#and i think i forget that not going out and not talking to people actually does fuck my physical health up

[mrsfudd]

Toxic Paige and Azzi HCs

Toxic Paige and Azzi HCs

Smut warning

- They get very jealous of each other and make sure you feel guilty about it.

"Why did I see you give Paige a hug today? You must only wanna be seen with her huh"

"So you think its cute to let Azzi rub all up on you knowing I was standing right there?"

-They are both very aggressive in bed, they love belittling you.

“Look at her az, dumb slut” Paige chuckled to Azzi while ruining your insides.

“Nobody can fuck you like we can, remember that shit baby” Azzi told you as she watched you fall apart.

-They are very controlling, especially in your outfit choices.

Paige sat on the couch while Azzi was in the kitchen, they both were waiting for you, tonight was date night. Paige saw you first, you wore a dress that sat right above your knees with spaghetti straps, assuming nothing would be wrong with it.

“Yo Azzi, get your bitch bro. Fucking look at her, shes dressed like an attention whore” Paige snapped watching you walk out the bathroom.

Azzi snapped her head around to see what Paige was talking about, you could see the anger on her face. “See this is why we dont take you anywhere, go fucking change, nah actually me and Paige going out your staying in the fucking house”.

-After yall fight, they have very unhealthy ways of reassuring you.

“We didnt mean to make you cry mama, i just needed you to understand how it makes us feel when you say hi to people like that. You only need us dont forget that okay baby? Paige told you.

“I know, Im sorry i forgot how sensitive you are, just dont do that dumb shit again alright? You wont like what would happen.” Azzi cooed

- When things get really bad, they love texting you whenever you walk out on them.

Paige: So you done with us or what?

Azzi: We all know your gonna be back so just save us the wait alright?

-They are very friendly with other girls, when you feel some type of way about it they become extremely defensive.

“Oh my god Y/N, do you hear yourself? Why would I flirt with her? Sounds like you were saving herself for yourself”. Paige screamed.

“Your fucking crazy Y/N. I would never do no shit like that. You must be deflecting.” Azzi said with no passion in her voice.

-They never really apologize, just buy you things.

“You like it baby? Yeah I know you do. So you forgive me right??” Azzi said handing you a new Chanel purse.

“I know its nice right. Still think I was fucking with that girl?” Paige asked while you showed her the dress she got.

Sorry to whoever requested this, i 100% lost it but enjoy 🙏 Sorry for typos ik this is short.

[whowrotethenote]

𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

A/N // Short story set in the universe of Biggest Fan. This takes place five months after One of Your Girls.

I wrote the beginning and end at the same time and got a little lazy trying to connect the two. So, if it seems rushed towards the middle, that's why. The inspo for the short came from this anon. I didn't include the moments leading up to the actual appointment just because it will be mentioned and discussed in the next part, Desires. I hope you like it anon💗

Warnings // Angst // Adultery // Profanity // Themes surrounding pregnancy & abortion

Word count // 6k

Disclaimer // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist // Navigation

Tuesday, January 2, 2024

“Never have I ever…kissed a girl,” I announce. 

Seven fingers up, standing strong in the lead, I read the room. Demi’s finger goes down, leaving her at four left. And then the unthinkable happens. Anthony puts a finger down taking a sip out of his Naughty Elf mug. 

“Excuse me?!” Demi shrieks with her head cocking back. 

He removes the mug from his mouth, revealing a smirk. “That’s right.”

“Now, you know we need a story time.”

“No story time.” He shrugs. “It used to happen all the time. How do y’all think I discovered I was gay? I had to experiment first.”

“Wait—so you’ve like dated girls?” I dip my head like it’s some grand secret.

“Yup. Kissed ‘em. Had sex with ‘em—” His uncovering of truths is cut short by us gasping in unison. He cracks up. “Don’t get me wrong—pussy is great. It’s just something about men I can’t shake. They’re terrible people but I can’t shake those bastards. What about you, missy?”

“Senior year in high school. Captain of the girl’s basketball team. Think Kehlani but a little thicker,” Demi explains. 

“Mmm.” Anthony and I both hum in agreement. 

“Understandable. And don’t forget that shot, miss thing,” he reminds her. 

She throws one back before shooting her four fingers back up. On the floor of our newly rented Manhattan condo, we were getting lit off left over Coquito I brought from home—the crumbs of Christmas dinner—with our second round of Never Have I Ever. 

The best ice breaker to ease Anthony into our world—who, if I’m being honest, needs no easing whatsoever. He fits right into us. The missing piece to our puzzle. So much so, I offered to let him move in when he shared that his lease was almost up. It was a no brainer. Within the last two months of his hire at the hospital, we became ridiculously close. Anthony is fun, wild, and he doesn’t give a fuck about what anybody thinks. Anyone who embodies those three characteristics is okay with me and mine. 

There’s too much extra space in here. Every which way I turn, there’s an extra room that needs to be furnished and filled with personality. Demi and I are barely home as is. So, we let him take the lead on decorating the rest of the condo. All I can say is, that boy has taste. He made this place look like it belongs in a Home & Gardens spread. 

In the living area that he garnished with cream and black accents—we all sit comfortably in front of the floor to ceiling window. The news talked of the snow sticking and to expect at least six inches by tomorrow morning. Flurries of white hauled down on the other side of the window, blanketing the city, prompting us to take full advantage of the fireplace for the first time.

“Okay, my turn! Never have I ever…” Demi’s eyes float up until the light bulb goes off. “Got my ass ate.” At the same time they put a finger down and reach for their drinks. Seven fingers still up, I wait for them to be done before Anthony’s eyes go wide.

“Wait—why are you still over there with seven fingers up?”

“Never happened,” I confess. 

“Never?” His head dips.

“Never,” I confirm. 

“Well, what about that Alpha from last summer?” Demi squints. “What was his name? Travis? Trey?”

“Terrell.”

“Yeah! Him. He gives me that.”

I shake my head. “Never did it to me. We didn’t do anything really.”

“And nothing from whoever you’re seeing now?”

I grin when all I really want to do is scream. “Who said I’m seeing somebody now?”

“Oh, come on.” He searches for Demi who gives him nothing. Picking up one of those cheap Christmas themed sugar cookies we baked earlier and plopping it into her mouth. “I see you getting texts and disappearing,” he continues. “Gifts and whatnot. You were gone a whole weekend a few weeks back.” His squints with the lower half of his face twisting in amusement. The wider his smirk, the deeper that pit in my stomach. 

“It’s nobody, really.” I laugh, countering the heat capturing my face. Did I forget to mention that he’s very observant?

He shows his hands. “Fine. I’ll get out your business. Whoever he is, that boy’s got taste. That Chanel bag for Christmas?” He puckers his lips while shaking his head side to side. 

“Ouu! We should make gingerbread houses. Let’s see what we got.” Demi shoots up from the floor. Our eyes snagging before she fully rises as I try to convey a thank you through my eyes. An angel, she is. 

“Only thing in that fridge is eggnog and to-go plates. Good luck.” Anthony shouts while going through his phone. 

Anthony is sharp and we’ve only just met some months ago. I don’t like this. Keeping secrets and hiding an entire portion of my life from the people that mean something to me. Not saying anything is too close to lying outright and that’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to see when I look in the mirror. Too many things surrounding him are not just unconventional, but immoral. Never mind that it's a secret hidden from the world, but what does his wife think when he takes extra days away and doesn’t rush home to her and their kids?

I try not to think about her too much. A stabbing—no burning courses through me whenever I imagine him with her and their flock of children. I picture a home full of love and comfort. Nothing like the one mine turned into after my dad got sick. I can see them cuddling on the couch. One of their youngest sprawled across their laps with the iPad. The oldest yapping on the phone in the kitchen to her friends.

She’s pristine and so well put together. She looks it. Always dressed nice in designer. That rock of a ring beaming in every photo. Only the strongest and most resilient woman could raise five kids while her husband came and went unexpectedly like a full moon. She’s nothing like me. I know it. I’m Lana—always late and tripping through life. Never knowing or even prepared for what comes next. 

“You okay, friend?”

My eyes flutter and I snap out of the maladaptive dream at the sound of Anthony’s voice. 

“Yeah,” I lie to him again. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Wednesday, January 3, 2024

“Mm,” I groan flipping the duvet over my head. 

The sun bullying me awake. My head—a constant pounding at my frontal lobe. My reward for another round of Never Have I Ever, Caresha Please and Drunk Uno. Since the week of Christmas, all I've done is fill my body with alcohol and it's starting to take a toll on me.

The laughs and muffled chatter that must be my roommates, travel through my room walls. I snatch the cover back down, one eye peaking at the digital clock on the nightstand. 

3:12 PM

The fuck?

I know we wrapped it up pretty late last night, but I haven’t slept in like this since being a teenager. A blessing and a curse—my body’s natural alarm clock from years of morning shifts and morning classes, would usually wake me up against my own will. 

The smell of sweet syrup and hopefully pancakes is what boosts me to swing my legs on the edge of the bed and finally stretch. Limbs sore and head still pounding, my slippers scrape against the floor in pursuit to the kitchen. 

“Sleeping beauty!” Anthony beams. I eye their empty plates and a kitchen so clean it looks untouched. 

“Don’t worry. Your food is in the microwave,” Demi informs.

“Why did y’all let me sleep so long?” I rub my eyes opening the microwave to be met with a full plate as promised. I slam it back shut and the buzz fills the room after I press the one. 

“Girl, you’re on break and you have no work. What’s wrong with sleeping in?”

“Don’t want my body to get used to it.”

The plate is full and steaming as I carry it to the open stool next to Demi at the white marble top island. I’m halfway engaging in conversation, with Gossip Girl playing on the TV in the family room over. The metal of the fork hitting my plate as I scoop potatoes while biting into the beef bacon in rotation. Everything’s fine. It’s not until I take my first bite of the scrambled eggs that shit gets…funny. The smooth texture against my tongue at first and then the mini spasm of my throat as I attempt to get it down. My stomach turns once the smell of the eggs becomes too potent while it’s all I can focus on. The biggest thing in the room it becomes. I chew and chew—breath growing heavier and spit getting warmer with every rotation of my jaw. 

