a word to describe how much it has piqued me do the following just after reading three pages on a subject I have never heard of before:

Search for, find and request the whole damn book ASAP from the community library, which I haven't done for years now.

[albatris]

drawing group shots is fun and something I'd do more of but also the struggle is just......... finding some way to make the group shot seem casual and natural...... and also finding stuff for everyone to do.......... making everyone Distinct and Interesting while also being The Same..... trying to figure out how to fit everyone without it looking forced and awkward.........

[spidersanonymous]

There was a soft knock at their door. Caretaker looked up from their mountains of paperwork, eyebrows furrowing as Whumpee fidgeted in the doorway.

“Hello, Whumpee,” they greeted smoothly, “is there something you needed?” Whumpee didn’t tend to stray from Whumper’s side, Caretaker could only imagine what they might need. With a glance at their emancipated figure, probably a hot meal and a bed.

“Caretaker, i-” Whumpee bit their lip, shakily stepping further into Caretakers office, “I need- help. Your help,” they finished lamely, shifting on their feet as they awaited Caretaker’s response.

Caretaker rose an eyebrow, a record amount of seven words in a span of all of twenty seconds, “Okay?” they set down their pen, giving Whumpee their full attention, “Here,” they stood up from their chair, the old metal shrieking, “i think you need a seat, yes?”

Whumpee’s lip curled down but they still crossed the room and sat down, the chair groaning quietly under their weight. They hugged their arms around themself, head bowed as they anxiously glanced at the door.

Caretaker hummed, eyes tracing over Whumpee before making a decision, “I could close the door if you’re that concerned about it,” they nodded towards the doorway.

“Don’t,” Whumpee rasped, eyes widening as their words registered; still, they continued, “it isn’t- it’s not- it’s… fine.” their frown deepened as they stammered through the words. Caretaker could sympathize.

“If you’re sure,” Caretaker shrugged, leaning against their table with as much casualty as they could manage, “so, you needed my help with what, exactly?” they asked, not unkindly.

“Um,” their arms tightened, “i need- you help victims um, escape from their abu-abusers, right?”

Caretaker leaned forward with rapt attention, eyes sharpening as they drank in Whumpee’s quivering lips, tight posture, the way their nails picked at the fabric of their shirt. Caretaker never saw Whumpee at lunch, nor did they ever come to the employee hang-outs on weekends. Something forced the ever elusive Whumpee to come out of hiding. “Right,” they nodded, “I do.”

“Okay,” they nodded once, twice, “Yes, there was a case- Jorgie May, and her sister,” they picked furiously at a view loose threads, avoiding Caretaker’s eyes as their gaze darted across the office space. There wasn’t much to see.

Caretaker hummed agreement.

“Their mother,” their voice strained, throat bobbing as they forced the words out, “she was- erm- abusive,” their eyes suddenly found Caretakers, “how did-” they licked their lips nervously, “how did they get help?” What did they say to make people believe them? Was left unsaid.

Whumpee’s words lingered in the air for a moment as Caretaker considered, leaning closer as they dropped their voice to a whisper, “They gathered evidence, took pictures of their injuries, recorded arguments they had with their mother, things of that nature. One night their mother was drunk, so she took all of the evidence -and her sister- and went to the police,” they leaned out of Whumpee’s space, “bit hard to claim two malnourished kids covered head to toe in bruises were liars.”

Whumpee shuddered, squeezing their eyes shut as they exhaled forcefully.

“The fact the neighborhood didn’t have the highest opinions of their mother probably helped, as well,” they mused to themself.

“Thank you,” they whispered, “that’s-”

“A lot?” Caretaker suggested, eyebrow raised.

“Sure,” they shrugged, glancing at the door, “i should probably get going-”

A quiet knock interrupted Whumpee’s words as Whumper slipped in from the ajar door, “Ah,” they hummed, eyes narrowing, “Whumpee and… Caretaker. How curious.”

Not even a hello, “Hello, Whumper,” they greeted as smoothly as they could manage, “was there something you needed?” even then, their words were curt.

“There’s no need to be hostile, Caretaker,” they chastised with a frown, stalking further into Caretaker’s office, “I’m just here to collect my charge, I am responsible for them, you know,” their lips curled up, as if letting Caretaker in on a joke. Caretaker hated the look on them.

“Of… course,” Caretaker agreed, words sour, “is there any chance we could take a minute and chat?” and maybe, possibly, knock you over the head with a baseball bat?

“No, unfortunately,” they crooned with false pity, smiling sickly-sweet, “Whumpee and I have a meeting to attend, and we simply don’t have the time for any further conversations,” they spat the words, expression darkening as they grabbed Whumpee’s wrist and harshly pulled them up.

Whumpee, for their credit, didn’t yelp at the pull, even though they looked like one strong wind took knock them over. They grit their teeth, allowing themself to be pulled to Whumper’s side. Whumper curled an arm around their shoulder, looking painfully smug.

Caretaker wanted to wipe that look off their face.

“If that’s all, Whumpee and I really do have to be going,” they dragged Whumpee out the door, “it was lovely speaking with you, Caretaker.”

Can’t say the same for you, “Likewise.” They managed to spit out.

With one last smug smirk, they both disappeared behind the door, finally shutting closed with a click.

Caretaker only wished they gave Whumpee their number.

___

kind of insane about this idea tbh. not sure what about it is so good but… ohh boy. wrote this in a span of two days, lightly edited. also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist lol

[cat3ch1sm]

Yeeey! what would my last request be like in Jujutsu Kaisen? only with the cute and beautiful Itadori, Sukuna and Gojo! S/O having communication problems and having their diaries read by them, and reaction to seeing this! ( S/O with Komi san personality with Itadori, Sukuna and Gojo? 🤔😳 )

🍵| ofc ofc<33 i really appreciate ur patience:DD also i have yet to finish the anime do forgive me if i don't characterize these guys right!!! im going off of what i have RN, im about halfway finished with the anime<333

pov: reader s/o is very shy and hardly talks at all, what happens when their partner finds their diary?

itadori yuuji

༊* don't get me wrong, itadori is literally in love with you more than anyone else probably ever will be. but with his personality, sometimes he really wishes you would talk!!! more!!! often!!!

༊* so he goes to one of his friends, say nobara and megumi, and he's like "why do you think y/n doesn't talk??" and nobara's like "idfk bruh but she probably has somewhere else to 'express herself.' like a diary or smth"

༊* "so does that mean fushiguro has a diary too??" *deadpan voice from across the room* "no."

༊* now that itadori has this idea in his head, he goes off to look for one. and after searching in these dumbass places like the toaster or some shit he finally finds it in an obvious-ish place like under your bed

༊* "wow! y/n has a diary! i didn't know that.. wait, should i be reading this? probably not..." *looks guilty for two seconds* *opens the diary*

༊* when he starts to read it, he's surprised by the eloquence of your writing- tbh it makes his brain hurt. but itadori keeps reading anyway

༊* he is also surprised because you seem to feel a lot despite not conveying any of it whatsoever. he reads how you worry when he goes out on missions, he reads how at peace you feel whenever you're with him, he reads how you get angry when sukuna threatens to harm itadori, he sees how you wish you could show him more affection than you are able to, and he reads about how you wish you were able to be real friends with his friends. he even gets to know about how you felt about him even before you started dating, and how shattered you were when you thought he had died

༊* also, it makes itadori so happy when he reads the way you write about him throughout your relationship. all this time he had never been totally sure how you felt about him, but now he's relieved and absolutely thrilled to know that you love him as much as he does you. he only wishes you had shared all of this with him personally

satoru gojo

༊* okay. let's start with the fact that this man has the attention span of a celery stick

༊* you probably left the house for ten to twenty minutes to run and errand or two. and knowing that satoru is a literal child, you put something interesting on TV for him to watch so he doesn't blow the place up

༊* but yeah, no, that didn't work. 0.0005 seconds after the door locks behind you, he's all over the place. and of course he ends up in your room, where he unashamedly snoops through your things until he comes across a little journal

༊* "what's this? a diary???" *opens it up immediately and starts skimming through pages*

༊* sooner or later though, satoru is forced to actually start really reading when he doesn't find what he expected. he'd kind of been counting on some long, depressing sob story that would maybe explain why you were the way you were or something sappy like that. but a lot of your experiences don't seem so different from his- you just take them more slowly. your way of viewing things is a lot less quick than satoru's- while he kind of blasts through everything with a smile on his face and cracking stupid jokes, you stop to observe everything, and he can see this clearly in your writing.

༊* you need a medal fr- you managed to keep your mental boyfriend occupied for more than three seconds at a time??? and he's actually enthralled??? what the heck?!?1!1!1!1?!

༊* he doesn't even bother covering up tbr fact that he read your diary tbh. chances are when you open it up again to the last page you wrote on, there'll be a little teasing note from him or a stupid but affectionate doodle in the margins

༊* anyways, in the future, when satoru annoys you and you try to act mad, he'll just bring up your diary and quote something sappy you wrote about him just to make it worse

ryomen sukuna

༊* sukuna knew you had a diary. he sees you writing in it all the time when you think he isn't around

༊* to be honest, at first he couldn't care less. so what if you had a diary? diaries were for children- it was weird that you didn't talk to begin with. if he wanted to get something out of you, he would. that was all there was to it. he didn't care. sukuna didn't even want to hear about your thoughts and feelings and experiences.

