#This is just what I do on Tumblr now it seems

[txttletale]

"you, specifically, are a bad and evil person that all my posts are written to condemn" this is not what i said. i'm sorry for not being clearer. i just feel like everyone in this space, not just you, look down on people who live in the first world as people who willingly don't change anything about how the world works when it's just not that simple. i know you all love to combat this and say otherwise but it will never change the simple reality that for some people it really is very hard, if not impossible, to do anything politically, for a variety of reasons. i'm disabled, i live in a remote part of the country, and i'm bad at talking to people. i don't have the money to just move to a population center or get lessons on how to speak to people. i can't do anything and i feel like every time you or one of the other communists on tumblr talks about the imperial core, i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to, if i were in one of your situations. obviously i want things to change. i don't want genocide to be a thing that's constantly happening, i don't want my country to have its tendrils dug into every other country, i want socialism and eventually global communism, and if i could do anything meaningful-- anything at all-- to achieve those goals i would be working on that. but right now that just is not the case for me, and i feel like i'm not alone in that either. i just wish you had like a smidgen of empathy for some of the people living here who don't fit into your stereotype of what a member of the imperial core looks like-- i'm not even trying to say that sarcastically, it genuinely feels like you all don't see us as human. like nyanguard especially seems to think of us as incapable of saving ourselves, and one of the reblogs to my first ask just said they "like to imagine that (i'm) crying as i type this". how am i supposed to react to that? is this how all of you feel about people like me? would your feelings about me change if i lived in another country, or would you find some other excuse to talk down to me? is it really just the country i live in that's the problem, here? i'm not trying to accuse you, i'm asking this question genuinely.

i know it's tempting to respond to this with a snarky comment but please just try to understand where i am coming from. i really am willing to help if i can.

i don't think any marxist seriously has a political theory of imperialism that amounts to "citizens of the imperial core simply choose not to do anything because they are all individually bad people". i mean the whole point of marxism is that economic relations are the ultimate drivers of historical change, not abstract psychological or moral qualities of people.

i'm sympathetic to your situation! the imperial core is a very atomizing place to live, and there are places and situations where there's just no practical path to getting organized and taking meaningful political action in the near future. however, your problem here is:

i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to

nobody is posting about you, personally. like at the end of the day you have to learn to either not take posts like that personally or just block everyone who makes them to manage your own time on the computer vis a vis niceness--i don't think it's the responsibility of me or any other communist to constantly provide asterisks and carveouts that we're not talking about the Good Ones Who Have Extenuating Circumstances when we talk about the usa and its material political base.

& in the same way that you ask for empathy for your situation i would ask you to extend a level of understanding to people whose homelands and countrymen and communities have been devastated by US coups and sanctions and invasions, that they have as much a right to express the rage and fury and hurt of that cultural legacy as you do to express your own sadness about your own situation. imagine, for example, how you would feel if your grandparents could not reliably get medicine because of us sanctions. & of course the correct target for these feelings are not random usamericans--but these posts are also not serious politcal platforms, they are venting from people who live their lives under the weight of empire.

if you think what they're saying is unfair to you, then you need to develop the ability to say 'well, i understand why they would feel that way' and move on. like i understand why you are upset, and i don't say this to be dismissive, but as real advice: it is not fair (especially to bloggers from the global south) to essentially rest your happiness and self-worth at their feet and demand that they validate you.

genuinely, i hope this helps. it's all i really have to say on the matter.

[raven-writes-fanfic]

This seems as good a time as any…

I’m bringing my real life to tumblr, folks. Here we go.

A few weeks ago, I launched a new podcast with my irl bestie @ladyflamethrower. It's called The Dark Side. We’ve labeled it as a moderately political social justice podcast, but it includes some true crime elements. Our first episode was to encourage people to go vote for Kamala Harris. Our audience just wasn’t big enough to make an impact yet.

Tomorrow we’re recording our next episode, and I’ve decided to talk about what comes next now that the unthinkable has happened. So for some hope, kindness, and positivity, tune in on Friday at 5 pm (US Eastern time). If you go to my blog, there's a link there titled My IRL Podcast. That should lead you to a feed of the current episodes.

Wish I could've figured out how to do an embedded player thing in the post here. Ah, well.

fellow Americans what the hell do we do now???

[ponyguru]

Yesterday was a sad day. I didn’t feel like I could post something blithely happy about my ponies without saying something about the election, so I’ve been musing on what to say.

Before 2016, I ran more of a ‘general fandom’ type blog on Tumblr, which skewed more heavily towards politics and activism as the orange demon began to come into the limelight. Surely, we thought, nobody would be stupid enough to vote for a reality TV star with zero credentials and so many crimes surrounding him. The election seemed like a slam dunk, since everyone had working brains.

While I had to watch people I thought I could trust celebrating the downfall of our country’s (and my) future, I realized I couldn’t carry on any kind of activism blog and keep myself alive. I leaned into 100% pony toy blogging, just to try and keep my sanity. Pony blogging became an escape, a safe place that was focused wholly on cute, comforting nostalgia. Worrying about finding the latest pony release was easier than worrying about Prop 8 removing gay marriage rights, or the overturn of Roe v Wade. Even if politics always managed to edge into my life, girls toys at least were a space where women and LGBTQIA (usually) weren’t on the fringes and marginalized.

Which leads me back to today, staring down another brutal four years in a wannabe orange dictatorship. I don’t want to simplify it with “don’t worry, we’ll all make it through again!” because a lot of us didn’t make it. I’m glad that I am in a blue state that’s working to preserve my rights, but so many others don’t have that luxury, and I’m deeply afraid for them, too. I’m scared, and a lot of us are scared, with good reason to be.

Ponies aren’t a cure all, and escapism isn’t a fix. We need to keep fighting, but you can’t fight 24/7. Many of us are already fighting just to exist in a country that doesn’t feel welcoming right now. So I’m going to keep posting about my ponies, who are comforting to me, and do my best to create a space that feels safe for me to return to, when the rest of the world isn’t. If you want to come hide in Ponyland for a little while with me every day, you’re welcome to.

I hope you all stay safe, and find a place or activity that helps you to stay alive, too. Staying alive is doing enough, in a world that wants you dead. Anything else you can do is just gravy.

I will share useful resources when I find them, usually via Insta stories, and I will keep posting ponies. Ponies bring me comfort, and I hope you can find something that comforts you, too. Stay safe, and remember that there is a better future coming. We just have to make it there. 💖

OH and I forgot to mention, I tried to comfort myself by washing some ponies from the recent doll show, hence the photo! They all cleaned up very nicely, even if Yum Yum still has a frizzball tail, LOL!

[firstkanaphans]

I've noticed this (as a majorly JD fan) that most people like to complain about fixed cps when it comes to FirstKhao only! It's more apparent when there are mostly no (or less) talk about it when long term CPs keep doing shows together (I mean OG are having their 7th show as a pair coming this gmmtv 2025 and they will be very much welcomed).

There is even demand for CPs that are no longer together to come back (like MaxTul -btw I love them and would love them to so another show together although I know Tul is retired from acting and so that's not gonna happen).

In short- why is there demand for FirstKhao to do works separately and not as a pair? (They have only 2 shows as a pair til now. THK is going to be their 3rd.) Is it because The Eclipse or Only Friends were not that well received?

The Eclipse and Only Friends were both incredibly well-received and were two of the most popular BLs GMMTV has put out in years, so it’s definitely not that. I’m hesitant to tell you what I really think because I’m worried I’ll get canceled for it, but I’ve already blocked everyone who disagrees with me and I’ve now reached the anger stage of my election grief so hey, what the hell.

If you want my honest opinion about why FirstKhaotung seem to be the primary target for this War on CPs, we need to go back to the Only Friends era. It’s important to note that this particular argument against CPs seems to be entirely isolated to Tumblr. Plenty of people dislike CPs or think there should be more mixing and matching of pairs, but that’s not the argument I’m talking about. What you see people saying on Tumblr is that CPs are actively ruining the industry and that writers and directors are going so far as to obstruct themselves creatively just so CPs can end up together. The first time I ever heard rumblings of this was during Only Friends.

Here’s the thing about Only Friends. Before it aired—and even in the beginning stages of it airing—a bunch of the more, ahem, “intellectual” fans seemed to have some very grand delusions about what it was and what it wasn’t. Delusions that were never supported by the canon or anyone involved in the creative process. Throughout this, a bunch of us “fangirls” (gender neutral) tried to fight back and tell them they were misreading the text, but the general consensus was that obviously we didn’t know what we were talking about because we were just fangirls.

But then guess who turned out to have interpreted the text correctly all along?

All of our predictions came true while none of theirs did and instead of admitting that maybe they weren’t engaging with this particular piece of media the way it was meant to be engaged with, they started inventing conspiracy theories about how the series would have ended differently if only it weren’t for those meddling CPs! The FK fandom has a huge faction here on Tumblr and I fear FK took most of the brunt of their anger—and is still taking it even now.

I just…imagine thinking Jojo Tichakorn secretly hates CPs and is being forced to use them against his will. Jojo Tichakorn? The same Jojo Tichakorn that’s been tweeting about SkyNani nonstop for the past month?! This man is inventing CPs that don’t even exist yet! He is one of us.

My truth is that most of this anger at CPs is actually just thinly veiled misogyny because it revs up anytime a true romance starts getting attention (such as We Are). Romances have always been overlooked and seen as “less than” simply because it is a genre enjoyed by women, but romances have just as much value as any other genre of media and despite popular belief, fangirls are capable of critical thought.

My advice? Just go on a blocking spree before THK airs because it’s only going to get worse. People hate to see women enjoying things.

[olderthannetfic]

Do you have a sense of where the concept of "comfort character" comes from, or when it originated? It seems like this particular coinage/concept showed up in fandom spaces somewhere in the mid to late aughts, but maybe it's older? When not used humorously, I've seen it function as a sort of proprietary claim and/or an awkward (and usually ineffective) effort at tone or representational policing, so now I'm wondering about its history.