The clink of the fork hitting the plate rings dramatically, halting Demi and Anthony’s conversation. It’s all a blur. One second I’m sitting there with them and the next I’m inches away from a toilet bowl. Gasping for air after letting out everything from last night and just a few second ago. The smell—sour and overwhelming, has my back hunching as another round ejects from me. 

“Lana, oh my god.” Demi’s soft voice is over me as her small hand finds my hair. My chest expands rapidly as I cough and spit what’s left into the rest of it. Slamming the toilet, not being able to bear the smell a second longer. I blink hard to allow the sitting liquid in my eyes to fall. 

A stack of tissue jolts into my line of sight and I take it. “Thank you,” I croak and cough again. I shake my head, registering in cloudy consciousness, that look she gives me. “Probably all the alcohol catching up to me.”

“Alcohol, huh?” Her voice fades out. I follow her line of sight to the decorative basket sitting on my sink. A case of L Organic tampons standing tall amongst the other junk inside. Just one left in the clear cylinder. Making it more than obvious that they’ve gone untouched for some time—otherwise, they’d be replenished. 

Our eyes, like magnets, find each other. 

Boxes and boxes tumble inside the mini cart hanging in the crease of Demi’s elbow. It looks like she’s doing inventory. She uses a forearm to swipe what’s left on the shelf into the cart. Two don’t make the landing and I bend to pick them up. 

“Demi—you don’t think that’s a bit much, friend?”

“My ass.” Her eyebrows hike up. Boxes still rippling into the overflowing cart and still falling. The more I pick up, two more come down to the floor nearly hitting me on the head. “Some of these damn tests be lying. This is not the time to guess or play roulette.”

She stomps away from me on a mission. I place the handful of tests back on the shelf instead of adding fuel to her fire. Stomach empty and head full of the worst possible outcomes, I follow right behind her through the aisle. 

No words needed to be exchanged as we stormed out the bathroom together, bundling up and ordering a unnecessarily expense Uber. After disarming and convincing Anthony that I had started my period and didn’t have any tampons left, of course. More lies. 

What the fuck is even happening today? It all feels like the longest nightmare and it hasn’t even been an hour since I opened my eyes. 

My luck isn’t just falling short—it's nonexistent. The self-checkout is under maintenance. So we stand in wait, suppressing angst, as the younger cashier swipes the dozens of boxes with a constant beep. All different sizes, different brands adorned with different fonts. All with that same word somewhere on them that makes me want to throw up again. 

I want to jump out my skin watching the young boy swipe and swipe, eyeing every single test like he’s shopping himself. Eyes hesitantly looking up at us across from him. Our eyes like daggers, pierced on his every move, as if he’s handling thousands of our hard earned money in his very hands. God, I wish he’d hurry the fuck up. Just as I open my mouth to say something, Demi is quicker. 

“Your business—mind it,” she spits. Crossing her arms, pulling her black Chanel shades over her eyes as he nods frantically speeding his task up a couple notches. We came busting in this CVS, calling ourselves in disguise. Already bundled in puffer coats, scarves and beanies to protect from the inclement weather—we added shades that defeated their purpose, seeing as we’ve had them sitting atop our heads this whole time. 

Resting my hands in the pockets of my sweats, I case the store. Some middle-aged folks in the aisles. A group of what looks to be college kids come walking up to the register. And the frail older man behind us in line, with a prescription bag and jug of water in his hands. I pull my glasses down immediately when he and I lock eyes. 

After the ring up from hell, it took the persuasion of seven car salesmen for Demi to talk me out of taking all of the tests, right in the bathroom of that CVS.

“A drug store is not a place to crash out,” she tells me. 

I opt to crash out in the back of this Uber’s truck instead. Bags full of tests like groceries stocked for the inclement weather the news promised us. 

“I can’t be—” The shake of my head finishes my sentence like a period. I can’t even allow that word to flow past my lips. 

“Yeah, no shit.” What the fuck am I gonna do? I can’t be. I just can’t. School. His family. My family. My god—his wife. My breathing picks up and suddenly it feels like the middle of July in the back of this man’s Ford truck. “Lana—Lana just relax. We don’t even know if it’s that yet.” 

“What else can it be?” My face screws up. Tears hot and threatening to spill. “Sir, can you please turn the heat down?!” 

“Sorry—sorry ma’am.” He eyes us through the rearview hastily. I didn’t mean to yell, but damn. The hot air from the vent was doing the opposite of calming me down like Demi suggests. Everything around me feels like too much. I snatch the LV scarf straight from my neck on the verge of suffocating. 

“You two have been careful?” Demi’s eyes pierce mine. Careful. He’s careful with just about everything else, except that. He’s grown careless. Yeah, no phone around me but it feels too good to pull out. Call only from a payphone, but snatching the condom off in the heat of a wild night. “Lana?” She calls my name. I know she’s expecting an answer but I can’t say it out loud. NDA and shame both having a hand to my mouth. 

In defeat, my head hangs until it’s buried in my hands. I can’t be. 

A vivid and erotic reel of all the most recent times, secluded with him, flashes through my mind as I come to the painstaking truth that I actually can be. Before Christmas in Greenbay? Around Thanksgiving? When we went back to the Hamptons house—fire burning and crackling, laying on the living room rug, sweating all the extra left over energy out?

Every time I think I’ve pinned the exact moment it must’ve happened, I come up with a different more likely occurrence, until it seems every time might’ve been the time. It happens so often now—there’s no way for me to sensibly dig out when this catastrophe was born from the chemicals of careless lust and passion. 

My stomach gets queasy. Tight and twisting like I’m preparing for the steepest drop on a rollercoaster. A foreign sound—something between a whimper and a groan leaves me. 

“I think I’m gonna throw up again,” I strain. 

“Please not in this man’s truck.”

“Yes, please,” the driver pleads. Eyes shifting from the road to the rearview mirror. His futile outburst earning him a glare from hell from Demi.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

My Dior bag vibrates between us. We exchange looks before I dig my phone out and sure enough, a text from an unknown number is the latest notification.

Vegas this weekend. He’s asking for you. 9543402985

Staring at the text on the screen, I fight the urge to throw up again. The timing is cataclysmic. My heart usually races for a different reason when I see those words. 

Muscle memory has me googling the nearest payphone or Link kiosk. “Sir, I’m sorry but can you stop at Penn station really quick.”

“You gotta do that right now?”

“If not now, then when?” I turn to be met with her head shaking. “I’ll add the stop on the app,” I tell the driver. 

Quads aching from stammering down three flights of steel steps—maneuvering through chunks of civilians like the most skilled quarterback—face burning from trying to regulate its normal temperature—I snatch the receiver off the hook. 

It dawns on me hearing the gnawing dial tone, that I don’t have any quarters. No way in hell am I going back up all those steps to the coin machine. My head rotates to gauge my surroundings. Only a few feet away from me, a young boy—curly fro, no older than fourteen dressed in a Denim Tears sweatsuit—leans on the wall with a guitar in his hands. A more nineteen thirties, blues reminiscent rendition of Snooze emitting from it. 

“Kid.” I step away as far as I can, inching in his direction without dropping the phone. “I know you got some quarters in there.” My eyes drop to his hat sitting at his feet. “I need five dollars in change. “

He looks between his NY Yankees hat and me with my hand out. “I want twenty.” 

“What?!” 

“Twenty or nothing.”

“How you want twenty and all I need is twenty quarters?” It's not like I’m short on money. In fact, I could make the kid’s day, Cashapp him five hundred dollars, and go on about my business. But something about him trying to hustle me, threw me left. Especially considering the day’s already unfortunate events. I’m already abundant in Ls. Two seconds from wilding out on the nearest person. 

He shrugs. “And all I need is a twenty.” I sigh deeply. Patience dropping like the sand in a hourglass. “What I gain from giving you these quarters?”

“You won’t lose anything if you give me the quarters for a five. It's an even exchange,” I bargain. I can see the internal battle, watching his eyes shift between me and his hat. “Look—how about I give you ten.” I show him another five dollar bill. “And you still just give me the five in quarters. You gain five, little man.”

He squints and then counts the twenty quarters off before dropping them in my hand. “Bet.” He snatches the two fives from me and resumes his ballad. 

“Punk,” I mumble slipping his quarters into the slot. I am well versed in the art of negotiation. Years of making a sucker out of my brother whenever he needed to just “borrow” money from my stash. Charged that ass interest too. 

The line rings only twice before that silence signals connection. “Paul?”

“Alana, how are you?” Never been better. I just got cheated out of five dollars. I’m using a dirty ass payphone in underground NYC to call my famous fuckbuddy’s companion. I’m almost a month late on my period. And the dad is public married with five kids already, and old enough to be my father. 

“I’m fine,” I tell the same lie two days in a row. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing down this way. Is it snowing over there?”

“Yeah—bad. I haven’t seen it like this in years.” 

“Well, you’ll be relieved to know you’ll be on the west coast, where there’s no snow by this time on Friday.”

“I thought the show was in Canada?”

“It is,” he confirms. “He doesn’t plan on staying though. He has business in Vegas the next day so it makes sense to just leave.”

“I’ll be staying until Sunday?”

“Monday, actually. I’ll be sending over the flight and hotel details soon.” I nod as if he can see me. “You ever been to Vegas?”

“No.” Before him, I hadn’t really been anywhere. 

“I don’t think it’s anything special unless you’re into gambling.”

“Good to know.” The conversation is static—robotic almost. Or maybe that’s in my head. Every pause feeling like a confession of some sort. Every word I push out feels like I should be saying something else. 

“Anything else going on?” He pokes. 

My mouth opens then shuts. My catastrophic possibility—likely to affect everyone around me, including the man on the phone—hanging tight on prison bars, begging to be set free. This doesn’t feel right. All the secrets. All the suppression. There’s no way I’d be able to do this in front of him after knowing whether I am or am not. So I decide right here that I won’t know. 

Snow flurries land and melt on my face all at once as I jog back to the truck. “Thank you,” I tell the man for the unpredicted stop, right before he pulls off. Demi’s eyes burning on me like the brightest light in a room.

“I guess you’re leaving this weekend.”

I nod. A pause hangs between us. It’s louder than All I Want For Christmas playing on the radio. “I’m not taking those.” My confession breaks free. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

I finally meet her gaze. Her eyes wide and brows lifting to her hairline damn near. “I’m not taking those,” I repeat. “The tests.”

“I’m confused. Did you just come on or something?” She looks me over as if the evidence of my period would be on the clothes I’m wearing. 

“Demi—I can’t take those before I go. Imagine the two lines come up. I’m supposed to just go around him acting normal?”

“Or—hear me out—tell him the truth?”

My face screws up hearing such a simple anecdote that’s the furthest thing from simple. “You’re talking crazy.”

“What is so crazy about telling the truth? Unless you’ve already decided what you’re doing if the two lines do show up, and you just don’t want him to have any say?” Another lingering silence. It’s smoldering hot like the air coming from the car’s vents, yet again. “Wow.”

“We already know his verdict.”

“Oh, you’ve asked him already?” She laughs, but it’s vacant of any joy. “Great—just do whatever you want.” She turns her head to the window after throwing a hand up. 

“Oh—you’re one of those?”

“I didn’t say all that.” Her eyes turn to slits from my accusation. An accusation I knew bore no weight. Demi is as liberal as they come. 

Our eyes sharp and daring don’t leave one another. I’m the first to break. Internal strife too great already. I don’t need two battles. I won’t survive either.

“This is nothing to argue about.” I face forward. Catching the eyes of the driver who snatches his away in a flash. Nosy bitch.

“Not arguing. Whatever the results…I don’t think the decision should fall all on you.” Her voice, way softer than that condescending one from just seconds ago that made me feel smaller than a crumb. “And I think you shouldn’t be so quick to choose, either. Believe me—I get it. This is probably the worst thing that could happen. But the quick decisions are usually the ones we end up regretting.”

My nose flares. Chin quivering as I focus on the snow flurries sticking and melting to rain on the window. I hate when she makes sense. This whole thing feels like the end of the world. One of those situations that’s going to stick to me for the rest of my fucking life. Regardless, of the outcome.

What I imagined yesterday—their picture perfect family, doing what loving families do—I’d put a crack right down the middle. Our secret—our bubble fed in the dark of expensive hotel rooms and hours after midnight—would have no choice but to come to light. And I don’t think I am strong enough for that. Let alone motherhood. 

Friday, January 5, 2024

I laugh to myself, watching in real time as he smugly grins down at Nick Aldis from the ring. Capturing his belt from Paul after just laying out Randy, AJ Styles and LA Knight like they were mere target practice to him. Just pawns on a board. 

I shake my head. A fucking menace. 

“Shitting me?” An outburst that nobody can hear after Nick informs Paul of the fatal four-way match to take place. I know Demi’s going ballistic back home. I stare at the phone on the nightstand provided by the hotel. I could call, but I know that’s probably going against something in the NDA.

Suddenly, a wave of dreariness hits me. Most likely an effect of traveling and all the stress. Although Google told me it was an early symptom of my unwanted event. 

When I wake up it’s almost one in the morning. Still no Joe. 

I shower again, wincing at the water hitting my chest. Usually a tell sign that my period is not far behind, but she’s almost a month late. Life has been moving way too fast, flashing by me. Holidays, traveling to meet him, semester ending—and I never stopped to register that I hadn’t touched a tampon in a month. My head has been gone.

On the plane ride, I decided to heed Demi’s advice. Slow the process of decision-making down by weighing everything first. Pros and cons. So far, the only pro I came up with, is that he’s well off and not afraid to splurge or share. My, you-know-what, would never have to grow content with financial struggles. 

So far that cons list is longer than Santa’s naughty list when he ventures into O’block. 

Child number six (I.e. the baby of the family usually forgotten)

Born out of wedlock

Most likely a secret for most of their lives. Not being able to tell the kids at school who their daddy is

Judgment 

Balancing school and … you know what

Gaining weight from the cravings

Giving birth and all the things that can go wrong with that

More nausea 

Going from an escape to an obligation to him

The cons just kept hitting me like all the dodge balls from the other team when you’re the last man standing on your side—until I was buried in cons.

I make my way downstairs to this hotel that sits in the heart of Vegas. Seas and lakes of lively people, all dressed up and most likely intoxicated. Loud and flashy. That’s all I’ll remember about Vegas. The people, the buildings, the scenery. In your face and in your pockets. 

I eat for the sixth time since this morning. Sitting by my lonesome now at a slot machine. Pressing away and feeding the machine more money to keep losing—a too familiar tango, sort of a reflection for the relationship between him and I.

Vegas nights…this would be a decent theme for a prom. The committee at the hospital had been searching for ideas already, to start planning their annual charity prom for the kids who can’t make their own.

I reach into my purse, ready to text Demi and throw her the idea to get her opinion. I stop myself. I don’t have my phone. Right…

My shoulders slump with the release of a breath. I keep tapping. And tapping. And tapping. Until I’m damn near one with the machine, tapping like second nature while I get lost in my insecurities. 

Is this what I want for my life? For my…

It’s lonely. It’s tedious. Searching for things to occupy my time until he shows up. Always wondering and worrying about what or who he’s doing when he’s not in my line of sight. It won’t magically change just because something or someone else enters the picture. Being a mother to his kid won’t suddenly usher in a new routine in place of him trying to get me in where I can fit in. It’ll be the same scenario. I mean, look how he treats the first mother of his children. 

This is not what I’d want for me and mine. Even when my father was sick, he uprooted being a father as a priority. He was always present. Always doing what his body would allow. He never had to fit us in. Never had to juggle two households and a career. My kids don’t deserve chaos. A chaotic childhood will only make them susceptible to a chaotic life. Kind of like the one I’m living now. 

All I’ve done is generate cons. There are no pros. 

The glow of the TV is the only source of light in this massive penthouse suite when the soft click of the master bedroom door prompts my eyes to pop open from sudden slumber. 

His large frame, a shadow so quiet, as he makes his way toward the bed where I sit up. 

“I woke you up?” He whispers.

“Yeah, but it’s cool.”

He drops the duffel bag by the foot of the king bed where I stand to meet him. Spreading his hands out to invite me into his arms. 

“Mm,” he groans into the hug. Simultaneously releasing a breath together, like he’s transferring all the tension in his body to me. But there’s no need. I’m already overflown with it. Wrapped in his big arms, it hides cowardly. Afraid to come out and show itself in front of him. That’s not the purpose I serve here. “Squeeze,” he instructs. “Tight, tight, tight,” he mumbles with his mouth right on top of my head. The grin sneaks on my face, not for show, as I grip his hard body as much as I can. Burying my face into his hoodie and sniffing in that familiar cleanliness that’s stained on him. The events of the week forgotten for no longer than the twenty seconds we embrace. SWV was right. The cause and cure. 

“Everything alright?” He leans back a few inches. Eyebrows wrinkling and something of a smile dancing on his handsome face. 

“Yeah.” I nod. Voice soft and unconvincing. “I’m fine.” Another lie. Three for three now. The slot machines downstairs would be blinging and flashing obnoxiously. His stillness lets me know he’s not buying the act. “—Just work things.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna take a shower.” I don’t say anything, already knowing the announcement is an invitation. I let him do his thing before he enrages out the steam filled ensuite bathroom. Body dripping wet still—arms big and daring. I almost regret my decision to not join him.

We don’t have sex. The subtle bags sitting under his captivating eyes tell a story of restlessness. He did a lot tonight just on camera, so I can only imagine. My reading proven correct when he sinks his large frame beside me, welcoming me into his space with a hand to the back of my head until it’s comfortable on his peck. 

“What did you do today?”

“Nothing really. Ordered room service. I watched Smackdown.” He elicits another smile from me despite the internal dread, reminiscing on his performance.

“Yeah? How’d you like it?” His large hand slides down to palm my stomach. A gesture that I usually ignore, thinking it was just comfortable for him. No different than the circles he draws on  my hip at times. But this time I freeze up like a possum playing dead. Previous thoughts vacuumed right from me. 

“Um…wait—what—what were we talking about again?”

His chest tightens under me from laughing. “Don’t tell me your memory is going before mine?”

“I’m not the one pushing forty.” I force a laugh. Grateful he can’t see that it didn’t reach my face. 

“The show?”

“Oh, right. Big bully Roman. It was really good. They should have you teaching classes on heel turns.”

“Mm,” he hums sleepily. “Didn’t do anything else while I was gone?”

“I went downstairs for a little bit. Played the slots. And some roulette…”

“Didn’t know you liked to gamble,” he speaks ignorantly and somehow still knowingly. I’ve been gambling since I’ve met him. Gambling my time and the discovery of this whole ordeal. And now, a new stake has entered the bet. The roulette of whether I am or am not still spinning with no landing.

“No…I don’t actually…”

He fights the dreariness in his deep voice for a while longer. Talking to me about his first time in Vegas with the twins amongst other things. It’s not long before I hear the soft snores. 

All I’ve wanted to do, for days now, is call my mom and tell her everything. Let the confessions roll from me like a ball down a hill nonstop. Release the angst from me to her, the way I’ve always done. Selfish tendencies of a child, I know. 

But sadly, I can hear her now. Lana, what business do you have with a married man? A man whose plate is already full when there are men that will come to you with an empty one?

Tina Maxwell—previously Tina Floyd—is a proud woman. Philly born and bred—her, bullshit, and low maintenance, just don’t coincide. Her heart is the size of Alaska, but her pride and self worth can fit two more of that colossal state. Hence, why immediately after my father recovered and just couldn’t seem to raise his spirits back up, with no will to bring back the spark in his marriage after it laid stagnant so long—she filed for divorce. 

I know people judge her for it. I was one of them. How could she leave a man that had just recovered from a battle of fighting cancer? 

The older I get, the more the curtain protecting that answer on the board lowers itself. Life is too short to waste on anything or anybody. She loved and still loves my father. But love is fickle. It burns out too quickly. She gave him a chance and he didn’t want it. She did her duty as a wife and a mother to his two kids. Stayed bedside, overextended herself when he was too sick to work let alone get out of bed, showed up to every appointment and waited in angst through every procedure.

After choosing him for years, she chose herself. And she always does. The only things that take precedence over that, are her kids. 

If she knew how I lay in this bed up under a man that belongs to someone else, while the strong possibility of carrying his child looms over us—she’d drop to her knees. And me along with her, too weak to stomach the look of disappointment on her face. 

Whatever we have—or whatever I think we have—it’s dead. The sun shines on all living things and we’ve never even touched the light of day. So, I might as well lay to rest whatever is left or whatever is expected to come. I already know what he’d want. I don’t need to ask or consider. 

He’s married. Happily or not is irrelevant because he’s not unhappy enough to leave. He made a promise in front of God and his family. She’s who he goes home to. He still comes in whatever luxury hotel room, whatever time of the night, relieving himself of that black band that he displays to everyone except me. 

So, it doesn’t really matter what results come from those tests when I get back home. Just like us, it’s already done. 

A/N // as always, if you read it or even a portion of it, i am forever grateful💗 feedback is welcomed.

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[cloudcountry]

*shaking* Auburn! auburn we need some platonic BFF headcanons! Im craving! you can literally pick whoever you want or randomise it

SUMMARY: being best friends with tohma, luca, zenji, and lyca.

COMMENTS: i loved writing these because i have very very Large platonic feelings for these characters. like i love them so much theyre my everything.

TAGLIST: @as1iiiwhaa @astralsocfactory

Being Tohma’s best friend means being able to keep secrets. He won’t tell you everything he’s up to, but you will hear more than most, and you need to be able to keep that under wraps. Trust that everything he does is for your sake.

If you happen to have any medications that you need to take, he will set reminders in his phone to make sure he texts you about it. This will happen more and more depending on how forgetful you are.

Tohma is a very caring best friend, actually. I know most people see him as the type to do his own thing, but I don’t see him that way at all. You need space, he’s giving it. You want to talk, he’ll give you all of his attention.

Heaven forbid you’re in danger. He’ll jump to your defense faster than you can blink, uncaring if he gets hurt in the process or not. You can yell at him all you want, he’ll still do it again. You’re precious to him, and he needs to protect that.

Speaking of protectors, Luca is just like Tohma in that regard. He’s more likely to get lost in it though, stabbing the anomaly over and over and over until it’s a pile of bloody gore on the ground if it tries to hurt you.

If anything, he views himself as your older brother. It doesn’t matter if you’re older than him or not, you’re his sibling figure now, and he needs to protect you in the ways he wasn’t able to protect his brother.

Be prepared to be spoiled rotten despite your protests. It’s partly because he cares about you and partly because Luca just really doesn’t understand normal price ranges for gifts...you’re gonna have to take him to a convenience store or something.

He’s the type of friend to call you good morning and goodnight if you’re far apart from each other. Even better if the two of you can do group calls with Kaito, since he and Luca are pretty much a package deal at this point...

Being Zenji’s best friend means sitting in with Haku when he films the music and stories Zenji creates. It means getting a front row seat to all of his absolute genius, and you’d better praise him just as much as he praises you!

It may be alarming for some of Hotarubi’s students to hear your voice and the rumored haunted biwa / doll just chilling on the docks. It’s alright though, you’d much rather have Zenji know that you’re unashamed of being around him than keep up your reputation with general students.

Be prepared to have songs composed about you and characters based on you. When you’re close to Zenji, he won’t hesitate to scold you if you’ve done something he thinks is bizarre (ahem ahem, like something Haku would do, for example) but he does adore you to bits and pieces, even the more scandalous parts!

Easily one of the best people to go to for love advice. He’ll never judge you for your taste in partners and will encourage you to confess to them as soon as possible!! He wants nothing more than to see you happy. <3

Being Lyca’s best friend means being on the same level as Subaru. I hope you’re ready to take on that responsibility—people will begin to avoid you because of your connection to him, and you need to be someone who is ready to defend him.

As you would expect, being so close to Lyca will get you closer to Subaru as well. He really appreciates everything you do in looking out for him, like during the mission Professor Moby sent them on when the staff cut his cheek...he heard all about the earful you gave them.

Honestly, Lyca won’t really understand why you get so emotional over him. He understands getting angry, but if you’re the type to cry when you’re pissed he’ll be confused. He’s doing his best, though—Lyca will hold you until you calm down. It works for him, so it must work for you, right?

While he eats, Lyca gets a little overzealous, so you’ll have to clean up his face more often than not! He doesn’t mind it so much after a while, and will eventually get to the point where he presents his face to you after he’s finished a meal. All you had to do was tell him that it’s not condescending, and that this is just how people care for each other.

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

So when we talk about Ed being infantilized, in a lot of ways it's functionally the same discussion we've been having about Ed being referred to as an "aggressive violent angry monster". The key takeaway from both discussions is that Ed is a complex nuanced character whose personality can be broken down and examined piece by piece. The show, as I've said before, doesn't hide its premise and characterization under ten layers of metaphor. If the show wanted us to see Ed as an irredeemable violent monster (for some reason???) the show would have simply given us at least one scene where Ed does something irredeemably violent against a character we're supposed to care about.

"But what about Izzy--" you start to protest. Yeah, what about Izzy? I think people who are deep into the Izzy fandom forget that the average viewer has either a negative or neutral reaction to Izzy. People watching the show for the first time without interacting in fandom spaces usually dislike Izzy immediately, find him mildly interesting but are more invested in what Stede/Ed have going on, or think of him as a somewhat entertaining antagonist and a little sorry for him in Season 2. I think people in fandom forget that 99% of people who know nothing about the show or the fandom itself are not developing an extreme fanatical obsession with this one character. And even people who are critically analyzing certain aspects of this show while viewing for the first time are usually not on Izzy's side. Sometimes when you're deeply entrenched in fandom shit you forget that the average new viewer is not treating Izzy like he's the best character in the show who can do no wrong.

Okay, I'm putting the rest of this under a Read More. Because this got super fucking long. I won't apologize because anybody whose been following me for a while must have realized this by now. Give me a platform and I will yammer.

Ed does not physically harm anyone other than Izzy....after Izzy yells at and threatens him. If the writers wanted to at least imply Ed was physically harming other members of the crew off-screen, they could have done that in a billion different ways. But we only see him threatening them with a gun, then later forcing them to kill him...which are pretty bad, but he never actually hurts them physically. Yeah, he waves a gun at them but he also sticks the gun under his own chin, so...???

We also have several scenes where the crew could mention off-hand that Ed has been hurting them. Surely if that was happening, they would want to talk about it when Ed isn't around! Instead some of them express concern for Ed (Fang's comment about how he's never seen Ed like this before, implying that Ed's behavior, especially having zero reaction to Ivan's death, is out of the ordinary) and also concern for Ed and Izzy's "unhealthy relationship" (again, none of the crew are expressing concern for what Ed is doing to them, they're just complaining about having to go on so many raids and throw away treasure). We can draw the obvious conclusion: the show does not want us to think Ed is being violent towards other members of the crew, only that he's cut off more of Izzy's toes. And as I said before, the average viewer isn't centering Izzy as the most important best guy in the show and Ed as some kind of evil monster for harming him. In other words, Ed's behavior towards Izzy is clearly not meant to be taken as an indicator for what he's doing to the rest of the crew. It's only Izzy, the guy who directly antagonized him.

And, just as a reminder, Ed finds out they've been hiding Izzy, that Frenchie didn't kill Izzy like Ed ordered him to and Ed does absolutely jack shit?? They ignored a direct order from their captain and nothing happens?? Ed doesn't even kill Izzy himself! He doesn't punish anyone for directly ignoring his orders! Again, this would have been a perfect chance for the writers to imply Ed was physically harming the crew in some way...but they didn't, so we have to assume he's not. It's not even implied Ed did this before his breakup era! It's apparently unusual (unusual enough for Fang to remark on it) for Ed to not care about Ivan's death!

Ed very rarely hurts people unless they deserve it. He doesn't even defend himself when the fisherman guy pushes him to the ground and yells at him! And even when they deserve it, sometimes he doesn't! He decided not to kill Ned Low and, as stated before, he didn't even defend himself against the fisherman! If the show wanted us to think Ed was an angry irrational monster, they had so many fucking chances to show that. So I think it's pretty fair to assume we are not supposed to think Ed is an irrational angry monster. Most of his anger is very rational, actually. Even when he has a big outburst (smashing the chair) it's calculated and he immediately removes himself from the situation to calm down. And when Stede talks to him a moment after? Ed is just pouty and rightfully angry, he's not violent or threatening.

The infantilization of Edward Teach, rather than running counter to this, often incorporates some aspects of it. Fanon of this kind often depicts Ed as a violent adult-sized toddler with emotional regulation issues who needs to be "managed" (often by Izzy or Stede, sometimes both) and attacks/kills the people he cares about at the slightest provocation. And even when Ed isn't depicted as a violent toddler in this kind of fanon, he is instead depicted as someone who can't take care of himself/basic tasks without a white man's help.

And I just wanna say, it's not inherently racist to depict a POC as an abuser or as an evil horrible person. That's literally fucking fine.

Spoilers for The Locked Tomb book series

I absolutely love The Locked Tomb, a book series filled with lots of deeply nuanced and complex characters, most of which are POC. And one of the central and most important characters in the series is an indigenous Maori man called John Gaius who literally killed billions of innocent people and has a problematic relationship with almost every other character he interacts with, mostly because of the whole "killing everybody on Earth and becoming God" thing. He's a very nuanced complex fucked up person with trauma and mommy issues and there's no way around that in the narrative.

Okay no more spoilers for The Locked Tomb

I'm mostly pulling this out as an example of like, yeah you can write characters (including indigenous Maori men) as being fucked up people who do fucked up things. It's literally fine.

But...that's not what's happening with Edward Teach in OFMD. You know all that stuff I just said about (REDACTED) from The Locked Tomb? Yeah, those are all things he canonically did. If you're writing fanon about a POC (especially if you're treating it as canon) and it runs completely counter to how they are depicted in canon and it's heavily centralized on racist stereotypes usually aimed at indigenous men....yeah, that's not just "having fun with fanon". I don't need to tell you guys why Twilight and its depiction of werewolves was problematic about Native Americans, do I? I don't need to explain to you guys how depicting indigenous men as angry violent murderers needing to be "controlled" by civilized white men is deeply fucking racist, do I? I don't need to explain that it's racist even if you're doing it in a work of fiction, right? I don't need to explain that constructing an entire fanon based partially or entirely around the concept of an indigenous man being a violent adult-sized toddler who abuses his white boyfriend especially when he's not depicted like that in canon is extremely fucking racist, right? Right? RIGHT?

For the record, I'm not saying you can't write fic or make art about Stede taking care of Ed. Write about Stede braiding Ed's hair and painting his nails and soft domming him into oblivion, I don't fucking care. But you can write fic about Stede braiding Ed's hair without implying/stating that Ed can't take care of himself. You can write fic where Stede comforts Ed after a long day without implying/stating Ed can't take care of himself. You can write fic/make art about Ed being a beautiful pampered princess without implying/stating he needs to be "managed". Why does it need to be "Ed can't do this for himself, he needs Stede and/or Izzy to do it for him?" as opposed to "Ed can do these things himself, he's just choosing to let Stede do them because he trusts and loves Stede so so so much?"

And yeah, let's be real here. There are people (including POC) who need/want to be taken care of or helped with basic tasks. There are high support needs and low functioning autistic people, for example, who happen to be POC and need that kind of help. But we all know that's not what fic writers and fan artists who depict Ed as some kind of helpless toddler have in mind.

[cosmousee]

ωнαт *ιѕ* υρ ωιтн тнєм?! 😖

Welcome back!!

Spewing out reading ideas from my own life because why tf not

So this one is just figuring out what’s going on with the person on your mind, what they’re thinking yada yada yada.

This is anyone you feel like, it doesn’t have to be a romantic partner, it can just be a friend, a crush, just someone you can’t figure out for the life of you. They might be giving mixed signals, y'know talking nicely and suddenly being so cold for a while.

So I am trying to get a sneak peak so we all can feel better about it (hopefully).

So let’s get on with it, and remember whatever doesn’t resonate, just pass it on <3

1>>2>>3

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Ｐｉｌｅ １

Hey there pile 1, your whole reading is just filled with pentacles.

I am getting the feeling that whoever the person is, they’re figuring out how to be around you, and how to be normal around you, y’know?

It feels like they have a crazy magnetic pull towards you, and they love being around you, but they are afraid that they might come across as too needy or too over the top or you know along the lines of that you might feel they are ‘unbearable’ because they have such intense energy towards you.

They like the idea that you two can have a relationship (it maybe friendship even depending on who you’re thinking about). Its very butterfly inducing, and they feel like you know they are so happy and excited and chirpy about it. But they are also a little protective of themselves and their emotions and feelings, they might feel they’ll get too attached to you, than you will be to them.

They feel your energy is very nurturing and there’s a feeling of what if I get addicted to that energy, what if they treat me so well that I forget how to handle my own self.

And you know sometimes its because it has taken so long for them to learn to live by themselves, maybe too many times they had depended on someone alot just to be let down and finally they’ve built themselves enough to stand on their own. And your energy is just so calm and nurturing that they feel they can rest on your shoulder a little bit. Which is why its so scary, they can feel that they might form an unhealthy attachment because of that which would harm the both of you and they are not ready to do that. They want to make sure that they are entering your life with the right mindset and that they are steady on their own two feet first.

Which is why they can be hesitant, feeling like they’ll fall back into the cycle again. And don’t worry, its nothing related to you, or what you can do to help them. They’re gonna figure it out by themselves what’s the right thing, what’s the right step.

They might even come and tell all of this to you directly and tell you this was the reason they’ve been a little bit hot and cold.

But just give them a little time and a little while to figure it out, its not easy for the brain to ignore past patterns and coming out of that web is the actual challenge and takes people time. Just be there for them, let them have the space, and just give them the reinforcement if they ever need it.

Because it feels like they spend a little way too much time thinking about this, ofcourse they are already confused in their heads and they are aware about how it might be affecting you as well.

But the battle of the heart and mind is not an easy one, just give them some grace. Once all this is over and they win their battle, you can tease them to your heart’s desire about this whole situation xD

That’s all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading🎀🌻Please let me know what resonated I love hearing from y'all<3

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Ｐｉｌｅ ２

Hey pile 2, your person feels like that they are preoccupied with thoughts of their career and their finances.

They have that mindset that once they settle their careers, once they achieve a certain level, a position, then they will be ‘allowed’ to talk to you, to form a bond with you, if its a romantic relationship then you know, it can be, let me have all the money I need to court you, to take you out, to fulfill all your needs.

This can be their mindset since forever, you know because some people have that sorta “Let me earn the respect first, let me make a name for myself first”, because they feel like without the money, without the respect they aren’t worthy of you.

For them you’re a level higher and to get to you, to reach you, to be respected by your circle, your friends and family, they will also have to toil their way up towards that.

Which you know isn’t actually true, and this I say as a complete personal opinion, my friends, my romantic partners, they are just enough as is.

But some people have that mindset which is also okay because they’re ultimately doing it for themselves also. This can also be the way their upbringing has been or just the people around them are feeding this narrative to them.

You can tell them that’s not the case, you can literally beg them that its fine and they will, just not listen.

They are hardwired that ways. You know some people have that thing, that money is respect and then you have a reputation. They wanna make sure they have everything perfect before they come to you.

I can literally feel like this one person has climbed a hill, and they are so tired, they are panting, there’s mud on their clothes and their face even, but they are so happy with their hard work and they are so happy that they reached you by themselves and by their own means that all their face has is such a big fat smile that they made it.

Just your mere presence in their life, even if its just a text, or like a call, or even a meme you send to them is enough to make them smile and work hard. And they won’t let you do anything about it also, you can offer help in any kind and they’ll just go “I’ll manage” in a very cocky way when you both know that they are gonna…struggle.

But its all gonna be worth it, so I'm sending loadssss of energy to you guys, hope y’all cross this bridge fast ;-; Im rooting for you!!!

That’s all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading🎀🌻Please let me know what resonated I love hearing from y'all<3

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Ｐｉｌｅ ３

Hey pile 3, your person seems like they have got a very different image about the relation y’all have. In their head it feels like you’re on a higher level, as a person, your even that you’ve got better resources, better money or even more experience than they do.

For them, they are still yet to see the world, they haven’t had half the experiences than you have and all of these feelings might be coming off across as negative.

They seem a bit naive regarding this, they do not have the proper hold on their emotions. For example if they envy you in any aspect, they aren’t able to transmute it into proper energy which can help them move forward in that area itself.

Rather it just shows simply on their face, in their tones, in their jokes which they crack towards you. For instance its like you’ve got your own car to travel and they have to take public transport, so they might just laugh and say “What do you know about travelling in the local bus?”

And the claim has no basis because, you might’ve been travelling in the bus only before you had your own car. And having a car doesn’t mean its easy, its so expensive, there's insurance and shit and then there’s so much money for the gas also?!

They feel like a stubborn angry teenager and as they are unable to regulate their thoughts and feelings, they are just ruining the good things as well. Sure there’s ups and downs, but they might be converting their ups into downs itself.

They’ve got their focus set on a wrong tangent I feel like, and it may take them a while to learn how to turn things around, how to regulate themselves and how envy isn’t a bad thing but how they express it, is.

This might be the result of not having experienced life as you have, because it takes too much to see the world and then you learn so many things about your own self. Being in the world is challenging and they still have a long way to go.

Please give them a reality check if you feel like doing, because at no point you have to take shit from people, remember that. Just because they are learning the ropes of their life doesn’t mean that you should take the brunt for it. Try helping them, and if they are receptive, then that is amazing. And if they are not, just try to stay at a distance where their flames don’t reach you.

Okay see there’s two paths here and I’ve been on both so Im just putting it out here, you aren’t responsible for ‘correcting’ someone and ofcourse why would you be. And on the other hand is, ‘someone has to tell them what they’re doing wrong, so they can do right’.

Now its upto you whichever path you’d like to take in this case. Just make the best decision for yourself as well and take care of yourself <3

That’s all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading🎀🌻Please let me know what resonated I love hearing from y'all<3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I cannot help but imagine whenever Leona's boobies get brought up in this blog Miss Raven looming over a desk with a cork board on the wall filled with pictures of Leona that have been zoomed in and cutted out from various photos taken throught the 3 years he's been at NRC, one giant magnifying glass in her hand that is about the size of her head like this is a major crime that needs to be invesitgated with the outmost attention, there are post-it notes everywhere, she's hunched over a table with all the lights out and one lamp on her desk on like she's some sort of noir detective about to make a major break through in a murder mistery case when the real mistery she's investigating is Leona's cup size

(Crowley walks in deciding to be a "good parental figure" for once and have some quality bonding time with miss Raven, he bursts in, and is... kind of worried for miss Raven? Who is always going on about wanting to be a proper lady but is currently displaying very... concerning behaviour, or at least, he's concerned for her, should he try and talk to her? Should he give her a... "parental intervention" of sorts? He's not sure but quickly decides its actually none of his business so he just closes the door and forgets he ever saw anything)

I DON'T TALK ABOUT L*ONA'S BOOBS/FIGURE THAT MUCH, DO I??????? (*quietly checks the last few pages' worth of the #NOT L*ONA ROT tag* ... Um, I can explain--)

xvbjawviwjwsn MISS RAVEN OBSESSED WiTH fiGURINg OUT lROnA’S CUp siZE 💀 (This could easily be avoided if she just threw away her dignity and asked Leona or Rook…) It sounds ridiculous, but I do think she could reasonably fall down that rabbit hole. Not for any thirst-related reason but more like she genuinely doesn’t comprehend it??? And she’s nothing if not curious, so she’ll dedicate herself to research and find an answer.

Her understanding of humans is still quite shaky in some areas, so she’ll sometimes fall back on what is true of birds to try and fill in for her knowledge gap. However, because birds are quite different than humans, that knowledge doesn’t always translate over well. For example, it’s advantageous for birds to have large chest muscles, as this helps them with flight. So in Raven’s mind, big chest muscles = strong flyer she literally believes Leona is good at flying because of his chest. She also associates clothing as being humans’ equivalent to feathers. If an adult bird is featherless, it means they’re sick or stressed out + feather plucking. When she sees people like Leona going around and purposefully exposing their skin, Raven worries that something is wrong 💦

Oh, but… human etiquette stipulates that it’s rude to ask about this kind of thing, right??? Which leaves Raven with only one option left: throwing herself into finding the ✨ truth ✨ I don’t think she would go so far as to do anything that violates Leona’s privacy (like taking unsolicited photos) though. More like… making trips to the library to study up on lion anatomy or on lion beastmen’s culture. Sticky notes and magnifying glass are fair game. Raven wants to expand her horizons and better understand her peers!

Maybe she does get caught looking at Leona once or twice? She gets lost in thoughts and isn’t aware of where her gaze is directed. “What’re you staring at?” (mean) or “… Like what you see? Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” (sarcastic) Asks Ruggie later if she’s been staring at him lately too.

“Nah, it’s probably just you, Leona-san,” Ruggie’ll reply with a snicker. “Looks like sooomeone’s got a crush on ya!”

“Quit jokin’. ‘S not funny.”

gdksbskwnekw CROWLEY WALKING IN ON THIS IS SENDING ME 😭 Him just barging in unannounced because the parenting book he decided to pick up on a whim said to check up on your kid every now and again… Jaw dropping when he sees her scattered research materials, the books she checked out from the school library, and several diagrams and drawings of human chests????

Raven panics and throws herself over her desk, trying to hide everything but knowing that he has already seen it all. “U-Uncle, I can explain!! This is…”

“Y-Young lady, I never expected to find you hoarding such obscene materials!! Where did I go wrong in raising you?! Ooh, my magnanimous self is such a failure as a father!” He slams the door and dramatically sprints off wailing. (xhsvsjkww Ceowley bumps into Leona while sprinting and doesn’t bother to stop and apologize; Leona gets annoyed and wonders why the hell the headmaster’s so emotional today.) Probably sits atop the school roofs and stares into the sky, contemplating if he should sit her down for a formal talk or an intervention. Maybe Crowley even confides about his troubles to Trein, who has raised two daughters of his own.

Trein might sigh and tell Crowley this is a “normal” part of growing up and he shouldn’t shame her interests or the boys she has crushes on or whatever 😭 “The girl is growing up fast, Dire. It is inevitable that she would eventually discover these things. As it stands, she is not harming herself or others, only exploring what has captured her attention. Your role as her guardian is to support her as best you can.”

[uncle-fruity]

Damn, can a trans guy make a singular post about his lived experiences without some fucko coming out of the woodwork to put words in his mouth and call him a transmisogynist?

If you think transfeminism is ONLY about trans women, you don't know what you're talking about AND you're actively contributing to the EXTREMELY HARMFUL ERASURE of trans men and transmascs. Our voices fucking matter.

If you think every trans guy who talks about his oppression in the transandrophobia tag or who critiques "transfeminist" theories THAT ACTIVELY EXCLUDES HIM is implying that trans women and transfems are his oppressors & that the criticisms are exclusively directed at trans women, that is demonizing him, erasing the trans men who also have dogshit opinions, and assuming that he can't be trusted to have an opinion on these things.

If a trans guy makes a post about his oppression and never once mentions trans women or transfems and you accuse him of HATING trans women and transfems, I'm sorry but you are maliciously misrepresenting his argument to shut down conversarions about his experiences and to discredit him within the trans community. You are an active contributer to the bigotry he faces and you should feel ashamed and embarrassed.

It is SO transparent to me that these jerks are just trying to sew seeds of discord amongst trans people, and I'm telling you right now that I will NEVER fall for it.

There is NOTHING you can say to me that's going to get me to throw trans women and transfems as a whole under the bus. I KNOW these tactics. Younger or less experienced trans folks might believe that your horseshit opinions which you spout in the name of trans women are actually representative of trans women, but I know too many incredible and inclusive trans women and transfems to fall for it. And hopefully, with time and experience, the trans folks who think other trans people are their primary enemies will wake up to the fact that we are ALL in this together and that we're STRONGER when we stand up for each other and love each other. If the only people you're listening to are assholes, that's the only type of people you're gonna hear from. Y'all cannot throw other trans people under the bus or treat all trans people as a monolith; that is exactly the kind of divisive shit that causes a rift in transfeminist movements and keeps us fighting each other instead of organizing against our REAL oppressors. And if a trans person IS the one who's harassing you, you should block them and forget they exist. You don't owe them an explanation or a defense. They are nothing but an internet stranger who knows nothing about you, and you don't owe them the effort of saving them from their pit of hatred.

I think all y'all who come onto my posts and try to make a transmisogynistic version of me to argue with are miserable little bugs who need to bully people online to feel like you've got power, but you fucking don't have any power over me and I will NOT sit by and let you slander me without a fight.

You think I'm a transmisogynist? I don't give a SINGULAR HOMEGROWN FUCK about your opinion. I'm tight with all the trans women and transfems who actually literally know me, and YOU don't even know my FUCKING name. If you're so fucking upset about the things I say, you are more than welcome to block me. I will continue to listen to the trans women and transfems who know me, who care about me, and who sure as fuck are not afraid to call me out if I ever said anything *actually* transmisogynistic.

Which is how I know these clowns are acting in bad faith. You press them for proof. You say, "Show me where I'm being transmisogynistic. Break it down for me," and they can't. All they have to show for it is a weak argument that you're "implying" the transmisogyny and a bunch of assumptions about you that have nothing to actually do with you. If there was a real critique and they ACTUALLY wanted to support me or educate me on what I did wrong, I would take them a little more seriously. But they never do. They just make 1001 transandrophobic assumptions, show their lack of basic reading comprehension, and have a little tantrum because they made themselves mad about a person who doesn't exist.

I will never stop loving THE WHOLE AND ENTIRE TRANS COMMUNITY. I will never stop fighting for us. I will never stop trying to build community with other trans people, and your exclusionary bullshit doesn't mean shit to me. The world isn't and never will be boys vs girls. Not to me it won't.

I will never stop talking about transandrophobia. I will never shut up about the experiences trans men and transmascs have. I KNOW my theory. I KNOW myself. You are not going to guilt trip me or gaslight me into thinking I'm a bad person for speaking up on my own behalf.

You will have to kill me if you want to silence me, and don't even think I'll let you off easy by killing myself. Y'all are gonna have to work if you want to silence this loudmouth cockroach motherfucking queer.

KINDLY fuck off, rudeass.

[jewish-vents]

Saw a post on here earlier from someone saying the settlements are “impeding coexistence.” And like… I get that they think they mean well. I really do. But I also think a lot of people have been so far removed from actual history and context that they forget something pretty damn important:

The so-called "West Bank" is literally JUDEA and samaria.

Like. literally. That’s not just some nickname we gave it. That’s what it’s called in every religious, historical, and archaeological text for thousands of years. That’s where our people came from. Hebron. Shilo. Beit El. That’s the heartbeat of ancient Jewish civilization. And now it’s somehow “controversial” to say that Jews belong there? That those lands are Jewish? That they should remain Jewish?

Sorry, but no. You don’t get to erase thousands of years of deep-rooted indigenous connection just because it makes your political narrative more convenient.

And God forbid you go one step further and say the quiet part out loud... that the non-Jews living on those lands are the actual colonizers. Because yeah, let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about how Jews were driven out of those lands by empire after empire, expelled, massacred, forcibly converted, and finally just barred from returning for centuries. And when we do return, we’re somehow the ones accused of colonialism?

It boils my blood how upside-down the framing has become.

Jewish presence in Judea and Samaria isn’t some modern invention. it’s a reclamation of what was stolen from us. What we were exiled from. What we never stopped praying to return to. That’s not colonialism. That’s survival. That’s continuity. That’s justice.

And if coexistence means erasing ourselves to make other people comfortable. then maybe what they’re calling for isn’t coexistence at all.

.

[fairyminnie444]

hii fairy, been seeing some post about persisting and yours too, but i have a hard time with persisting like i’m revising but i think im persisting for a while but as you imagine my 3d didnt catch up yet, but like idk when im persisting or not because i think im persisting like im not thinking about it everytime, im not looking for in the physical, i just accept my manifestation (or i think i did) and cameback to live my life normally without thinking too much about it, when i see the opposite in physical i tend to think that it is not real and the real is actually my manifestation so i thought i was persisting but like i said it didnt physically manifested so as reading these i noticed that if it didnt became “real” then im not persisting but since im not doing the standart behavior for people with these problems i dont really know what im doing wrong and i keep confusing what is persisting and what is not so if you could explain my situation to me, what can i do, and how do i understand persisting like not people who keep looking for it but yes like my situation (just living but didnt got physical) i always had these questions but almost everyone talk about persistence in a way the people are obsessed for it but if im not i dont understand

Hey love, let’s clear up the whole “persistence” puzzle once and for all:

1. What persistence really is

Persistence isn’t ​“thinking about the desire all day” or “re‑affirming 24/7.”

Persistence = staying loyal to the identity where it’s already done.

• You notice an old fact? → ​“That’s outdated — I’ve already shifted.”

• You go about your day? → You carry the quiet knowing: “Of course it’s mine.”

That silent loyalty is persistence, even when your conscious mind isn’t replaying the desire every second.

2. Why “no 3D yet” ≠ “I’m doing it wrong”

3D is old, past — it reflects your previous states. If you’re new to this more stable self‑concept, you’re still watching the old movie play out. That time‑delay doesn’t mean you stopped persisting; it just means the film reel hasn’t caught up.

Think of persistence like turning a giant ship: you’ve already spun the wheel, but the vessel needs a moment to swing around.

3. Signs you are persisting (even if nothing’s “happened”)

• Opposition shows up and … you stay neutral or shrug it off.

• You can talk / think about your desire without a knot in your stomach.

• You sometimes forget about it entirely, because it feels normal.

Those are wins. They prove the new state is settling in.

4. Where people slip

They decide, “If I don’t see proof by X date, I must have done it wrong.”

That thought itself is a new assumption — one that pulls them back to “not yet.”

The fix: each time the mind wants a deadline, answer with, “Time is rearranging for me; I’m not running on a clock.”

5. A quick checkpoint for you

Ask yourself once a day:

“Right now, am I the version who already has it?”

If the answer is yes (even mostly yes), you’re persisting.

If the answer is no, don’t panic; just slide back in with a 10‑second imaginal flash or a simple affirmation like, “It’s done, this is my baseline.”

6. Practical mini‑routine (takes <2 minutes)

1. Morning: one sentence in your head — “Today I move as the me who already has ___.”

2. During the day: if something contradicts, label it “old data” and drop it.

3. Night: feel two seconds of relief/thanks that your world is catching up. Sleep.

That’s enough. No obsessing required.

Persistence is identity loyalty, not effort.

You’re likely doing far more right than you think. Keep living, keep claiming, let the old scene fade out. The new reel is already loaded.

You’ve got this. ❤️

[hrrtshape]

i was wondering, do you always feel comfortable at sharing experiences of your drs? because they are still lives.. don’t you ever feel that people treat it as a fanfiction when they ask you questions?

yes. yes i do!!!!!!!! i feel comfortable talking about my drs the way most people feel comfortable complaining about their iced matcha being made with cow milk. this is not a trauma share. i'm doing a press release.

and i didn't always care at first i was girl of the century in the metaphysical town square. mic'd up. announcing my cross-reality escapades cause i was leaking area 51 docs for sport. you asked me how i felt and i'd give you a three-part miniseries. baking earl grey cupcakes, narrating my way through the multiverse like orson welles if he had a tumblr and a god complex. which, in many ways, he did

i likeeeeeeee talking about it. if you've been on my blog for more than 4 seconds you know i'm a yap machine. i don't know how to shut up and i don't want to. i love stories. and when they're mine, my actual lived-out, felt, tasted, cried-in, wrote-in, slept-in, kissed-in, screamed-in realities, it's even better. and when people go hey emma your stories made me believe i could shift too... like. okay?????? i'll start crying.

i'm your sloppy multidimensional midwife. that's adorable

but i'm also a virgo moon-coded sociopolitical sponge with an abandonment kink and a tendency to catastrophise. i've noticed the vibe shift. like. people treat it as fanfiction. or worse, they act like i'm flaunting it. like i'm thinking of writing "i had a lovely picnic with my vampire husband :)" and someone's blocking me over it. girl. why the hostility now

and it's not that i don't get it. parasociality is a hell of a drug. i've had parasocial beef with girls who run internet zines and post 8-bit filters of their lunch. but it's the sheer whiplash of being asked "omg tell us more!!" followed by "you post about your drs too much." i'm like. okay.....i don't know what to do with that. because i'm not gonna lie and i’m not gonna shut up either

and i'm not doing lore drops for clout because i don't want to be envied because that's never been the tone and i'm not gilding this shit with sparkle emojis and tiktok glitter audios. i'm just talking. the same way you'd talk about your boyfriend forgetting your birthday or whatever

and even now. i still feel... weirdly okay. i've always had this russian roulette approach to giving a fuck. but this is still the safest place i've ever had. people ask. i answer. we shift. we move. we live

so yes. i share. and i will keep talking until someone physically removes the keyboard from my grasp

[yagutoono]

if you have a friend or loved one who is a system, or just want to know more about dissociative identity disorder (did), please read this!

hello!! i’m the host of a did system and i’ve noticed that for a while and especially lately, harmful stereotypes are still going around about did. that’s why i wanted to make this post to try and educate people about systems and things i wish more people knew. so here’s a few things!! please share if possible! ♡

first of all, there are some people who doubt did even being a real condition. it is very much a real disorder that millions of people struggle with. it has been in the dsm and icd for decades and is officially recognized. there is no reason to think it doesn’t exist. people with did can even have different brain patterns between alters in brain scans.

did systems are not dangerous or violent. this is a myth formed by ableist stereotypes in media which spreads this idea. an alter in a did system isn’t more likely to be violent than any other average person. in fact, since did is caused by severe childhood trauma, systems are way more likely to be victims and not perpetrators.

each alter is their own person and should be treated with the same amount of respect as you would have for anyone else. alters are not just fictional characters or “mood swings,” they are real separate parts with their own sense of self, memories, likes and dislikes, etc.

did presents differently in every system - not one system will ever be the exact same as another. outside of the diagnostic criteria, there’s no set of rules that make systems “real.” like any mental disorder, everyone who has it experiences it in their own unique way.

if you have someone close to you with did, don’t get mad at them for forgetting things. it’s going to happen and can’t really be avoided most of the time. systems have amnesia, so if they forget something, don’t take it personally. it isn’t their fault.

do not fakeclaim. it is always harmful for the community. if you think someone is faking, first, educate yourself, and if you still think that, then disengage.

did is not just having alters. it has many hardships and alters are just one of the symptoms among many other symptoms.

did is a trauma response and dissociative disorder, not a personality disorder. alters are not “split personalities,” they are parts of a self that did not integrate into one person due to trauma.

did is often hidden. lots of people with did may mask their symptoms for years, and they don’t know they have it right away. systems often take years until they find out that they are a system.

if someone shares that they have did, be supportive. don’t ask invasive questions. respect each alter, i cannot stress that enough, do not treat them like the same person or as if they are less than actual people.

not every system is gonna know all their alters or every answer or literally everything about their system. people with did are also often very confused about their own condition.

it’s a misconception that did is overdiagnosed and it’s incredibly rare and barely anyone would realistically have it - it’s the opposite, did is often mistaken for other conditions, making it underdiagnosed. we personally were even mistakenly diagnosed with bipolar disorder until we were officially diagnosed with did. also, it’s not as rare as people think - while yes it isn’t particularly common, the same percentage of people with bulimia or people with red hair, is the same percentage of people with did.

systems are not just people who have “vivid imaginations,” did is not a roleplay and it’s a serious mental health condition rooted in trauma.

systems who talk about their experiences or about their alters and headspace are not faking just because they are able to share their own experiences. people with did have to live their whole lives with the condition, so obviously they would have some things to say about their own lives.

alters may have different names, voices, ages, genders, physical sensations, pain tolerance, abilities, handedness, etc. since dissociation affects perception deeply - some alters even may have different allergies

no alter is less of a real person than another alter.

systems don’t owe anyone proof of their diagnosis, personal information, etc. it’s invasive and disrespectful

do NOT ask extremely personal and insensitive questions like “what’s your trauma”

switches aren’t really dramatic and can be extremely subtle. sometimes, systems don’t even realize they have switched at first.

it takes time for an alter to ground/stabilize when they switch into front. they won’t immediately know who they are.

if someone you know with did switches in front of you or it seems like they are, stay calm and don’t yell at them or try to stop it or “snap them out of it.” greet the alter respectfully and be patient. we can’t really control switches, so please be considerate.

systems don’t have to be miserable 24/7. yes we do go through lots of hardships, but we are people too. we are able to be happy and enjoy things in life and succeed. trauma is part of the story, not the whole story

if there’s an alter who’s defensive or aggressive, they always have a reason - they went through terrible trauma too and different alters cope in different ways. they don’t owe anyone softness or friendship, and they should be treated with respect as well. you don’t get to pick and choose which alters you treat with dignity.

children and teenagers can have did and be diagnosed with did. it isn’t only diagnosed in adulthood.

don’t compare alters or say “alter a is better than alter b” it’s very insulting

co-fronting is an important term to know. it means when two or more alters are sharing control of the body at the same time. some outward examples of co-fronting could be two or more alters talking to each other or taking turns speaking; their emotions, mannerisms, and ways of speaking often combine, and so on

also if a system is talking out loud to another alter it isn’t weird don’t be like “wtf are they doing” it helps for many systems to talk out loud rather than in their head.

i shouldn’t even have to say this but don’t say those unfunny ass “hi i’m bunny” jokes i don’t even have to explain that is obviously extremely disrespectful 😭

you don’t always need to know “who” you’re talking to - sometimes we’re trying to figure out who’s fronting ourselves.

did systems often get *really* tired and exhausted. it takes a toll to manage everything and switching or fronting for long periods or masking for safety, etc. be understanding if they go quiet or can’t be energetic all the time

there is no specific numbers of alters that should be in a system. there could be only 2 or like 200 both are possible. polyfragmented systems are systems with 100+ alters, and they come from complex splitting patterns, intricate internal organization, and a high degree of dissociation. everyone splits differently.

do not say you want to be a system, you don't, it's very tiring and difficult

your respect, patience, and support matter more than you may think. even if you don’t fully understand, just being there and listening and treating them kindly and adapting, means so much to systems and makes a huge difference.

i think that’s about it for now!! thank you so much for reading this far and if you have any questions always feel free to ask. there are many helpful resources as well that you can use and i linked one below!

thank you again! 💞

[beifong-brainrot]

Hey, it appears you've interpreted my post as some sort of critique on Republic City. And look, while I may have hurt your feelings in some weird way, I was simply talking about how Republic City missed a lot of world building opportunities. I actually disagree with a lot said in the linked article.

My problem with tlok isn't the development of technology, obviously. Its the fact that technology in tlok somehow developed the same way it would in our world. Like i am in no way saying that they can't have steam technology or electricity. I was simply positing a question whether it would be as needed and treated the same as in our world, where a lot of western technologies became widespread because white people were also... widespread.

Hell, since you're so hellbent on protecting canon, we see spirit based technology being developed in the show, so it's not an impossible concept to grasp that there are other sources of energy/ways technology can be applied in the atla verse.

And clearly, you didn't pay attention to the references i Linked, because you would take notice to the fact that silkpunk (I also explicitly said silkpunk media should be just a jumping off point) is less about a specific era in technology, and more about aesthetics and philosphy. The two silkpunk creators i linked have a lot of differences, as I aimed to show how diverse the genre could be. Especially with how diverse and vast the Avatar world is, I thought both sides of the spectrum could be applied.

And hey, look, a lot of the references I provided even account for the Fire Nations steam technology, which you keep pulling out like it's some sort of gotcha.

Like I just don't mesh well with the idea that for there to be "modernisation" in a world without the traditional "west", people still need to dress, develop the same politics and social structures as 1920s Amercans. And look, we can all go and call each other racist back and fourth (though I personally didn't use the word because i don't think its my place to be the arbiter of what is racist and what is not) but I never said that poc wouldn't use modern forms of tech, you're putting some very questionable words in my mouth, and I don't appreciate it.

I'd say that the equation if modernity and the western world is Weird on your part though. Like why are the nationalities who were previously all about long hair suddenly giving all their men short hair. Random new fashion trend? Maybe. But super convenient that its so widespread and it correlates so strongly with 1920s trans atlantic aesthetic. But short hair and suits that just Happen to look american just naturally come along with "modernity" and progress, right? It's only natural that whiteness will crop up as a society progresses, even if whiteness supposedly doesn't exist in this world, right?

Nothing to do with westernisation, I'm sure. Don't worry about ir

You're also forgetting that Republic City isn't just one city. It's just the capital if the United Republic of Nations, which was primarily made of the Fire nation colonies and the lands connecting them. You're making a frankenstein out of wealthy colonies where Fire Nationals hold most of the power and areas that probably spent like 100 years fighting off colonies. What do you think is going to happen here.

Do you really, honestly want to tell me that a republic created by essentially squishing colonies together Wouldn't have any biases towards the previous colonists. Is that such an unrealistic position to hold?

Oh yeah, Lao, a ridiculously wealthy man living off ludicrous amounts of generational wealth was in a partnership with a fire national who was his equal (you know except for the part where he had a shitton of Lao's employees disobeying him and working in a dangerous mine without his consent and also hired mercenaries with direct affilation to fire lord ozai but hwy that was just a coincidence). Racism is solved because the 1% aren't oppressed actually.

Like I'm sure the extreme disparity that exists in Yu Dao (which may i remind you, still a part of the Republic, still incredibly wealthy-ergo infulential, and the whole reason the Republic Exists) doesn't exist everywhere in the United Republic, but to say there wouldn't be traces of it in the country is an incredibly rose tinted way to look at it.

Tldr, tlok's Republic City is incredibly sanitised and simplified for what it is supposed to be.

And hey, that seems to appeal to you, so good for you, it's the canon you got. I think it could've been more complex and intricate, and I didn't get that. Like what do you want from me. I still love tlok, I don't mind Republic city as much as you seem to think I do.

Considering what most tlok fans vs tlok haters feel about the setting of tlok, what are your personal opinions regarding the setting of Korra? Because at first I thought it felt jarring with the way it felt more “Americanized” mainly because of how Republic City appeared, but then some said it does resemble (maybe?) east asian cities like Hong Kong for instance. But then I’ve also heard about the reason why it felt jarring to begin with was more so the idea it poses in terms of the Industrial Revolution and it’s relations to imperialism (post below):

https://medium.com/@nettlefish/the-inescapable-whiteness-of-avatar-the-legend-of-korra-and-its-uncomfortable-implications-debc76bbf7f

Honestly, this is a subject I've tried to not speak of directly, being neither American, nor a member of the nationalities primarily depicted in Avatar. So take my response with a heaping portion of salt, ok?

I personally have a love/hate relationship with Republic City. I like the idea of an are where the four nations intermingle, prompting progress and growth. I also have talked at length about how much I hate the fact that the plot seems to revolve around this shitty poorly utilised oriental reskin of New York.

As for the question of whether RC is 'orientalised Western cities' or if it was actually based on actual East Asian cities, I think it's a bit of both. Mind you, I only have access to old photos and drawings, so my comparisons won't be ideal, but it seems the general buildings of the 'bulk' of Republic City do resemble cities like Hong Kong, Shanghai and Tokyo at the time.

It does however seem that the named buildings and areas, eg. places with actual importance seem to be be mainly inspired by actual western buildings.

Of course, there is also the issue that a lot of the buildings of major Eastern cities at the time looked the way they did due to western interference, and so we are posed with the question if Republic City, a city in a world where there are close to no European influences would even look like said cities.

But relying on these aspects of history leads us to irreversably tying westernisation to progress, which I cannot even begin to describe as a problematic and untrue idea. This further muddles the concept of tlok's industrial revolution, as it follows a very western pattern, eg. the devlopment of for example electrical power, telephones and telegraphs, and train lines which is what enabled another wave of colonialism. Trying to consider what would happen in a world where that never happened would be fascinating, and probably liberating for many cultures.

For example, would the world of Avatar even have a need for electricity in a world where Spirits and people who can control the elements with their minds exist?

I admit, it would probably be difficult to envision a modernised world without western/european influences off the cuff, but it is possible. It would take a lot of research and imagination, but it is possible. It would require isolating western influences and trying to establish new patterns in how the world could evolve without white ppl sticking their noses into everything. (I actually have personally been trying to 'reengineer' Republic City fashion bacause I want to redesign the Krew so I'm kinda in the depths of research hell on this lol. The things I do cause I miss sewing apprenticeship...)

The author of the article says that tlok is steampunk, which is an easy mistake to make, one I have made in the past. That still isn't the best choice for a post atla world, in my opinion. I believe tlok is actually more diesepunk. However, I'd say that if tlok wanted to cling to Avatar's clear wuxia inspirations, it should've opted for something like silkpunk, which, in simple terms, melds East Asian aesthetics, history and philosphies with fantastical technology. I say insimple terms because there is a lot more to silkpunk than just that, and not every "Asian scifi" is silkpunk, but if a creator were to attempt to do something of the sort, silkpunk would be a good jumping off point.

Here are some sources I personally used when researching the genre.

Ken Liu, the Author who coined the term Silkpunk explains the term

Interview with Ken Liu

Interview with silkpunk artist, James Ng

Now, when it comes to the sociopolitical narratives around imperialism and colonisation in tlok, I can only comment so much. But I agree with the author of the article that the Fire Nation imperialism and its results should've been explored more. And it would be SO easy. For example, in the comics we see a wealth disparity in between Fire Nation citizens and Earth Kingdom citizens of the area that would later become the Republic.

How would this develop over time? If we look at irl examples, we could see this gap become even wider due to lack of affirmative action. And, lo and behold, don't we already have an incredibly wealthy family canonically descended from Fire Nation settlers. Hiroshi may have described himself as just a humble shoe shiner, but it would be so easy to rework his backstory into being a nepo baby feeding off colonialism. Driving that point further, how would Mako and Bolin be treated as children of q mixed union? Would they be treated differently based on their bending abilities, or their appearance?

This could be easily incorporated into the characters' storylines and characterisation and would probably lead to some interesting dynamics, especially from the perspective of Korra, an outsider.

But the silence on the potential issues of discrimination in an america based city created off colonialism and imperialism is a symptom of another point. That Republic City is not only 'oriental America', it's also idealised 'oriental America.'

A lot of tlok feels like a very odd American centric fanfiction of history, with the America stand in always shoehorned in as important. Despite president Raiko being presented as an all around dickwad, Republic City itself is posed as a bastion of impartial fairness and as having a say in solving international conflicts. We're shown and told that extreme poverty exists in Republic City but we're never told why, we simply have to accept it as a fact of life, why don't we all go look at the cool rich ppl, look at Asami and her big airship, don't think too hard about Mako and Bolin's past.

The characters in charge of most of Republic City's important militias are nepo babies to soem extent, and skate by on their likeablity. Iroh II was cool for the ending of B2 and then got relegated to Raiko's spineless lackey. Lin is, in my probably very controversial opinion, a really bad chief of police in the most stereotypically American way possible.

I've talked ay length at how frustrating it is that we keep coming back to Republic City even when the actual plot is going on somewhere else. B2 and B4 have this problem in particular.

Instead of showing us primarily the perspectives of actually dealing with Kuvira or Unalaq's agression, throughout most of the seasons, the Krew are sorta chilling in Republic City talking how much it sucks that war crimes are happening somewhere else. It's giving American self centeredness to the max. But I think I've already screamed into the void about this a lot.

I will, however, say that the author of the article you sent me makes some crucial mistakes relating to the actual plot and scenes of tlok, which I wouldn't hold against her if it weren't the fact that she uses them to back her points. Points which are, mind you, mostly valid. But the author seems to misremember or falsely represent facts in the show to bolster these points, which is never a good look, even if you are making good points. For example, claiming benders being the only ones with political power in RC, as well as saying that the Council was made of benders, which is false. As is accentuating Korra's role as a Southern Water Tribe princess, whose father is somehow chief, despite also being the shamefully exiled brother of the Northern Water Tribe chief to bolster her opinion on tlok's theme on focusing on those in power. Korra is already the Avatar, a divine vessel. And her father being chief happened later in the show, after Unlaq was revealed to be a little shit. It is ultimately inconsequential to Korra's character, and makes her no more a princess than Katara was.

I can see what the author is trying to do and I think she makes good points, but it feels like she either didn't watch tlok very carefully, or is either intentionally or subconsciously skewing facts to fit her arguments. Making mistakes and oversights like this sours the whole text and is probably the reason I feel like agenda came first in this article. Be it a good agenda, it still leads to certain parts of the article feeling disingenuous to a cerain degree.

However, I do still see a lot of merit in the articke and agree with a lot of its points. I wish Republic City and tlok as a whole had delivered on the amazing concepts it offered, but due to a probable myriad of reasons, tlok will always feel slightly lacklustre to me.

[mamawasatesttube]

the whole "jason rules crime alley and none of the other bats are allowed there!!1!" thing is so funny like. tim LITERALLY lives in the theater where bruce's parents died,

[nabaath-areng]

It's kinda funny looking back on old screenshots and edits I made 3-5 years ago because in a way they have changed a LOT yet at the same time also not all although the fact that my old computer could barely handle having FFXIV installed is kinda evident in hindsight lol

[sonknuxadow]

feeling very sick of shipping right now but one particular thing that's annoying me is all of the amy shipping why does like 70 percent of the sonic fandom have to treat amy like shipping fodder and nothing more . amy get behind me ill protect you

[radioroxx]

What do you think Odile does for a living? She feels teacher like to me. What do you think she would do post canon?

HMMMM THIS IS GOOD QUESTION…

ive seen a lot of people hc her as a teacher / professor so i!! think that suits her pretty well. specifically as someone who studies + specializes in different types of craft (that would be why shes so proficient in multiple craft spells. also how she was able to figure out the loops stuff, AND to find something that could prevent siffrin from looping back).

post canon i am not sure… i am always torn between how the party would handle things post canon. obviously they would keep travelling for a bit, odile alongside her family without the stress of. constant sadness encounters + a king to kill lol. i think maybe she would get to take her time, reeaally get to know vauguardian culture when not within. a crisis. as was her original intention.

eventually. EVENTUALLY. when the family settles down somewhere (i am a “they all get a big house together” believer lol) she would get back into craft stuff. maybe go back into teaching too—surely people would be eager to hire a saviour. especially though i think it would be neat of her to try looking into wish craft etc, as a long forgotten form of craft. to satisfy her own curiosity, for siffrins sake, or just as a way of preserving the countries culture in whatever ways possible.