༊* well... until he got to thinking. why were you scribbling all of your thoughts and feelings and experiences on paper when he was right there, anyway? of course, it wasn't like sukuna cared. no, not at all. but still. you should've been telling him these things, not rambling in some silly journal.

༊* he had a right to your mind, didn't he? why was sukuna even dating you if he didn't have access to your thoughts? no, this wouldn't do. he would just have to read the damn thing himself.

༊* so that's what he did. once you'd finally gone to bed, sukuna slipped into your bedroom and pulled your diary from its hiding place. he was surprised to feel no cursed energy radiating from it- that seemed uncommon for a human diary. somewhat curiously, he opened it and began to read.

༊* instantly, sukuna sees why there's nothing cursed coming from your notebook- but tbh, he doesn't necessarily understand how. in your writing, you seem to omit the negative things he was sure you'd include. he's not the "king of curses" in your eyes- he's just sukuna, your eccentric, sarcastic, and occasionally murderous boyfriend. you don't really bring up his "thing" with itadori, either, though you write a little about the boy himself as well as the teachers and students you've met while attending the academy with him. your character analysis is certainly nothing to sneeze at despite barely knowing many of the people you mention in your diary. you write about things as if they're flowers- sukuna's surprised that that's one of the first things that pops into his head as he's reading. frankly, he thinks it's sickening. but something stops him from closing the notebook

[xiaq]

CHAPTER 4 IS UP ON AO3

“Do they all just seem impossibly young to you?” Potter says after several minutes of silence.

He’s looking at the dance floor, eyes dark and fathomless.

Draco follows his gaze to the colour-spangled, undulant crowd: a tide of bodies moving with the pulse of music—heads thrown back, teeth white in the black light, skin slick with sweat. Couples lean against the walls and each other, hands spanning backs, mouths to ears, lips to throats. The dance floor is a study in unrestraint. 

Draco can feel the bass in his lungs.

On another night he might actually enjoy it. Tonight, it hurts.

He sips his drink and lets the rim rest against his bottom lip, tongue against teeth and teeth against glass. He exhales.

���Perhaps we’re just old before our time,” Draco says. He feels ancient, most days, like he’s lived a lifetime already. “Children aren’t supposed to go to war, after all.”

“And yet they keep ending up there,” Potter murmurs. He tips his drink, finishing the last of the liquid, and breaks an ice cube between his teeth. “The papers keep talking about healing and returning to normal, but I don’t think—do you ever feel like maybe you’ll never be normal again? That there’s no coming back from the things we’ve seen.The things we’ve done.”

For a moment, Draco is plagued with indecision. Because he doesn’t want to answer honestly, not here, not to Potter. But then he’s been trying to stop taking the coward’s way out in difficult situations, and there’s no time like the present.

“Sometimes it feels wrong,” Draco says slowly. “To enjoy things. Just simple things. Like eating the first biscuit in a new package or sliding under the duvet on a newly made bed—listening to music in the car. Because there are so many people who won’t ever enjoy those simple things again. And I was, at least partially, responsible for some of their deaths. I think I may live the rest of my life trying and failing to repent for my sins.”

Potter doesn’t attempt to gentle Draco’s self-loathing.

He does, perhaps, do something even worse, though.

“Sometimes I dream about the people I indirectly killed,” Potter says. “During the war, but also the trials afterward. So many people went to Azkaban to die.”

Draco sets down his glass.

“It was easier when I could pretend they were bad people,” he continues, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Draco is struggling to breathe.

“Weren’t they?” Draco manages.

“Some, yes. But what about the ones like you? Like your mother. Except they didn’t have the money to buy mercy. ”

Draco closes his eyes but it doesn’t make the words go away.

“Coerced or not,” Draco says, opening them again, “when it was time to choose sides, they chose the wrong one.”

Potter laughs: a sharp and terrible thing. 

“Forgive me if autonomy makes a big fucking difference in my judgement of good and evil.”

Draco looks away, attention caught again by the dancing bodies around them, moving with abandon to the throbbing music. For a moment, he is intensely, viscerally, jealous.

“They’re not like us,” Draco says, more to himself than Potter. And then, realizing he’s said it out loud, scrambles to clarify what he means by “us”—because he and Potter aren’t the same. Their experiences are not equitable and he doesn’t mean to imply they are—he wouldn’t try to place their trauma in the same genre. He can’t seem to formulate the words, though.

“No,” Potter agrees, meeting his eyes. “They’re not like us.”