--

The circles I ran in in the aughts would have chewed up and spat out anyone who tried to police a character in this particular way. I first heard of the concept in the last few years on tumblr.

One place I go when researching slang is Urban Dictionary. It's not just that there are definitions there but that the dates on the entries can be instructive. In this case, all of the definitions are from 2020-2022. That doesn't mean that nobody used it earlier. There could just have been limited overlap between the types who used it and the types who edit Urban Dictionary. It does match when I remember the term breaking containment and oozing all over places I was with all the butthurt entitlement that you'd expect.

A cursory search of Reddit reveals a bunch of people going "WTF is a comfort character?" around four years ago (so 2020).

Googling turns up a ton of discussions from during lockdown and basically nothing before that.

Fucking around on Dreamwidth, I see a lone mention in 2007 related to a final fantasy game. Unclear whether it's a common term or an ad hoc one.

Where are you seeing it in the aughts? I'm perfectly willing to believe it's old, but it would help to start from whatever you're looking at to trace what communities it was being used in.

[gingersnapwolves]

so I had some thoughts on the burnout post but didn't want to hijack it so this is just my own rambling attempt to process the feelings I've been struggling with for two days which obviously not everyone wants to read, thus my putting a read more

I've been crying off and on for the past couple days which is really no surprise, and I've been trying to avoid political news and political posts. In fact, after this I plan to hide the political tags for a while, heavily curate my Reddit experience, and then do I don't even know what with all my new free time

because I don't talk about it a lot here, this is my fandom space, my casual space, and I'll sometimes post about personal stuff but almost never politics, but I am actually very political. 'member of multiple political mailing lists, have marched in many protests, write postcards to swing state voters' political. and I want to talk a little about why this defeat feels different. because this crushed me in a way that 2016 did not.

the thing is. over the past few days I've seen a lot of people talking about how if you didn't realize Trump was going to win, you live in a bubble. and I think to a certain extent that's true. we all have our little echo chambers. but for me, at least, and a lot of the people I know, it wasn't just that. it was this core certainty that Trump would not win, could not win, because surely our country wasn't like that. surely our fellow Americans were not like that. it wasn't about competency or about policy. it was about basic human decency. and that's what I feel like we lost. not an election. but any remaining belief we had that people are basically good.

because it seems they're not. at least not around here. the cold hard fact at the end of the day is that the majority of our country looked at a senile, racist, fascist criminal grifter [eta: how could I forget rapist in that description?] and either actively wanted him to hold the highest office in the land, or just didn't care whether or not he did. they know exactly what he's going to do, and they're fine with it. and that hurts so much that it is nearly unbearable.

how do you move on from that? how do you cope with the fact that there's something so deeply rotten at the core of your fellow man? how do you deal with that? how do you fight back?

I am full of so much grief that I literally don't know where to put it.

so I don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired. I'm nauseated. I'm angry. But most of all, I'm sad. I can't do it right now. and I think that's probably okay. I think in six weeks or six months I'll feel differently. but right now I just can't do it. and I think the most important thing really can be to take a step back and focus on something else. because I know these feelings are not productive. I know that there are still good people out there and there are still things worth fighting for. but right now, all I feel is this aching chasm where my faith in humanity used to be.

so I'm unplugging - not from fandom or tumblr, but from politics and news - for at least a little while. sometimes that's the most important thing to do if you want to still be able to get out of bed in the morning.

[rosepetalkitty]

ngl hdg kinda amazes me in its ability to cater to my kinks pretty much perfectly while simultaneously triggering several of the worst parts of my trauma.

like how is it that it hits on everything i like on the surface, provides semi-decent worldbuilding to back it all up and enable the creation of stories, and even has consistent backstory and stuff, and yet the entire damn thing instills this looming sense of dread and fear that i can't shake enough to properly enjoy it...

below the break im gonna talk in like. moderate detail. about the parts that scare me. so uh yeah be aware that it'll get heavy that's just how it is.

ok, so the worst thing for me. wellness checks. the idea is cute and kinda hot on the surface. "make sure you're okay and if you're not you're getting domesticated" (which is supposed to be like. a happy thing. "now you get to just chill and be happy and get taken care of forever and in return you give me only your submission"). yeah, fuck it, im into that. hell that's not even an uncommon trope in the realm of cnc/mc writing.

except whenever i read an hdg wellness check story (in the sense of those long-ish tumblr posts that people write—i haven't even really considered reading the longer form content on ao3) there's something viscerally... off... about the tone. it stops feeling like kink and starts feeling like a nightmare when things happen to line up just so, and then it clicks, and reminds me that i knew people, real people, who had "wellness checks" happen in real life, except that instead of it being a kink thing that made them happy and was genuinely for their wellbeing, it was that their parents had hired people to kidnap them and drag them to a psych ward when they just needed a therapist. not all of those people that i knew have come home, as far as im aware. some have been gone for years.

and what about the whole idea of the non-consensual part being okay because "it's for your own good". in hdg-land it is. it's genuinely good for you and everyone seems to be happy with it, other than the occasional "bad guy who hates good things" trope (feralists, in hdg, afaik). but that's exactly what they told me when they cut contact between my boyfriend and i while he was in the hospital. "it's for your own good." guess what, it wasn't. his parents didn't like our relationship. they wanted me to forget him. they either didn't understand or didn't care that i couldn't. it was a year and a half before he came home and i had forgotten nothing.

our loss of communication was the tipping point in a series of events that, had i made one decision differently in the end, would have killed me. thankfully i fucked it up and am here today, no longer in that bad of a place may i add. im choosing not to share any of what happened to me directly right now because i don't want to turn this into a full on trauma dump, but suffice it to say there are recurring themes.

it's so interesting to me because in a lot of ways i have found comfort from those experiences in kink and writing. take flames of averon: mech pilots are neurochemically bonded to their handlers. how different is this from what the affini do to their florets? well, you have to sign up to be a pilot, and there's no authority in the world threatening you if you choose not to. even the coalition military wouldn't dare force you to become a pilot against your will, though they might never stop sending you promotional flyers if they find out you're able to tolerate the cyberware /lh

hell, im into cnc. im really into it. i chose to leave it as an opening between pilots and handlers in foa. the implication exists that if a handler tells their pilot to do something the poor thing will have a hell of a time saying no. that's intentional. it's hot to me, on either end. but the safety comes from other things.

yes, your handler has a lot of influence over you at a level that's hard to imagine, but you chose them and they chose you (most of the time), or at the very least neither of you had any complaints to raise with your supervisor when the paperwork came in for syncing your link chips (holly and astrid from seat of consciousness).

yes it's true, you can't be reassigned now that you're bonded, but that doesn't mean you have zero recourse if your handler is treating you badly. if you need to, you can always file paperwork with your commanding officer to request that something be done.

plus, handlers go through a lot of training, which includes screening to filter out people who would actually harm their pilots. yeah, some handlers are a little sadistic, but when it comes down to it they are on your side. if that wasn't the case they would never have passed pre-basic.

put another way, as a pilot in flames of averon, the closest thing ive ever written to a floret, there are a multitude of points at which you could have said no and didn't, and although that's obviously still noncon in the grand scheme of things, it's "signing away your freedom" cnc compared to the hdg flavor of "you 'consented' via it being the best thing for you whether you like it or not."

even if your handler just told you to "stay" for the first time and you're currently panicking and trying to figure out why your legs won't move, you still have some tiny amount of agency—an escape hatch, so to speak—and you'll just never end up having to use it.

and to me, the loss of that minute level of agency which will never be invoked is the difference between "this is hot as hell and feels perfectly safe" and "this is the abuse that was once leveraged against those i cared about, and to some degree myself, and it's simply been repackaged with a kink sticker slapped on."

none of this is to say i hate hdg, it's fans, those who write about it, or even the parts of it which scare me. i do think the idea is hot. hdg is pretty cool. hell, it was one of my inspirations in writing a lot of the pilot/handler dynamics in flames of averon. but it does scare me. and no matter what i tell myself i can't shake that fear.

it's frustrating, because oftentimes fear can be part of what makes something hot, but the particular flavor of fear which hdg instills in me is one which makes bitter all that it reaches. maybe someday i'll grow out of it. the traumatic memories from which that fear stems were only created in the past couple of years, to be fair. but something tells me a piece of that fear will never be fully dislodged from my mind.

so, all this to say, while i am into hdg, it's a complicated relationship.

(and on a sillier in character note to lighten the mood—please feel free to respond to this with roleplay or whatever you like!)

to any Affini out there who might be reading this, know that im not scared of you. im not scared of what you represent. im only scared by the fact that you mimic that which has left the scars you see on my soul today. im not against being taken in as a floret, and none of this is to say that i hold any level of disdain for you.

i only ask that you be gentle with me. what has been broken once can be broken again. please, do not let it come to that.

[rivangel]

Suffocating

summary: Kenny doesn't know why he does things for some brat he met just months ago he wouldn't do for another soul, living or dead, but here he is, sacrificing the clothes off his back and seeing his dead sister in Levi's eyes.

c/w: not ship content, family bonding!…kinda, mild hurt/comfort , hypothermia, warning for kenny being the way that he is, murder (not shown), kid!levi, kuchel haunts the narrative

wc: 2.8k

a/n: a repost from my ao3. i never make a habit of posting non-ship content on tumblr, but i still really enjoy this one so w/e

The Underground’s air is always thick—a combination of mainly garbage fumes and death fumes—but the arctic state of the city in what is now the dead of winter isn’t helping. It’s not even as cold topside as it is here, even though there’s no snow, no freezing rain. Just freezing. Kenny breathes out a white cloud. Must have something to do with it being literally underground.

Kenny bitterly muses on his surroundings as he strolls down a deserted street like he owns it, which he sure as shit might as well.

