#and the sanctity of life in general

[oddrocks]

It’s baffles me that there are people out there who are genuinely mad that Batman has a no killing rule. Like imagine being mad at someone for not wanting to murder people. Imagine being mad at a hero for believing in the inherent worth of life and striving for fair justice.

[dionysus-complex]

.

[amplexadversary]

I should be legally allowed to torture and kill members of news media who report on anything law-related but don't link to a transcript at the beginning of their article.

No, I don't want a recap. Nor a summary. I don't want a video clip. I don't want an out-of-context-quote. I. Want. The. FUCKING. TRANSCRIPT.

I know there is one. Half the time the GOVERNMENT mandates it and I know DAMN WELL YOUR BOSS mandates it, as a fucking REPORTER. POST. IT.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What Era Is Your Beauty From?

☯︎ “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. I am not suggesting any of these descriptions are cannon to your ancestral history, these are just how my intuition perceived, and then presented your beauty’s energy.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

🂽 Pile One 🂽 (the devil, 2oC rev., ace of cups rev., 4oW, 3oC, king of swords, the tower, the world)

❖ Pile one, I feel like I’m watching the Game of Thrones out of context. Just flashes of people from around the Medieval 1400s living their day-to-day; singing, dancing, eating together, and then… not.

❖ The imagery I got when I asked what era your beauty came from, was very longing in nature. There was a lot of joy and celebration but it felt like I was watching the film through teary eyes and a heavy heart.

❖ The “movie” flashed between a thriving culture sharing tales of triumph and having happy, drunk sing-song moments together; and then those same people under a war-torn regime of a very cruel but powerful man. I sense themes of religious persecution, nationwide government-forced famine, and general desecration of the once-peaceful way of life. The population was going through collective mourning.

❖ People lamented over their unfulfillable desire to reconnect with their homeland and all of their loved ones. With the World card at the end of the spread and the Empress at the bottom of the deck, I get the clear image that your beauty is the physical embodiment of a large collective’s longing for the sanctity of their community. You invoke that feeling people get when they remember a bitter-sweet memory that hums fervor in their chest and gives them the fire they need to push forward.

❖ Your beauty comes from an era where the genuine smile and cheer of a pretty girl sparked a nation’s hope for reformation. You are the last remaining connection to long-lost celebration and the heart of a forgotten city.

How Do You Paint The Divine Image of Hope?

🂽 Pile Two 🂽 (7oC rev., 4oP rev., full moon, leo, sacral chakra)

❖ WHOOOAAaaaaa Ammberrr is the collluuhhhhh of ya enneergyyy!! WHOoaaA, shades of gaawwllddd displayyy naturraalllyyyyyy…..

❖ Just know I was HOLLERING that. This is my hippie pile. My people. Yea that’s right, I’m talking the late 1960s - early 1970s.

❖ Your beauty arose at a time when society desperately needed color (specifically seeing some of you wearing a lot of bright colors or eye-catching jewelry or hairstyles). The world was bleak and the war’s aftermath on the overall mental and emotional welfare of the general public pushed people to radical ideals and birthed a revolution centered around liberation, pleasure, and community.

❖ Your beauty is all sunshine and rainbows. Psychedelics and organic food. The best music in human history (feel free to argue with me, but know that it is going straight out the other ear, mama) and week-long outdoor festivals full of peace, love, and vulnerability with total strangers.

❖ Your beauty brushes people with the chilling winds of shameless pleasure. The taste of unadulterated personal freedom that is almost a societal taboo. Your beauty is so purely liberating.

❖ Lmao, I imagine a guitar riff going off everytime you walk into a room.

❖ You are the physical embodiment of eccentric love and vivacious rebellion.

Play That Funky Music

🂽 Pile Three 🂽 (The lovers rev., the High Priestess rev., Ace of Swords., 4oC. 7)

❖ Revolution is a running theme for all of the piles. This collective’s beauty awakens people.

❖ I’m seeing a brilliant man going mad at the lack of creative intelligence around him and pushing for societal rebirth. A complete cultural shift from the Dark Ages (pile one), to modernity. This is my Renaissance pile.

❖ You embody the mystical fusion of art, religion, architecture, and science. You are all the world’s intrinsic beauty rolled up into one figure. You are the art that attracts painters, inventors, and philosophers alike.

❖ You have the beauty of an all-around muse. You invoke the spirit of creative passion. It is like people see you and get a stroke of inspiration. Something that kicks them in the ass and tells them to go outside and create.

❖ This pile is very romantic. A classical beauty, like red roses and bottle poems. The universal innate desire to dream big.

❖ Shoutout to my Aquarians, 11th housers, and Shatabhisha natives.

The Medieval-Modern Muse

🂽 Pile Four 🂽 (king of pentacles, 2oP, 5oP rev., 9oP)

❖ OKAY PLOTWIST?? I don’t know what era this pile’s beauty is from because it’s set in the future.

❖ It’s funny how the last piles were all set in periods of revolution (putting in the WORK) and your pile, the final pile, is set in a better world full of financial stability, the end of inequality, economic fairness, and universal abundance (the fruits of the labor).

❖ Dude, I was trying to read the message at first and was just scratching my head. I was like, “When has anywhere, literally ever been this good???” Then I saw the ace of wands reversed at the bottom of the deck and saw impending change and it clicked.

❖ I also saw some star semblance, and see that your beauty is a reminder to mankind that the “impossible” is already set in motion. The hell we have created will crumble.

❖ You are a physical embodiment of society’s future triumph. You radiate wealth and fairness. My Venusians, especially Libra. You also look regal, something about you makes people want to stand taller.

❖ You got the pride card, I see that you give people the feeling of victory. You are living proof of future triumph in a better world where greed and sorrow are eradicated.

❖ You are the harbinger of the next era.

Introducing The First Titanium Man On The Moon!

[transmutationisms]

do U feel like every day life has become more pathologized? i feel like every conversation i have W people on campus ends W some variant of them telling me they're sure they're autistic

the nature of psychiatry is that its diagnostic definitions are unstable and prone to semantic widening, often fuelled by disciplinary state intervention and/or by industry interests & resulting in more and more people identifying the psychiatrised behaviours as relevant to their own lives and identifying themselves with vaguer and milder forms of the diagnosis, often eventually prompting a liberal backlash phase in which lay talking heads attempt to rescue the sanctity of the original medical definition by either narrowing it or just making a new and more restrictive diagnostic entity with a different name to distinguish the stigmatised form from the nobody-in-power-cares form, and generally in either case the entire pattern begins again. i diagrammed this here and described a related manifestation of this linguistic shell game here.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the favorite of the gods. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  you were in the temple when the war came and the man of your dreams stood on the doorstep

Warnings:  +18, smut, mentioning about war, swearing, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), breeding kink

 A/N: this story came from a single thought. it's not perfect, that's for sure, but i hope you like it. thanks for your feedback and the love you give me. ❤️ sorry for all the mistakes

You knew he would appear even before he set foot on your land. Before the birds began to cry and herald the arrival of armies. Before the wind changed and brought the sharp smell of smoke and war.

All this didn’t scare you so much, because his strong and majestic figure kept appearing in your mind and before your eyes. He was almost equal to the gods. You didn’t know his face, but you heard his voice - low, but soothing; commanding, but gracious - addressed only to you.

"Don’t be afraid, little bird."

You found refuge in this temple years ago, as a small, lost child. The priestesses gave you a home, and although you couldn’t become one of them fully, you put on their robes, learned the words of prayers and songs, took part in services honoring the highest. The temple of white stone became your home, and you were safe in it.

Then came the war.

You had heard about it from travelers and people who appeared on their way to safer lands. The Roman Empire was approaching, expanding its territory with sword and blood.

You couldn’t stop it with any prayers, any sacrifices. It was then, during your nightly prayers, that you saw him for the first time.

The undefeated favorite of the gods, the favorite of the god of war, Mars.

Terrified by this vision, you were unable to sleep. You blamed the fumes of incense for these hallucinations, because you knew no one like him. But when smoke as black as night appeared on the horizon, covering the sun, these visions began to haunt you more and more often.

Due to the approaching danger, all the priestesses were asked to leave the temple, and although they resisted, they eventually packed their meager belongings.

It was then that you decided to approach the oldest of them, the one you treated like a mother.

"A man?" she asked, sitting on the bed and looking at you carefully "When did you see it?"

"During the days and nights. During prayers and work." You knelt down next to the woman taking her hands in yours "He visits me more and more often. His voice... But not only that. I see a laurel wreath on his temple, I hear the patter of children's feet, but I don't see those children..."

"Mhmm... Do you see anything else, daughter?"

"Buildings. A city as if made of gold... What does this mean, mother? Have the gods cursed me?"

The woman smiled weakly, but her hand caressed your cheek.

"No, child. It is the grace of the gods." she replied. "Although you weren’t one of us, they had already chosen your fate. I knew that you didn’t appear by accident... They chose you to be married to Mars' favorite, to give him offspring as strong as he is and as wise as you."

"I-I can't... You must be wrong." Your eyes widened in disbelief.

"I can, but can you deny that this man haunts you in your dreams and in your waking life? You saw him before the smoke appeared on the horizon. He is coming for you..."

So you waited. Alone, in the empty temple. You devoted yourself to prayer and meditation, inhaling the scent of candles and incense, asking the gods to take away these visions and this man. Although he terrified you, you were unable to refuse the calling that the gods and fate had chosen for you. You were just clay in their hands, they were the ones deciding your fate.

Despite the fact that it was still daytime, the entire area was engulfed in dark clouds of rising smoke.

You saw the first Roman legionnaires on the temple steps. However, they didn’t enter, still respecting the sanctity of this place. You didn’t have to wait long, however. The clatter of hooves indicated that someone of higher rank had appeared, someone who had more courage to cross the temple threshold.

The favorite of the god of war, Mars.

He entered alone, as if he was not afraid of danger. His black and gold armor, with the golden head of Medusa on his chest, reflected the weak light coming through the windows. He was tall, with broad shoulders, strong features and dark hair, although you could already see silver streaks in it.

He looked around the main chamber with interest. But it was only when he spoke that you recognized him fully.

"Don’t be afraid, little bird." His voice bounced off the walls and reached your ears, your heart beating faster "Show yourself to me, because I know you are here."

"How do I know you haven't come to kill me, son of war?" you replied, clinging more to the column behind which you had found shelter "You bring death and despair, there’s no place for that here."

His footsteps were quiet, and your heart was beating so loudly that it was hard to focus on anything else.

"You are not a priestess." the man was close, you could feel it.

"Why do you think so?"

"Otherwise they would have taken you with them."

"You do terrible things with women, shame will fall on each of you." you moved carefully to hide in the shadows, you knew he was already on your trail "We have to run away from you."

"But you stayed. Why?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten. The footsteps faded and appeared again, you couldn't see where the man was without revealing himself at the same time.

Suddenly you heard the sound of metal falling to the floor.

"I have no weapon with me." he continued "I am defenseless and condemned to your mercy. Show yourself."

You almost dug your nails into the stone column behind you. You had heard so many stories about merciful gods who saved people and other beings by turning them into trees or streams. Couldn't they have turned you into a bird so you could escape from this man? Were they really that hostile towards you?

You didn't find out though, because a strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you towards the dim light. Brown eyes looked at you intently from under dark brows. It was the face of the man from your dreams. Skin touched by the sun, still a little dirty from the dust of battle. You recognized this silhouette immediately, it was him.

The favorite of the god of war, Mars.

"I know your face." he whispered, slightly surprised. "I've seen you before..."

"That's not possible..." you replied, trying to free your hand from his grip. "I've never been to Rome."

"I didn't see you there. I saw you here." he pointed to his head, and you froze. "You've haunted me in my dreams so many times..."

It was true. General Marcus Acacius felt like a man cursed by the gods. When an unknown figure began to appear in his dreams, he first thought it was the result of the wine he had drunk. However, the figure didn't disappear. He searched for her face in the faces of other women, but none of them were the sweet spirit that haunted him.

It was unbearable. He saw a face, heard a voice, and felt under his fingers, or at least that's what it seemed to him while he was dreaming, the soft skin of a being who looked at him with such love like no one had ever done before.

And now that same being stood right in front of him, looking at him with fear. He let go of her wrist and stepped back, feeling unworthy of being next to something so pure and beautiful. But his eyes were greedy, refusing to stop looking at the face he had adored for so long.

"How is that possible?" he finally spoke.

"I have no idea." you shook your head. "But I saw you too. With a laurel wreath on your temple, strong and undefeated. The favorite of the gods."

He frowned.

"Is that all you saw?" he asked. "Tell me the truth. Don't hide anything from me, little bird."

Your eyes filled with tears. You didn't want to, but you knew you had to tell him the truth. More and more riddles were finding their way.

"I heard the footsteps of children... And I saw a beautiful city, bright and golden. That's all..."

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"Only the priestess, who is like a mother to me." you replied "She said it was the will of the gods, that it was my fate and I couldn't change it... That this man would have me as his wife, and I would give him children, strong and wise, undefeated and wonderful like him."

"That's why you stayed here..."

"I can't fight what fate gives me."

The man approached you and his hand, although he hesitated for a moment, touched your warm cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment as if it gave him relief.

"I heard the same thing. About a woman who would give me solace..." he sighed "It's you, little bird. Tell me your name."

"Y/N."

A small smile appeared on his lips as he repeated your name, almost with reverence.

"I am General Marcus Acacius." his voice was strong and clear "You are in no danger from my hand, the gods are my witnesses. The creature haunting my dreams should not be afraid of anything. Are you afraid?"

You nodded.

Even though all the secrets were solved, you were even more afraid. Was this what the gods wanted for you?

Marcus took your hand in his, kissed the back of it tenderly and brought it to his cheek. You felt his rough stubble under your fingers, but he was like a docile animal. His gentle eyes stared at you with adoration.

"There is no other but you." he whispered, bringing his face closer to yours. "There will be no other but you. If the gods chose us, who are we to oppose it?"

"Marcus..."

That was all you could say when you felt his lips on yours. It was like nothing else you had ever experienced. He kissed you with passion and lust, and his hands rested on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

You slid your fingers into his hair as his tongue slipped between your lips, the last door he had to go through to possess you. You felt the desire growing between your legs. 

It was a familiar feeling. You didn't admit to the priestess that this kind of feeling accompanied your dreams, you couldn't do that. But now Marcus was real, he wasn't just a dream.

You felt the cold stone behind you as he pressed you against one of the columns. Only your delicate robes and his hard armor separated you. His lips slid down to your neck and collarbone, kissing and nibbling, and a soft moan escaped your throat.

You couldn't resist it. When his hands slid down the straps of your robes, revealing your breasts, his eyes sparkled.

"Do the gods really want me to possess something so perfect?" he croaked, but after a moment his lips closed over one of your nipples.

He sucked it and teased it with his tongue, and you felt your legs start to refuse to obey you. His thigh slid between yours, and you felt shivers at the sudden touch of your heat. His hands moved to your breasts, which he squeezed tightly.

"You seek solace just like me..." he sighed, feeling you move your hips to feel at least a little friction that would bring you relief. "I'll give you what you need."

He abruptly pulled up the hem of your robe, then found your pussy, and without hesitation, he slid two stiff fingers inside it. Your body tensed as he began to pull them in and out.

"You've never had a man before, I can feel it. I can see it." he whispered right next to your ear. "The gods destined you for me. So pure. Let me possess you. Will you let me?"

You nodded, unable to find your voice. His fingers were much better than yours, when you touched yourself during the night to find solace after dreams full of a mysterious man. And maybe it was surprising for you, but you wanted him from the moment he crossed the threshold of your temple.

His fingers curled and you felt him touch the place that gave you the most pleasure. His mouth was on your breast again, kissing and caressing it.

"Yes, Marcus... Please..." you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders.

"Give it to me, little bird. Let me give you what you need."

When his thumb started making small circles on your clit, you closed your eyes, giving yourself to him completely. Pleasure spread through your body, and your pussy squeezed pleasantly on his fingers. You grabbed his face, kissing him hungrily as if you wanted to take all the air from his lungs. But Marcus just smiled.

You noticed how he pulled out a hard cock from under his tunic, a bit of precum glistening on its tip. Your lips became wetter.

"I don't know if I'll be able to take you..." the words left your lips.

"You can do it, little bird. And you'll take me many more times."

He kissed you hard, and his hands grabbed your buttocks and lifted you up so that you wrapped your legs around his waist. His tip brushed against your entrance a few times, and then you felt him push inside. Your walls slowly stretched and took him deeper and deeper.

"Breathe... Breathe, baby." his whisper was trembling with the pleasure he felt too "You're so tight, so warm..."

You moaned as he pushed in all the way. You both had to get used to this overwhelming feeling when you were one. His lips found yours, kissing them gently, but after a moment Marcus' eyes darkened.

His hips began to move, his cock began to thrust harder and faster. Your body was beginning to refuse to obey you. Luckily Marcus' arms held you tightly as he pressed himself into you.

"You're so perfect..." he panted, pressing his forehead to yours. "So perfect for me. I'll make you my wife... You'll swell up from my children... Every night... Ugh! Every night I'll bury my cock inside you, to hear those lovely sounds you make."

"Marcus!" your fingers tightened in his hair as you felt yourself getting close again. "I feel... I feel..."

"Let go, little bird. Let me fill you. Gods..."

He felt your velvet walls squeeze his cock, and your body tensed and shuddered as you reached your climax. But Marcus didn't stop. His cock moved inside you further and harder.

"You'll be only mine..." he rasped "Oh, fuck... So perfect, so pure..."

"Fill me all over, Marcus." you whispered "Make me yours."

And he did. His seed spurted inside you, painting your walls as he came with a loud groan.

You both breathed deeply, stunned by what had happened. His hands slowly left you and you stood unsteadily on the ground.

"I don't know what I did to deserve such grace from the gods." Marcus' voice was calm "But I will be grateful to them for the rest of my life for giving me you."

"If this is fate and the will of the gods, we can't fight it." you replied.

His hands slowly helped you put your robes back on, his eyes following your every move. There was silence all around.

His seed slowly dripped down your thigh. He felt it when he brushed his fingers against the inside of your thighs to keep that feeling of closeness for a moment longer.

"I'll take you to Rome, I'll make you my wife." he said. "You have nothing to fear with me."

"I won't be afraid, Marcus. Not when I'm with you." you replied. "I'm ready for our fate to be fulfilled."

In a moment his lips found yours again, kissing you tenderly. And when they broke away, he kissed the back of your hand and placed it over his heart hidden under his armor.

The favorite of the god of war, Mars.

By the will of the gods, your destiny took the form of this man.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Could you do something similar to the one where we’re rocket but instead spider man for the invincible characters.

Just a Friendly Neighborhood Spider

A/N… spider, spider spideyyy— spiders scare the hell out of meeeee; but Spider-Man is nice. I don’t know if I got issues there but eh— anyway that’s my two cents. Content is the generally same here.

Canon-divergent themes, included mention of spider-mans common backstory, mentions of past stress, found-family, platonic relationships, their asses does not know how your still okay as a hero

Cecil Stedman

You and Cecil meet under unusual circumstances—Cecil approached you after hearing about you from various sources. He’s heard of a new vigilante with superhuman abilities running around, and while you aren’t a part of an official superhero league, Cecil sees potential.

Your first encounter is awkward. You swing in and lands on top of a building, ready for a fight, expecting a confrontation with someone shady. Instead, Cecil stands calmly with his arms crossed, unimpressed by your acrobatics.

You’re skeptical about Cecil at first. Having heard of the Global Defense Agency and their somewhat questionable methods. The whole "ends justify the means" thing doesn't sit well with you, especially considering how you strive to avoid doing anything that could harm innocents. 

Cecil’s cold, detached demeanor and history with morally gray areas leave you wary. You don't know if you can trust him.

Cecil sees you as a wild card, a loose cannon who’s more concerned with your own morality than the big picture. Despite this, he respects your abilities and quick thinking. He doesn’t necessarily see you as a “good guy” yet but is intrigued by the potential in you.

Cecil knows how to read people, and while he doesn't immediately trust you, he knows that your ideals of responsibility might align with his own goals if managed correctly. However, Cecil believes you could be more effective if you were willing to make the hard choices. More often to be specific. 

You start to clash with Cecil’s utilitarian mindset. As a spider person, you believe in the sanctity of life and refuse to cross certain lines—something Cecil sees as naïve. He tries to show you that sometimes, making hard decisions for the greater good is necessary, even if it involves casualties or compromising one's morals.

Cecil certainly doesn’t mince his words when explaining his viewpoint: "You want to save the world? Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. You can’t save everyone, and you definitely can't save the world by being nice all the time."

You however, refuse to let go of your principles. Your determined to show Cecil that you don’t have to compromise what’s right to do what’s needed. You have intense conversations, especially after your encounters with more dangerous foes.

Cecil doesn’t back down either. He will occasionally use manipulation, even flattery, to try and convince you that your idealism is impractical. But you, with your strong sense of justice, aren't easily swayed.

While Cecil is known for his cold, calculated persona, it becomes clear that there’s more to him than meets the eye. In private moments, Cecil reveals his deeper feelings about protecting humanity. He genuinely cares, but his trauma and experiences have shaped him into someone willing to make sacrifices for the sake of the bigger picture.

He often has conversations with you that show he’s not all heartless. He’ll explain the importance of taking the necessary steps to protect those who might not understand the bigger threats.

After a particularly difficult mission where you failed to save someone you promised you would, you had a conversation with Cecil about the weight of responsibility.

You confess your guilt, admitting that every time you fail, it feels like Uncle Ben’s death is haunting you all over again. Cecil listens quietly before offering his perspective. “The difference between us, [Name], is that I don’t have the luxury of guilt. I make decisions and live with them. That’s the price of leadership.”

While this doesn’t sit well with you, it pushes you to think about your own role and how you can grow as a hero—without compromising your values.

Cecil sees potential in you as a leader, especially after some tough encounters with dangerous supervillains. However, he takes a reluctant approach to mentoring you, not wanting to directly influence you but recognizing that you could one day play a pivotal role in global defense.

He offers advice sparingly, making sure to always emphasize that decisions need to be made for the greater good. When you don't take the advice, Cecil is quick to point out, “It’s your choice. But remember, the world won’t wait for you to figure it out.”

In moments when you're frustrated or feeling overwhelmed, Cecil has a tendency to give “tough love” in the form of biting commentary. For example: “The world’s full of heroes who think they can do it all without paying a price. But in the end, the world won’t remember the cost—only the result. If you want to be a hero, you need to stop acting like a kid.”

This drives you to prove that you can handle the responsibility without losing sight of what’s right.

While your methods may differ, both you and Cecil are fighting for the same thing: the protection of Earth and its people. However, Cecil’s willingness to make ethically questionable decisions contrasts with your idealism.

At some point, your paths will cross on a major mission. Cecil, taking the lead, might make a decision that you cannot morally back, and you will have to decide whether to stand by him or go against him for the first time.

This moment will be a significant turning point in your allyship, where you have to define the kind of hero you want to be, while Cecil demonstrates the brutal pragmatism required to safeguard humanity from destruction.

Over time, despite the philosophical differences, both you and Cecil begin to develop a mutual respect for each other. You recognize the weight Cecil carries as a leader and the difficult choices he must make. On the other hand, Cecil begins to see the value in your perseverance and the fact that sometimes, holding on to the ideals of kindness and empathy can be just as powerful as cold efficiency.

You’d first met Cecil under tense circumstances—another mission where Cecil’s pragmatism clashed hard with your morals. That first meeting had left a bitter taste in your mouth, like biting into a sour apple and wondering if it was worth the effort.

“Do you even care about the people you're saving?” You had asked once, all fired up after Cecil made yet another morally grey decision. "Or are they just pawns in your game?"

Cecil’s response had been cold, almost clinical: “There are no pawns. Just pieces. The game is bigger than you think.”

At the time, you had thought it was a load of nonsense. That was before you started seeing the sacrifices Cecil had made, the risks he’d taken, and the toll it had all taken on him.

There was something about the way Cecil carried himself now—his quiet confidence, his hardened demeanor—that you could finally understand. It wasn’t cruelty. It was survival. It was the unbearable burden of keeping the world from falling apart at the seams.

“Maybe I was wrong about you,” You muttered under your breath, pulling your mask down and letting the city lights reflect in your lenses. The words felt strange, foreign even, but true.

Cecil was no saint, but who was? Certainly not you, who had made your fair share of mistakes. You’d learned that sometimes saving the day meant getting your hands dirty and making decisions you didn't like. Decisions where the right thing to do wasn't always clear.

Allen The Alien

You were just an ordinary high school student before everything changed. One night, you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and it flipped your whole world upside down. You had no idea what was happening to you at first, but that spider bite unlocked powers you never could have dreamed of.

At first, you were just trying to have some fun. You didn't have a clear purpose. You used your powers for personal gain, participating in wrestling matches and showing off to your friends. You didn't take it seriously. Until that day.

The day you let that burglar slip away, you didn't think much of it. After all, you weren't a superhero back then—just a guy with new powers. But then you heard it. That scream. Uncle Ben was gone.

That was the turning point for you. You felt that pain in your chest like you couldn't breathe, and it was all your fault. "With great power comes great responsibility." Those words hit harder than any punch ever could. 

From then on, you dedicated yourself to fighting crime. You were no longer just a guy swinging through the city for fun. You had a responsibility now, a promise to make things right. You couldn’t let anyone else suffer like you did.

Enter Allen the Alien. You first met him during one of your many encounters with cosmic-level threats. Allen was this huge, orange, muscular alien with a penchant for humor. He showed up on Earth, and, boy, was he different from the usual villains or threats you faced.

"You know, Earthlings really love their fast food... but you should try something out of this world!" His light-hearted humor was one thing, but the guy was undeniably strong. You could feel the raw power just by being in the same room as him.

At first, you didn’t know what to think of Allen. He was from another planet, part of the Coalition of Planets, and you had more than enough to worry about with your own problems. But, after a while, you started to see the heart beneath that tough exterior.

Allen was a warrior through and through, but he also had this sense of responsibility that you could relate to. He didn't take lightly the weight of his actions, even if he joked around to mask the seriousness of things.

"Yeah, I was born to fight the Viltrumites, but you... you remind me of something. You’ve got that 'do the right thing no matter the cost' vibe. I can respect that.”

His story was different from yours, but there was a part of it that resonated. He was born to fight, bred for a purpose that didn’t even involve him. You both understood what it meant to have a higher responsibility, even when the odds were stacked against you.

One thing that always stood out to you was how quickly Allen adapted. He healed faster than you could blink, shrugging off injuries that would have been fatal to anyone else. Maybe he was born with that, but you were learning to adapt in your own way, too.

 Even when Allen faced down the Viltrumites, he never lost his sense of humor. "You know, when I was growing up, I thought ‘intergalactic space wars’ would be way more fun."

Over time, you learned a lot from Allen. His sheer strength and resilience were beyond anything you could imagine, but it wasn’t just that. It was his resolve that stuck with you. No matter how tough things got, he kept moving forward. Maybe that was the real lesson you needed to learn—no matter how many times you fall, you get back up.

You both faced different kinds of battles, but you were learning how to face them together. Allen had a strange way of making even the toughest situations feel a little lighter. "I’ve faced cosmic threats, but nothing compares to dodging traffic in New York!"

 It wasn’t always about throwing punches or swinging webs; sometimes it was about being there for someone, even if they came from a totally different world. You weren’t just a high school student with superpowers anymore. You were part of something bigger. 

Every time you suit up as Spider-Man, you feel a little stronger, not just physically, but mentally too. Allen helped you realize that responsibility isn't something you just take on for the moment—it’s something you carry forever. It’s about being the kind of hero the world needs, even when you feel like you’re not enough.

"You may not have the cosmic power I do, kid, but you’ve got the heart. And that's what matters." Allen’s words echo in your mind as you swing through the city, always searching for that next villain to stop, that next person to save. You're not just Spider-Man. You're a hero, and you won't let anyone forget it.

"I feel like I’m going to break something in here," he said, his voice echoing slightly as he adjusted himself.

"You’ll be fine," you teased, taking a seat across from him. "Just... don’t crush anything. Joe’s already nervous about you."

Moments later, a piping-hot pizza was placed in front of you. The cheese was bubbling, the pepperoni crisped perfectly, and the crust had that golden-brown edge that only the best places could achieve. You slid a slice onto your plate, taking in the first bite.

It was perfect.

"Okay, Allen," you said, mouth half full. "The moment of truth. You’ve got to try this."

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing the slice, but you could see the curiosity building. He lifted a piece carefully, his three-fingered hand gripping the crust. You watched, eager to see his reaction.

Allen took a bite. Then another. His large eye widened slightly, and you could swear you saw a little hint of surprise. "Hmm... this is... actually good. Really good!"

"I told you!" You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. "It’s simple, but it’s amazing. Joe's been perfecting this recipe for decades."

Allen grinned, taking another bite. "You Earthlings have a lot of surprises up your sleeves. I’m starting to think this pizza might be the real power behind your superhero antics."

You laughed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "You might be onto something. A good slice can keep me going for days. But, you know, it’s not just about the food. It’s about the experience. The vibe of the place. It’s... it's home."

Allen looked around, clearly taking it all in now. "I see what you mean. This isn’t just a meal; it’s... part of your culture. I think I’m starting to understand Earth a little better now."

You both sat in companionable silence for a while, just eating and talking. Allen, despite his cosmic origins, had a way of making everything feel casual, light, and fun. He didn’t come off as intimidating or aloof. He was just a guy, sharing a meal, listening to the hum of the jukebox in the background.

Eventually, you finished up the pizza, and the conversation drifted from food to bigger things. His experiences as part of the Coalition, the time he spent fighting off the Viltrumites, and the crazy things he’d encountered in outer space. For all his power, there was an undeniable kindness to him, a desire to connect and understand.

As you both stood up to leave, you slapped him on the back. "Glad you liked it. I know it’s not cosmic cuisine, but it’s got its charm, right?"

Allen chuckled, dusting off the crumbs from his shirt. "I think I’m gonna need more of this Earth pizza. You might just have a new convert to your side, Spider-Man."

You smirked. "That’s the spirit. Welcome to Earth, buddy."

Mark Grayson

You were always the responsible one—even before you donned the mask. You were that student who was always on time, worked hard, and tried to balance everything. Your Uncle Ben’s passing shifted everything for you, but the weight of responsibility was something you accepted easily, considering your powers.

You remember your first fight as Spider-Man like it was yesterday. It wasn’t about saving lives at first—it was about the spectacle, the fame. You were just a kid with newfound abilities, using them for personal gain. But that all changed after Uncle Ben’s death. That moment, the one you could have stopped, became a reminder of what happens when power is used recklessly.

You’d still feel the guilt sometimes, even though you’ve saved more lives than you can count since then. Every time you see a criminal slip through the cracks or a life lost because you weren’t fast enough—it takes you back to that night.

You keep going though, for Ben. His words echo in your mind every day: "With great power comes great responsibility." It’s a lesson you learned the hard way, and one you’d make sure no one else would forget.

When it comes to Mark Grayson, though... you get it. You understand where he’s coming from. You both share a similar weight on your shoulders. The responsibility of being a hero isn’t just about power—it’s about making the tough decisions, even if they tear you apart.

You’ve faced difficult choices yourself. Killing a villain is something you’ve never wanted to do, but there are times when you’ve come close. You were ready to let your rage consume you, like when you went head-to-head with the likes of Venom or the Green Goblin. But you always held back. You weren’t going to be that kind of hero.

But Mark? His struggle is real. You’ve seen him go through the emotional turmoil of having to take a life—or the temptation to. His father's influence weighs heavily on him, and you can’t help but wonder how similar you two are in that regard. You’ve both had to make impossible choices, torn between what’s right and what’s necessary.

That’s the thing about being a hero, though—you never really know if you're making the right call. Every time you step into the fray, there's a chance you might make a mistake. But like you told yourself the day you became Spider-Man, you keep fighting because if you don’t, who will?

Seeing Mark struggle with that line between mercy and vengeance makes you realize you’re not alone in your doubts. There’s this heavy responsibility that you both bear, and it’s a burden that doesn't get any easier with time. You sometimes think back to your early days, before you fully understood the consequences of your actions, and wonder how different things could’ve been if you’d made different choices.

You understand his anger. The feeling of losing someone close, especially when a villain is directly responsible for it—it's something that hits too close to home. But even in those moments of pure rage, you remind yourself that you're not your enemy. Neither is Mark. You can't let your pain define who you are, and neither can he. But there are days when you both forget that.

You don’t have all the answers, but you know one thing for sure: it’s a struggle, and the right choice isn’t always the easiest one. Mark will figure it out in time, just like you did. But right now? He's learning the same lesson you did when you were his age: sometimes being a hero means losing pieces of yourself along the way.

You both deal with pressure differently. You wear a mask, but Mark—he has to carry the weight of his father’s legacy in plain sight. He doesn’t get to hide behind a disguise the way you do. That has to be tough.

But that’s the difference between you two. Even though you’ve had your fair share of struggles, you never lost sight of what it meant to protect the innocent. Mark, on the other hand, is walking that line between vengeance and justice. You’ve seen the toll it’s taken on him, and you don’t want him to make the same mistakes you did.

You keep fighting. For Ben. For Mark. For everyone you’ve promised to protect. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be there to help him when the weight of it all threatens to break him, like it almost did to you.

Because at the end of the day, you're both just trying to do the right thing in a world that often doesn’t make it easy to know what that is.

Despite your different circumstances, you both understood that being a hero meant sacrifice. And more often than not, the most painful sacrifices weren’t physical—they were emotional.

"Do you ever think about giving it up?" Mark once asked, his voice heavy with the burden of the question. You sat next to him, a slight breeze ruffling the edges of your mask. It had been a slow night—no danger on the horizon. But that didn’t make things feel any less tense.

You looked over at him, eyes meeting his with a level of understanding you couldn’t explain. "Sometimes. Yeah. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s exhausting. And the more you try to do right, the more you see how wrong everything really is. But then you realize you can’t just walk away from it."

Mark nodded, his gaze shifting to the city below. "Yeah. My dad said something like that to me. But... I don't know, sometimes it feels like I’m becoming the thing I’m supposed to be fighting. Like every time I get stronger, I’m just moving closer to losing myself."

You were silent for a moment. You hadn’t heard Mark speak like this in a while, so openly about the fear that his power might become too much for him to control. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

"I get it," you said finally, your voice quiet. "The more you grow into this, the more you realize that power—whether you’re ready for it or not—can change you. And yeah, sometimes you wonder if you're losing pieces of yourself along the way." You paused. "But here's the thing, Mark: It’s not about whether or not you lose yourself. It’s about who you become in the process. Whether you stay true to what matters—whether you choose to keep fighting, no matter how hard it gets. You won’t be the same person at the end of this. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be someone worth being."

Mark gave you a glance, a small, tired smile forming on his face. “Yeah. I know. It’s just… hard.”

You let out a breath and clapped him lightly on the back. "Tell me about it. I still don't have all the answers. But we're doing the best we can, right?"

Mark laughed softly, shaking his head. "I guess so. Just wish it didn’t feel like I’m always a step behind."

The Immortal

You are Spider-Man. You’re not just the friendly neighborhood superhero; you’re also [Name] [Surname], a student who took up the mantle of Spider-Man after the tragic loss of your Uncle Ben. You’d never forget his words: “With great power comes great responsibility.” That lesson is the core of who you are now, even if it took you a while to realize it. 

At first, you used your powers for selfish reasons: showing off, making money, entertaining crowds. But your world shattered when the very burglar you let go wound up killing Uncle Ben. That moment... it changed you forever. You learned that having powers wasn’t just about what you could do; it was about what you should do.

You feel a sense of duty to protect the innocent. It’s a lesson you learned the hard way, but one you carry with you every day. You’ve been through so much—fighting criminals, dodging bullets, and juggling school—but you can’t ever let yourself forget: You’re here to help people, no matter the cost. 

The city might see you as a nuisance or a freak sometimes, but it doesn't matter. You put on the mask because that’s what Uncle Ben would’ve wanted. It’s why you keep swinging from skyscraper to skyscraper, fighting crime, and occasionally getting your butt handed to you by villains who don’t know when to quit. 

You wear your guilt like a weight. The loss of Uncle Ben will never leave you. Every victory, every villain you defeat, it’s all a way to try and make up for your failure. That’s why you never let your guard down. You’ve made mistakes, and those are scars you wear on your soul.

You see people suffer, and you think: If only I’d stopped that one burglar, maybe none of this would’ve happened. But you can’t undo the past, can you? The only thing left to do is to keep fighting. Keep making sure that no one else experiences what you did. No one else should have to live with that kind of regret.

You’re not the only hero out there. You’ve crossed paths with others—like the Immortal—and you can’t help but feel both awe and fear. Immortal is a being who has lived for millennia, seeing history unfold before his eyes. His long life is a double-edged sword; he’s experienced more loss than anyone should have to. He’s seen entire civilizations rise and fall, but you can tell that it’s breaking him down bit by bit.

Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to live that long. Would you even want to? To see the world you love change over and over, to see everyone around you age while you stay the same? Immortal has been there, and though he’s strong, you see the cracks in his demeanor. The pain. The loneliness. Even a hero as powerful as him isn’t immune to the effects of time.

You and Immortal, you’re not so different. Both of you have experienced loss—immense loss—that’s shaped who you are today. You understand what it’s like to carry the weight of a loved one’s death. You don’t have immortality, but you’ve had to make peace with your mortality.  

Immortal, despite his immortality, seems like he’s lost something you can never truly understand. The sheer weight of his past lives seems to haunt him in ways that you can't fathom. He’s spent so many years fighting that it's not clear if he’s ever had a chance to just… live. It's hard to not feel a little sorry for him, even though you know he's a warrior through and through.

You’ve had your own brushes with psychological trauma. Not quite like Immortal, but close enough. Every time you’re in a fight, every time a loved one is in danger, the memory of Uncle Ben resurfaces. That moment, where you stood by and did nothing, gnaws at you. It’s not something you can ever fully escape. But in a way, it drives you. You can’t afford to fail again.  

Immortal’s PTSD hits different though. When he returned after Omni-Man killed him, it was as if the very foundation of his existence had cracked. You’ve seen that rage in his eyes, the same kind of madness that comes from living centuries. You wonder how someone can hold on to their humanity for so long.

You try not to dwell on your losses. You’ve lost friends, sure, but you’ve also gained a few. Like Mary Jane, or even the occasional team-up with other heroes. But Immortal... he’s had too many relationships to count, and each one has left him with a piece of his heart shattered.  

His relationship with Dupli-Kate is one you can relate to. Losing her must’ve felt like the last straw. But when he saw her alive again, you could tell that something inside him shifted. It’s like a weight was lifted, but you could see the fragility in his eyes. Even immortality can’t protect him from the emotional toll of loss.

Sometimes, you wish you could be more like Immortal. You know that might sound strange. After all, he's got centuries of experience, unmatched power, and the ability to bounce back from almost anything. But the truth is, he’s experienced so much that he’s become hardened, disconnected, and, at times, borderline nihilistic. You’ve seen how being alone in the world for so long has affected him.  

You might be dealing with your own struggles, but at least you’ve got people who care about you—people like Aunt May, Mary Jane, even your classmates at school. You might not have immortality, but you have something he might’ve lost: the ability to connect, to have a life beyond your role as a hero.

You are Spider-Man, but you're also [Name] [Surname]. There’s a difference. While you juggle school, friends, and family, your role as Spider-Man often has you questioning whether you can keep it all together. Immortal’s existence has been shaped by countless lives, but your life is still in the making. You’re trying to figure it out as you go, but you know one thing for sure: You’ll never stop fighting.  

You have your own reason for fighting, for carrying that weight, and even when you’re exhausted, when you feel like you’re about to break, you know that you’re never truly alone. At least, not yet. 

In the end, it's about the people you save. That’s what keeps you going. You look at someone like Immortal, who has been through more than you can imagine, and you realize: He might never truly have peace, but you can still find a way to make a difference. You won’t give up, even when the odds seem impossible. Because, like Uncle Ben taught you, with great power comes great responsibility. And you’ll carry that burden with pride, no matter what.

You’ve crossed paths with him a few times, but this time... there was something different about him. His posture wasn’t regal or composed as usual. He seemed... tired. Worn. Even in the air, the weight of centuries seemed to hang on his broad shoulders.

You landed beside him, the air crackling with the sound of your webbing connecting to the wall of the nearby building.

“Everything alright, Immortal?” you asked, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

He turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes softening slightly when they met yours. There was a flicker of recognition, but also something else—something raw, like a man who had lived far too long without a true friend.

“I suppose you could say I’m... trying to figure it all out,” he replied, his voice deep and gravely, tinged with the weight of a life lived far beyond your years.

“You and me both,” you said with a small smile. “I mean, sure, I’ve only been at this whole ‘superhero’ thing for a few years, but still... figuring things out is kind of my thing.”

Immortal chuckled softly, a sound you didn’t expect from him, given his usual stoic demeanor.

“Tell me, Spider-Man,” he began, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Do you ever wonder... what it’s all for? After everything I’ve seen, after all the loss and pain, I can’t help but wonder what the purpose is. I’ve lived longer than most could ever dream, but all I’ve gained is an unrelenting sense of... emptiness.”

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him. He was right—he’d lived for centuries, witnessed the rise and fall of entire civilizations, but it was clear that what had weighed him down wasn’t just the physical battles he’d faced. It was the emotional toll, the endless cycle of loss that had left him scarred.

“I think I get what you mean,” you said, your voice thoughtful. “I don’t have centuries of experience like you do, but I know what it’s like to lose someone. My uncle... he taught me that you have to keep moving forward, even when the world feels like it’s falling apart. But you know what? I’ve realized something.” You paused, gathering your thoughts, the words coming to you more easily than you expected.

“You don’t have to carry the weight alone. I know that might sound cliché, but... you can still find purpose in the smallest of moments. In helping someone on the street, in protecting the people you care about. Sometimes... that’s enough. It’s not about fixing everything, Immortal. It’s about finding meaning in the little things that make life worth living.”

The Immortal looked at you, his expression hard to read. There was a long silence between you two, a silence that stretched like an old memory trying to form itself into something new.

“You might be right, Spider-Man,” he finally said, his voice a little softer now. “I’ve spent so much time looking at the big picture—fighting wars, saving worlds—that I’ve forgotten what it means to just... live. To be present. Maybe I’ve been so focused on the idea of purpose that I’ve missed the joy in it all.”

You could feel the shift in him, like a weight lifting just a little. The Immortal wasn’t a man of many words, and yet you’d somehow managed to break through to him. Maybe it was your youthful optimism, or maybe it was just your perspective—one that hadn’t been soured by centuries of fighting. But it seemed like he was seeing things differently now.

“Maybe... you could teach me something then,” he said after a beat. “I’ve been so focused on what I can do with my powers, I’ve never stopped to think about what I should do.”

“I think we all get caught up in that sometimes,” you replied, your smile growing a little wider. “It’s easy to forget why we fight in the first place. But it’s about more than just saving the day or taking down bad guys. It’s about the people we protect, the lives we touch.”

Immortal nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

“You speak of people, Spider-Man... of connections,” he said, his tone distant, like he was searching for something in his own mind. “You’re right. I’ve lost so much, and I’ve built walls to protect myself from the pain. But I’m not sure I understand... love. The kind of love that bonds people, that makes them fight for each other, sacrifice for one another.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering how to respond. It was clear that Immortal had never really understood the nuances of love—not in the way you had. You, with your aunt May, your friends, and your own quiet relationships with people who meant something to you. You’d learned what love could be—the deep, unconditional connection that went beyond time and power.

“Love’s a funny thing, Immortal,” you began, your voice gentle. “It’s not always easy. It’s messy. Sometimes, it’s a simple touch, a shared moment. Other times, it’s something so deep, it feels like it’ll break you. But it’s also what makes life worth living. It’s what makes us human, even if we’re not... well, human.”

The Immortal let out a soft laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“You make it sound... simple. But I can see that for you, love isn’t just a fleeting feeling. It’s something that drives you. I’ve watched you, Spider-Man. The way you protect those you care about, the way you show up when others wouldn’t. It’s not power that defines you, it’s heart. And that’s something I’ve forgotten, over the years. The need to care. To love. To let others in.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You’d never thought of it like that—like love was the thing that tied everything together, like it was the thread that held it all up. But as you stood there, staring at the Immortal—this being who had lived for centuries, witnessed entire lifetimes come and go—you realized something.

Love had kept you going. Your love for Aunt May, your friends, your city. It was why you kept fighting, even when everything seemed impossible.

“I think you’re closer to understanding it than you think,” you said, offering him a soft smile. “Love isn’t just romantic or familial. It’s the bond we form with everyone, even the people we save. It’s what makes life so special, even when it seems endless and lonely. It’s what makes everything you’ve done matter. You’ve saved so many lives, Immortal. You may not see it, but that’s love too.”

The Immortal was silent, staring at you with a mix of admiration and introspection. His posture, which had once been stiff and burdened with the weight of the world, now seemed more relaxed, more thoughtful.

[monstercangirlofficial]

People have to understand that, as soon as you are in a callout, you are marked, and are labelled with a discrediting attribute that you're burdened with. This reduces and delegitimazes your voice and your ability to be trusted and interacted with, leading to being ostracized and excluded. That is the point of the callout. After being marked and labelled, those who aren't stigmatized will avoid contact with the "stigma bearer." When marked, anytime the stigma bearer is recognized, they generate a response of aversion and disgust in those who have seen or are aware of the callout, which they rationalize and justify through the notion that those who receive callouts "deserved it"

This way, the stigma is seen by others as transferable by association and as a threat that's understood as a fair and legitimate reason to keep a safe distance, as to avoid becoming a stigma bearer. When those who aren't associated, and are sufficiently separated from the stigma bearer, support and defend the stigmatized, they become "infected" by association. But, those directly marked will always be affected the most, as they're exposed first and more widely. When labelled as a stigma bearer, the perception of you being unsafe is spread around as a warning, which is done under the guise of maintaining the safety and sanctity of the community

People don't even have to believe in the callout for the stigma to work. They don't even have to see the original post, if others relay the information through other means. Once the stigma is created, it stays almost permanently. When the callout has been around for long enough misinformation will also become easier to spread, as the original source is harder to track, and it becomes "common knowledge." It may even become in fuel for another callout, creating a history or track record, as "they were already called out before." This is why the callout is inherently effective. The callout is designed to be a weapon first, making sure it damages and stigmatizes the "brand" of a user. This way, their url, name, mutuals, posts and even profile picture bear the stigma

This policing of "bad actors" is weaponized to get rid of those that are undesirable within the community, and callouts are used against those that are marginalized, as they usually lack the social resources to retaliate, and because they're seen as "reasonably capable" of doing what they're accused of. Those that divert from the norm are also the most likely to be in risk of suffering real life consequences when separated from their communities and support nets, and callouts are intentionally made to socially murder them and their brand. This is why these warnings are shared "just in case," so people can feel morally righteous for defending the community, as it is easier than taking tangible actions to stop actual issues

Callout post are designed and intentionally spread to socially murder others, and the more likely the targets are believed to be guilty, the more effective the callout post is. People will only jump to defend targets of callouts when they're sure they're innocent (which you can only know if you personally know who's being targeted). But nobody deserves callout posts, and thinking that people who are guilty deserve them too, perpetuates this problem, and is part of the reason why callouts are so effective. Callouts don't stop abusers or abuse

Evidence will be fabricated, people will lie, spread rumors, and things will be blown out of proportions, but, even if the accusations are real, ask yourself what narrative a callout is fabricating. People making callouts know that most victims of them haven't actually harmed anyone, so they instead paint them as groups that "have the potential to harm others." You're left to fill in the blanks with whatever morally repugnant thing they could've done. Just the suggestion of possible fault and wrongdoing will make most people react with aversion and disgust, and this is enough to turn a target into a stigma bearer. People will avoid them, because the feeling of rejection is strong enough to rationalize stigma bearers as abusers

The weaponization of "the truth" is also an issue in itself. People making callouts will lie, and then it's on the stigma bearer to prove that's a lie, but only to their audience. It's also specially difficult for a stigma bearer, because they have to prove they didn't do something, and how do you prove you didn't do it when your voice is being put into question by the callout? Once the callout is out there, any statement in it will be taken at face value and spread, unless challenged or ignored. Focusing on "what parts are true" is also a weapon of the callout, as the debate of the validity of a callout also helps it to spread, as stigma bearers want to clear their names, but this leads to curiosity in onlookers, which spreads the stigma

When you're targeted by a callout post (and survive the social isolation), you don't learn a lesson, you don't grow, you're not allowed to change and be reintroduced to your community. It doesn't matter if you're innocent or guilty, because people don't even have to believe a callout post in order to act on the implicit call to action and harassment. If others consider you a danger you will be isolated and bullied, sometimes to the point of suicide, and the people who decided to target you will consider this a victory. Callouts aren't interested in rehabilitation and growth, they're not interested in questioning the institutions and contexts that allow for the abuse of power and real harm to be done. Callouts are a means for quickly obtaining social capital for removing "bad actors" and keeping the community "clean"

[heliads]

I love you writing and I was hoping you could write Ben Florian x VK!Reader the reader is Lefou's kid. A soulmate AU where the negative things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has one or two things because Ben is from Auradon and has a good life and family. While Ben has around half a dozen. Reader is the one who gives Ben the love potion. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and tries (but fails) to hide it thinking he deserves better

masterlist

There really is no good place for a prince. They are political figureheads in every sense of the phrase— too young to actually rule, too old to be allowed to skip state functions. They sit in corners of expensive meetings and cut ribbons in front of newly opened buildings, but they can’t do a whole lot except smile and pose. 

Shame your friend seems so fixated on capturing one, then. It feels like you’ve just barely left the Isle of the Lost, only bid farewell to the entirety of your prior life experience hours ago, and yet already Mal is scheming about how to best tear down everything around you. If Prince Ben is the best way to fulfill her nefarious plans, then so be it.

The only problem is that you’re now involved in all of this, too. Mal wants a wand and so she’ll take a prince to get there, but as one of her best friends, you’ve been drafted into the plot to catch a prince. Ben won’t have any idea what’s coming. Shame, he would probably run if he had any clue.

Mal’s good at covering her tracks, though, she always has been. You can remember elaborate plans from when you were much younger to steal cookies or cloaks, spellbooks and shoes. At this point, hearing Mal tell you that she’s going to bewitch the crown prince of Auradon into falling in love with her shouldn’t surprise you, just the fact that she’s taken this long to come up with the idea.

Usually, you have no problem going along with Mal’s little adventures. They’re entertaining, at the least, a good way to pass a few days when you’ve already gone over every alleyway and hiding place on the Isle at least a dozen times in the last month. The issue is that you’re not on the Isle anymore, and maybe– just maybe– disrupting everything here isn’t entirely what you want to do.

Mal doesn’t know this, of course. None of your fellow VKs do. Every time they monologue and moan about how they can’t wait to get out of this place, you find yourself holding your tongue, biting back your real thoughts about how the school isn’t actually as bad as you feared. Sure, the constant judgment from the other children of princes and princesses isn’t all that fun, but Auradon Prep has its positives, too. For one thing, you think your soulmate might be here.

What a terrible thing for the child of a villain to prioritize. You’ve heard Mal scoff at the idea of a soulmate, and although Evie is certainly more interested in the idea than some of your other friends, you’re still not sure that you’d find a welcome audience amongst their ranks when it comes to tracking down your soulmate. After all, the odds of that soulmate being from Auradon and not the Isle are pretty high. They’ve all but told you that themselves.

All things considered, for a society with such control over magic and spells, it’s pretty difficult to find your soulmate. You’d always wondered why those in charge couldn’t shorten the whole affair to something more simple– a name on the wrist, perhaps, or an invisible string that only the two of you could see– but instead, soulmate magic went the complicated route. How lovely.

The story about the origin of the soulmate magic is convoluted and ancient, going back generations and changing with each family. The general consensus is that soulmates were created to preserve the sanctity of true love, with the idea that soulmates should be able to love each other entirely, flaws and all. So, when you think something negative about yourself, those very same thoughts will show up on the skin of your soulmate, something like a warning label for what they’re going to get themselves into.

This is all well and good for people with few negative thoughts, maybe they’ll have something here and there about a bad sports result or a poor test grade that their soulmate can chuckle over before meeting them. For you, though? You, the child of a villain, cursed to live forever on a too-small island with the other convicts and criminals, you have had more fears and hated things about yourself than most. Your soulmate must be covered in unhappy musings, which only makes you feel worse about yourself than before. A self-perpetuating cycle of the worst kind.

By contrast, the startling absence of your soulmate’s negative thoughts on your own skin makes you certain that they couldn’t be from the Isle of the Lost. There are only one or two fears on your skin, proof of loving parents and a stable home, and they’re minor things like a bad hair day or a fear of not doing their absolute best. These change, often leaving every few months to be replaced by something else insignificant.

What makes you most certain that your soulmate is the child of a royal is the one negative thought that has stayed on your skin since the very beginning. Your soulmate, whoever they are, is terrified that they will let down the king and queen. Only someone with close ties to the royalty could have such a fear, so it’s proof that your soulmate is somewhere here on Auradon.

So maybe you don’t want to leave this place, not yet. Not until you can learn who your soulmate is. It’ll be almost impossible to track them down on this information alone, but supposedly that’s how the whole thing is supposed to work. You learn about the worst parts of your soulmate, and then you get to love the best of them. The only problem is that you’re fairly sure that if your soulmate is a royal, they won’t want to love you at all.

It’s easier to ignore the whole affair. Easier to agree to Mal’s plan when she proposes enchanting Prince Ben. At least another one of your friend’s schemes will keep your mind off the soulmate affair.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, but your conscience is starting to get steadily more vocal as the days go by. Ben is a nice guy, which hurts, surprisingly. Although the love spell may have been cast on Mal, as one of Mal’s closest friends, you’re around the two of them all the time. The boy you see is someone that you wish could be your soulmate. He may be a prince, and you may be a villain, but he makes you want to believe in love after all.

You certainly have the capacity for such musings. For some reason, the love spell didn’t take all that well, and although Ben is now compelled to stay with Mal more than he was before, it’s not like he’s totally obsessed with her as Mal had hoped. Mal claims it’s because love spells can never work fully due to the soulmate issue, like having a soulmate is a kind of shield to protect you against that sort of enchantment, but regardless, Ben has just enough independent thought that he can tell you jokes and try to make you smile like– well, like he tries to do with Mal.

The realization that Ben is a genuinely good person, and worse, someone you don’t want to trick, haunts you as you fall further into Mal’s scheme. You’ve been trying to push the whole thing from your mind, letting Ben join your soulmate in the depths of your mind you don’t want to touch, but your train of thought keeps circling back to him despite your best attempts otherwise.

Besides, it doesn’t help that Mal keeps trying to involve you in the plot. Right now, the two of them are at the Enchanted Lake, out on a cute little date. Mal had been making mock disgusted faces at you the whole time she was getting ready, but some part of yourself can’t stop whispering that this doesn’t seem so bad, actually, that the thought of being out here alone with Ben would make for a wonderful day instead of the tedious chore Mal is making it out to be.

Ben doesn’t know you’re here, though. Mal wanted backup in case something happened, so you’re lingering in the woods to keep anyone from stumbling upon the scene and also holding onto more magical baked goods in case Mal feels the need to renew the spell. It’s kind of like torture, strolling through this beautiful forest, knowing that Ben is so close and you are helping hold him under the thrall of this plot.

The storm in your mind must be thundering too loudly for you to think straight, because you lose track of yourself and accidentally walk too close to the lake. You weren’t supposed to be spotted, but before you can back away and melt back into the foliage, Ben looks up and sees you. You panic, immediately heading the way you’d come, but you hear footsteps after you moments later and Ben manages to track you down before you can go too far. Mal is so going to kill you for messing with her plan.

“Sorry,” you murmur, eyes wide when he finally catches up to you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were– I’ll go now.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s not like we have a monopoly on the woods.”

He’s dripping water, most likely due to a recent dip in the lake, and you can’t seem to stop your gaze from following the path of the droplets as they cascade down his shoulders, across his hands, and, most importantly of all, over the swooping letters of the fears of his soulmates. 

Usually, Ben wears long sleeves or something else to hide them. You can see why now– there are many of them, many more than you, perhaps half a dozen in all. You can’t read all of them from where you’re standing, just snippets about how a villain’s kid shouldn’t have a soulmate, how they’ll never amount to much, things like that. Things like what you’ve been thinking recently.

Ben must catch on to your train of thought, because he smiles weakly, absentmindedly scratching at a sentence proclaiming that his soulmate isn’t worth the good luck they get. “Yeah, my soulmate’s a little stressed, I guess. Hopefully, I can talk about that with them soon. I want them to know that they’re worth it, wherever they are.”

It had never occurred to you that hating yourself would make your soulmate this obsessed. You have no proof that Ben is your soulmate but– 

But, as you watch, you can see a new fear appearing out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Ben’s left wrist. I’m not good enough for a soulmate this good. Just what you were thinking mere moments ago. It’s like proof.

Ben looks up slowly, and although you were never blessed with the ability to read minds, you swear you can tell exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Are you–” he starts, ends, tries again, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

You can do several things at this moment. You can confirm what you’re mostly sure is true, you can lie, you can pretend you hadn’t heard him. You spot movement in the trees behind him, a flash of purple, and remember belatedly that Mal is still somewhere at the Enchanted Lake, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering why you’re holding him here for so long.

All of a sudden, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around your shoulders. This is not something that can happen. Ben is a prince. You are the child of a villain, and the friend of another VK who’s counting on you to continue fooling Ben so she can pursue her latest mad plan. There is no world in which this works out.

So, you force a smile, banishing all thoughts back into the deep recesses of your brain once more. “No,” you say, “I don’t know. I think they’re a VK, though.”

Ben’s face falls in a flash. “Really? Because I thought–”

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t– it’s not me. I think Mal is waiting for you, though. You shouldn’t keep her for long.”

Ben glances back over his shoulder in memory of the girl he’s left somewhere in the woods behind him, and when he looks back, you’re gone. You’re good at running. It’s a skill you’ve perfected over the years. You just never thought you’d have to use it now.

Prince Ben is your soulmate. Impossible. True. Mal comes back later that afternoon, tells you the date went splendidly despite your accidental intrusion. Ben must not have let the brief moment in the woods faze him for long. It hurts more than you care to admit.

There is only so much running a VK can do, try as they might to pretend otherwise. You avoid Ben at all costs, hoping that whatever foolish war is currently being fought inside your heart will come to a tolerable ceasefire if you just ignore it long enough. Mal tells you that the plan is going swimmingly, she’s never seen the prince more excited about the VKs and the upcoming coronation. You nod and smile and tell her that you’re glad everything is going to plan, but inside, you cannot seem to stop your mind from screaming. 

And then, all of a sudden, despite your best attempts to remain out of sight, Prince Ben finds you. It’s completely out of the blue, so casual that you almost don’t realize it’s happening until he’s sitting down at your table in the library and it’s too late to run. 

You feel like an animal caught in a trap. He’s just smiling like nothing is the matter. “I know it’s you,” he says by way of hello. 

Your heart is stuck in your throat. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Ben repeats, “I know you’re my soulmate. I had the Fairy Godmother do a little spell so I could check for you, but I think I knew since that day at the lake.”

You frown. “You can do that?”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not everyone can, I think. But I, uh, insisted.”

You grin. “Prince privileges?”

“Something like that.” He’s smiling, though, maybe pleased that you’re not trying to run off this time. “But you knew even without the spell, didn’t you?”

That does shake your uncertain sense of calm. “Yes,” you admit, “but I didn’t think you— I didn’t think it would work out.”

The look on Ben’s face is genuinely heartbreaking. “What, just because I’m a prince?”

He says it so casually, it’s almost funny. “Yes, Ben, because you’re a prince and I’m a VK. I mean, my dad was Lefou. He literally tried to ruin the happy ever after of your parents, why would you want someone like me to be your soulmate?”

“Same reason you shouldn’t be afraid to want me. You’re not your father, Y/N, and I’m not my parents. We’re just us, and I know that I want you to be my soulmate. I have since the start. I was hoping you would tell me you knew, but after a few days went by and you still said nothing, I figured I had to take matters into my own hands. Even if that meant using a spell or two.”

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and tell you it’s ridiculous to think that he would ever want a VK as a soulmate, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t think he ever will. As impossible as it seems, Ben wants someone who isn’t from a perfect fairy tale. He wants you. And that, lovely and wonderful and absolutely crazy, sounds like a fairly good happily ever after for you. 

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

[kaciidubs]

Walking in on Roommate! Chan

❣ Summary: Random hard thought of accidentally walking in on your roommate, Chris, while he's masturbating. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 928 ❣ Warnings: Non!Idol AU, Roommate! Chris, fluff, slice of life, slight humor, slight smut; masturbation and being caught, embarrassing moments turned funny ❣  ❣ Gender Neutral! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris and Channie, mention of Jisung, Felix, Jeongin, and Changbin, barely edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Pt. 2

You should have knocked - you knew your manners, you knew the sanctity of privacy when living with a roommate, but in all honesty this wasn't your fault.

You'd heard him talking over the phone not too long ago, you could hear the sound of laughter and the mention of Jisung's name which meant it wasn't a serious call.

All you needed was the answer to a question; you just wanted to know if he wanted to host another game night at the apartment for your collective friends.

"Hey, Channie, can I ask-"

Pushing the door open, you were met with the sight of your roommate - your funny, silly, hot, attractive roommate - laid back on his bed with his joggers tugged to his knees and his dick in his fist.

Holy Shit.

His head was tossed back against the headboard of his bed, black hair beautifully messy and pretty lips parted with his tongue poking out between them.

Holy shit.

Emphasis lingered on was, as his head snapped up and the eyes that were once closed were now glued to you standing in the open doorway of his room watching him jack off.

Your name flew from his mouth with a shout, the embarrassed shock on his face was evident, but it all seemed to melt away when his breath caught - gaze faltering with fluttered blinks.

"Fuck- Wait- S-Shit-"

It didn't take you long to realize what was happening, and your hands flew to your face to preserve whatever privacy was left for you both.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh my god- I'm so sorry!"

Blinded by the almost painful way you squeezed your eyes shut, and the added weight of your hands, you did your best to block out his panted breaths while navigating your way out of the doorway; slamming your shoulder against the frame as you ran back down the hall.

The door was left open but the damage had already been done, shouting another apology as you swung yourself into your room.

"I'm sorry!"

Two hours.

Two hours of hiding away in your room before the incessant growling of your stomach forced you out into the open - if you could just grab a bag of chips, you would be fine, you could go back to pretending whatever you just saw was a trick of your mind.

However, life seemed to enjoy laughing in your face as you ventured into the kitchen to see Chris already standing there, fingers drumming against the countertop.

Noticing your presence, he stood straight, staring at you as if you were an easily frightened animal - worried that if he moved in the slightest way, he'd scare you off.

"Uh, hey."

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, "Hey."

Normal.

All you needed to do was act normal and push away the mental image of your best friend in the throws of pleasure, the way his face looked or the way his shivering breaths played on loop in the back of your mind.

"I ordered takeout-"

"I'm sorry I saw your dick."

Great.

You smacked your forehead with a loud groan, "I didn't mean to just blurt that out! Oh my fucking god, Chris, I'm so, so sorry - this whole thing is so embarrassing."

The burden of your anguish was curbed by the sound of his high squeaks of laughter, prompting you to peek between your fingers to see him leaning against the counter for support.

"I- It's-" Steadying himself with a deep breath, he looked at you with warm eyes, "It's okay, really - it's my fault for not locking the door, you know? Think of it as payback for me accidentally walking in on you in the shower that one time."

You couldn't help the burst of laughter that rose from the memory, "You were half asleep, that's not the same!"

"So what?! I still walked in - I didn't even think about the steam until you screamed, I almost had a heart attack!"

The mental replay of him jumping like a frightened cat made you laugh harder - to this day you were both still surprised that your neighbors didn't call the cops from how loud you screamed.

Soon the once tense atmosphere was warm and comfortable, familiar, and you found yourself settling back into your usual self.

"Really though," smiling softly, you stepped further into the kitchen and leaned against the opposite side of the island, "I'm sorry, I should've knocked, I heard you talking to Ji earlier and thought you were still free."

Chris waved his hand passively, giving you a dimpled smile, "Like i said, don't worry about it - I've experienced worse, trust me." Mirroring your slouched position, he cocked his head to the side, "Did you want to ask me something, though? I heard you say my name before the whole, you know, incident."

Your eyebrows furrowed for a moment before you gasped, "The game night! I wanted to know if we could do another game night with the guys! Felix and Jeongin asked me about it and I told them I'd ask you when you weren't busy."

"Of course, what?! I've been dying to get back at Changbin for his cheap win at Smash!" A knock at the door interrupted him before he could dive into his plan for revenge and he sprung up, "Let me pay for the food then we can set up a date for it, yeah?"

Nodding happily, you watched as he headed for the front door and let out a sigh of relief, happy that your dynamic remained unphased through the minor slip up.

...Right?

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How do I write mean insults that's in character for a character to say? I'm personally poor at coming up with insults that don't sound generic or would actually cut deep, being mean in general. I want to write a snarky character with a dry sense of humour when it calls for it but don't know how to go about it.

He's also recovering from a superiority and inferiority complex.

As the writer, you know your character best, and what insults would make sense for them to say (also considering the bigger context of the scene). So, I'll just provide you with a compilation of prompts and notes from different sources, and you can choose which ones are most appropriate to incorporate in your story.

Writing Notes: Insults & Dry Humor

A List of "Sophisticated" Insults

Craven - having or showing a complete lack of courage; very cowardly

Fatuous - silly or stupid; complacently or inanely foolish. From Latin infatuate, which once meant "to make foolish," but which now usually means "to inspire with foolish love or admiration."

Insipid - not interesting or exciting; dull or boring

Obstreperous - difficult to control and often noisy

Obtuse - stupid or unintelligent; not able to think clearly or to understand what is obvious or simple

Pusillanimous - weak and afraid of danger. It's been used by such notables as Ralph Waldo Emerson ("It is a pusillanimous desertion of our work to gaze after our neighbours"), and the disgraced Vice-President Spiro Agnew, who called journalists "pusillanimous pussyfooters."

Sanctimonious - pretending to be morally better than other people. It once meant "possessing sanctity; holy, sacred." The genuinely holy aspect faded, and William Shakespeare is credited with first using sanctimonious to mean "hypocritically pious or devout."

Twee - sweet or cute in a way that is silly or sentimental. Just as buddy is believed to be a baby talk alteration of "brother", twee is a baby talk alteration of "sweet". Although twee is still considered a chiefly British term, it's increasingly popular in American English.

Unctuous - revealing or marked by a smug, ingratiating, and false earnestness or spirituality. Unction can mean "anointment" or it can name something used to anoint, such as a soothing or lubricating oil. That idea of oiliness led to unctuous, which can describe the slickness of false sincerity.

Vacuous - having or showing a lack of intelligence or serious thought; lacking meaning, importance, or substance

The insult would also depend on which other character it is directed at. Here is a list of "funny" insults for adults from Reader's Digest:

My days of not taking you seriously have come to a middle.

You are the human equivalent of a participation trophy.

If you were a spice, you’d be flour.

You may have a sparsely attended funeral.

I smell something burning. Are you trying to think again?

You’re like a lighthouse in a desert: bright but not very useful.

Don’t worry—the first 30 years of childhood are always the hardest.

May your life be as pleasant as you are.

You’re as useless as the “ueue” in “queue.”

Your face is just fine. It’s your personality that’s the issue.

...and for your character's significant other:

I like you. People say I have no taste, but I like you.

You continue to meet my expectations.

I’ll never forget the first time we met. But I’ll keep trying.

If genius skips a generation, our kids will be brilliant.

We were happily married for a month. Too bad it’s our 10-year anniversary.

I admire the way you try so hard.

You’re entitled to your incorrect opinion.

Have you tried doing it the way I told you to the first time?

The best part of watching a show with you is when you fall asleep because then I can watch my show.

Don’t call me crazy—you’re the one who married me!

You can always alter these to better suit your character. You can read the full list here, which also includes some insults for kids, best friends, and family.

Tips for Better Humor Writing

Humor writing isn’t all about landing a good joke (except for when it is). In creative writing, the effect is usually a bit more nuanced. Here’s a few writing techniques to get you started:

Subvert expectations. Try to undermine the audience’s expectations or reform them with structural elements.

Save the best for last. Humor is often a release of tension, so the sentence builds that tension, and the pay-off—the punchline—happens most naturally at the end. This is also sometimes referred to as the “rule of three,” where two thoughts act as a build-up to the final humorous closer.

Use contrast. Are your characters in a terrifying situation? Add something light, like a man obsessing about his briefcase instead of the T-Rex looming behind him.

Use good wordplay. Sometimes words themselves are funny, and just as often, their placement in a sentence can make a difference. Some words are just funnier than others, so make a list of those that amuse you the most.

Take advantage of cliché. While clichés are something most writers try to avoid, it’s important to recognize them,so you can use them to your advantage. