#and i feel very very bad that that is happening :[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[

[sky-scribbles]

I'm going to say something controversial. I think there's something Veilguard does better than any other Dragon Age game. Namely: incorporating the companions into the plot.

Look, I love Origins as much as everyone. But to be frank: you could cut every companion except Alistair, Morrigan and Loghain and the plot could still work. Once you've finished the mission where you recruit a companion, there aren't other main quests that involve them in any way.

Oghren and Wynne could have stayed home after their recruitment missions for all the difference it would make to the main plot. Sten, Leliana and Zevran could vanish and nothing would change, because once they're on your team, they don't interact with the main plot at all. (There's the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I suppose - but even then, you'd be going on that quest whether Leliana and Wynne were there or not, and it's very telling that they can both die here and next to nothing in the rest of the game is impacted.)

Again: I love Origins. This doesn't detract from any of these characters being great, or from the story being great. It just means there's a layer of separation between the two. They're involved in the story, but they're not driving it, and you seldom get to see them have strong feelings about it.

DA2 is a huge step up. Your companions' personal stories are integral parts of the main plot. You can't do the Deep Roads expedition without witnessing Karl's death and its impact on Anders. You can't enter Act 2 without seeing Varric's brother betray him, or watching your sibling either die or begin a new path in life. Act 2's climax happens because of choices Isabela and Aveline have made. Act 3's endgame is all about Anders making one enormous decision. Even Fenris and Merrill, who have the fewest ties to the plot, have strong reasons to be invested in the Mage/Templar conflict.

And then Inquisition just... backslides. There are multiple companions you don't need to recruit at all, or can send away with zero alteration to the main plot. Your companions don't like Corypheus because he's bad, but no one - except maybe Varric - has any strong personal feelings about him. They have no personal stake in defeating him, not like Alistair has a personal stake in opposing Loghain, or Anders in opposing Meredith.

We go to the Winter Palace, and Vivienne is not made a part of that story. We have a whole subplot about the Wardens, and Blackwall only gets a couple of extra lines, if you even bring him. Their personal arcs could have been somehow impacted by these missions, and they're just... not. Sera is packed with internalised self-hatred that manifests as trying to distance herself from elven culture, to the point of sometimes lashing out at other elves. And despite all the missions you do where elven history features... Sera's growth past that flaw happens entirely offscreen between the base game and Trespasser?????

IMO, this is one of the biggest reasons why Corypheus is such a bland villain. He doesn't make anyone grow, except by starting a plot for them to be part of. He doesn't challenge them emotionally. No one is invested in him. Because no one interacts with the darn plot.

Veilguard, though? Veilguard keeps your companions interacting with the story the whole way through. The Treviso/Minrathous choice affects both Lucanis and Neve heavily, and impacts who they become for the rest of the game. These cities are personal to you, even if you're not a Crow or Shadow Dragon, because your companions love them.

The Siege of Weisshaupt is beyond personal to Davrin and Lucanis, both of whom are entrusted with major parts of the quest: trying to kill the archdemon and Ghilan'nain. Lucanis is affected by his failure to kill Ghilan'nain for ages afterward. Davrin is haunted by survivor's guilt; he should have died when he struck down the archdemon. He's alive. How can he live with that?

Whenever killing the gods becomes a possibility, Rook hands the lyrium dagger to Lucanis. When the squad go to fight the gods' dragons with the Wardens, Taash is the one to flush the first dragon out. When you infiltrate the Venatori, Neve tricks your way in, and everything that happens is especially weighty to Bellara, whose people have been abducted. On Tearstone Island, because of how Lucanis and Spite have grown, they strikes true.

Did you not hate Elgar'nan before that mission? Because you probably will after you watch him capture Bellara or Neve, and see his fellow god kill Harding or Davrin.

You know what's a great piece of writing? There's no reason Emmrich shouldn't have been an option to deal with the wards on Tearstone Island; he's one of the ideal options to take out more wards with the Veil Jumpers in the final mission. But you can't select him to do it. Because Emmrich has far less personal investment in the Elgar'nan battle than the other two. This is Neve's city. This is the monster who tries to call himself Bellara's god. The game makes sure the characters who take control of the Blight at the end are the ones with the greatest stakes in doing so.

One of your companions, not you, wrests command of the Blight from Elgar'nan. The final mission depends on how well you've come to know each companion's skills. They're just... always involved.

And they're invested, too. The companions all have serious personal reasons to hate the antagonists by the end. Lucanis and Neve have either seen their city burn, or know it happened at the cost of their friend's (and potential partner's) hometown. Davrin has seen his order devastated. These are Bellara's and Davrin's supposed gods, and instead of helping the elves reclaim their history and culture, they're trying to enslave the world. Harding learns that the Evanuris maimed and destroyed her Titan ancestors.

Emmrich and Taash have perhaps the smallest emotional tie - and sadly I do think Emmrich especially gets underutilized in the plot. But heck, Taash is still hella motivated by the way the gods are abusing dragons. And Emmrich is tied thematically to the main conflict. He's facing the question of immortality, while nigh-immortal beings are right in front of him, proving how that gift can be abused. The final choice of his personal arc is whether he's willing to embrace his personal, mortal attachments, at the cost of consequences that terrify him... you know, the same question that Solas faces at the end.

And don't even get me started on how everyone is emotionally tied to Solas. Harding and Neve watched him kill Varric in front of them. Everyone not dead or captured has to watch him drag Rook into the Fade. Just about every companion faces some kind of huge regret or failure at some point, in constant foreshadowing for Solas's prison of regret: both the literal one he sticks Rook in, and the mental one of his own making.

Veilguard has its problems, but it absolutely shines at keeping its characters involved and invested in the main story. It gives them things to do, it gives them reasons to care. For all the flaws this game has, this part is good writing.

[reignpage]

how do you think jjk men are with embarrassing moments during sex? like if something embarrassing that happens to either them or their partner, do they play it off, try to inject humor, swear off sex to be a monk?

i read a similar post by an author advocating for well, not just more realistic depictions of sex in fics, but to include some of the awkwardness present in them too?? their post included geto’s hair getting stuck in butt cracks, Toji pulling a muscle, Nanami losing his boner, and Choso full on shitting himself accidentally to help with reader’s embarrassment over queefing 😭😭😭

like yes it’s funny and bonkers but cuz sex isn’t always the passionate sexy fuckfest we see in fics/movies, people don’t always cum at the same time, yes you DO need lube AND prep, foreplay DOES matter, dryness or losing an erection midway no matter how horny you are is common yano?? 😤😤

lowkey wanted to go anon lest you call me perpetually horny 😭 but ignore me if my shit’s getting old

own your shit bae, no pun intended. ur horniness could never get old. I like these questions cause they're like brain teasers. okay okay lemme have a go

Gojo:

says a cringy line

I can totally see him trying something new that he thinks would be super sexy like

"oh yeah? you like that? you're such a dirty whore, aren't you? come on, cum and show me who you're daddy is."

reader will pause and stare at him like, did you hear yourself?

gojo will have a moment of realisation and give himself the ick. even he has limits.

he collapses on top of reader and begs her to forget that, will be a blushing mess.

he'll think about it once in a while and cringe

but in the moment, he'd throw a tantrum if you can't stop laughing and making fun of him.

"it wasn't that bad! you're being mean, seriously. I just got caught up, okay? stop laughinggggg"

gets very pouty, protests, and you have to seduce him back, really compliment the hell out of him

then he'll force you on top and make you take the lead so he doesn't give himself another opportunity to be embarassing

Geto:

trying to switch positions in a tight space and then you accidentally rest your elbow on his long hair and he almost rips outs chunks

probably gets irritated because you've damaged his brilliant hair

takes a breather and then starts back up again

punishes you during sex

will crack a smile if you do

"yeah, alright, laugh it up. but if I develop a bald spot, neither of us will be laughing."

will make sure that never happens again

might even pull your hair during sex to show you how it feels (not too hard obvi)

Choso:

might get too subby lol

like "am I a good boy mommy? am I doing good? I don't want my mommy to be mad at me" and he's in tears

idk how to write mommy kinks lol

and you both have a moment of clarity where it's like, damnnn you okay? didn't know you had trauma like that

he'll get very shy and embarrassed

might even start crying, trying to run away

you'll have to reassure him it's fine and then just go slowly and gently, having more loveydovey sex

late at night, he'll ask you if you really didn't mind because he doesn't want you to be freaked out or think he's not a man

but I imagine it'd become a kink you indulge him once in a while

just gotta teach him it's okay, just don't spring it on someone mid act lol

Toji:

trying a really acrobatic fucking position, whether in the living room or in the shower, gets his footing wrong and slips, smacks his head against the wall, takes you down with him

he knocks himself out

you have to wrangle his 200 pound or something body in to a safe lying position and wait for him to come to

when he does and he remembers what happens

bro is in denial

no he didn't slip

no he didn't overestimate himself

no it didn't hurt

no he's not embarrassed stop asking him

gets very grumpy and will storm off, grumbling under his breath

comes back calmer

neither of you mention it but it hangs in the air as you both prepare dinner together

once sat across each other, you make an eye contact and you burst out laughing

he rolls his eyes but he's got a smile on his lips

"yeah yeah, what fucking ever. you try lifting your heavy ass up whilst you're balls deep"

next time tho, he gets you back by forcing you to endure vanilla sex, going very slow and shallow and overly sweet

makes you beg for him to fuck you normally

he'll consider it

Nanami:

drunk sex, becomes wayyyy too emotional

"sweetheart, you're the most beautiful thing in the entire world, I love you so much do you know that? I honestly -hiccup!- c-can't live without you, oh goodness, please don't make me live without you!"

he's still inside, he's not even thrusting anymore, he's just crying into your neck like a baby

you're brushing his hair, shushing him, orgasms forgotten

might vomit on you a little

wakes up with a killer hangover and a night full of memories he wishes he could erase

"oh god, honey. I'm so terribly sorry. I can't believe I did something so ridiculous. no I know loving you openly isn't ridiculous, but I wouldn't be wrong to say crying, leaving you unsatisfied, forcing you to care for a man child, and cherry on top, vomitting on you is just a little ridiculous."

has to go make it up to himself for being a terrible husband

will spoil you for the rest of the week

or anytime he remembers

might actually drink less because of it lol

Sukuna:

he'd kill you if he did something embarrassing

pray he never does

[fingerstealer]

[Image ID:

a very wise woman gave me a piece of advice. She told me to start a journal. In the morning, she said, write down the percentage that I felt was that day. 20% Maggie. 90% Maggie. Then I should write down what I accomplished that day. thought at this point she was going to tell me to admire how much I'd gotten done each day despite M a being ill. I didn't want that, I didn't need a pep talk. I needed my brain.

But that wasn't what she said. She told me: write down what you've managed to do on a 20% day, what you've managed to do on a 40% day. Eventually you'll have a guide so when you wake up and you're at 20%, you won't try to do the things you do on a 40% day. You'll know you can just go watch a movie or sit with your goats or whatever and not feel guilty, because you were never going to write words you could keep or be able to exercise or whatever.

And that was the right way.

It meant I no longer labored for 12 hours each day, doing nothing but trying to smash my way through a draft. Instead I slowly began to write bits and bobs in on my good days. A funny thing happened then: once was not spending every second forcing myself to do things I couldn't, I found I had enough energy to actually start to work on myself. To look for patterns in my good and bad days. To research healthcare providers and new studies on what was wrong with me still. Slowly I found I was able to chain more of the 60% days together, then 80% days. Slowly I began to realize that although it was taking months, was improving overall.

End image ID.]

I've seen this before, but it's been years and it just came across my Twitter in its dying days. The words are from a favorite author of mine, Maggie Stiefvater, and they are the words I most need to hear when it comes to dealing with chronic pain and illness. I didn't need this the first time I saw it, six years ago. I need it now. Maybe you do, too.

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

jeon jungkook fanfics: weekly recommendations edition 💌

hey this is my… new long… very long.. list of recently readings! let me know what you guys think cause this took forever to organize 😭 💋 (also is the letters too small?

jungkook masterlist

🌟 swipe right by @ppersonna (genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers | completed)

summary: after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

my review

🌟 stuck with you by @aajjks (genre: crack, 18+) | ongoing (?)

summary: Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

my review

🌟 what’s your name again? by @solarhysm (smut, oneshot) | completed

summary: jungkook met you at a costume party for the new year eve. you're bold, drunk and horny.

my review

🌟 teach me how to love by @kookooluvr (genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments) | pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers | ongoing

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

my review

🌟 webbed heartstrings by @focusonkayjay (genre/Tags: spiderman/ campus heartthrob! jungkook, college student! reader, friends (but not exactly) to lovers, i think they're in a situationship, spiderman au, spiderkook au, angst, fluff) | ongoing

my review

🌟 fuck me up by @jungkoode (genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut with plot, fuck buddies) | ongoing

summary: When your search for affordable NYC housing leads you to apartment 6B, you think you've hit the jackpot. That is, until you realize your new roommate is the guy from that one wild night on January - the one who ruined you for anyone else. Now you're stuck sharing walls with the living embodiment of your worst mistake, and the sexual tension is thick enough to choke on. Between his emotional damage and your trust issues, this arrangement is a disaster waiting to happen. But hey, at least the hate sex is phenomenal.

my review: my review my review

🌟 letting fear run the show by @focusonkayjay (genre/tags: fuckbuddy! jungkook, secret friends with benefits to lovers, angst, fluff, smut) | completed

my review:

🌟 playing the part by @goldenchimmy (genre: smut) | older!jk x reader, age gap | completed

summary: needing money for college, you come across an ad for a female escort. You didn't expect the person posting the ad to be a rich, older man.

my review

🌟 mutt by @letsbangts (genre: smut, angst, friends with benefits au) | fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk | completed

summary: when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks

🌟 answer your phone by @letsbangts (genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends with benefits au) | fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk | completed

summary: when the consequences of his actions come calling

🌟 the jorts by @gukslut (genre: Established Relationship/fluff/smut) | completed

my review

🌟 back and forth by @gukslut (genre: smut/fluff) | completed

my review

🌟 the speedo by @gukslut (genre: fluff/smut) | completed

summary: JK has fallen in love. Too bad the object of his affections thinks he’s a fuckboy who gets blowjobs in women’s locker rooms. How did Jungkook convince his future wife to give him a chance when none of his usual tricks  work? 

my review

🌟 freak - quency by @gukslut (genre: Smut/fluff, Sub!JK, Rockstar!JK AU, PWP) | completed

🌟 beyond the job by @kooggukk (genre: ?) | girl dad!jk x reader | ongoing

summary: babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)

🌟 vampire boy by @smartkookiee (genre: smut/supernatural) | vampire!Jungkook x human!Reader | ongoing

summary: So your boyfriend is a vampire…It’s actually not too different than having a human boyfriend. He is kind and caring and genuinely loves you. He’s just a touch afraid of garlic and he’s kind of cold. Other than that everything is the same and you couldn’t ask for anyone better. You cannot imagine spending your life with anyone else, except… it would be only your life going on. which wasn’t a problem… right

my review

🌟 true love by @lovieku (fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l) | tattoo artist!jk x reader | ongoing?

summary: when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

my review

🌟 get him back by @inthelow (genre: fake relationships trope, kinda growing up womanhood thing, female rage (a LOT of female rage), funny but cringe in the same way, a lot of drama - in a comedy way but also very shitty things - a lot of bad jokes and some angst ) | f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook | ongoing

summary: after a hard breakup with who you thought would be the one, the only thing in your mind was a sad playlist of Taylor Swift songs and red wine. But, what happens when your neighbour- who is done of hearing you cry at 2 am in the morning - puts the idea in your head of getting your ex back? but with a good and sweet revenge… of course everything will be easier if you didn’t have any feelings for your ex and if your neighbour wasn’t a superstar idol who doesn’t have a problem at pretending to be your boyfriend to piss off that ex - who also happens to be his ex best friend -. What a mess, right?

my review

🌟 motive by @luvismenu (genre: smut, written) | brother's best friend , e2l , childhood friends

suqmmary: jungkook is your brother’s best friend, someone you’ve grown up with. the two of you have a knack for clashing, always throwing attitude and finding ways to piss each other off. yet, there’s a connection neither of you can ignore.

my review

🌟 sthings attached (to my heart) by @jungkoode (genre: smut, superhero, spider-man au) | spiderkook x reader | ongoing

summary: You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

my review

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Buck's at the grocery store buying his umpteenth bag of flour when he sees a very familiar silhouette waiting in line at the cash.

Tommy.

Three months apart and now they finally run into each other?

At two am at the closest twenty-four grocery store Buck could find? When he's dressed in a pair of holey sweatpants and a stained hoodie with dirty hair and a face full of scruff? No cart! Just him and his twenty-pound bag of flour that he's cradling to his chest like a powdery security blanket?

Amazing.

Awesome.

Fucking perfect.

Exactly how he's pictured it.

As Buck gets closer though, his eyes narrow at the sight before him.

Not at all like he's pictured it.

Tommy's shoulders curl inward as he hunches over his cart, head low. His threadbare shorts hang off of him in a way they never would have three months and one day earlier. His feet are shoved into his shoes without socks.

Tommy hates going without socks.

His curls have grown long and messy, lying limp against his scalp.

Buck carefully sidles up beside him, not quite in his field of vision yet, frowning at how pale Tommy's skin is. Practically grey.

He looks like shit.

For one whole moment, Buck wishes he could feel some kind of vindication—gloat, maybe—but he doesn't have the energy.

Or the heart for it.

And one glance into Tommy's cart has him refocused on being incandescently enraged over the bullshit currently sitting in there.

"What the hell, Tommy?" Buck bursts out, making the man jump and whirl around.

"Ev—Buck, what? What are you doing here? What's—what's happening right now?" Tommy stares at him, wide and unblinking, like he's afraid to take his eyes off him.

"What's happening is I'm saving you from this cartload of crap," Buck says, elbowing his way past him to gain possession of the cart.

He shifts the bag of flour to one arm and uses his free hand to pull out the package of bakery donuts that somehow manage to look cracked and soggy all at the same time.

Then the box of cookies that he knows for a fact taste like they're one step away from cardboard.

Then the cake that says 'Happy Birthday, Leo!' and has a seventy-five percent off sticker on it. He side-eyes Tommy for that one.

Tommy makes a face right back.

Buck keeps going, pulling out the lemon loaf that doesn't actually look too bad, but whatever—his is better.

Everything of Buck's is better than this crap.

...Tommy just doesn't know that yet.

"Just stop! For one second." Tommy reaches out to grab Buck's wrist before he can grab the package of—gross—bran muffins. He takes a deep breath before he finally meets Buck's eyes.

"What is this?" he asks again quietly.

"Me, actually stopping you from making a mistake this time," Buck says, yanking his wrist back with a scowl. He falters for a second when his own words register in his brain, but he shakes it off and grabs the muffins out of the cart, dumping them beside the cookies. "This stuff is all terrible. You deserve better, Tommy."

"It's what they have," Tommy said tiredly.

"Yeah, well, I have better stuff at my place." Buck sets his flour down in front of the unimpressed-looking cashier. "Sorry about that," he says, digging out his wallet. "We'll just take this. And these."

"Oh, I'm allowed to keep the oranges?" Tommy rolls his eyes as Buck grabs the bag out of the cart and places them alongside his flour.

"For now," Buck snips back.

Maybe he'll make an orange loaf.

Right after he convinces Tommy to come back to his place and he feeds him edible baked goods and—and maybe they talk and...

Yeah.

This isn't a half bad plan.

He can work with this.

"Just the flour and the oranges," he says to the cashier, pulling his card free as he flashes a grin at Tommy. Feeling it spread wider when the corners of Tommy's mouth twitch reluctantly in return.

He can work with this.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[sad-wet-cat-hannibal]

(Essay incoming so I'm adding a read more)

I think you've said some good stuff here, and I too get annoyed or even angered by people using the term in a way that I interpret as flippant; but I'd like to add that as someone who frequently described distressing books and films as "traumatising", it turned out that that word was rather apt - because my intense response was caused by my trauma being triggered by those very same things, too often in ways that felt like reliving it.

Here's the kicker. I didn't know I *had* any trauma. All I knew was that engaging with these works made me feel distressed and disturbed as if I were personally traumatised by these things. Like they were real. Like they damaged me. Just from reading them or seeing them. They'd haunt me for weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years. Sometimes they gave me weird symptoms I couldn't explain. So, naturally, I was hyper-avoidant as fuck.

That intense sensitivity and hyper-avoidance, combined with my ignorance to the fact that my psyche was not experiencing these things from an untraumatised position, meant I thought that "intensely distressing/traumatising" was just the normal effect these things had - except lots of other people seemed oblivious, and even delighted in the exact same works. Sometimes none more so than the kind of motherfuckers who actually like traumatising people.

So I figured, as incomprehensible as it seemed, everyone else had to be either too numbed out/oblivious/naïve to realise how awful this shit was, or were actually big fans of bad things happening in real life.

Because if to me it felt too real, capable of destroying my peace of mind for weeks, then surely to some extent that must be the same for everyone else, right? (Obviously not, but I was younger and working with what limited knowledge I had.) From that logic it's really easy to buy into censorship, into propaganda that claims that the symptoms of a society with a dysfunctional approach to life are often born of the media that echoes them, rather than the other way round. It's real to you. It's your only explanation. (You don't want to feel like this. You don't want anyone to feel like this. It's inhumane.)

What I'm trying to say is that not everyone knows they're traumatised. I think as many as those who do, do not. Perhaps far more. And for those people, the only time they are able to touch on the truth of their half-veiled iceberg is when they tell you that The Bridge to Terabithia "traumatised" them.

(I know it "did" me.)

Telling them they're exaggerating, and misusing language that doesn't apply to them runs the very real risk of making it harder for them to treat their feelings with the consideration and weight they deserve, and enabling them to begin the process of unraveling their denial and tending their wounds. It runs the risk of reinforcing the (potentially forgotten or minimised) messaging they may have already received, during and after the trauma, that it doesn't matter. They're exaggerating. They're making things up. Other people have trauma, other people have it so much worse, other people suffer - but not you. Your account of your experience is unbelievable. Silly. You will not be seen or heard or understood, not by anyone else, and not by yourself...

Yet. Hopefully one day. But I think it often takes other people being willing to shine a light on the pain, and say, "Yeah, it's real. It's caused by things. You aren't alone and you aren't exaggerating."

I think the flippant watering down of the word is potentially very unhelpful too, but there's a section of society who want to push the narrative that the vast majority of people speaking seriously and from a place of relevant psycho-education about their trauma are just special snowflakes jumping on a trend. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel wary of adding fuel to their fire by trying to gatekeep trauma. I don't know what the solution to these two conflicting uses of the word is, or if it's even possible to create a solution that doesn't simultaneously police the traumatised out of expressing their pain the only way they currently know how. Which would set back the whole thing of trying to help people... We get enough trauma olympics ingrained into everyone as it is.

Oh yeah!! Just remembered, Gabor Mate said in either his book from 2024 or an interview about it that he considers everyone to be traumatised, the question is simply one of degree (if I'm remembering correctly). So from that it may in fact be possible to argue that books and films can traumatise people, although perhaps not necessarily to the extent we might associate with PTSD or CPTSD.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[baepsays]

Cherry liqueur ⸻ Gojo Satoru.

INSPIRED BY THIS ART, BY: @/shimisstuff

cw: blood, to be more specific-period blood, eating out (while reader is on their period), no use of specific pronouns, description of fem anatomy, fingering, m! masturbation, freak Satoru really, use of words like 'whore' 'slut' as a tease, use of terms of endearment, pussy slapping (sorry i love that shit), kind of some cum play :p, ye just nsfw stuff proceed with caution!, minors do not interact.

Gojo did not care for the color red. He really likes the color blue, as self centred as it may sound, he loves it. But even with his antipathy for the color red some of his most beloved things were colored red— like red velvet cake, strawberry jello, red macaroons always attract his attention first; something about red being a visually striking color which stimulates excitement or something — what he read. 

He particularly loved cherry pies. Beautiful crusty exterior and red gooey, sticky, bitter-sweet cherries inside. Anyone would think it is probably because he might like cherries. Which is not half wrong, he found his affinity for cherry desserts— specifically cherry pie and cherry liqueur cake, because his favorite red dessert is not always available at his disposal. And to frankly explain what is it? Your cunt, specifically when you're on your period. 

How did he find this— let's say unusual — affinity? It was very sudden, he was enjoying your saccharin taste on his tongue, nothing out of the ordinary. He truly enjoyed eating you out, savouring your taste way more than any average person may enjoy. He is the true definition of munch, this man could eat you, lick you, just smother his face in between your thighs for hours. That specific day you were really tired and he oh so kindly offered to perform oral on you to put you to sleep. He had cleaned you up in the bath, dressed you in your pajamas, laid you down on his plush bed, and ate you out like a starved man— a few mins in he suddenly tasted a new flavor spreading through his mouth. It was an uncannily identical flavor of cherry liqueur, a little less sweet but exactly bittersweet, slightly tart, overall very cherry.

You were too tired to even be conscious throughout the entire thing. You had passed out and it was only when he came up to catch a breath he realized that you started your period. Surprisingly it didn't deter him. He did go back in and finish you then cleaned you up once again, put on a pad in your underwear, cleaned up the sheets and himself. He particularly liked the look of himself covered in your blood reflecting back into his eyes. And the taste he could not forget or recreate. 

Since then he went on to practically begging you to let him taste you when you're bleeding. He seriously jumped up to the bed the day after that happened and went “please let me eat you out again.” 

And honestly you wouldn't say no, how can you ever deny your poor toru, then you realize the situation. That you're on your period and you had your period yesterday, this request of his is basically because he ate you out with arousal, blood and all things nasty. So it took him some serious convincing, begging, and a really shitty day where your cramps were hurting so bad that even the meds didn't help— to let him eat you out again blood and all. So he eagerly offered a massage, then some whispering in your ears about how good it'll feel and how it'll help with the pain. Long story short you gave in. And he became an obsessed vampire.

This brings us here, where there is a big thick towel under you, and you are on his bed. Naked, back arched, thighs engulfing his entire head, his white hair pushed back with his black headband. One time he was eating you out in similar circumstances with his hair down and he looked like a white cat who attacked a jar of jam. 

One of your hands clawed down on his shoulder, the other gripping the edge of the pillow under your head— trying to hold onto any semblance of sanity. 

“Ugh sweets. So sweet.” He rumbles in between your thighs right on your pussy. 

You were armed wordless, rid off of anything more than moans, grunt, sighs and whimpers. It did help that he pried your thighs off his head, with much reluctance—you best believe he would not die anywhere rather than right between your legs, breathless — he sits up, his sounds breathing heavy to even your senseless ears. He puts one of your ankles up on his shoulders, the other leg he hikes up to wrap around his waist. With a smear of red all across his cheeks, chin, and lip, he starts licking a stripe up from your ankle towards your thighs.

“Such a messy fucking whore for your toru right angel?” He says as he reaches your thighs and bites down lightly. 

“No answer? Huh. Have I slutted you out too hard? Hmm?” He lets out a slight chuckle, then continues to lick your inner thighs clean. He gathers all the blood and cum glistening around there, neat and blank to paint all over again. 

“P-please toru.” 

“Please what sweets?” He heaves out, clearly he is also having a hard time over here. But for the sake of prolonging your empty hazed up state of mind, asking and begging him to let you find your climax— that's how he found his own pleasure. 

“Need more.” you push yourself up on your forearms to look back at him, staring up at you with both your legs now hanging from his shoulder, eyes glowing in the abyss between your thighs.

“More? I give you my all and you still want more? My little insatiable whore.” His hand comes down to slap your clit, he gives it a second and puts down two more slaps right in your entrance. And you give out a loud screeching noise and fall back down on the bed. Gripping on his hair, headband, his hand which just slapped your pussy—now rubbing and tugging on your clit. 

“Honestly sweets say the word and I'll put the world at your feet.” He frees his hand from your grip, landing another little slap on your clit then slowly sliding a finger inside you. All you can do is frail around and jerk from the shivers running down your body. His other hand, pulls his cick out of his boxers, then goes to gather some blood and cum dripping down your entrance and aids it as lube to jerk off himself. 

“MORE SATORU!” 

“More? Aw but I am giving you my all sweetheart, you want more? More of me? My fingers? Anything? Tell me. Say it. Ask me, beg me. Look me in the eyes and command me.” And you do, somehow bring yourself to look at him. With a huge adorning his face, his fangs on display, ready to suck up every drop of blood you bless him with.

“Put another finger in toru. Please make me come.” 

“As you wish and more, angel.” And his grin widens as he pushes, another finger in. He really does give you what you wish and more — because he puts another finger in you, then turns all three of them up to find your spongy walls with the rough pads of his finger. He speeds up the other hand running up and down on his cock as he find the said sweet spot. He moves both his hands at a matched speed, imaging your walls gripping on his dick while he thrusts in and out of you with the said dick, instead of his fingers. 

You don't have much in you, words or patience to hold back and time your climax with his. “ I am gonna cum toru, I am gonna- please. Please. Oh my goodness, please Satoru.” you cry out, begging him to let you cum.

“Do it sweets. Come all over my- Ha. Fingers. Come on. Be my good little whore. Won't you sweetheart?” He talks you into your climax and you come undone on his fingers, gripping down on all three of his fingers, but his movements do not stop. The squelching noise mixed with your moans and his pants are obscene. Maybe not as obscene as your cum mixed up with your blood. 

He fingers you through it all, until you finish and even when you're getting aftershocks— he does flows down and focuses more on pressing down on your walls than ramming through you. Once you stabilize a little he pulls his fingers out, which elicits a whimper out of you. 

He sits up again, he changes the hand gripping his cock. He positions his cock on your cunt, and proceeds to jerk himself harder, chasing his own climax, with the hand he used to just finger you. Your cum and blood— sticky and coated all over his cock. 

You lean back up to grip onto his neck, your foreheads touching, panting and whimpering into each other's mouth—tongues twirling around each other, you taste your cum and blood on him. Metallic and nasty, but you'd never hold back from giving him everything, even if it means kissing in such a feral state. 

You lick the blood clean from the corner of his mouth, and that does it for him. He shoots ropes and ropes of cum all over your cunt. On your entrance, on your stomach, on your inner thighs— mixing up with the previously mixed in cum and blood. And he moans into your mouth throughout it all. Eyes shut, orbs of glowing blue hidden behind all that red smeared across his face.

“You are just the best dessert ever.” he says upon calming down a little and looking right into your eyes, then looking down at the mess between you two.

“Should I get another towel? Come on my dick next.” Nevermind. Maybe you two are capable of much more obscene activities. 

Safe to say, maybe Satoru is not so apathetic towards the color red. Especially when it tastes so sweet to him. 

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources & @/sister-lucifer. wasn't gonna write then aashi (@fushitoru) beloved sent that ask and how can i ever deny her <3 AND THANK YOU SM TO SHIMI FOR LETTING ME USE THE ART!!! please check out more of her art! it is so beautiful!!

check out my latest work.

to access more of my works-click here.

[annabelle--cane]

im not that into vampires but u have successfully made really interested in vampirism as a metaphor for addiction like thats such a good concept

while I completely understand why some people Don't Like it as an angle it makes me soooo crazyinsane.

1. it's so aesthetically sexy.

2. it's really well suited for exploring addiction as a direct manifestation of trauma. "something violent and violating happened to me, it scrambled my brain and body right up, I am fundamentally forever changed, and all of a sudden I now need something else to keep me going lest the full consequences of that violent event finally catch up with me."

3. I think stories about addict-vampires often have easy opportunities to elegantly build in understanding about addiction that mundane stories sometimes have a hard time doing. a lot of fiction about addictive substance use frames it as a bad decision that doesn't make sense, it's an obviously and wholly destructive activity that a given addict character is having trouble Just Saying No To for inscrutable irrational reasons, but with addict-vampires it's like. well of course they want this. it's not a dumb choice made for no reason, drinking blood is the most natural thing for vampires, They're Vampires. depending on the media, going without it can either result in constantly feeling like you're abstaining from the thing that's meant to complete you and make you the strongest version of yourself, or it may even simply be impossible. while these things are (for the most part) not literally true of irl substance addictions, it very much feels like that a lot of the time, and I think these kinds of fantasy mechanics lend themselves very well to sympathetically exploring scenarios like, for example, self-medication that serves a vital purpose even as it's unhealthy at the same time, or the fear of the very real dangers of potentially life-threatening withdrawal symptoms.

not really sure why I made this a numbered list. it's 1:47am. yknow what let's add a fourth point just to really distill it all.

4. hungry and guilty about it <3

[gangstalkerbarbie]

OK topical swerve but: punk is inherently about being countercultural, which is why Soviet punks were/post-Soviet punks are a bit obsessed with fascist imagery, and also why so many punks you might politically agree with are ginormous dicks personally.

I think this is an important point to introduce into discussions of the future of a hypothetical solarpunk society — when the fighting is done (and it is fighting), when the raw glory of it fades, how is a new society going to deal with the future it builds? How is it going to be sustainable? When this isn't countercultural anymore but you've built a mainstream society that still values nonconformism for its own sake, where is that going to lead?

I think some of the most important work that can be done is the type of community building that looks forward to the point where life is liveable, and then beyond it, to the next generation. This is a point that people in activist circles often forget about because, for completely understandable reasons, most people with the time to do ecofuturist activism are childless or child free — but any society is going to contain children, you know? It has to.

Is it a sustainable world we're building if we aren't, now, thinking about being able to sustain it, in terms of cultural infrastructure for its maintenance and for the raising of healthy children? In terms of the values we want to instill? All of this is to say that it's natural for sustainable healthy communitybuilding in defiance of the state to be labeled as punk /now/, but think again about what happened to the counterculture in the Soviet Union.

That's not why it collapsed, but it devoted endless needless time to beating on its youth for wanting American jeans and shit, for wanting connection with the world, and, like, what are we doing about our equivalent of our kids wanting jeans? Not that, not like, fucking statist repression, but it often seems to me like people in these circles either are still teens, finger on the pulse of how to talk to teens because they're not in an unavoidable hierarchic position of authority over people afraid of authority yet, or have never met a teenager, ever.

I want to interject to say that mythbuilding and identity construction is integral to any society, and I worry sometimes that strongly identifying living a healthy, sustainable, governmentally unexploited life with punk, with the counterculture, might lead into a repeat of history. And then — your society crumbles, because your kids that the state knows how to get to over the internet are young and dumb and buy into ideologies that subvert you out of spite, because you encouraged them to believe that they have a right to do this.

This is why hippie communes usually last a couple generations at most. The government is not as dumb as people think, and this is why most serious activists in this vein focus on making existing, recognised communities better — but even there, there are limits to the usefulness of anger. Don't plant trees and cook meals for the homeless and elderly and agitate for rail because you hate the state — you'll run out of steam.

Do it because you love your city and you'll fight until your neighbours, in all their smallminded conservatism and traumatic relation with civics and sexism and racism and old pain, have clean water and clean air and clean food.

It takes a particular kind of person to be punk to begin with, and you actually very much don't want to cultivate this type of person in a new society, or even in an activist movement to improve an old one. When things get bad enough, and there is always a bad enough for every kind of such individual, this type of person trashes everything around them because fuck you (the new authority) and then does absolutely nothing to help. They came to the commune or the movement to make coffee with Sock and Moss and to grieve their grievances, ultimately, and to feel part of something. Eventually they either get bitter and useless or run out.

No one asked, but this is why personally I don't identify myself as solar or any punk. Punk identity is transitory and fundamentally relies on there being an enemy to rebel against. I'm not pretentious enough to call myself an activist and I don't count as white enough in the US to be taken seriously as such, but in order to be something approximating an activist, you have to think about what happens after.

We fight now, but the most a warrior generation can ultimately do for the health of the community is eventually to beat their swords mostly to ploughshares. How are we going to make sure the kids maintain what we've built, without threat of harm or coercion? What do we do for the children? Eventually angry defiance has to cool down to calm, assured disobedience that knows what it's doing, or else the movement attracts a critical mass of angry, defiant, compromising people, who can't be trusted and won't be directed and don't even know what they're fighting for. Anger makes you dumb, and we can't afford to be dumb about this now that the forces we're looking at know how to break down societies like we hope to have.

We have to work with the human nature we have, and again, I think that means minimizing adversarial framing. With adversarial framing you have sides instead of communities, and if you have sides...

All of this is to say, we have got to cultivate a hopeful, resilient, disobedient activism grounded in a mature, communitarian civics, where there are no wrong kinds of people, but there is a right civic ethic.

They're very good at this in Detroit, despite everything. I used to volunteer with a guerrilla gardening initiative run by the people who taught me this.

I keep seeing people asking ‘is solarpunk really punk?’ because it’s too happy and optimistic and stuff

and I’m picturing a perfect moment in a solarpunk community — the neighbourhood mayor standing with a shit-eating grin on her face when the cops come and cut them off from city power, and nothing turns off

[kaisaerinlover]

if you could describe kaiser in two words you would be forced to use the words mean and conniving, if you even dared to speak any bad about him that is. you darent even have a bad thought about him recently though, because he’s been ignoring you. he was so nice before? what happened? why doesn’t he like you anymore? is he too scared to break up? what’s going on?

kaiser can guess your thought process exactly, it’s funny really. funny how predictable and dense you are; it’s fine though. he doesn’t care, he likes you this way, panicky and anxious that he doesn’t like you anymore. he likes you a lot, that’s why he’s doing this, you know? after all, relationships don’t work for him unless he plays a little dirty with the other. manipulation is a staple of any relationship actually, or any sort of abuse. no one stays without toxicity, that’s not the way of the world. not the way of his world - and as far as he’s concerned, his world morphs into your world. when you choose to date him you unknowingly choose to abide by the laws of life he lived and continues to live by.

i mean, it’s not like he wants to ignore you (he does), it’s not like he wants to see how disgustingly despair filled you are every time he brushes you off like you’re nothing more than a stranger to him (he does), it’s not like he has a choice in any of this, he has to manipulate you, it’s just how life works (it’s not). if you were half as intellectual as he is, you would realise what he’s doing, but he thinks you should be thankful. thankful that he’s putting in this effort and going to these lengths just to ensure you won’t leave him anytime soon. he just loves you too much to let you go now. he let himself get attached to you, so this is your punishment. human emotions and attachments are the bane of his very existence, he hates them. he doesn’t like being so dependant on someone else, doesn’t like the way you affect him and his mood, hates feeling loved and hates knowing he has to give love in return; it’s difficult to learn after everything he’s experienced in life. this is your punishment for getting him so entranced with you. deal with it now, if you wanna date him this is what you get.

he’s a pretentious man, he won’t even label emotions as, well, just that: emotions. he labels them human emotions. he really thinks he’s way above them, knows himself as a god. but then again; it’s the opposite. he’s a subhuman piece of shit. what a complicated mind; any psychology student, therapist or simply just psychology interested freak would have a field day with him. but here he is instead with you. punishing you with his indifference for engraving yourself so deeply within his soul.

poor you, when he dismisses you the last time and goes to leave the house you break and cry. you cry like a baby, and he almost feels bad. only almost, not quite there yet, the face you make when you cry is quite beautiful, isn’t it? why does he do this to you? if he leaves you will he even come back? you can’t take it and you can’t risk it.

when kaiser feels you tug on his arm and hears your crying he smirks to himself before turning around. you’re easy; far too easy. he won. he turns around and stares at you, a stare so hard you swear it pierces right through you like a blade. “come on, d-don’t leave me-“ you somehow manage to sputter out between your arousing sobs. only a sicko like him could find something like this arousing, gross. his mask of nonchalance never slips though, what a crazy man he is, able to control and maintain everything; even his stimuli. control for the most part anyway. “hm?” he doesn’t even bother to give you a real worded answer, you’re not worth it are you?

kaiser is awfully good at mind games, he knows it, he’s enjoying playing with you. messing with your head, it’s even funner when he knows exactly what you’re thinking. you’re in shambles, to say the very least. all you can see in his eyes is contempt towards you. why is he leaving you? you don’t want that, is leaving you really so simple? so easy? such a mundane and effortless task? are you that unimportant he can disregard you and treat you like this without a second thought? is it because other girls are better? they have a knack for something that you just quite never grasped? how is that fair? he’s your whole world, hell you’re struggling right now with him being cold towards you for, in retrospect, a short amount of time. and he is yet to even bat an eyelash at the mistreatment he’s giving you.

his tone is brimming with derision when he opens his mouth next; “what are you talking about? dumb girl?” you feel so embarrassed, what does he mean? no, maybe he’s testing you, it’s a test isn’t it? to see if you’ll beg? you will, you would, you can, you’re going to, you’d do everything to ensure he stays. even if it’s degrading. dehumanising. even if anyone who found out how hard you begged for his love and affection would be disgusted with your desperation and drop you. you would do anything. “j-jus’ don’t leave me micha- i-i don’t even know what i did- please-“ you beg. and you plead. you’re so cute when you’re this desperate, playing right into his hands like putty. you’re priceless, adorable really. he has to put effort in to hide the smirk that wants to show on his face so badly. but then you say something that he’s heard a million times before. he’s heard you say it before too. but right now it pisses him off and makes him sick. makes him angry when you choke out through your tears a weak declaration of love.

“i l-love you-“ he hates it. he’s heard it so many times, from fans and empty headed fangirls, from you as well. but right now it makes him want to vomit. he’s angry, doesn’t know how to react to it in this situation. and it shows on his face. shows in his actions when he grabs you so roughly and smashes his lips into yours. when he pulls away, he’s looking into your eyes so deeply. you’re an idiot, you should know what loving him entails. he thinks you should shut your mouth. your admission made him feel guilty. god he wishes you’d just shut the fuck up; but his eyes are telling you differently. silently pleading for something he’s never allowed himself to want. and you can tell too, stupid as you are, you’re somehow able to read what he desires in the moment from his eyes alone. “micha i l-love you” you sputter out again. he licks his lips as he watches a tear roll down your cheek and feels his insides churn, flutter, disintegrate and whatever else as you confess to him again.

it’s rare, that he feels this way i mean, totally and utterly rare. he feels sickened at your words. filled with guilt. you really love him and he really loves you too, he can’t fathom why he insists on treating you in this way. he really can’t. and he can’t fathom why he feels so much guilt over it, because everything he does is for himself. he’s a self indulgent man; that’s why he’s even more confused when he instinctively reaches out to wipe a tear running down your cheek away. he lives for himself and to make himself feel alive, tending to you doesn’t exactly fit into the equation most of the time, so he’s not sure why is body is subconsciously moving to aid you. he’s not sure why he’s suddenly aching to comfort you. he’s not sure why he’s reconsidering what he did by now. manipulating isn’t nice, only an idiot doesn’t know that, and he’s no idiot. he’s one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet in your life.

and you, sweet you, you’re hardly a victim of this anymore. you’re letting it happen, sitting and letting him do whatever he wishes with you. you’re as disgusting as he is in a way. he might have you wrapped around his thumb; he might be a master of manipulation, but you’ve had so many chances to leave yet you haven’t. because you’re dumb deep down. dumber than what he takes you for. as he dotes on you in a manner that he perceives is against his free will, you instantly feel at ease and better. you forget everything bad he just did to you. forget the weeks you spent having to play guessing games to work out why he’s suddenly giving you the icy cold treatment, you give in to his whims and relish in the attention he’s suddenly showering you in. it’s not that you’re entirely lacking in self awareness, no, quite the opposite actually. you’re just convinced he’s not all that bad, that deep down he’s not mean at all, he’s not evil to the core. and as much as even he would like that to be true, he knows it’s not. he had a rough start in life, a rough childhood, a rough few years. he’s never had it easy - but he can’t pretend that he hasn’t had any chances to change.

as he strokes your hair and feels you lean into his touch, he ponders all of the opportunities handed to him on a platter to rebuild himself into something better. remembers how all he’s ever wanted is to be loved, yet he pushes away or straight up abuses the ones who adore him the most. in a weird self loathing way, but also a display of superiority, to show how everyone around him is disposable, how important he is compared to everybody else. he’s convinced he’s evil down to the very blood courses through him, every cell in his body, and you’re convinced he’s not bad at all. that this is all some weird ploy. you’re not entirely sure, you just don’t want to believe he’s mean.

neither of you are wrong. he’s not as kindhearted as you’d like to believe he is and he’s not as cruel as he hates believing he is. the truth is that you’ve rubbed off on each other deeply. that your empathy and grace has moved him and shaped his person into something new entirely, and how his narcissistic tendencies and manipulative nature have made you more susceptible to his, well, his something. malice? shenanigans? there’s simply not a word in english to describe this man. whatever goes on in the brain of michael kaiser is complicated.

and as he holds you, rubs his hand up and down your back as he finds himself holding you so tightly, he realises he almost regrets ignoring you for all of that time. making you believe he really doesn’t love you anymore when he really loves you more than anything in the world. only almost though, because he enjoys having you like this. vulnerable and cute in his lap, longing for his attention. his beloved girl, only for him, all his. he knows it’s wrong but he has to keep doing what he’s doing to you. needs to keep up the cycle of nonstop manipulation, or you might leave. he doesn’t want you to become self aware and leave him.

and as you listen to his heartbeat whilst leaning your head against his toned chest, feeling some of his hair fall atop your head, you feel content. even if you’re self aware already, even though you know it’s so disturbing and messed up to even feel anything except contempt about this dynamic, you feel at peace. you and kaiser deserve each other after all, you’re just too stupid to realise it. kaiser remembers your earlier affections, the ones he left unreturned. you’re an idiot, he thinks. saying you love him, it has dark connotations. it doesn’t bestow anything but misfortune upon you, but you say it anyway. “meine geliebte, i love you so much” he whispers into your ear, nipping at it. he can feel his heart beating against your soft cheek. he lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he was holding in. he feels tranquil too. this and soccer, this and hurting others, this and hurting you; this is what makes him feel alive. he feels alive. he knows he’s alive.

“love you too micha” you confess back, not like it’s much of a confession anyway, nor a secret. and as he strokes your hair gently and kisses your forehead, gives you these small gestures of love and tenderness in a rare moment of uncharacteristic softness, does these things for you as you confess back; he knows he’s alive.

he knows he’s alive because his heartbeat sped up a bit and he feels tingly inside. because of your words and your devote to him. he wonders if this is how you feel too. being gentle isn’t all so bad, but don’t get used to it.

you know not to get used to it, but even you can’t help but to fantasise about being a normal couple with kaiser.

not that either of you mind this, though. you thrive on the toxicity and uncertainty this dynamic provides, as twisted as it is. and at least you love each other. at least you’re pampered and provided with attention. at least kaiser found someone that makes him feel really and truly alive. someone he knows he can ensure won’t leave.

[rafeysdeer]

imperfect for you (aka insecure reader x comforting rafe)

kook!reader x rafe cameron

prompt: a party that was supposed to be relaxing and to clear the head goes terribly wrong, leaving a very anxious and insecure reader, good thing she has her very caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to take care of her.

a/n: okay, that's the first time i write for rafe, i really like obx and rafe, so i tried my best in here, but i didn't really like it, i think it's bcs it's my first time writing about him. english is not my first language, i hope you guys like it 💗

You weren't exactly excited about going to this party, but you knew your boyfriend was, and you didn't want to be a party pooper, and at least you'd be with him, nothing bad would happen if you gave up and went to a party, right?

Well, you were wrong, terribly wrong, even though you were a kook, you never exactly fit in, you never got the right friends, and even though you were pretty, guys just didn't seem to be interested in you.

That was until, Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you, in your little sundress, having a drink at the club, just looking for some peace, you looked almost ethereal in his eyes, and he just knew you were meant to be together, it took a while to convince you of that. You spent most of the talk thinking it was some bad joke, because there was no way, Rafe Cameron, the king of kooks, was there, talking to you, interested in you and not on your hot friend, or literally anyone else.

You two get along almost instantly, his charm had you wrapped around his finger, and you loved it.

It had been months since you two started dating, but you still didn't feel like you fit into his social circle. So when, the first moment he separated from you at the party, a girl purposely bumped into you, spilling her drink on your short dress and whispering 'Whore' in your ear, you were sure.

Rafe didn't get it why you suddenly looked so upset, but he wanted everything, but to see his girl upset, so when he suggested for you, that you two go home, you happily headed towards the truck.

"Sweetheart, you need to talk to me. What the hell happened that you suddenly look like a kicked puppy?" and it only took his playful words for you to burst into tears in the passenger seat, it wasn't just the girl or the stained dress, everything looked too much, and you looked so small, a girl being an bitch was all you needed to lose it.

Rafe immediately looked at you with his blue eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love, I was just kidding, you don't look like a kicked puppy, I swear." he says trying to understand what happened to make you break down.

You looked up at him, your pretty eyes shining with tears. "I just-, I don't feel like I fit in, Rafey, like i fit right in with you, but i'm just unwanted by everyone else," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I tried to fit in, but I've been around these people my whole life, and they've never liked me, and now I feel like I'm holding you back, or making them look down at you"

Now, he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Honey, you don't have to fit in, those people at the party, they don't like me either, they look at me like shit too and that's not your fault, not at all, you don't need to fit in with them because you think you have to because of me, the only person I need by my side, is you."

She blinks her bright eyes at him, as if the words had run away from her mind. The car stops in front of the house, and he gets out, opening the door for her, greeting her with a kiss before the words even come back to her. "I love you, no matter what any of those assholes think, because you're the one who's here for me, not them."

She looks at him, looking almost wonderstruck, a smile breaking across her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The only person I need is you, Rafe," she says, knowing that the feeling was mutual. "What do you say we go inside, put you in some comfy clothes, and watch Sex and the City?" She laughs at how well he knows her as they walk into the house, his hand around her waist.

"Sounds perfect."

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀arguing w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: as much as you love your older brother you end up second guessing him, tired of only being allowed to talk to him and wishing you had some friends like other girls did ૮𐔌っ˕ -｡꒱ྀི𑁬

tw: angst, caleb slaps reader, they argue (obviously), tons of manipulation, rape mentions, drug mentions, caleb’s a fake to people, pathetic reader, overall this is really toxic, etc.

caleb was waiting for you parked in front of your uni, toying around with the necklace you gifted him when you were kids while his mind drifted away.

he was so excited for today, friday’s being his favorite days of the week since he took you out to eat and then had a walk by the meadowy park near your house. it was simple but he enjoyed every second he shared with you.

he didn’t need much more than that, really. he just needed you.

all the girls at your uni were hands down for your handsome older brother, trying to approach him every chance they’d get and getting politely rejected, even though he felt disgusted by them and thought they were vulgar whores; he was pretty good at hiding it.

you, on the other hand, started to feel lonelier each passing day.

ever since you were a kid you shared all of your time with caleb up until now. you told him everything, lived every moment together. there was no memory in which he didn’t appear.

and you really really liked that, you wouldn’t want that to change. but there’s been the longing for a friend, someone who wasn’t caleb, someone new.

you’ve always tried to get to know some of your classmates, feeling a little bit guilty when you disobeyed your big brother’s orders. it wasn’t hard for you to socialize, you were actually very good at it!

a nice sweet girl with a pretty voice and soft smile? who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?

well, every single time you thought you made a friend they would separate ways with you in a couple days, which made you feel sad and insecure.

why are they living you so fast, were you rude, said something bad, appeared weird perhaps?

far from reality the only one to blame was caleb, who had his eyes glued to you every second of the day and didn’t miss on how you tried you break free from the brainwash he managed to give you throughout the years.

he learnt this would happen every so often, and stopped confronting you about it long ago.

yes, he used to argue with you about this kinda thing, complaining about you getting along with other people and playing the victim, crocodile tears down his face as he begged you to never leave him.

so what he’d do now it’s confront the person in question directly, maybe to threat them, maybe to beat them up, maybe to kill them if they got too annoying.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hey, pips, how was today?” he asked with a boyish smile plastered on his round lips, frowning when he noticed your crossed arms and pouty face, not even greeting him and looking out the window to avoid his purple eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i’m talking to you.” he mentioned your name in a serious manner, locking the doors before grabbing both your cheeks with one of his big hands to make you face him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i want to go to the party.” you simply muttered, avoiding his gaze while you tried to pull away from his grip, making him wrap your throat now. “we’ve already talked about that, princess. and it’s still a no.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“but mom and dad said i could go!” you complied, crossing your arms again. a tantrum is the last thing he needed from you today.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mom and dad don’t know what’s best for you. i do.” he spat, letting you go and mimicking your pose now. “you wanna know what goes down at these frat parties, hmm?” caleb challenged you, tracing the shape of the steering wheel while speaking.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“there’s people getting high on anything they can find, fainting, vomiting because of how drunk they are, fucking everywhere.” he knew the party you wanted to attend was nothing like that, your classmates telling about the party to your parents and describing it as ‘chill’ and ‘safe’.

caleb totally believed that, they seemed fucking boring.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“what? no, that’s not true! you’re a big liar!” you yelled at him, feeling how his hand collided against your cheek; you knew you crossed the lane when you raised your voice at him. so you just took it, going silent after that.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“if you wanna get drugged and raped by the whole fucking class the go ahead, i’m done with this conversation.” he spat, engine vibrating beneath your feet as he drove you two back home. what a failure of a friday.

the whole drive you sat down there, tears rolling down your face as you quietly whimpered, cleaning them with the sleeves of your sweater.

you just wanted to make friends and go on a party for once to at least die knowing how it feels to be like the other girls. but that made your gege upset, and you loved him more than anything, more than you loved yourself.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“it hurts me more than it hurts you.” caleb broke the silence after parking in front of your house, resting his head against the headrest and sighing, looking at you now.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“‘m sorry, gege. i’m being selfish.” your voice trembled, reaching out for his hand to hold it up against your lips, kissing it several times, tears wetting his pale skin.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i don’t like hurting you like this, you know that. why you make me do it, doll. why can’t you just listen?” he kept on questioning you, his palm pressing against the cheek he slapped minutes prior, caressing the imprint his fingers left.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i know, i know, i’m truly sorry. please forgive me, please gege. i love you.” you kept on apologizing, rubbing yourself against the attention he gave you, feeling the tears fall again and again.

he wasn’t faced by your crying. sure, he didn’t like to see you cry, but he knew he had to be strict with you in order to make you behave. you really hurt his feelings and you had to know your actions had consequences.

it took him a few days to completely forgive you, days in which you had to wake up without him, in which you had to cook for yourself and come back home by foot all alone.

days in which you remembered your gege was all that mattered in your life and realized that you didn’t need any friends, because no one would know how to treat you or take care of you like your old brother did.

and just like that caleb got away with it again, torturing you to make you behave, obliging you to live without him even if it was just a couple of days to make you see how much you actually needed him.

you finally understood after all; no friends, only caleb. you made yourself believe you were okay with that. ⠀ ⠀ 　　　

a/n: this was a request from an anon! I hope you like it, bunny. I feel like i outdid myself with this one, this is how i see caleb in my mind fr ᥩྀི ´ ᩳ ` ꒱

— masterlist.

[actinidiafruit]

Okay so i just recently watched the lighthouse again and a lot of things are becoming more clear to me.

Contains spoilers so uh, if you haven't watched (pls do), then don't read.

There's so many things to talk about and this post will probably come across as a crazy man's ramblings, but so be it.

Tom's role is interesting to say the least. Like, at first you kinda just think that he's being a dick for the sake of being a dick and he's just doing that classic old man shit. But then you get these little glimpses.

This is just my interpretation, but the way he mentions how his former second went crazy and was hallucinating mermaids and shit. It kinds plants the seeds into (for the sake of clarity I'll just call him Winslow) Winslow's head. And during their sober run together (before the bird + storm incidents), they're acting relatively normal. Of course Tom gives Winslow a hard time, but that's just him being Tom. Abusing his power as the elder a bit. But the way he morphs in the later half of the movie (especially now that they're both abusing alcohol). You see his intentions more clearly. The way he gaslights Winslow, tries to turn things on him, the way he wrote bad things about him in the log book(?). He's a mean old guy. But why? I still can't figure out why he's done this. Why he killed his former second (which he totally did, even if he didn't spill his beans about it). Is he protective of the light? Is that it? God knows.

And te way the mermaid is presented is... it makes you think. In my first two watches, I didn't understand why or why. But I think now it's a symbol for Winslow's sexuality (at least in some scenes). The way he'd use the charm in the shed. The way he had that hallucination on the rocks. The time he caught Tom having a private moment in the lighthouse and then hallucinated tentacles. Towards the end, when he's beating Tom on the floor and Winslow hallucinates him turning into some sort of sea king type creature.

Of course something must've happened between the two. That one scene where they're drunkenly holding each other, swaying, then go to kiss before breaking out into a fight. The whole master/dog thing. There's a lot of Winslow reflected in Tom. And of course he'd eventually spill his beans, want to be intimate, etc. They've been alone together for god knows how long. It's a very human thing to want to reach out and connect.

It's just so indicative of the human condition and the way that we connect. I feel like I need to watch this movie another 20 times before I fully get it, but my eyes were opened to quite a bit.

And the scene where Winslow looks into the light and laughs/screams. It gives me this sense of triumph (he finally got to see the Forbidden thing!) but also bittersweet. The laughter is triump, the bittersweet screaming is Winslow coming to grips with the fact that it's just a light. There was no point to why Tom guarded it like he did. It's like Winslow finally realises that he let himself be led to madness by some old, lying idiot and can't help but scream at his foolishness. The pointlessness of it all. And maybe that's why he lets himself fall down the stairs and ultimately die. His sins cannot be undone (done-bun can't be undone), so therefore he rots, being eaten by the very things that kickstarted his whole downfall.

Finally, just ugh. The cinematography. The unreliable narrator aspect. The way it's so open ended to interpretation. This movie has so much to give, I just wish my friends liked it even a little lol.

updated this list btw

RULES:

at least one of the pair MUST be over 50

20 year MINIMUM age gap OR they BOTH have to be over 50

has to be conceivably reciprocal (s.exually, no necessarily romantically)

[cottonbopp]

It's all that you can do.

Links to each piece: Keep Moving Forward. Slightly sappy yap about how much i love tfftt under the cut you've been warned

TFFTT has been really special to me since the moment it came out ... at the time, I wasn't doing the greatest mentally, but combined with something else that happened on the day of its release, it's one of the days I can look back on fondest from that period of time !!! I distinctly remember doing nothing but replaying the MV for an hour straight, noticing every detail i could ... Over time, I've done nothing but appreciate this song even more !! It's inspired me so, so much, and I genuinely couldn't be grateful enough for its existence hehe Part of why I decided to draw these was cause I revisited the song again recently, and reminded myself of why I love it. It still resonates with me a lot, especially when I look back on my past self. I feel like I CAN look forward to the future, at least a little bit. If you actually read all this I very much appreciate it hklsjfdg i just really needed to express how special this 3 minute 45 second mp3 is to me ... :) !!!! Oh yeah also some of the backgrounds which i'm pretty proud of !! ((No bg for Blue cause i refused to turn off my rendering and it also looked pretty bad w/o it shdfklg

Okay buh bye tell someone you appreciate them today !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[itspileofgoodthings]

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