He ignores the sparse blips of life within buildings of various states of decay. The way they were built, the structures all seem piled onto each block. And on this side of the lower districts, they resemble straight rubble. Most of everything’s gone to shit.

Kenny stuffs his hands deeper in his pockets. But it’s deserted, too, which is why when he had some business to take care of Above, he left the brat to his own devices around these parts. He’s not old enough or strong enough yet to wander all over the Underground. Only some months ago, he met the kid at death’s door.

Which is why Kenny narrows his eyes and pauses outside the dingy stone structure where the brat is supposed to be. The door is shut, and so is the ugly drape covering the hole in the wall that is an Underground window.

No light. Huh. Sitting in the dark, in this kind of weather? That’s a death sentence.

Silent, he creeps to the door, and peers into the dark crevice beside the handle. Deadbolt. Locked. As it should be.

With a cursory glance over his shoulder, he slips the key from his coat pocket, jams it in, and shoves it open, barging his way inside in case someone other than the kid is holed up here. "Hey, ANYBODY HOME?"

A dying lantern illuminates but in an inch of its surroundings in the far corner, around it a neat lump—a threadbare blanket.

“Hah…”

Kenny peers around the door itself to find the skinny runt, who's about as tall as the knob. Defending himself just like he taught him. He wears a hood, but there's no mistaking his height. His silver eyes are fierce and his pale face stony, clutching a dagger pointed right at Kenny’s crotch.

“Oh hey, runt. Miss me?”

His glare drops all its venom at once. In fact, the kid goes from standing straight to wavering on his feet. His arms fall, his dagger nearly dropping right to the floor.

Kenny blinks. "Hah?"

“Why didn’t you…? S'you.” The dagger clatters to the floor.

A little stunned at this display, Kenny goes even more stunned as the kid wobbles forward, suddenly panting for breath. He would've fallen flat on his face if it isn't for Kenny’s pant leg.

"Uh..." He blinks in understanding then, still staring. The kid’s too cold. He’s weak.

"Kenny..."

“You dumb runt. Do I need to teach you how to stay warm?”

“…M...Maybe…”

Kenny cocks his head, then realizes that that is something the kid might have to learn when he’s freezing to death and in a pinch. He's really not doing so well.

At least he's making conscious efforts not to shiver and come off as even more pathetic than clinging onto Kenny's leg like a squirrel. He should shake him off now and teach him how to act.

Kenny narrows his eyes. No, wait, the kid’s fingertips are blue. He should’ve noticed a second ago, the kid is so pale, and his pant leg black. He’s clutching, but the fingers don’t bend. He's not shivering because he can't.

The brat could die.

He doesn’t want the brat to die.

“Ah, shit, kid…” Kenny stares down at his dark mop of hair, letting some of the tone he always uses to scold him fall. “Shit. Uh…”

Kenny stands in place a little longer, figuring out how to go about this.

The kid isn’t moving, either. He hugs his leg like Kenny is his savior, but somehow also like he's ashamed of that.

So far, Kenny has only taught him a few things, but the kid doesn’t cling like this anymore. Hasn’t but a few times. With the knowledge of what ought to happen if he does, and the kid doing it even now, well, shit.

Silent, with an unreadable look—hell, he can't even decipher what his own feelings are right now—he slides his trenchcoat off his shoulders and pulls his arms through the sleeves.

“Let go, kid.” Kenny shakes his leg out.

The kid obediently lurches back as if he's just realized what he's done, tottering dangerously on his feet for a moment. Still breathless, he crosses his arms and peers up under his hood. Dull grey eyes are unfocused when they find Kenny's, waiting for instructions.

Kenny kneels down, and makes a face to mask this strange surprise at seeing the kid's cracked, blue lips. It's like surprise, but he wants to run straight away from the sight. “Hey... Yer shitty bangs are hangin' in your eyes again. What’d I tell you?”

The kid blinks at him, long and slow, not comprehending. "Uh..." Then his eyes start to roll back in his skull.

Kenny snatches him far before he falls with a swift inhale of the icy air, holding him up with one arm. "Levi."

Silence.

Kenny groans, and starts to shake him back and forth. "HEY, brat! Are you deaf or somethin'!? Quit it!"

"...Ugh..."

"Wake up."

The kid squirms a little.

"Stupid idiot..." As Kenny says this, he takes his coat out from under his arm and drapes the heavy cotton, warmed by Kenny’s body heat, over his small shoulders sideways, like a towel.

It absolutely engulfs the kid anyway, whose sleepy eyes widen. "Wait... This is heavy. Are we carry—carrying stuff?"

“Shut up," Kenny mumbles under his breath. He's really out of it. "Just hold it. I could fit three of you in this thing. Damn.”

Kenny glances at the weak oil lamp, which has gone completely dark since he arrived. "Get your head together, kid. C’mon. Is it warm, or what?"

"Yeah." The kid clutches at the coat as if it were his own skin, eyes tightly shut.

“...So you run out of oil, or were you savin’ it?”

Levi stares blankly at the wall. With time and warmth the coat provides, or maybe just the shock of what it is, he manages to string some words together.

"It-It wasn’t warm,” he answers. “SSSo I used it for... for light. Should be lots left.”

Kenny’s brows lift. “Huh. Not a bad idea, runt. That doesn't make up for your utter failure at not freezin' to death, but still."

The kid goes silent completely, his cheeks red, staring at his shoes. "How was your trip?"

"We're leaving."

On their way out, Kenny grabs the lantern, gritting his teeth against the cold he feels biting now. He doesn’t know why he gave his coat to the brat, besides the fact that he had no other choice. But that still feels odd. He'd never do this.

The kid makes a solid attempt at picking it all up so it doesn’t drag along the disgusting floor, but it drops one second later. Then he trips over it, and hits his knees, huffing and puffing.

Kenny hates the sight. “Goddamn, boy. You better hope you gain a few inches before yer older. You're damn pathetic. Stand. Pick it up.”

He obeys, trying again. “This is stupid.”

Kenny doesn’t like the smart mouth the brat is getting—probably from Kenny himself—but he doesn’t discipline him for speaking this time, a decision that shocks himself. He just hates seeing the kid so pathetic. His shitty mouth is going to come in handy growing up anyway.

Kenny stands, wielding the lantern's handle. “You know what’s stupid? Freezin’ to death.”

The kid looks like a snail hiding in its tan shell by the time Kenny promptly scoops him up under one arm. He makes a breathy squawking sound in response. “What the fffuck, Kenny…!”

Kenny walks out with him like a football. The kid never quits wriggling.

"I don't need yer help!"

“Tch. Shut up.”

Kenny finds a relatively small and desolate wooden shed out behind a condemned hostel, just a short walk away. It’s all dark in there, so they won't be caught here.

“Sit n’ stay, runt.”

Kenny drops him down like a stone and approaches the shed, slinging the lantern in one hand as he goes, and then in longer and longer arcs.

Then he hurls it. It crashes against the rotted roof, where the shiny sludge splatters and quickly begins to run down in rivets.

“Perfect fuckin’ aim,” Kenny mutters, and digs in his back pocket for his matches. "You alive back there?"

"No, I'm dead!"

"That was easy. Yer makin' me look like a bad teacher."

He scoffs weakly, and then they lapse into silence. Silence, besides some grunting that he hears down the block to his right.

Kenny internally rolls his eyes. Maybe he should get rid of the whore and whoever’s fucking her before he does this. Witnesses are bad, but the noises are even worse.

He strikes the match in one perfect try, and steps close enough to fling it at the thinnest tendril of spilled oil. As he back-steps, he watches with a perverse glee as a raging orange flame is born and races everywhere the oil touches, until—

WHOOSH.

An explosion of light and heat causes Kenny to throw his head back with his hands on his hips, cackling. It’s like a burning flower. The flames seethe and begin to crawl down all four walls at a steady pace.

Kenny tosses a look over his shoulder at Levi, who still looks like a snail bundled up in Kenny’s coat, standing there on the pathway.

He watches the fire with what Kenny can tell is an ambivalence he’s forcing. It occurs to him that he never told the kid what this was all about. Giving him the clothes off his back probably freaked him out, too.

The crackling’s since died down, so he can now hear the whore again, who’s squealing.

“What a buzzkill… Agh. Gross, huh?” Kenny comments.

The kid peers up at him with a genuine look of something shitty. “Tell someone who cares.”

“Jeez you're boring,” Kenny grumbles, and picks his dagger from his belt. “Siddown. Get warm.”

It’s not a hard task, but it’s not a pleasant one, either. The kid is half-frozen and Kenny was in the middle of a cool moment when these two ruined it.

He wipes the silver blade clean on the hooker’s kneesocks, feeling pleased that he got no blood on himself. The thick clouds of smoke billowing up from the fire is visible a block away, but everyone else must either be asleep, missing, or hiding. That's just fine. They’d do best to from Kenny the Ripper.

The shed is engulfed by the time he returns. The heat embraces him all the way from the hostel. Good. And in the short time Kenny was gone, the kid already looks a bit better than before. Shivering violently now, he sits tucked into himself. Light brings out the thin shade of blue in his eyes. He stares at the fire with a severe expression, as one would watch a murder taking place.

Kenny drops his gaze to his boots. The kid looks like the spitting image of his sister even now, evil eyes and all. Kuchel was scary when she got mad, usually at Kenny.

"Our voyeurs are gone."

"I d-d-didn't notice."

“Still cold?” Kenny shoots him a tired look. “Should I throw you in or something?”

He eyes Kenny with distrust. “I can’t tell i-if yer bein' s-serious.”

“I’m just sayin’ this won’t last forever. And that’s a nice coat yer drownin’ in. What’s the point of any of this if ya still can’t wait out the rest of the night? I could burn down that building right behind us, I guess... But the people inside wouldn't appreciate it."

“What’s d-drowning?”

“Huh? It’s when…” Kenny laughs bitterly and merrily plops down on the stone path next to the kid. “Fuckk, you don’t know a thing. She never read you any books?”

The kid is rendered silent for a long beat at the mention of his mother. Then he scoffs. “…No-Not about drowning.”

“Eh, good point.”

A bland silence. Kenny hoped that some proximity would be enough, but the kid’s skin is still ashen, his lips are blue, and he’s shivering on.

Kenny gives his back a shove. “Get closer, for fuck’s sakes."

“I j-just did what you t-told me,” he bites back, hefting up the shell yet again and squirming until he winces in the face of the roaring flames. “There’s this-this grey powdery crap. Disgusting.”

“Aw, it don’t bite,” Kenny retorts, not following. He's sweating. Even the very air he breathes is hot. “It’s just ash. It’ll wash off.”

More quiet. The kid’s teeth soon stop chattering, and he's sitting still. That’s better.

Kenny breaks the silence. “Drowning’s when you’re underwater too long. You run out of air, and eventually yer lungs fill up with water. Then you’re dead. Takes a while to do to someone else, though. Unless you got a lot of arm strength, it’s not worth the hassle if you got other options.”

Levi side-eyes him. It’s clear he still doesn’t understand the expression. “Even choking?"

"Even choking. Water drags you down."

"Is drowning for water only?”

“Whatever fills your lungs that ain’t air. Could be blood, or liquid shit, I guess, if ya wanna go there.”

“Disgusting,” he grumbles. “Can’t drown in this smoke?”

“No, you idiot. That’s suffocating,” Kenny explains. “Damn, you’re dumb. But hey, that's why I'm here."

"Hm."

"Nah, you know what? In this shit-hole, you could suffocate, I got no doubt.”

“Hm.”

“So,” Kenny sighs, big and loud. “You’re not gonna die now, right?”

A warm pallor has returned to the kid’s pale face, he’s even sweating, and the life is back in his silver eyes. Kenny isn’t sure why he asked.

“I’m fine,” he says impatiently. “You’re not my mom.”

Kenny’s lips part to retort, but nothing comes out. Apparently, the kid’s words reach the kid himself, as he stiffly shrugs off the coat, scoops it up, and shoots it at Kenny’s lap with a hard grunt. “And I got yer stupid coat dirty. Why would you do that, anyway!?"

“Levi…” Kenny drawls, his tone warning and severe. “You watch it.”

The kid whirls around, ready to shout, but Kenny beats him to it with a swift shove to his chest, causing the kid to go rocketing backwards into the ashen dust, dirt, and rock.

He doesn’t cough, doesn’t groan, just inhales swiftly like he felt nothing at all, as Kenny taught him, then climbs back up into a kneel. The brat has a lot to say, but he can't meet Kenny’s glare.

“Ungrateful shit,” Kenny says dully. He barely makes himself sound annoyed. “Just lookin' at you makes me sick. Get on the other side where I don’t have to look at you. Or go. Freeze to death if that’s what your mom would want.”

He inhales. "It's not like that... It's not. It's..."

He trails off.

Kenny pays attention to his peripheral as the kid turns around takes himself to another side of the fire.

Jeez, that was dumb. Why'd he do that? What did Levi want to say?

Kenny isn't about to chase him down and ask. He doesn’t know why. He just…

It’s not like that, the runt said. Kenny knows that all too well. His sister… Well, in a world as cruel as this one, he shouldn’t say she deserved to live and he deserved to die, but he can think it all he wants.

Kenny leaves that thought alone anyway. He should stop thinking about her. She's dead. He made his promise.

But hell, he can’t stop thinking about it. She’d be pissed if she heard him call Levi a brat, but he’s alive, isn’t he?

Nah. He wouldn’t have made it another hour. Maybe that’s why he just said what he said.

Even though dying’s not what he would want for this little brat, either.

a like and reblog is appreciated :)

| more attack on titan |

[killjoyfem]

Hilariously, mister @ultramaga blocked me after his little rant. Not only is he lacking in braincels, he’s lacking in some balls too. I mean, are the tumblr feminists very scary? Grow a pair.

And what is the source for anything you said? The skid marks left on the underwear you refuse to wash? Did they also whisper to you the uncreative insults you left me? And the amount of reaction gifs you use? Are you 45?

Yes, you posted a picture specifically of plus sized women during a protest. No lies there. There’s a million other pictures of feminists marching that look very different. But again, it does not matter. These women are just as valid as human beings as anyone else. I repeat, their bodies don’t exist so they look hot for you.

I did notify the committee. They recommended you watch better quality content.

Feminism doesn’t promote obesity. There are toxic facets of the body positive movement, but mostly feminism promotes body neutrality. Women are the majority of sufferers of anorexia, women are the majority of people who acquire plastic surgery so they look good and fit, ozempic is at an all time high and heroin chic is back. “Women being pushed into obesity” does not exist. You are living in your own made up world. I never claimed women do not care. I claimed they shouldn’t care so much. Reading comprehension?

Meanwhile, there’s not a focus on men inside of body positivity because you simply do not account for these statistics. Your sex is still the most overweight one regardless. Your “dad bods” are still widely celebrated. You don’t need a movement promoting that you get heavier, you need one that promotes some critical thinkings amongst yourself and your followers.

“Your movement hasn’t achieved anything and you would starve to death without men”; explain to me why women are outperforming you academically now that we’re allowed to have education, then? Explain to me the right to vote, protections against workplace discrimination, and the right to make personal decisions about pregnancy? I guess they just appeared out of thin air?

Men do commit the majority of violent crimes. It’s not whataboutery. You just can’t be bothered to do research. Same for intimate partner violence. Same for rape. You’re the issue in this planet, it seems. You’re killing, bruising and violating women. Again, not feminism. And it’s definitely not up to women and our movement to fix whatever is wrong in your heads. Read a little about it before you comment next time.

I won’t reply to every little insult and outrageous claim you pulled out of your ass. You’re of no substance to me. It’s hilarious you chose a post about a movie with this very clear messaging to bitch about this. But buddy - Jodi Arias is thin and pretty enough. I hope she’s your next girlfriend. She’d treat you exactly like you deserve.

And @bebe-benzenheimer - weak rage bait. Make sure to apply some primer first though, to protect your skin.

one of my favorite parts of “the substance” is how clear the movie makes that the men you’re destroying yourself to impress are so utterly gross and not worth it at all. how it shows already beautiful women tearing themselves apart to reach the standards of males who can’t even be bothered to wash their hands after using the bathroom.

[lisaiese]

lyrics in EPIC: the musical that changed my life trajectory

I don't know if it is the fact that I spent five years of high school studying Latin and Greek classics that makes me do this, but here I am writing a long ass tumblr post about some lyrics from the songs of a musical based on The Odyssey, the Homeric epic poem.

Enough chit chat, let's start from the lyrics in the first very song of the musical, 'The Horse and The Infant' from The Troy Saga:

The blood on your hands is something you won't lose All you can choose is whose

UGH so good already! Here we have Zeus speaking at the end of the song, basically telling Odysseus that killing in war is his duty as a man and a hero. This obviously kind of sounds like bullshit for us, but we have to understand the ancient culture behind it: in ancient Greece going to war was a symbol of honor. Think of the scene where Hector and Andromache met again, Hector really embodied the "I know that I probably won't come back to you and to our son (opsie), but I have to go"

Andromache said: “Dearest, your own great strength will be your death, and you have no pity on your little son, nor on me, ill-starred, who soon must be your widow…Please take pity upon me then, stay here on the rampart, that you may not leave your child an orphan, your wife a widow.” Hector responded: “All these things are in my mind also, lady; yet I would feel deep shame before the Trojans, and the Trojan women with trailing garments, if like a coward I were to shrink aside from the fighting.”

A key word is shame: many times my professor told us students about the 'shame culture' in ancient Greece, which Hector clearly refers to here. Therefore, it's either honor or shame: for the Greek dying in war was better than living like a coward. Through these lyrics - and also the next song of the album ('Just a Man') - we can notice how the characterization of Odysseus is different from that of heroes like Hector and Achilles: he seems more human. After all, it is no coincidence that he is characterized not only by physical strength but above all by intelligence: he is a 'Warrior of the Mind' (quoting one of the most iconic songs of the musical). In the first verse of The Odyssey, Homer calls Odysseus πολύτροπος, a term that literally means "of many turns" and can be translated as multifaceted, versatile, cunning.

Next lyrics are from 'Remember Them' from The Cyclops Saga:

What good would killing do? When mercy is a skill More of this world could learn to use

I chose these lyrics for two reason:

they are so well connected with the first ones and show how Odysseus still has his morality here (you have a long way my friend)

it is such a good phrase honestly, let's appreciate it

Actually, something to reflect on could be the theme of mercy, but I don't really remember a lot of information about it and I don't want to write about things I'm not so sure about. In fact, what I rememeber pretty well is mercy related to the Roman/Latin culture, in particular to the figure of Ceasar: Cicero attributes to Caesar the virtue of clementia, which is the term used in Latin to represent mercy. Apparently he is the only one who, among all the military leaders, stood out for his goodness of soul, so noble that it is not enough to simply compare him to great men, but he must be judged similar to a god («haec qui faciat, non ego eum cum summis viris comparo, sed simillimum deo iudico»). That's basically everything I can give you about the topic. I would dive into it more by talking about the musical itself, analysing how this is connected to Odysseus' relationship with his morality, but then I would really be writing an essay here and now, which would ruin the order and logic of this very long text.

Let's move on to the next lyrics from 'Ruthlessness', from The Ocean Saga, which made me gasp so hard the first I heard them:

You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great A Greek who reeks of false righteousness, that's what I have 'Cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done

Speechless. Mind-blowing. The earth shook. You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great Hello??? Sorry Ulysses, but Poseidon ate. 'Cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done Like, where do I even start to talk about this. Poseidon is actually throwing the naked truth in Odysseus' face! Everything so far has a logic:

Zeus tells Odysseus that he has to kill Hector's son Astynax (which he does in the end, for the sake of going home)

Odysseus spares Polyphemus (maybe because of guilt? He is just a man, afterall...)

That mercy results in a literal god (Poseidon) wanting to have vengeance: if Odysseus had been ruthless, he would have put mercy upon himself (yeah that's a direct reference to the lyrics Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves)

Now we finally arrive at my favorite saga (aaaaa): The Circe saga. Starting from some very simple lyrics, but so impactful, from the 'Puppeteer':

But this was a hell of a twist, cause we are weak to a power like this What was it? A woman

Hell yeah, a woman! Clearly, you are just a man (another reference, got you!). Ok, return to serious talk. I think most of us know that women were often portrayed as bewitchers, source of evil and misfortune, in ancient times, especially in the Greek culture. Let's think about the story of Pandora's box: it is a myth narrated by Hesiod in the poem Works and Days. According to it, the first woman on earth, named Pandora, was gifted a jar by the gods. However, led by curiosity, she opened it and, by doing so, she released sickness, death and many other unspecified evils. She then closed the jar and only one thing was left behind: Hope. This story (one of many and one of the most famous) perfeclty exemplifies how women were considered dangerous and, at the same time, powerful, as bringers of evil.

Next, from the same saga, let me present to you the best lyrics from the song 'There Are Other Ways':

There are many ways of persuasion There are many modes of control Maybe showing one act of kindness Leads to kinder sould down the road

AAAAAAA. Circe you are such *incomprehensible adjectives of praise* woman. Here Circe basically gives Odysseus' morality hope, let me explain: until now we saw how Odysseus' kind soul and his mercy led him to antagonize a god, on the other hand (in theory) killing a child opened the doors for him to return home. From these observations the only "lesson" that can be deduced is that behaving like a "monster" is better than just "being a man" (yeah I love referencing). BUT Circe kind of destroys this reasoning, proving that a good soul can take him so far... aaaand of course it's a woman who does this

Moving on: The Underworld Saga, lyrics sung by our favorite prophet Tiresias:

I see you wife with a man who is haunting A man with a trail of bodies (who?)

This song? Chills. Literal Chills. The song in itself is a forshadowing, an oracle. I chose these lyrics specifically because they forshadow Odysseus' darkest moments in the journey, by specifically pointing out what he becomes: [...] a man who is haunting A man with a trail of bodies Who? Odysseus you ask. It's you. It's you in the future, and you know why it's "no longer you" (yeah, another quoting)? Because you will have lost your morality by then. Honestly? We kind of all expected that, sorry not sorry Odysseus.

And directly connected to that we have the lyrics from 'Scylla', from The Tunder Saga (it's orange because there is no yellow):

We are the same, you and I, I

Just this one final verse, so powerful. Odysseus encountered mermaids and was merciless with them, after that he went to the lair of Scylla. They are actually the same: monsters. Or at least, Odysseus has become like her.

And now, in The Wisdom Saga, we welcome back the badass of the arena: Athena! Let's hear what she wisely says in 'Little Wolf':

One young wolf has a larger heart than all these men combined

It's always the women guys. Athena's appearance to help Telemachus fighting the suitors is so crucial: her words and herself gift us that ray of hope and goodness that was lacking ever since The Underworld Saga. Here she refers to Telemachus, Odysseus' son, who is called a young wolf. While at the beginning of the song the suitors were using the term "little wolf" to basically mock him, Athena changes the connotation: he is not a little wolf, he is a just a young wolf, with a good soul and heart. Even a wolf (an animal) is more good-hearted than a man, but here who actually is the animal and who is the man? Athena, a godess, knows best.

Finally, The Vengeance Saga, from which the best song (almost cried listening to it) is, of course, 'Six Hundred Strike':

After everything you've done... ...how will you sleep at night? Next to my wife...

OMG. Literally OMG. Here, at the final showdown between Odysseus and Poseidon, our hero prevails. Poseidon asks: "After everyhting you've done... how will you sleep at night?". I don't know if my interpretation is right, but this is what I think Poseidon meant with his words:

after everything you've done (and been through) to get here... how will you sleep at night? -> will the trauma spare you?

after everything you've done as you became a monster... how will you sleep at night? -> will the guilt spare you?

And Odysseus just answers with a "Next to my wife", because that's what he wanted from the very beginning, to come home, and he will achieve his goal. His story is the story of a journey: obviously, a journey back home, but most importantly, a journey of someone who is 'Just a Man' (got you again with the reference). Odysseus is just a man, a human being who has encountered countless obstacles, who has had his ups and downs, who has thrown his morality into the sea to return home. And what is this, if not life?

[itsbenjiiswear]

me and gf are a big fan of you and your portrayal of the Nordics... could we possibly request dennor sufin double date...that'd be cute I think... we got so happy when we saw you had a Tumblr since we love all ur tiktoks yay joyful

Sorry this took a while highschool is good at keeping me busy even when I supposedly have a very small amount of courses but oh well

(It says "nod of acknowledgement" next to Berwald, I'm sorry abt my handwriting😭)

It's not much bc I honestly haven't thought abt sufin/dennor much as ships, most of my friends are in the norfin crowd and I don't really actively 'ship' anything myself (While I think characters like Tino and Berwald have been in a relationship in my eyes they're not anymore and I wouldn't exactly call it shipping them)

Aanywayy I couldn't really think of what they'd do on a double date (that I was capable of drawing, I was thinking of an ice skating scene but I honestly didn't know how to make their interactions look natural)

Either way with each idea that came to mind I came to the conclusion that double dates w them is probably mostly Tino and Matthias yapping together while the two others follow along, they're not ignoring them or anything it's just how they naturally fall into line

I imagine Tino and Berwald would probably be holding hands or smth the entire time they seem like the casual touch type of couple and Lukas might throw a quip at Matthias every now and then if he says something dumb to Tino🎀

I hope this is alr I'm sorry it's kinda lackluster ahh

I should really think about the rest of the nordics more, I haven't really dug into their relationships as much as I'd like

[benevolentcalamity]

Once a Father, Never a Daddy [Abusive!Doflamingo & Fem!Child!Reader][1/2]

I do not know him enough so I'm not at all confident in my ability to write him, so I apologize in advance. So I'm very happy accepting criticism/tips. (I'm just after Thriller Bark btw.)

Disclaimer: This fic contains graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect and may be considered triggering. Please do not read more if you cannot handle these themes. If you or a loved one has gone through this, you're absolutely not alone, and help/better days are always there.

Also, this is split in two because when you get fics too long, Tumblr just starts lagging and that REALLY annoys me. So I apologize in advance if pacing's not as stellar as most of my stuff. I'll make it up to you.

CURTAINS!

"DADDY, LET ME OUT!!!"

Your little hands bang on the impossibly still door until the skin splits on your knuckles. With all your might you scratch, slap, and pound on the wood, feeling it press a little stronger against you with your resistance. Tears pouring down your cheeks your hair stands on end as the darkness behind you settles in; a punishment you know too well.

"PLEASE DADDY, I'M SORRY!" You scream, hands already raw from struggle. "DADDY, PLEASE, LET ME OUT! I WON'T DO IT AGAIN, I PROMISE!"

A harsh pound that rattles the door, resounding through your room, sends a piercing chill through your stomach and sends you to the floor. Scooting back and hurrying to your feet, you prepare for the doorknob to twist, for him to come barging in and demand you not make any more noise. But this is enough to scare you into silence - and he seems to know that now.

Softly you sniffle, reaching out as the all-too-familiar sound of the knob being secured and locked clicks. Wiping away your tears you stand, reaching and just barely wrapping your hand around it. With all your might you grab and attempt to twist; it doesn't budge an inch.

"... Please let me out..."

There's a sound like feet retreating from the door, and the loneliness finally hits as you back up, defeat weighing your shoulders. Slinking away, you turn back towards your room. First thing to catch your attention is your nightstand, bereft of the lamp Uncle Rossi gave you to cut through the dark. It had a smell to it, somehow, and you really liked it.

Without it you can't stand the dark - and as punishment for not doing what daddy said, it's gone. Wiping a stray tear from your cheek you grab your stuffed lamb Cuppy, putting him on the bed before pitter-pattering to your wardrobe.

creak

Your eyes shoot to the door, back stiffening as your hair stands on end. Every limb freezes, and your heart leaps into your throat. Swallowing, your hands go up to prepare to shield your head, lest your noise have bothered anyone. As your fingers chill to the bone, your knees lock and the darkness creeps back into your senses.

The doorknob twitches. Your hands fly to your mouth to keep from shrieking. Tears revived and leaking, you await on bated breath... It does make daddy especially angry, after all, when you try to hide from him.

You still have the scar on your arm.

A lump forms and engorges, threatening to choke you if you don't make a sound. You learned better from screaming "Go away" or "I hate you", so that's simply not an option. Gritting your teeth you step more into the open, hoping that an effort not to hide would let you get your lamp back. Hiding, running away... all of it is pointless.

After an eternity it jimmies and then turns after a few small clicks, and a familiar black and red lit up by the hallway relaxes you into relieved elation.

"Uncle Rossi-!" You whisper-yell, him putting a finger to his lips and looking behind him.

With quick movements he beckons you forward, and you rush to him in the time it takes to put a plate full of food on the small chair near the door. Kneeling down he pats your cheek and kisses your forehead, giving you a toothy, reassuring grin.

"Don't forget to eat out the window, and drop it once you're done. It's okay, dad won't notice one plate being missing," He whispers, ruffling your hair. "I'm not letting you go to bed hungry." He's done this every time. "... It's going to be okay, little cutie. I promise."

You nod. "... Does daddy still love me?"

For a moment he's quiet. His expression falls solemn, head lifting to look over his shoulder again. With a sigh, his hand ruffles your hair one more time, before suddenly he smiles again.

"I love you!" He chirps. The words wrap around your heart, like a soft fleece blanket, and like a charm, your sorrow is calmed, and your tears finally stop. "Don't forget that, okay? Uncle Rossi loves you."

Nodding, you finally manage to smile. "I love you too, Uncle Rossi."

His head snaps up again, and he pats your head and hurries out. The doorknob again is secured, and his feet fade out quickly. Swallowing, you grab the plate, carefully bringing it to the window. Unlatching it you crouch as the panes swing over your head, setting the plate of food - bouillabaisse - on the ledge and chowing down.

The moonlight peers out from the clouds like your only friend, and peace returns again to your heart.

"... It'll be different tomorrow..." You tremble. "I won't be bad again, I promise..."

Finishing with urgency, you drop the plate and fork into the sea, pushing the window closed and locked. Crawling into bed, you listen to the footsteps above your room, to the sea calming outside. Yawning, you drift into the now placated shadows, hugging Cuppy close to your heart.

___

A sound like something dropping to the ground above you wakes you with a start. Swallowing harshly you're quick to climb out of bed, little time to spare, and wipe your mouth as you rush to your wardrobe. You're just quick enough to grab one of your favorite cotton shirts, a pair of shorts, and a clean pair of underwear as the doorknob is unbound and unlocked.

You swallow, harshly, rushing towards the center again as dad's blond hair peeks atop the door. As he straightens back up, his head doesn't need to look long to find you. Feet planting in place, you watch, hands clenched to keep from shaking and lip wobbling, as he approaches.

"Behave, maggot," He hisses, holding his hand out.

Eyebrow quirked at you managing not to flinch, he impatiently taps his foot as you reach up to it. Harshly he grabs it, yanking you forward. His large pace forces you into a jog, matching his pace with every third step. At first you're staring up at him, waiting for him to even turn his head your way, to ask how you slept, or even just what you want for breakfast. Or maybe, just maybe, that he loves you and today it'll be different. Better, even.

None of this happens. Your bottom lip wobbles as the familiar doors to the bathroom appear past the corner.

"Take a damn bath." He shoves you to another crewmate, not even giving you a glance. "Watch it, keep it away from me."

Your hand reaches for him as you're guided into the bathroom. "Daddy?" Without a glance or gesture, your lip wobbles further, heart tying in knots. "DADDY!"

A dark cloud weighs on your shoulders again, guiding you to the bathtub as said crewmate puts some soap beside it and a towel. Patting your head in pity, he kneels down to murmur in your ear.

"Disobedient children aren't rewarded." The words are an icy dagger in your stomach. "... If you want your daddy to love you, maybe you should be a good child that deserves to be loved."

With that you're left alone, breath hitched in your throat as your heart runs cold. Staring at your reflection in the water, you cast aside your dirty clothes, stepping into it and sitting. The lukewarm water manages to chill you to the bone, to where you need to hug your knees to feel warm. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you glance at the door, waiting... and waiting...

You sigh, pinching your nose and turning sideways to completely submerge. Curling up, your [h/c] hair waves out in tendrils as your legs minutely twitch in unease. As your lungs slowly grow sore, you momentarily wonder if it's even possible to be good... What did you do? Why won't dad look your way?

Sitting back up, you gulp down air as the answer to your question comes from the red syrup of your shampoo.

"... Just do what daddy says?" Would that make him happy? Will he love you? Do what he says without complaining... Yea, it's as simple as that, isn't it? "... I'll be a good girl. I won't complain about daddy's work."

Yea. It's as simple as that.

Rinsing your head clean, you comb the conditioner from your hair under the running water. Reaching you grab the towel and brush, drying off and putting yourself together, painstaking as the process of brushing your hair is. All the same you finish, tying it back. Sliding back into your shoes you jump up onto the knob, it turning in your hold, and let the door swing open, taking you with it. Lowering back onto your feet, you turn-

"Get your ass to the poop deck." You're shoved into a pace, which you continue with a nod. "Captain's orders, help out with scrubbin' if you want breakfast."

"I understand."

__

It's unbearably hot.

Dunking your brush in the cold, soapy water, you wince at the glare of the sun on the sea, washing away dirt and scum. It takes a few swipes, being as small as you are, but you manage. It's a process that sees you biting your lip so hard in concentration that it bleeds, but you do your best, scrub until your arms are sore, and repeat.

"-and as I was saying, Rosinante, it's complete bullshit."

Dad's voice makes you perk up, and you turn a bit to see where he's coming from. A big smile is what you present as he and Uncle Rossi ascend from below deck, waiting for him to look your way. Dad doesn't but Uncle Rossi gives you a massive smile and thumbs up before dad jabs him, regaining his attention.

"We've had issues with this same supplier awhile now. The frequency of our visits is starting to annoy me."

Standing up from scrubbing, you take a deep breath. Pittering over to him you find his leg, swallowing. Rearing, you take a small leap, wrapping your arms around it like a peach tree.

"Daddy~!" You let out, hugging him tightly-

A harsh kick to your stomach, sending you all the way back to your bucket and straight onto your ass.

...

... Oh.

I'm not doing enough... You turn back to the bucket and brush, biting back tears. Just keep going... Do your best. Daddy will love you if you do.

All the same, your tears keep falling onto your hard work.

A hand on your head, ruffling your hair, tugs you from your sorrow. Looking up, Uncle Rossi crouches down beside you, pointing at your bucket. Now it's too cloudy and dirty to clean efficiently. Managing a nod, you wipe your tears with your arm, standing up and dumping the bucket.

Keeping a tight hold on it, you pause just as you're at dad's side, gaze turning from below deck to him.

"... Do you love me?" You ask.

Not even a glance. You raise up on your tippy-toes, tilting your head.

"Daddy?" You ask again. "Do you love me?"

Lowering, you wait, staring and waiting for what... really has to be forever. Before long though tears blur your vision, and you bite back a sniff as you rush below deck. Not good enough - you're just not good enough yet. If you work to the bone, if you're so to-the-letter it's painful, that's when he'll look your way. You just have to remember that.

Be perfect, and nothing less; push past your limits; endure and don't cry. It'll be unbearably hard, but if you manage to do all of this, dad has to love you.

It's not a long walk to where there's more water by any means. Operating the pump, that's the real test, but you manage just by jumping up onto it. It pinches down on your wrist every time it comes back down, but it doesn't hurt long. Rubbing the red marks it makes, you begin the arduous task of carrying the bucket.

Sloshing and rocking against your body, you stiffen your legs anytime you feel yourself wobble. When the water reaches and touches your chin you wince, staying still until it stops. Every maybe three steps and you're losing your grip, but still you try.

Something swipes the bottom of your feet, and your shrieks are drowned by the water pouring onto your face as you fall onto your butt. Bucket landing perfectly onto your head to hide your face, the cruel laughter of passing crewmates resounds through the rotting wood.

"Better mop that up, kid! You made that mess!"

For a moment you're stuck, legs too heavy to move. You try to move your arms, but there's no feeling. Swallowing, you try to open your mouth to complain, but the lump in your throat takes the sound before you make it. A mix of tears and water pours down your face, your jaw starting to wobble. Biting your lip harshly you force yourself back to your feet.

The bucket slides off your head, falling harshly to the floor. For a moment your gaze turns back to the steps leading above deck.

... Mop first.

Clutching your shirt tightly, your shoes squish against the floor as you go to find the mop, usually near the bathroom. Sniffling harshly, you wipe your face, shaking your head like it'll get rid of this horrible lump. Still your lips purse, and still everything hurts when the supply closet door opens. Reaching, you take the mop in your hands and take a deep breath.

Do your best...

'Watch it, keep it away from me.'

It. You.

... Get out of the way. Maybe that's what he wants.

As much as you want to go back, to try again, maybe it'll just be better to put yourself away. It'd be... a nice reprieve, maybe. And maybe they'll have something good to eat for lunch, seeing as you might not get breakfast after all. That's just what happens sometimes, after all.

You want to puke; to cry; to scream; to just run to Uncle Rossi. Everything and anything feels more like a dead end the more you think, until you've come up blank on what else to do.

"... I hate this..." You whimper, rubbing your arm as you pitter-patter back to your room. I don't know what's wrong with me...

... Someone, please...

Tears well up in your eyes.

Someone tell me what's wrong! Tell me what's bad! Please tell me, someone-!

Your pace picks up, eventually zooming past countless doors and shapes.

Just... How much longer...?

In what must have been a blink you're safe back in your room. For a second you turn back to the door, cheeks waterlogged and red, waiting for footsteps. Wanting someone to just scoop you up and hold you, tell you what's wrong with you - or that maybe nothing is... Is there?

Meandering to your window, you crack it open, and dad's voice is the first thing you hear.

"... Where's the problem?"

"What do you mean, Doflamingo sir?"

"I mean, where's the fucking maggot." Your heart feels a sharp, cold sting.

"She- it went back below deck. I can fetch it so it can keep scrubbing-"

"I didn't give it an order to do chores, I gave you an order to keep it away from me. Looks like it knows what that means. But enough about it. We're arriving to Foam Town shortly, for the supplier. Don't forget the orders."

"Get the Devil Fruit, and kill him, right?"

"Mhm. I don't take kindly to someone holding out on me. Especially when I've been so kind and generous. That won't happen again, though."

"Do you need Corazon to keep an eye on the kid?"

"Tch. It won't be an issue. Just as long as it doesn't get in the way of our business, I don't care what it gets up to... Ugh, but I'm going to hear it cry at some point today. Have someone get it some food."

"Understood, sir."

Backing up once you hear the sound of heavy footsteps, you meander to your shelf. Tugging a worn book from it - a collection of fairytales dad let you get when he looked at you - you hurry to your bed, jumping to get onto it without a hitch. Swallowing harshly you open it to a page with a family of rabbits stealing food from a mean old farmer's garden.

You like these stories, very much. But the pages are falling out, and you can't ask for a new one right now.

Just when you're absorbed enough to where the lump in your throat is gone, there's a knock at the door.

"Got your lunch, kid." That's not Uncle Rossi or dad. The door opens a crack and a bowl is haphazardly dropped on the small table. "We're landing soon. Be on your best behavior."

"... Thank you," You manage, the door slamming your reply.

Putting the book down you slide out of bed, going to receive the meal. It's a lobster risotto, dad's favorite. Tears well up again as you take the bowl back to your bed to eat and read. Dad doesn't care that you do so, you've been told, but you're still careful.

"... Foam Town. Okay." You mutter, something lighting up in your chest.

... This time, it's different.

[simonrilee]

Okay. So I was on Instagram, as one is, and I saw a reel essentially asking, of the four who who you would chose to protect you from the other three (who are hunting you for some reason). However, I lost the fucking reel and I'm so pissed because I was going to leave an in depth comment.

I then remembered that Tumblr exists. So you guys are going to get my in depth response to that question because I have thoughts about this.

I'm by no means an expert on fighting or battle strategy or whatever so this may be completely incorrect but this is who I would chose, as a laymen, and why, or why not.

First off, Barrage. Immediately eliminating him from my pool of potential protectors. Mostly because I don't know enough about him, and what I do know doesn't inspire me with much confidence. He's just some sc operator. He's not particularly special. All the sc operators have this skin in the campaign, he's technically not even his own person, or his own character. I'm going based off of the assumption that he is just a boot on the ground, grunt type of guy that became part of a PMC after his time in the military. Pitting him against three special forces guys does not seem like a smart move. Sorry Barrage.

Now it gets interesting. Three spec ops dudes.

We'll start with Horangi. I do not think he is to be underestimated, in any capacity. A lot of the comments I saw underneath the original reel lumped him in with Barrage as being useless. Which is absolutely absurd. If you know anything about him you know that he was a part of the ROK's 13th Special Mission Brigade. Also known as The Decapitation Unit. These guys are fucking hardcore. They take out high value targets (like military and political leaders! well protected targets), and they do it efficiently. He clearly has to have a level head for this sort of job. Horangi is a great candidate.

Next is König. His backstory has had some changing around, but I'm going to go based off of him being Austrian and part of the Jagdkommando. Like other special forces units, they undergo intensive training. We take into account now König's role in the Jagdkommando. He's big, and brash, and his job is being the spearhead, the battering ram. I don't think he's very concerned with being sneaky, and probably has a rather aggressive approach. This may work in some situations, but if I'm being chased and have to hide, I don't know that he's my first choice. He's still a decent candidate, he's clearly skilled at what he does, I'm just not sure that in this hypothetical scenario, that he is what I need.

Lastly, we have Ghost. Now, we know the most about him, which makes him easier to dissect as a choice. Obviously, as a part of the SAS, he has undergone rigorous training, same as the others. What gives him an edge, is that Ghost is a lot more precise, and strategic about everything he does. Whereas I think König is more of a 'brute force' type of guy. Ghost would also have the skillset to take out high value targets quickly, quietly, and efficiently. A skill he shares with Horangi.

In the end, it really boils down to Horangi or Ghost for me. This is when I start looking at more of the intricacies. Horangi's job was to eliminate high value targets. Ghost does that too. However, Ghost also has experience in protecting targets, and dealing with hostage situations. So, my final answer is Ghost. Horangi as a close second, though.

Feel free to add your two cents to this, I just needed to yap.

[bgomtori]

☆ casual - cbg

synopsis -> was everything casual? or something more?

-> beomgyu x afab!reader

-> friends to lovers?.. "more than friends less than lovers." angst, fluff, suggestive

-> warnings! situationship typa problems :( , self-harm, implications of self isolation, beomgyu can be an ass if you think about it.

-> note! this has been on my mind for a while now, sooo as a way to comeback to tumblr, i'm writing this :D BUT IM BACCKKKK!! i actually have 1 paper left but it's fairly easy to score soo i have a LOTT of time to write now!! also i'm really rusty right now SO IM SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES 😞🙏🙏

was it casual now?

beomgyu was confusing, so confusing. one second he’s all over you and affectionate, the next he’s just friendly and nice. you’ve always tried to let it slide but it has been eating you whole from the inside, no ‘platonic’ friend would do this, what the hell does he want from you. a relationship? a regular friendship? you can’t even answer it, not even your mutual friends can answer that question. you’ve constantly been caught in the pretense of a friendship or something deeper, you definitely wanted the latter.

beomgyu has always been close to you, you met him in middle school, at the playground, where he invited you to play a lame game of ‘freeze tag’ with a bunch of his friends. fortunately, or unforturnately, the friendship stayed throughout the years of ups and downs, but now you are stuck with the constant thought of, ‘is this something friends normally do with each other?’. how can it be casual when you know how soft his lips were against your skin, how he tasted like, how his body felt like against yours? these questions were left unanswered.

was it casual when you kissed all my scars and told me that there was more of me to love?

highschool was a rough time for you, having to balance studies, co-curriculars and your social life was not easy. you often found yourself mentally drained, and always out of it. beomgyu noticed all of these signs, yet you wouldn’t tell him anything, which eventually upset him. what was so secretive to the point you had to hide it from him. your best friend.

beomgyu needed to know, he didn’t want you to suffer alone, he wanted to be your light, your pillar of support. he went over to your house one day, just to chill. as soon as you opened the door, he noticed how detached you seemed, he could see it in your eyes even if you looked perfectly normal. he shut the door behind him, following you up to your room after greeting your parents. when he entered your room, he was shocked to see how messy it looked, which was unlike you at all.

“sorry for the mess, i didn’t have time to clean up at all..” you mumbled a quiet apology, sitting on your bed, looking up at him as he stood there.

“no, it’s alright.” beomgyu shook his head, making his way to your bed, sitting beside you. his eyes scanned your figure, before falling onto your arms. there were scars, scratches? no. he knew it wasn’t that, no cat would scratch a person that many times at the same spot. beomgyu’s eyebrows furrowed, how did he not notice? was he blind?

“yn. let me see your arm.” beomgyu asked, his voice sounded firm and worried. you started to panic, you forgot to cover them up before he came.

“it’s nothing beomgyu..” you denied it, unable to make eye contact with him, the floor of your room suddenly being the most interesting thing you’ve ever chanced upon.

“i’m not dumb yn.” you’ve never heard him this serious before, you reluctantly extended your arm to his direction, letting him inspect it. beomgyu winced at the sight, some were fresh, some were old and recovering. he shifted closer to you, his hands intertwining with yours.

“please.. tell me everything, all your worries and concerns, i don’t want you to suffer in silence anymore yn, you’re very dear to me.” beomgyu’s thumb brushed against your knuckles as if reassuring you that everything is going to be alright. your breath hitched, words stuck in your throat as yout lips quivered slightly. beomgyu noticed this, pulling you close and hugging you. his tight embrace triggered something in your head since you started to bawl your eyes out, letting out everything at once.

beomgyu listened intently, his chin rested on top of your head as he rubbed your back consolingly. he didn't care if you stained his shirt with your tears and snot, he just wanted you to be okay, to find solace in his presence.

after a while, you finally calmed down, your breathing becoming more steady. beomgyu lifted you up from his chest slightly, looking at your red, puffy eyes and pouty lips. his thumb carressed your cheek, wiping away the stray tear that fell from your eye. beomgyu's hand fell from your cheek to your arm, rubbing it.

"you're so strong, i'm proud of you for coping this much.." his words were genuine, so.. comforting. he took your arms, leaving chaste kisses on your scars. at this point, you felt as though the words 'let me kiss your pains away' had come to life. your heart began to race at the sheer feeling of his lips against yours.

"there's more of you to love, so please don't look down on yourself like that again. if you ever feel like your world is crashing, come to me, i'll always be here for you yn." beomgyu mumbled in between his kisses on your arm, his words providing you with perfect reassurance.

the words, "yeah.. i will." was all that you could utter out. beomgyu smiled against your skin, pulling away as he brought you closer to him again, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

"that's my girl."

was it casual when we went stargazing and you told me that my eyes reminded you of the galaxy?

beomgyu knew you loved space, you've always had a fixation on them, whether it's about meteor showers or the stars beyond, you'd always talk about them. thus, on one random day, he brought you out to a secluded field, away from the chaos in the city.

"why are we here?" you asked beomgyu, following him closely through the grassy field. beomgyu smiled at you.

"stargazing, you told me you've always wanted to do it, so i decided to do my research." beomgyu said, his eyes looking up at the sky, "saw that this place was perfect for stargazing, plus it's close to our neighbourhood, so why not."

you felt your heart skip a beat, he actually listened to your constant whining about wanting to go stargazing but not having anyone to go with. you allowed beomgyu to drag you to the perfect spot, in the middle of the field, to just sit and stare at the stars. the two of you talked as per usual, ranging from harmless bickering to deep talks. your heart swelled in contentment, continuing to watch the stars shine back at you.

little did you know, while you were rambling, beomgyu would take his gaze away from the night sky and look at you, admiring the way your eyes would light up everytime you talked about something you liked.

"y'know, your eyes remind me of the galaxy." beomgyu suddenly muttered out, your eyes widened, along with his. he could feel his ears growing warmer with each passing second.

"huh?" you looked at him, still in disbelief.

"i meant what i said.." beomgyu sheepishly admitted glancing back at you, his eyes softening at the way you looked at him. he smiled to himself, before looking back at the pretty night sky.

"yeah i definitely meant that.."

was it casual when you kissed every inch of my body, comparing me to the stardust i was made of?

"do you trust me?" beomgyu whispered, his eyes softening at the way you looked at him. you gave him a quick nod, giving him some sort of approval.

he looks at you with affection and tenderness, each glance warming you to your core. his hand reaches out, fingertips grazing along your jawline. his gaze dips down to your lips, closing off the distance between the two of you. as his lips finally met yours, the kiss was slow, gentle, filled with unspoken emotions, his hands cupping your face carefully as if you were glass. beomgyu was savouring every moment of this, the world around him disappearing.

he pulled away, just to look at your flustered face and to catch his breath. you looked ethereal in his eyes, from the way your lips were swollen from the kiss to how red the apple of your cheeks were. without saying anything, he pulled you in for more. his tongue pushing past your parting lips, exploring your mouth. he pushed you slightly, making you lean on the headrest of your bed.

beomgyu continued on, leaving opened-mouth kisses along your jawline, moving down to your neck and collarbone.

"you're perfect.. so pretty." he mumbled against your skin, his hands intertwining with yours. he lifted his head to look at you, smiling at you fondly, he added on, "you're like stardust, so quiet yet filled with depth and light.."

"since when were you so poetic." you joked, looking straight into his eyes, it was corny, but it made your heart race. beomgyu chuckled, shaking his head.

"not sure, it just comes to mind when i'm with you." he shrugged, his lips meeting your forehead, placing a gentle kiss. your eyes roamed his face, scanning it for no particular reason, you words coming out without even thinking.

"what are we?" your voice was soft, barely a whisper. beomgyu looked at you, raising an eyebrow, "friends. are we not?" your throat went dry at his non-chalant response, fuck you hated it. you were disappointed, at him and at yourself, how could he do all this without any attachment? and why did you wish for so much?

"right.." you mumbled under your breath, letting him kiss you again.

is it casual now?

now that you're older, you noticed how beomgyu runs around, talking to other girls, not bothering about your feelings and the relationship between the both of you. you were pissed, he still had the decency to kiss you behind closed doors, but act differently around you infront of others.

he was in your dorm, laying down beside you, his arms wrapped around your waist loosely, giving you light pecks on your lips. however, you stopped him.

"beomgyu, we can't keep doing this." you pushed him off, scanning his face for any reaction. he looked at you slightly stunned, speechless.

"what?"

"i mean what i said, we need to stop this, you can't keep acting like we're not more than friends. i'm tired of it, it hurts you know." you explained yourself, letting your emotions get the best of you. beomgyu still looked at you speechless, unable to say anything, you took this as a sign to continue.

"if you only see me as a girl that you can just screw around with, then our friendship is done. if the 12 years of us being friends mean nothing to you, then we can stop all of this." beomgyu's eyes widened at your words, panic filling his eyes.

"no, no please don't.. i really didn't mean to hurt you, i'm so sorry." beomgyu shook his head, "please don't leave me, you're everything to me. i'm sorry that i felt you in the dust, i'm sorry that i flirted with other girls, knowing that i might hurt your feelings, i'm sorry for neglecting your feelings everytime. i'll change please yn.."

he was desperate, he couldn't bear seeing you leav him. the only reason why he decided to continue was because he felt like this was the only way he could have you, without the fear of rejection. he hated himself for hurting you like this out of his own selfishness.

"i'll change, we'll be more than friends, i'll drop the act now. i'll continue loving you like how i always did, i won't ignore you anymore." beomgyu begged, rubbing your arms gently. you listened to his words, not knowing if you could trust him.

"we'll start over. i promise i'll be the man you want." beomgyu mumbled, hoping that his proposal would gain a little bit of your trust. you slowly nodded your head, "you break your promise and i'll kill you."

beomgyu chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, leaning his head against your chest, "my life is yours then.."

[allie-leth]

Hey ya'll, gather round, time to talk about what happened and what's next. I normally avoid having anything super serious on here, but this warrants it.

First, no one tumblr user caused this. Don't get mad at people on here for being apathetic, for doubting harris, for refusing to vote. They are the symptom of a broken system, not the cause, please be kind. They're far more ideologically aligned with you than those selling the apathy and reinforcing the status quo. The infighting and turning on each other is the desired outcome, please don't do that. That's how we got here. Now take a deep breath, lets move to what happens next.

Not much will likely change over the next year, you will see a lot of bullshit in the news about bills being passed and other things that attack people, but most of that will get watered down by the court systems and judges and get escalated to higher courts. Like with Florida's "Don't say gay" bill that got watered down so hard as to be almost meaningless, most of what passes over the next year will have no teeth when it's actually implemented. The point is the news headlines and fearmongering, using a scape goat (Queer, POC, immigrants) to sell success to people who have been told those are the problem with this country. Many things will be passed, very few will matter.

If you're in a deep red state, you will likely see anti trans/anti queer items on the docket next year. It's extremely important to vote against those and to get involved, if you can, to make sure everyone votes against those. Those are the real dangers, those are the real weapons. The point of all the items in the headline, all the fear, is to sell apathy and fear to get laws like those passed this time next year or this time in two years. But those won't come for a year or two, and some won't even be implemented for a year after that. That means that for the average person here, if you're in a red state, expect a 3 year timeline before you start seeing laws implemented that actually hurt you. I'm sorry, but if you're in a red state, those are likely coming.

If you're in a purple state or a weird red, like utah, expect that 3 year time frame.

HRT likely won't be limited in any real way to adults, if you see all those "water is wet" studies about trans topics, those studies were done to protect the process and treatments in times like this. Those represent a solid basis of proof that doctors associations won't want to move away from. There is a possibility that supply side regulation is done to artificially create shortages, but that would hit a lot of older cis woman just as much, so I don't see that as likely. I do not have enough information on hand to make any comments on hrt for ftm, I'm sorry, but I'm not involved enough in that process to have the knowledge to make comments.

There will be a lot of laws that are passed over the next 4 years that cause long term economic damage. Most of these will take 10 years to really show their face despite what the headlines show. This isn't great, but it's not going to destroy your life tomorrow. Amusing side note, the US downgrade that happened in the early 2010's was actually because of a prediction of partisan politics creating divides that cause situations exactly like this one.

I've said this before and will say it here again, find community irl. It's the single most important thing you can do. They will have the best resources, the best shoulders to lean on, the best people to be there when things seem bleak. If you've been too scared to go to events that interest you, to find your community, please let this be the sign that forces you out of your shell. Community will be your true savior over the next 4 years, please find it. Find ANY topics that interests you, it does not matter what, just any topic with groups that meet weekly, and start going. Every. Week. Week in, week out. You will make friends, it will take a bit, but you will. You can find community in that. I found mine in the kink and rave communities by doing exactly that. You can too, in whatever community you desire, but you just have to go and be there. I love ya'll, things will be okay. If you are truly scared and need someone to talk to, feel free to reach out and I'll reply as soon as I can. 💜

[firstkanaphans]

That one ask/reply shitting on THK and GMMTV in general is really.... something. 🙃 I think you and @invisiblegarters already expressed most of my thoughts on that but I just want to add that based on every Jojo interview I've ever watched (and I've watched a lot of them during Only Friends), I never once got the impression that he's being forced to worked with branded pairs and, as you pointed out, it's actually kind of insulting to suggest he's having these pairs forced onto him and has to write stories he actually doesn’t want to tell just to suit those pairs. During OF I saw a lot of talk (from the same circle of people who are now criticising THK before a single episode has even aired) about this too (about Jojo probably being forced to keep SandRay and TopMew together just because the actors are branded pairs) but everything always pointed to the opposite being true: Jojo (along with the other OF writers) wrote a script where 2 of the couples are together at the end and one is not. And he chose the actors according to that story, NOT the other way around (he chose branded pairs to play those 2 couples because he always planned on them to be together and therefore felt branded pairs would fit that kind of a story/ending).

Not to mention I thought Jojo being a simp for Khao was common knowledge, but I guess not? But yeah, uh, anyone that has ever watched any of the Soonvijarn videos knows this. It was only a matter of time before Jojo got to work with Khaotung tbh (and clearly wants to keep working him and First, given he chose to work with FK immediately after he already worked with them). Directors have faves and it's very clear Khao is one of Jojo's.

The only thing I will agree with that original post on is the fact that it'd be nice to see some of these branded pairs act in projects solo or with a different partner. However, that doesn't have to mean they should stop working with their branded pair altogether. I don't see why they couldn't do both. Though honestly, for me the main determining factor is what the actors themselves feel happiest doing. There are certain actors who definitely do not/did not enjoy being stick in a branded pair and that was visible from the moom. I'm glad for those of them who are no longer in branded pairs, since that's obviously not something they wanted. However, FK are not one of those pairs. From everything I see of them right now, they both feel happy and fulfilled working with each other. The moment they stop feeling that way, I will stop wanting to see them act in shows together as a couple. People seriously need to stop being so vehemently against branded pairs as a whole. (There's also a lot of hipocrisy going around: Branded pairs are totally fine if it means these people will get to see a pair like MaxTul play a couple in multiple series, but as soon as a GMMTV branded pair acts in several BLs together, branded pairs are suddenly bad and are holding the actors back. Double standards much?)

[This ask was sent in response to this post, but I would just skip down to @invisiblegarters addition because it's the only part worth reading]

Yeah, there’s an anti-GMMTV branded pair movement going on here on Tumblr and I don’t understand where it came from or what its purpose is considering early GMMTV pairs such as OffGun and TayNew are exempt from criticism. 

It seems to come down to just a fundamental misunderstanding of the genre. In romances, the two main characters end up together. If they do not end up together, it’s not a romance. It does not matter if the two main characters are played by a branded pair or not. This is just how romances work. 

Not to mention that these shows are conceptualized way before they are ever cast and are oftentimes based on novels, so the casting has literally no bearing on the story at all. In the case of THK specifically, Jojo has been working on that script for at least two years. FK weren’t even a branded pair back then!

To suggest that queer characters are only getting happy endings because a company is trying to sell fan meets is incredibly insulting to not only the queer creators who make these works, but also the queer viewers who want to see a happy ending for themselves on screen.