#Why are children and teenagers such a handful

[for-hunger]

This was the WORST MOVIE I'VE EVER SEEN (and I watch ~10 movies per month)

Literally everything about it was offensively bad, and I have to write this out somewhere.

Despite it being a "musical," there was not one single moment that someone sang in tune. Instead, it was this strange singsong rap-like speaking, often seemingly intentionally off-key. The lyrics were google-quality translations and inexplicable turns of phrase ("free like her scent"?). I've heard a few reviewers describe this as "operatic" in style, which is frankly a huge insult to opera. This has nothing in common with sprechstimme or any other actual musical forms.

The lead character's "redemption arc" as a former cartel boss was having her start a nonprofit that found victims of the cartels, funded by corrupt politicians. For anyone who has read even like, one thing about the complicated nature and history of the drug trade, disappearances, and femicide in Latin America, it's deeply offensive to imply that this shit could be solved so simply, and with the involvement of the government, and wild that you would choose the character of a former cartel boss (with no character development or holding her accountable) as the one to do it.

THEY HEAVILY IMPLIED THAT EMILIA SOLVED ONE OF THE MOST NOTORIOUS CRIMES IN MODERN MEXICAN HISTORY, THE AYOTZINAPA DISAPPEARANCES. This is where I started yelling at the tv. A woman comes up to Emilia in a market and tells her about her missing son who was a teenager training to be a teacher and went missing on a school trip and then it cuts to Emilia's workers digging up a mass grave

They presented Emilia post-transition as a woman who has her angry man self living inside her. When she gets angry at her ex-wife, she "regresses", yelling abuse at her and physically attacking her. She lapses into her strange husky pre-transition "man voice" and facial expressions. She continues this affectation for the next handful of scenes. Btw the actress does not pull this off because she's obviously a glamorous older bougie Spanish lady

The narrative was deeply uninterested in the characters, to the point where it felt like the movie was just a series of expositionary plot points. For example, when they gave Emilia a girlfriend, there was no information on why they came to be involved, either of their lesbianism, etc.

Emilia meets her girlfriend because her nonprofit finds her husband's body, but he was abusive, so this woman shows up scared and ready to defend herself. Just kind of wild to be like "oh yeah but some of the people disappeared weren't innocent either lol"

When they presented Emilia pre-transition, they put these strange prosthetics and fake beard on her, seemingly partially to make her look less white lmao

The "cartel" scenes were of all of them partying outside, children playing in the dirt, couch outside in the middle of the desert??, despite the boss having unlimited wealth. It was very like, Hollywood Al-Qaeda

No one spoke Mexican Spanish. Selena Gomez slurred her words unintelligibly whenever she tried to act emotional. Really adding insult to injury when it comes to the lack of Mexican involvement in the film

When Zoe Saldana finds a doctor to do Emilia's surgeries, he's randomly transphobic and she has to talk him into doing them by making a speech about "society"?

Emilia gets top, bottom, and FFS, all at once, and in Tel Aviv. Which first: that's not how you do that, and second: given the timing, I'm pretty sure this was sponsored by the Israeli government

I'm not even going to go into the vaginoplasty song. That was honestly the most fun I had the whole movie.

The movie ends with Emilia dead in the trunk of a car. She's locked in there for the entirety of the last scene and says basically nothing of substance before that. Just really bothered me that you throw your protagonist out like that.

To be fair, after the scenes of her nonprofit started (2/3 of the way in) I mostly watched like the first 30 seconds of every scene and then skimmed through because it was getting physically painful

The fact that people actually think this is a movie worth watching is really evidence of how fucking BAFFLINGLY stupid people are. I'm glad the backlash is already starting to ramp up, but I need to see this shit buried.

SAY IT LOUDER FOR THOSE IN THE BACK 🗣️

[thewistlingbadger]

idk if this is a 'hot take' but i see way too much of people lusting after Sevika only after erasing her less palatable elements. in headcanons she's admittedly tough and violent but wouldn't hurt anyone unless she had to (i've even seen one where she "only raises her hands in self-defence"). bitch one of the first things we see her do is attempt to square up to a bunch of teenagers for the crime of trying to free their dad! she's willing to kill children with her bare hands. she personally enacts the edicts of a drug kingpin. she taunts vi and jinx during their altercations with the most provocative, soul-destroying shit she can think of. she's the type of fighter who grins manically as she scalds her opponent's cheek. she is not simply someone who nobly sacrifices her own moral purity for 'the greater good' but is otherwise a soft loving Mama Bear™, she gets *nasty* with it! and don't get me wrong, i give enormous moral lenience to most Zaunite characters because the violence of the oppressed is by definition incomparable to the violence of their oppressors. there are myriad explanations and justifications for every single thing they've done. but beyond that, i NEED it to be ok to say that she's a fucking dick sometimes - both interpersonalliy, and on a greater ideological scale - because regardless of how justifiable we find her actions, we should collectively be in a place where we can thirst for Sevika without defanging her as a character. she's compelling and fascinating and attractive BECAUSE she's imbued with agency, which necessitates the capacity for genuinely immoral actions and unlikable behavior! i mean come on! if the white twitter lesbians can so eagerly embrace the moral greyness of their rich fascha femme, we can do it for our butch freedom fighter!! i believe in us!!!

anyway tldr i love Sevika warts and all and everyone do your thing but if you don't love her warts i think you're missing out

Valid valid and valid. Not a single thing you said was incorrect. Sevika is DEVIOUS point blank period. In season 1 she is a minor character so I can understand why she's overlooked a lot but when you actually do look at her she can be VILLAINOUS at times. "It's just a matter of time before you implode and Silco finally gets the hint that you're just about as good for our cause as you were for your family. Jinx." Like DAMN Sevika!! Okay it's like that!! This rudeness that she showed Jinx is a bit fascinating to me because the only other character in this show that is just about as rude as Sevika is in this scene is Mylo. I made a post talking about how she has some similarities to Mylo and someone responded to that by also highlighting that at least Mylo was a teenager beefing with a child, meanwhile Sevika is a whole ass adult beefing with Jinx. I just think that's interesting and funny.

You brought up something that truly is just a plague to all fandoms. Whenever someone says they like a character that has a negative reputation in the source material, everyone starts coming out the woodwork to say it's bad to like that character. People don't seem to understand that just because you like a villain and find their character to be enjoyable doesn't mean you actually condone their actions and would be ok with someone acting like them irl. There are many reasons to like a villainous character and sometimes one of those reasons is BECAUSE they're a villain. Sometimes you like that a character does bad things because it's interesting and entertaining, and liking that doesn't make you a bad person. You should be able to like antagonistic characters for their villainy. Do I understand what they did was bad? Yes. Do I still like them? Yes, and not in spite of it but BECAUSE of it. And you don't have to erase those parts of a character just go openly admit that. You should be able to openly like a character in their full extent. You shouldn't have to ignore certain aspects just for your adoration of a character to be accepted.

Sevika really always has been That Bitch she has no problem telling people how it is directly to their faces. She calls Vander weak in front of everyone. She tells Vi Vander "had his chance" knowing damn well what Vander meant to her. She calls Silco out on his bullshit SEVERAL TIMES in front of him. Sevika isn't restrained as a character at all she's always being her full self. I feel that season two has made Sevika more popular and because her screentime was limited and the writing was different in season two people have allowed her character to become warped. I definitely think that if someone is ok with justifying and excusing the actions of Caitlyn and/or Vi then they should keep that same energy when it comes to Sevika. Sevika is a tough, loyal lady that has a very fun personality and she's also a criminal who has done terrible things for the sake of the cause and most times? Most times she enjoyed doing those things. Most times she went out of her way to revel in instigating. Silco didn't even know Vi was back yet and did that stop Sevika from almost killing Vi? Did that stop her from whispering "who Jinx? She's like his daughter" and looking dead in Vi's eyes just to see her reaction? No. Sevika is a bit messy like that she likes to play with her food lol and honestly I don't blame her lol

[eretzyisrael]

by Moshe Phillips

What was this intifada that protesters on college campuses and in the streets of American cities keep screaming about?

According to a recent article in The New York Times Sunday Magazine, the first intifada—lasting from late 1987 to 1993—was “when Palestinians took part in boycotts, and hurled rocks and Molotov cocktails at Israeli soldiers.”

Well, that doesn’t sound so awful, does it?

After all, it wasn’t really terrorism—just some rocks and Molotov cocktails. And the targets weren’t defenseless civilians; they were Israeli soldiers who had guns and armor. Sounds like it was some bold rebels challenging their oppressors. Just some boycotting—like the Boston Tea Party, perhaps?—with a few rocks thrown in. Nothing to be too alarmed about.

Except it wasn’t that way at all.

The wave of Palestinian Arab violence that raged from December 1987 to the autumn of 1993—the intifada today’s campus extremists idolize—featured constant murderous bombings, shootings and stabbings.

Perhaps a few examples will suffice to refresh the memory of an international community that always seems to be afflicted with amnesia when Jewish victims are involved:

• In 1988, Palestinian terrorists threw hand grenades inside a Haifa mall, wounding 25. Near Beersheva, intifadists hijacked a bus full of Israeli women traveling to work and murdered three of them. They also murdered an Israeli teenager in a Jerusalem park and hid bombs in loaves of bread in a Jerusalem supermarket; three children were injured.

• In 1989, an intifada terrorist steered an Israeli bus into a ravine, killing 14 passengers (including U.S. citizen Rita Levine) and wounding 27 (five of them Americans). Also that year, Palestinian Arabs bombed a Tel Aviv market, injuring four, and went on a stabbing rampage in a Jerusalem shopping area, murdering two and wounding three. On Purim day in Tel Aviv, an Arab terrorist stabbed two Israelis to death with a commando knife and severely wounded a third. One of the victims was an elderly scientist who had been delivering holiday treats to the poor.

• In 1990, intifada terrorists carried out bomb attacks in a Jerusalem marketplace (one dead, nine wounded), the Tel Aviv beachfront (one dead, 20 wounded) and the Ein Gedi springs (four wounded). In Jerusalem, a Palestinian Arab terrorist stabbed three Israelis to death. Another knife-wielding terrorist murdered an Israeli and wounded three more on a Tel Aviv bus.

• In 1991, intifadists stabbed and wounded two Israelis in Jerusalem; bombed a Beersheva market, injuring two shoppers; and ambushed a bus north of Jerusalem, killing two and wounding six (five of them children). Palestinian Arab terrorist atrocities in 1992 included the murder of 15-year-old Helena Rapp in Bat Yam, the kidnapping and murder of Nissim Toledano and a stabbing rampage in Jaffa (two murdered, 19 injured).

• The bloodshed continued in 1993 with stabbing attacks in Tel Aviv that left one dead and four wounded in one instance, and two dead and seven wounded in another. There was also a car bombing at the Mehola Junction that killed one person and injured 21; and the murder of 11-year-old Chava Wechsberg in an attack on an Israeli automobile near Karmei Tzur.

And those are just a few examples from each of those years.

During the first four years of the intifada, there were some 600 bombing or shooting attacks on Israelis, and another 100 hand-grenade attacks, not to mention more than 3,600 attempts to burn Israelis to death with Molotov cocktails. Altogether, 27 Israelis were murdered and 3,000-plus wounded during that period. Twenty-five more were murdered in 1992 and 65 in 1993.

Far from being a spontaneous uprising—as Palestinian advocates portray it—the intifada was carefully orchestrated. A PLO department called the Unified Leadership of the Intifada issued daily instructions on how much violence should be used and against whom.

So the question is: Why do TheNew York Times and other media outlets never explain what took place during this time period that the campus radicals are so loudly applauding? Why do they deliberately downplay the extent of the Palestinian Arab violence?

The answer is that it’s all politics, of course. Major media outlets sympathize with the Palestinian Arab cause and its campus cheerleaders. Acknowledging the extent of Palestinian atrocities makes their cause look bad.

That’s why that Times Sunday Magazine article emphasized the “boycotts” and rock-throwing, and omitted the bombings and shootings and hijackings. That’s also why TheWashington Post and CNN never mention that the rocks can be fatal—and that 16 Israelis have been murdered by Arab rock-throwers.

That, in short, is why they rewrite the intifada. Because telling the truth would make readers stop and ask: Does it really make sense to give these intifadists a sovereign state in Israel’s backyard?

[saintsenara]

Hi saintsenara, I’d like to know your thoughts on the Trace etc because you always seem to have a a really lucid and informed perspective of, well, everything

I never liked how the Ministry and Hogwarts are able to automatically and infallibly detect muggleborns. I feel like the ramifications of that aren’t properly dealt with but I also think that it’d be more interesting and plausible if muggleborns had to be looked for.

I also feel like the Trace is dealt with very strangely. When is that integrated? Is it just automatic for muggleborn students or would the school’s representative (ie. Dumbledore for Tom and McGonagall for Hermione ) place it? If they can place these restrictions on children remotely then why couldn’t they for, say, Death Eaters or Sirius Black? It doesn’t make sense to me that there is anything about the Trace that would make it only applicable to underage wizards and witches. If they need to do something to the children to place the Trace then why can’t they do that with all Azkaban inmates as a preventative measure? Is it simply too outrageous to do that to adult wizards? Is the Trace too easily broken? If the Trace is easily breakable then the Order would’ve broken it for Harry in Deathly Hallows, wouldn’t they?

The lack of thought enrages me!

the thing which has to be borne in mind with the trace is that its narrative purpose is primarily as a coming-of-age experience - it's the threshold which wizarding teenagers need to cross to become legal adults.

and not only this, it's primarily an allusion to the real life coming-of-age experience which defines [or, certainly, which defined in the 2000s, gen z are famously more abstemious] british and irish teenage life...

becoming old enough to legally drink.

when i was a teenager, eighteenth birthdays were a big deal precisely because of the opportunities they afforded to get legally boozed. i was in the supermarket at 10am on mine, passport in hand, buying a disgusting bottle of own brand vodka [which i don't think i or any of my friends ever touched] just because i could.

but the word "legally" is important in this context. because, while the legal drinking age in the uk and ireland is eighteen... that doesn't mean that most teenagers wait until then for their first sip. and nobody - adults in positions of authority such as police, teachers, social workers, doctors etc. included - thinks they do.

and that's because the law is actually more ambiguous than it seems. in the uk, it's legal for children as young as five to drink alcohol in a private residence [!]. in england, scotland, and wales [but not northern ireland], sixteen year olds can legally drink some types of alcohol in licensed premises as long as they're eating a meal.

as a result, the legal penalties for underage drinking are basically non-existent [for the drinker, that is; they can be reasonably hefty for anyone caught selling to under 18s]... if there's nothing else in play which might attract the state's attention.

or: i went to a house party at a friend's when i was fifteen, drank a bottle of rose, broke up with my boyfriend, and ended up sobbing in her garden at the top of my lungs about how men are dogs at 2am, and was then sick.

this friend and i were both white, grammar-school-educated, generally-perceived-as-sensible teenage girls, whose families were well-known and well-liked. the neighbours, seeing me having an absolute flop of a night, could say "ah, the folly of youth, we were all young once, the lasses are in high spirits etc. etc."

but without the protection afforded by social acceptability, maybe they'd have interpreted the situation very differently, and called the police or contacted social services about my friend's mam letting us drink there, or so on.

the trace functions in the same way. the actual law on underage magic - that it's totally illegal - is obviously nonsense. we know in canon that children in wizarding households can use magic before they're seventeen, because - as dumbledore says - the ministry is happy to trust their parents to regulate them doing so.

that is, in families which have the standing afforded by conformity to social convention [especially in living separately from muggles], underage magic can be seen as all a bit of a laugh.

but muggleborns are viewed in the eyes of the state as risks, until they reach adulthood and - in all the cases we meet in canon - remove themselves from the world of their birth entirely. the ministry's main aim - the thing it's preoccupied with - is preventing muggles from learning that magic exists. therefore, anyone magical who lives in a muggle household is subject to much more surveillance than those who don't.

[if the weasley twins do magic in the burrow's garden, who cares? if harry does it in the middle of little whinging, countless muggles might see!]

when it comes to how muggleborns are detected, i actually quite like the extra-canonical information jkr has given about the quill of acceptance and the book of admittance [which is on pottermore]. where i don't agree with it is that i don't think all muggleborns are admitted to hogwarts.

i've said a few times - and, for my askbox girlies, i will write the longer meta on this, i promise - that i think hogwarts applies some form of selection process, which explains why the class-status of the intake [including the muggleborn students we meet in canon] is near-uniform.

as a result, i think that muggleborn students are looked for - they're observed and vetted to make sure they'll fit in at hogwarts - and the interview they have with the deputy head is the final stage in that process.

when they're accepted to hogwarts [or when they actually start at the school, to give hermione the summer of trying spells she mentions in philosopher's stone] i think it's fair to imagine that the trace comes into effect, but that it's only ever going to cause alarm at the ministry if it's broken when students - of any background - are in muggle areas.

which means very little for wizard-raised students - who can do magic at home whenever they want - but restricts the freedom of muggleborn ones.

when it comes to restricting adult magic... we know - because sirius mentions it in prisoner of azkaban - that inmates are deprived of their wands. jkr has retconned how possible magic is without a wand in her post-series writing, but the evidence of canon is that all but the most basic, unsophisticated magic is impossible without one.

losing access to a wand - and, therefore, losing access to magic - is how the state restricts adults' use of magic [which is what happens to hagrid when he acquires his criminal record for manslaughter]. and this is actually a more strictly enforceable and much harsher punishment - it's basically the permanent deprivation of the wizarding world's fundamental marker of liberty - than the trace, which, while it is enshrined in law, basically amounts to nothing more than a fairly loosely-enforced social barrier between childhood and adulthood for 90% of the population.

[prophetic-hijinks]

When the Walls Came Down

Set after the events of this “Visions” comic

_________________________________________

“Ten years?” Elena uttered in a whisper. Her delicate proclamation is barely audible against the chittering of insects in the surrounding jungle. Bruno’s confession shatters the excitement of their shared future, bringing back to the reality of the past.

The day was eventful, to say the least. So many secrets were revealed, all because Elena surprised Bruno with her new car, offering to drive him back instead of making him brave the bus. Bruno, excited for her to meet the whole family, forgot the small matter of his magical family and house. To her credit, she held her grit between Casita bringing her bag in on rumbling tiles and Camilo shifting in front of her. But ended with her passing out because Antonio’s leopard decided to play tag with his rats, leaving her soaking wet from Pepa’s anxious deluge.

But all of that was forgiven with Bruno’s vision of a future full of love, complete with two babies cast in an emerald tablet. Its faint glow lit their faces, as a waxing moon bathed the unlikely pair on the grassy knoll in moonlight.

That is until Bruno dropped a bombshell delivered in a half-hearted joke as if that could soften the blow.

“I couldn’t help but notice when they recounted the story of the Encanto, you weren’t in it for a fair bit.” Elena mused.

“Oh I was behind the scenes… so to speak”. Further prodding sent her mind screaming when he elaborated.

‘He lived in the WALLS!’ She reeled as the same trepidations that haunted Elena, made her doubt her ability to pick men. The 20/20 Hindsight that had her second guess every relationship AFTER they failed trickled in. Carlos who fell out of love with her for not giving him children, secretly hated her success. Or the string of crimson men who wanted the vixen on the stage. Who didn’t care who she was or what she wanted.

Hugo always said Elena’s rose-colored glasses made it impossible for her to see the red flags. And a man hiding in his family home's walls for a decade sounded like a HUGE RED FLAG.

Elena looked at Bruno as he nervously picked at the frayed edge of his ruana.

But the flag wasn’t red…It was green. Green like the eyes of the man that waited until the third date to even TRY for a kiss. A kiss he asked permission for.

And it was also an emerald green. Telling her that for once, her heart was safe. He wasn’t going to hurt her. She could be a hopeless romantic, with actual hope. Bruno wasn’t Carlos who would keep her trapped for over a decade in a bitter marriage before calling it off. He was respectful. Loving. Gentle.

“Ten years?”, she repeated Bruno flicked his eyes to her, so much fear and hurt. She softened even more. “How did you survive?.”

“Ah well, heh Y’know, casita would sneak me food. Juli always made so much in the morning before heading to the square. She barely noticed it went missing, especially with Camilo nabbing thirds and…” He was rambling now. Elena put a gentle hand on his arm, his nervous tremble calming under her touch. He gave a sheepish chuckle. Marveling how she had that effect without a single word.

“Heh, it was hard. But I had hobbies to pass the time, and my rats to keep me company.”

“But why the walls? If life was so unbearable? Why not leave the Encanto?”

Bruno looked at the looming mountain path she passed through earlier today. The one split down the middle in a strange formation Elena had never seen in nature before.

“The magic protected us from the outside world. But it also made it dangerous to leave. The mountain path didn’t even open until the magic was gone. Only the bravest ever tried the climb to trade out. And heh, that’s not me.” He shrugged. ‘Sides I had to stay. I had to protect Mirabel.”

“Mirabel?”

“Ma begged me to look to her future, to understand why Mirabel didn’t get a gift.”

Bruno grabbed the tablet between them.

“I saw in the vision Mirabel as a teenager. Her future wasn’t fixed like ours, I saw Casita standing”. He said tilting the tablet to the left “And casita falling”. Tilting it right.

“I couldn’t bring that back to Ma. I Couldn’t saddle Mirabel with that burden. She was a baby, already denied her room, her dream, and what? Tìo Bruno was going to deliver a nightmare?” An anxious tremor entered his voice “No, no, no I thought if I just waited. Patched up the cracks, I could stop it from happening.”

‘He spent a decade alone to protect her. To be near his family.’ Elena recalled the sweet young woman she met today, earnest, loving, and without a hint of teenage angst. Who showed unbridled enthusiasm for Tio’s girlfriend. Another wall came down.

Bruno vaguely gestured backward to Casita.

“Heh, but a fat lot of good that I did. It still fell.”

“...But didn’t everything get better after it fell?.”

Bruno floundered, “Well… yeah! But I assumed we just got, I dunno, Lucky?”

“Sounds like Mirabel’s destiny was to tear it down,” Elena said.

“You think Mirabel was supposed to have Casita fall?” He sputtered incredulously.

Elena held up the tablet with the image of their twins and their proud happy faces. “You said this future was fixed?”

“Yes,” He said, reassuringly. She had already asked before if that future was destined to be hers. “This future was ours from the beginning.”

“Well Bruno, unless you had plans to take up mountain climbing, how do you propose you would have ever met me if Casita didn’t fall? Because I don’t see me traversing a jungle in kitten heels.”

“…”

For a moment, it seemed even the jungle quieted for the answer. “I..you…”. Bruno needed time to process the matter.

“Casita was always meant to fall. So I would be forced back to the family. So Ma could grieve at the river. So the villagers could help us and learn to depend on themselves. So Mirabel could heal the family and rebuild Casita better…” Bruno continued, looking at Elena and squeezing her offered hand on his lap.

“So I could give a shy little wave to a singer at the Chia Lounge?”. Elena smiled and leaned into him.

“Heh… Everything was meant to be this way?”

“It seems so, but I’m not sure if hiding for ten years was the most stellar problem-solving,” Elena said jokingly. Bruno flushed, embarrassed. Covering his face with his hands.

“But! But!” Elena quickly blurted panicked at the hurt she caused. Wrapping her right arm around his she gently pushed her left hand under his hand on his cheek. Then gently guiding his face to hers.

“But, I do know this. You said only the brave ever tried to leave. But you WERE brave in staying. To try to protect Mirabel.” She gently ran her thumb against his cheek.

“And I know most men; no matter how brave or stoic, would have broken into a million pieces being alone for so long. They would have become bitter and angry; or broken beyond repair.”

“The fact you escaped all that while remaining kind. Still so sweet and loving, is a testament to how strong you are.” Elena kissed his cheek, she could taste salt from a fallen tear. “Strong in the only way that matters to me.”

Bruno gave a relieved shudder, breath mingling with hers they were so close. “Heh, you aren’t ready to hop into your car and run from all this?”

“Not a chance.” Elena tilted the tablet between them. “I know for a fact we get through this. So let's get through this.”

She cuddled deep into him, her body fitting perfectly next to a body that never felt he fit in anywhere else. “Bruno I want all of you, scars and all.”

Bruno looked down at her in grateful awe. They were both crying gentle, cathartic tears.

“Besides, you’re not the only one with baggage.”

“Heh, Fucking Carlos?” He asked.

“Fucking Carlos” she concurred.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62109775

[one-in-a-million-fishsticks]

A young fairy who doesn't know anything about children requests a human's firstborn child as payment for a favor.

What follows is exactly the series of unfortunate events that you'd expect.

[the-busy-ghost]

I have finally emptied the blue bench of all the library books I need to hand back, even though they were terribly photogenic in there, and instead have filled it with all the old children's books I've been keeping around for like fifteen years or more, even though the chances of me ever having children or even passing them on to nieces/nephews/cousins etc is vanishingly small. These are less photogenic but at least it's one way to start clearing the living room of boxes.

Currently strategising how to fit them all in but also wow this is a list of Problematic Children's Authors TM

[thattheater-kid]

Being a South Park fictive is so funny because I’m nine years old, so our friends associate me with child things like Hello Kitty, Care Bears, Bluey, Paw Patrol, etc., but if you watch even a second of South Park, Care Bears and Hello Kitty are probably the last things you’d ever associate me with.

-Kenny

[garfieldstar]

back during the whole frecklewish debacle of 2021 when people were discussing wether mapleshades vengeance was a good book or not, one of the main points I use to hear was that mapleshades book was bad because the narrative didn’t explicitly state and outright say that mapleshades actions were bad. Like. Not only is that a terrible way to write any book with an audience above the age of ten but it should be very obvious that mapleshade is not a good person. Because she fucking kills people

[thetimelordbatgirl]

While I have my issues with how the Bodyguard books ends things, I can at least say one pro with the last book: at least they ended things- meanwhile Rick Riordon out here seeing how many things he can make Percy suffer through all without snapping and going evil.

[britneyshakespeare]

i might seem like just a mentally ill eccentric. but deep down i care about the children

[redsray]

the funniest part of any Robin meeting the JL is that every Robin is so distinctly different from the previous one in terms of personality and vibes that the league literally gets backlash. and like, I don't blame them. not to mention that they are non-meta children that dress as a traffic light and fight crime alongside batman in gotham on a nightly basis. i'd also be a bit concerned. Batman, literally The Night of Gotham personified in the League's eyes, coming into a JL meeting: This is Robin, my crime-fighting partner. 11-year-old Dick Grayson, dressed in the brightest primary colours possible, vaguely hidden murder behind those eyes, never stops moving even for a moment: Hi! Superman: That's a child. That's-- Bats that is a child. You let a child--? Batman, deadpan: You try to stop him. Would you rather he try and murder a grown man with a wire?

Batman: This is Robin. 12-year-old Jason Todd, with the biggest grin on his face, about 3 books in his hand, stars in his eyes and a distinct street-kid drawl: Hey!!! Green Lantern: That's ... that's a different child. What?? Jason: I stole his tires :) Batman: Tried to. Jason, stage whispering to the League: basically did. Green Lantern: that is a different kid, right?? I'm not seeing shit??

Batman: This is Robin. 14-year-old Tim Drake, bo staff clutched in his hand, a wary and tired expression on his face, more on the quiet side, the literal walking definition of don't judge a book by it's cover: hello Flash: Where do you even find these-- Tim: I found myself.

Batman: This is Robin. 17-year-old Stephanie Brown, literally blonde, with a shit-eating grin, eyes full of nothing but mischief and the most explosive personality you've ever seen: hiya!! Superman: I give up. Stephanie: I know, I have that amazing effect on people.

Batman: This is Robin. 13-year-old Damian Wayne, a literal wet cat that will hiss at you, has a sword, the most judgemental stare you'll get from a teenager, ready to jump anyone there: Green Lantern: WHY DOES HE HAVE A SWORD?! Batman: ... he came with the sword.

[cardentist]

hey, so people need to be aware that youtube is now (randomly) holding basic features for ransom (such as being able to pin comments under your own videos) in exchange for Your State ID/Drivers License, or a 30 Second Video Of Your Face.

not to pull a "think of the children," but No Actually. I've been making videos as a hobby since 2015 (and I've had my channel since middle school), I was a minor when I started and I'm not sure I would have understood the kind of damage something a seemingly simple as a video of your face can do.

this is a Massive breach of privacy and over-reach on google's part No Matter What, but if they're going to randomly demand a state ID or license then they absolutely should not allow minors to be creators.

google having a stockpile of identifying information on teenagers is bad enough, but the Alternative of recording your face and handing it over to be filed away is Alarming considering it opens the gates for minors who Aren't old enough to have a license.

and yes, there is a third option, but it's intentionally obtuse. a long wait period (2 months), with no guarantee of access (unlike, say, the convenience of using your phone's cameras for either of the other two), with absolutely No elaboration on what the criteria is or how it's being measured.

it's the same psychological effect that mobile games rely on. offer a slow, unreliable solution with no payment to make the Paid instant gratification look more appealing (the "payment" in this case being You. you are the product being offered).

and it's Particularly a system that (I think intentionally) disadvantages people who don't treat their channels like a job. hobbyists or niche creators who don't create regularly enough or aren't popular enough to meet whatever Vague criteria needs to be met to pass.

markiplier would have no problem passing, your little brother might not be able to. and while Mark's name is already out there there's no reason why your little brother's should be too.

something like pinned comments may seem simple, you don't technically Need it. but it's a feature that's been available for years. most people don't look at descriptions anymore. so when there's relevant information that needs to be delivered then the pinned comment is usually the go to.

for my little channel that information is about the niche series I create for. guides on how to get into the series, sources on where to find the content At All (and reliably so). for other creators it can be used for things Much More Important.

Moreover, if we let them get away with cutting away "small" features and selling it back to you for the price of your privacy, then they Will creep further. they Will take more.

Note: I have an update to this post here: [Link]

[j-jared]

This is why you don't sleep with the Tyrant King - The consequence is children

Constantine avoids involvement with the Infinite Realms for two reasons.

Who wants to deal with all those Ancients in the first place?

He’s avoiding yet another unhinged ex of his.

Of course, hooking up with Pariah Dark wasn’t really an actual relationship, more like a one night stand via dream walking (Nocturn owed Pariah, but seeing as it would be insane to release the Tyrant King from his endless sleep, he’d give him a dream partner every couple centuries) - regardless, Constantine doesn’t want to deal with that.

So yeah - the fact that the Justice League is attempting to summon the High King into the Watchtower has him wanting to drink more than usual.

Of course he gave warnings, but they’re dead set on doing so. A green folder had appeared in the secure “cursed artifacts” vault with no trace of whoever left it there. How else were they gonna find out how it got there?

So Constantine’s stuck there to set up wards, and is trying to find his way out of this one.

When the summoning circle worked, no one expected the teenager to pop out of it. 

Instead of Pariah Dark, or even the sarcophagus showing up, there was a white haired ghost boy with glowing green eyes the same color as the flames of the Crown of Fire. Except he didn’t look exactly like the others ghosts. He had a human skin tone, his proportions were exactly like a human teenager’s, and he was wearing a black and white hoodie with black sweatpants, for God’s sake. 

… Were ghosts able to reproduce with humans?

Before any of the Justice League can get into questioning, Constantine speaks up:

“You’re not the Ghost King.”

Green eyes settle on him, lighting up with recognition - Danny knows exactly who this is, with the amount of complaints on his desk about the blonde. Clockwork also informed him (he didn’t want to know but now he does) of the man’s stint with Pariah. 

Daniel “Commit to the bit” Fenton chooses to do just that.

“Of course not,” The confusion crosses the face of the heroes present- “That’s just because I haven’t had my coronation yet! I’m the Crown Prince, it’s practically the same thing!”

Oh, and the dread and realization crossing Constantine’s face is almost enough to make his core purr in amusement. 

“Now I will gladly answer all your questions, but first!” His eyes swept over the heroes before raising his hand and pointing accusingly at the British warlock.

“John Constantine,” his voice boomed, the temperature of the meeting room dropping as his face stretched with a smile too big and too pointy, “You owe me fifteen years of child support.”

[alexiroflife]

Hello! May I request an angsty toji fic where reader finds out she's pregnant (post megumi) and she knows toji doesn't want anymore children so she just kinda leaves with little to no explanation? Maybe just a small note saying things aren't working out. It's up to you if it will be a hurt/comfort. Idk you don't have to do this request I don't want to overload you! I seriously love your writing. The way you right the character just warms my heart. I especially love ur hiding an Injury fic it was SO SO SO GOOD. 🩶🤍🖤

“promise”

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: see above

to sum it up: you think it’s better to run away than to be the one to get hurt

WC: 5,668

Warning(s): angst, suggestive themes, yelling, pregnancy, mentions of abortion

You stare down at the plastic tube clutched in your trembling hands in awe, eyes blown with shocked grief as you peer closer to get a better look, as though those two bright pink lines could have been a trick of your vision.

Unfortunately, however, your vision remains just as crystal clear as it always has been. As you stand in your cramped apartment bathroom, illuminated by a flickering fluorescent gaze shining down from above, horror befalls you.

You’re pregnant.

You should have known sooner when you began feeling queasy every morning, taking trips to either your or Toji’s toilet to hurl out the contents of whatever swam inside your stomach. You always tried to be silent if Toji was around, for he slept like a dog that could not be woken even if a meteor struck earth, and you had been remarkably exhausted. You aren’t even sure if there is a word to describe how sluggish your entire mind and body had been feeling, but you wanted to rule out the very obvious answer to your problems before exploring it.

You begin to panic, your heart pounding in your ears and throat and every inch of your body you could feel the pulse, eyes blurry over the positive test. You’re conflicted. You don’t know how to feel. On the one hand, you would have been jumping for joy to learn that you are starting a new life with your boyfriend, to step into a new chapter of your lives and to provide his children with another sibling.

But hell, the celebration is far too naive and implausible to be had. The sage eyed man has told you time and time again that he does not wish to have anymore kids, that the ones he has are enough and he is not equipped financially or mentally to care for another brat. In honor of those wishes, you’re on the pill, and consequently, Toji has taken the opportunity to plow his load inside of you time after time after time.

And you really, truly should have known that with Toji’s uniquely abled body, what was meant to serve as a barrier and a means of contraception did not work.

You feel like throwing up. What would Toji say? What would he do? What are you supposed to do? Should you tell him, fill him in on what’s going on to risk rejection and abandonment, a nasty habit that Toji had to work to rid himself of when he met you? Would he even care? Would he listen?

You know Toji to be a very tough man, despite the softened interior he attempts to hide in others’ company that is only displayed for you and for his kids. If he has always been adamant about one thing, it’s been to never have kids again, to focus on where he fucked up before and to pour his attention into the little family he’s grown, the one that he has now.

His voice echoes through your head like the gong of a church bell striking upon the ear’s of a sinner.

“Hell, I already got my hands full tryna get Megumi through his teenage years. What the hell is another child gonna do for us?”

“That shit’s fuckin’ expensive. Not to mention, I’d have to baby proof the house again. That’s another expense.”

“If I was capable of givin’ you y’er own, I would, doll. But I ain’t cut out for it. You know that.”

You don’t even know why he would stress the matter so often. You suppose he’s caught the way your eyes linger on a mother tossing their giggling baby up and down into the air, innocent pools of joy beaming down at her each time it reaches the air and lands in her secure hold. Or maybe he’s seen the way you care so deeply for Toji’s kids as though they are your own, despite telling you when you first got involved with each other that he did not expect you to step into their lives in anyway - and yet, you have done that and more. You know how the kids must struggle each day with the trauma of losing their mother so early on, and you never wanted them to think that you were trying to step in as her replacement, but you love them so clearly, as much as you love the man who created them.

Which leads you to your next concern. How would the kids react?

It’s one thing for you, as their father’s girlfriend, to wander into their lives and help navigate them their teenage hood alongside the dark haired man, but to introduce an entire other child only leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

They may be crushed. They me turn to hate you, to despise how you have contaminated the life they have worked so hard to rebuild after numerous tragedies. And would Toji agree with them? Would he turn his nose up to you, that scowl of his melting over his harsh features as he shuns you just as he shunned every other woman who came after his wife and before you. Would he leave you? Would he kick you out of the world that has become your own because you failed to live up to your promise, though it technically isn’t your fault that you are pregnant now but it feels as though it is?

You can not stand the thought, of the man you love turning his once loving gaze stone upon the sight of you, of him pushing you further away, permanently, in the same manner that he tried to when he realized that he was falling in love with you, of watching Megumi and Tsumiki turn their backs to you as though the past four years of your lives had never happened, banning you from their acceptance forever more.

Tears well in your gaze, interfering with your vision. This can not be happening, you think to yourself, everything has been going so well, and now this? This is going to ruin your relationship with Toji for good. Even if you were not in a committed relationship with him, you assume that the idea of any woman getting impregnated by Toji would have been thrown away. You would be thrown away, just like all the others who gave Toji their bodies but not their hearts.

Not the way you have.

Your heart clenches thinking of just how much you love Toji and the kids, of how you would be willing to lay down your own life for the sake of them as Toji swears that he would for you all in return. Even so, despite the commitment to you that a man who swore never to be committed to accustomed, this would be going too far.

…You’re not even sure if he would love you anymore.

Now that you’re pregnant with his child, a child he never meant to have with you, you assume you will mean nothing to him any longer. In his eyes, you will simply become the slut that he took a chance on by a whim, carrying something he would never call his own. You believe the old Toji will resurface, the one who claimed not to care, the one who shoved women out of his bedroom before the sun rose in the sky, the one who often failed to remember to pick his kids up from school, the one who would no longer meet you at eye level but look down upon you, frown upon you for being so clumsy.

You know Toji is the one who did this, but this still feels like it is your doing. Like somehow, you trapped him and he now has no choice but to break free from the steel cage you have barred around him with your conception.

Your fingers clutch over the plastic, your eyes scrunching closed to release a fresh set of tears that cascade over your cheeks and onto the test. You can feel yourself mourning your relationship already, you can feel it slipping through your fingers, see it fading in the distance until it becomes nothing but a bittersweet memory that you can not determine as reality or a figment of your imagination any longer.

You tilt your head, bringing the test to your forehead as you think, grieve, cry. You mull over your options; you could hide this from Toji, get an abortion and never think of it again or you could tell Toji and lose him forever.

You open your bleary eyes, lashes decked with dewy tears, as another idea dawns upon you. You could leave, leave before Toji and the kids have a chance to leave you.

It’s a cruel thought, you think, especially abandoning those children without any proper explanation for them, but what else are you meant to do? You’d be doing them all a favor if anything by taking your leave without them having to be plagued by the knowledge of your unplanned pregnancy, of what they may view as a scheme to destroy their family in your new baby’s wake.

The thought kills you to even entertain. You had promised those kids that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’d stay with them for as long as they allowed you… but this is different. This is not what any of you had in your cards, how you believed your futures to go. Toji wants simplicity at home while he works through chaos through his occupation. He wants security, warmth, safety for you, Megumi, Tsumiki, and no one else. He would never welcome another child. You believe he’d be caught dead before approving of your pregnancy.

And therefore, you know what you have to do.

After taking a few more tests to ensure that the readings are accurate, which they are, you pledge to walk away. You pledge to leave the only man you’ve ever truly loved, the strongest family you’ve known, and the slim possibility that despite Toji’s wishes, he may accept you.

But you don’t want to take that chance and risk the humiliation and unplanned heartbreak. You’d much rather take matters into your own hands, and plan the shattering of your soul yourself.

You don’t sleep all night, for you’re too busy drafting about twenty different letters to Toji. Crumpled loosleaf paper litters the floor beside your bed as you try to think of how to best write down everything you want to say. You go through pages and pages until you are finally satisfied with the result, and the next morning, you slip the envelope into his mail slot and prepare to pack your life away.

It is late Sunday morning when Toji rises from his slumber. The first thing he does is lean over the sheets and drape his arm toward his nightstand to read your daily good morning text - only he finds there isn’t one. With pinched brows, he takes his phone to unlock it and visit your contact. Nothing.

The time reads 12:35 pm. Normally, you’re up and at it or even banging down his door by then to wake him. Maybe you’re just sleeping in?

He goes to give your cell a call, but nothing. Not only that, but your phone is also on do not disturb mode. His gut immediately swells with the suspicion that something is wrong. The dark haired assassin supposes he’s going to pay you a visit this afternoon as soon as he checks on the kids to ensure that they are alright.

His bedroom door opens with a creak, and he calls out to the teens gruffly through a yawn. When they don’t respond, he’s truly growing concerned.

He rounds the corner to prepare to head for their rooms when he finds Tsumiki and Megumi at the dining table. His brows furrow, his pace slowing as he takes in their faces. Tsumiki’s lips are pressed together tightly and the muscles in her face are scrunched as though she is about to cry, while Megumi stares ahead with empty eyes and a hardened exterior.

Toji frowns with quirked brows, approaching his kids. “What’s wrong with you two?”

His brunette daughter looks up at him with glassy eyes and wrinkled chin, lashes fluttering while Megumi does not bother to look at his father. Instead, he brings Toji’s attention to a torn envelope and a thick packet of papers pressed beneath the sixteen year old’s palm. Wordlessly, Megumi slides it toward him, brows slanting.

Toji, perplexed, looks between the papers and his children’s troubled faces. What is this letter? Overdue taxes? An eviction notice? That can’t be possible, because you had ensured that Toji and the kids’ place was secure long ago.

He crunches the papers in his hands and picks them up to read. The first thing that catches his eye is your scribbling handwriting, and the following words that send his heart plummeting to his ass:

This isn’t working out.

Toji whips his head up, baffled, and when he meets Megumi’s gaze again, his eyes are ablaze with resentment.

“What the hell did you do?” he growls.

The green eyed man is not even thinking before he’s dialing Shiu’s number, asking him to watch the kids for the next hour or so, and running out of the apartment after throwing rather unconvincing words of assurance over his shoulder to his kids, who are still with disbelief - Tsumiki with devastation and Megumi with rage, for surely his father pushed you away.

Toji does not bother finding a ride, electing to run to your place which is only a few blocks away. You two were just discussing moving in with one another, combining households, and this is what you spring onto him? Not even for him to stumble across first, but his kids who look up to you and love you like their own mother?

Oh, he’s fuming, a rush of emotions taking over his mind as it fuels his speed. The letter you wrote is still crunched in his fist, whipping through the air as he makes his way to you.

Dear Toji,

This is not working out.

But before you rampage and get angry with me, please let me explain. Let me explain how much I love you, how much those kids mean to me, and how every day I wake up I want to be greeted by all of your smiling faces. For the rest of time, forever. You are undoubtedly the only man for me, and I truly believe that. I know you may think I’m bullshitting because of how the beginning of this letter contradicts what im saying now, but it’s true. I have never loved another person the way I love you, and while it scared me at first when you were so stubborn and full of anger that you misdirected onto me, I stayed and I waited and I helped you and I’ve loved you through every single moment, ever week, every month, and every year. You brought purpose back into my life, and I can picture you scoffing because you’d say the same, but I mean it. You, Tsumiki, and Megumi are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much.

But in this case, that love is not enough.

I hate to be doing this to you, to the kids, but I have no other choice. Things aren’t going the way they used to, and it’s not your fault but mine. I’m the reason. And it is tearing me apart to know that and simultaneously know what I have to do in order to keep you and the kids happy. Stable. I wish I could explain to you more why I am doing this, but I can’t. Not just because I am dying to picture you reading this, but because I truly can not say. I do not want to ruin you guys’ image of me. While I think that’s a selfish thing to say because who knows how me leaving is going to hurt you all, you would not understand even if you knew the reason behind this.

By the time you are done reading this, I will be gone. I’m going away because as long as I am not with you all, I can’t stay here anymore. I am staying with my mother while I get my travel plans arranged, because I know how you worry when you do not know where I am or if im safe. I should be gone by Friday.

Please do not come see me. I have made my decision, and you will only be hurting us more by trying to stop me. I won’t be stopped.

Kiss and hug and apologize to Megumi and Tsumiki for me. I hope you find someone who fills the role of their mother, someone who knows how Megumi likes to do his homework in the silence of his room with no music or anything, completely isolated so he can focus. Someone who knows how to fix Tsumiki’s eggs properly - to add extra butter to the sides when you fry them so the edges get crispier. Someone who won’t try to feed Gumi’a demidogs because he hates when people assume they can coddle up to them upon first introduction. Someone who cares for the wholly the way I do and always will.

And you. I know how stubborn you are. I know how angry you probably are at me right now, and I will miss that about you, but please do not let that interfere with the possibility of falling in love again. Beneath the layers of grit, standoffishness, and indifference, you are a man with a big heart. For me. For your kids. For those you love and seek to protect.

You say you aren’t a good man, and while that may be true to you, you are an amazing partner and you’ve already become an amazing parent. I’ve seen you grow, and I am so in love with you and so proud of you. I know you’ll be okay without me. It maybe take some time, but you’ll adjust to what’s best. I promise.

With all the love that could possibly be harbored in this world, you are everything to me and that is why I have to go. I wish you every happiness this planet can offer you, and I know that without me, you can begin to find joy again.

Love,

Your doll

You had believed to time this perfectly, for you know that Toji usually does not wake until one, so soon as you are finishing up packing, you are trudging down the stairs to the leasing office to inform them that you will be moving.

You push open the door to the first floor, the breeze hitting you gently, and you round the corner only to be blocked by the last person you wanted to run into during this time.

Your eyes widen as you look up, the burly figure you have grown oh so familiar with over the years heaving as though enraged, ivy eyes crowding over slim pupils as Toji glares down at you, an image of indescribable fury.

Your heart drops and your words die in your throat. “T-Toji?” you whisper, horrified of an outburst. You are rattled by fear, having been so unprepared to walk into this. You did not put it past him to chase you down. But you figured that you’d be at your parents by the time he woke. Then, you could have at least told them to tell him off at the door.

But no. Instead, here he is, six feet and then some of bulking mass as he takes quick, deep breaths that expand the entirety of his chest.

You shift. “What are you doing here-“

“What the fuck is this?”

Toji swiftly, yet aggressively, lifts the papers in his hands, now damaged by his travels and his grip, shaking it firmly with the question. You gulp, lowering your eyes.

“Toji, I told you not to come…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he swears firmly, and you jump, looking to see if anyone is around to hear you, as the two of you are standing outside your complex.

“We shouldn’t be- let’s just go inside,” you go to grab his arm, but he tears it away. He stares at you as though you have burned him, singed the heart in his chest from the inside out, and he is so unforgiving. So unforgiving before he hears directly from your mouth what this is about.

“I’m not doin’ shit until you tell me what the fuck this is, (Y/n),” he demands, his hand moving the papers about passionately with his speech, and you feel your heart hammering again. This is not how things were supposed to go. You are not supposed to be seeing him right now. “Cause I refuse- I fuckin’ refuse to believe that you’re breaking up with me.”

Your eyes gloss over as you look down at your feet, unsure of what to do or how to handle this confrontation. You can’t do this. You can’t, it’s too much. It’s too hard.

“…I am,” you mumble.

Toji steps forward, leaning down to get a peek of your face, his expression so angry that it worries you. “What?”

“I said… I am.”

“Uh uh, you better say that shit with your chest if you can write a whole damn letter about it,” he growls, fucking further as you continue to turn away. “Look at me,” he barks, and you cringe.

“Toji, don’t yell at me!” you shout back.

“What else do’ya want me to do, huh?” he throws his hands up. “How else do you expect me to react to this bullshit?! You’re leavin’ me? After everythin’ we been through, after everythin’ you and the kids’ve been through, you’re leavin? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

He takes a swift glance at the papers, the very sight sending him into a spiral, before he’s heatedly looking back down at you.

“I don’t buy this shit for one second. No. You’re not leavin’. Not in this world, or the next.”

“I am, Toji, the quicker you accept that, the easier it’ll be for everyone!”

“Easy?” he winces as though the prospect pains him. “You call this shit easy? You call up and tryin’ to abandon me easy? You call the kids waking up to your letter and reading it at the table before I saw it easy?”

Your face falls. “…what?”

“Yeah. You fuckin’ heard me,” he sneers. “Megumi and Tsumiki read this shit first. First thing in the morning, they see a letter about how the woman they love is leavin’ ‘em, just like their mom did, and for what?”

You close your eyes, his words stinging you as they cut through. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, ain’t it? Y’er leavin’ us, (Y/n), and you didn’t even have the decency to say why!”

Guilt crowds you, like a blanket of darkness consuming you from overhead, and as Toji stands before you completely torn apart by your letter, you see the fear in his eyes, the sadness, the unspoken plea for you not to go.

You try your best to keep your composure as you turn away again. “I told you, I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck that,” he lifts the letter and tosses it to the ground with a thud. You gasp, watching it slam to the concrete pavement.

“Toji!” you exclaim.

“You think you can just leave without me comin’ to hunt you down and see your face so I can figure out what the hell is goin’ on? You must not know me at all.”

“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?!”

“Of all fuckin’ things, (Y/n), I think I got a right to be aggressive about this. You were gonna leave without sayin’ goodbye!” he tosses his arm out to the side with the exclamation, brows twisting and teeth bearing. “Is that what our relationship means t’ya? You think you can just toss us aside?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you beg, a lump forming in your throat as the two of you stand face to face, arguing without a car about who will see you.

“Then tell me,” he shouts. “Cause you’re not givin’ me shit to go off of!”

“I told you already, I can’t,” your lips quiver.

“Then our relationship is nothing to you.”

“No, Toji.”

“Clearly it ain’t, cause I’d think it’d be worth an explanation if you’re runnin’ away!” you frown and shake your head, turning to walk back into the complex when Toji cuts you off, moving in your way. “You don’t think I know you? You don’t think I see it all over your face that somethin’s got you scared, and y’re takin’ off because of it? You think I don’t know what that looks like, (Y/n)? I did that shit. I did it all the damn time before I met you, and hell, I tried to run then but you wouldn’t let me, so what the hell makes you think I’m gonna let you now?”

“This is different,” you say shortly, afraid to reveal the tremble of your voice to the man before you. You keep your gaze down as you try to go around him again, but to no avail. He steps in your path. “Stop!”

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he says gravely, keeping his eyes to yours though you try to avoid contact with them. “Not until you spit it out. I’ll be damned if I got another broken home cause y’re fuckin’ scared.”

“I said stop!” you try to find some bass in your voice, but against your will, it falters when you yell. Toji eyes you carefully, reaching his hand out to grip your shoulder and steady you into place.

You scoff, attempting to pull away, but it’s no use. The dark haired man is everywhere, keeping you from walking away.

“You talk to me like the grown ass woman you are,” he tells you sternly, stepping in. “You use that voice I know you have, and don’t you ever let me catch you writin’ a letter to me about how you wanna break up instead of comin’ to talk to me. Y’understand?”

You exhale shakily, lips pressing together and brows curling. “I can’t.”

“Y’re still not tellin’ me why you think that.”

“Because I can’t, Toji. I can’t tell you. It’ll- it’ll fuck up everything!” you break, and Toji feels the pit in his stomach shift as he looks over your aggrieved expression, depicting the same exact things he feels.

“(Y/n),” he calls your name firmly, the sound of it on his tongue only inspiring the urge to cry more. You continue to shake your head though Toji isn’t exactly speaking, and his green eyes wander you with frustrated concern. “Y’scared of what I’ll do if you tell me?”

You freeze, slowly peeling your eyes to look at his, his face tense with grief. You stare at him for a moment, mouth gaping like a fish as all of your insecurities that talked you toward this ledge run through your mind once more.

“Don’t look surprised,” he says. “I know you like the back of my hand, and I know that you knew I’d be over here to stop ya.”

Your frown deepens, and this time as you look at him, you see every second of your future that you were quick to stomp dow. You see the unbridled, unfiltered love he holds for you as well as the blood curdling fear of letting you go.

“You have to understand,” you whimper. “I know how you’ll react, I- I can’t do this to you. You have to let me go.”

“What the hell could be so horrifyin’ in that head of yours to make you think that I won’t stick with ya through hell and high water?” he grits out, searching your swollen hues of (e/c) hesitation. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I know, but-“

“There’s nothin’ else to say. I ain’t leavin’ until you spill, and when you do, y’re comin’ with me.”

You look at him, pained. It’s a trap, you think. If Toji only knew, he’d be running for the hills instead of trying to track you down.

“Out with it, now.”

You can’t. You can’t tell him. He’ll leave you, he’ll reject you, he’ll turn you away, he’ll never let you see the kids again.

“(Y/n)!”

“I’m pregnant!”

The earth seems to freeze and time seems to slow. You scrunch your eyes, anticipating the worst to come as Toji takes in your words, his tensed expression melting slowly.

You don’t open your eyes to see his reaction. You keep your head ducked and your fists closed as the white noise of nature flutters into relevance. You’re trembling, terrified, and Toji can not move but instead proceeds to stare at you, stunned.

His words about not wanting any more kids run through your mind again as you await his response, and the suspense kills you as you do. You can feel his grip on your shoulder slacken before tightening again, and you are terrified.

He’s going to leave you.

You are quick to step away when the sentiment arises once more, Toji’s hand falling from you arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know that you don’t want any more kids. I know, an I thought we were being careful, but- I took five tests. They’re all positive.”

“You’re pregnant?” he echoes, and you still. You knew it. You knew this would happen.

“I told you, Toji,” you exhale. “I told you that I couldn’t tell you, and now everything’s a mess.”

He twitches. “Hold on-“

“Don’t tell me all of a sudden you want kids,” you snap. “I know how strongly you feel about it.”

“So instead of talkin’ to me, you were gonna leave? Knocked up? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What other choice do I have?!” you cry. “You don’t want more kids, and if I kept it, it would only be a nuisance to you. And Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He scrunches his face. “What about ‘em?”

“How do you think they’d feel if the woman you’re dating after their mother died surprised them with a new baby? They’d be crushed!” you say shakily as salty tears well in your eyes again. “I can’t overstep your boundaries. I just can’t. It’s easier for me to go.”

“And do what, (Y/n)? Raise a kid on your own without any help?”

“I can’t bare you leaving me!” you suddenly confess, tear striking past your cheek.

Toji examines you and frowns. “What are y’talkin’ about? You’re tryin’ to leave me!”

“So I can prevent the inevitable from happening,” you huff. “I’m okay with it. I’ve made peace with everything. That’s why you need to just let me go-“

“After everythin’, you think I’d throw you away because you’re pregnant with my kid?” Toji says incredulously. You falter, for you had been so sure of his reaction before. “You think that low of me?”

“No, but I want you to have what you want.”

“What I want is you, you fuckin’ idiot,” he hisses. “All I ever wanted was you, and I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re tryin’ to take that away from me.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “…You’re not mad?”

“Girl, I’m livid,” he scowls. “Not about the damn kid, but because you assumed what I would say before comin’ to me.”

“Toji, you have to understand that I was trying to look out for you.”

“There’s not lookin’ out for me or those kids or makin’ them happy if you’re gone, (Y/n),” he bites. “Who th’fuck put that idea in your head?”

You stammer, tears proceeding to flow down your face as you reel in the reality of the situation. “I… I just thought-“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Before you can respond, his hand is gripping your wrist and he’s tugging you toward him into his chest. You shake when you fall into him, listening to the pace of his heart rapidly beating against your ear as he breaths quickly against you. Large palms smooth over your head and down to your waist as he holds you tightly, and you notice how desperate his grip is. He’s holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, as though you’ll fly away if his hold is not tight enough.

He tucks his head into your neck, fingers grasping into your shirt, and suddenly the animosity of the moment prior is gone. You’re still trembling, leading Toji to hold you tighter to him.

“Can’t believe you tried to leave,” he murmurs into your hair. “Christ, (Y/n) you’re tryin’ to gimme a heart attack. The fuck is goin’ on with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, looking off sadly. “I thought you’d be upset about it. I didn’t want you to know.”

“I should know about any and every single thing that’s goin’ on with you, y’hear me? This ain’t no exception.”

A weight flutters from your shoulders as you sink into Toji’s head, silent tears streaming for the life you almost sacrificed. “What are we gonna do?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “But we’ll figure it out. As a team. Alright?”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

He groans, pressing himself impossibly further to you. “That letter… fuck, don’t do that shit. Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that. Without you, I ain’t shit- pregnant or not. And those kids would adore another sibling if you were bringing it into this world. Don’t say that shit about them again either. They need ya. We need ya.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine again, Toji’s hand stroking over your back soothingly.

“It’s okay,” he grumbles. “We’ll figure it out.”

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.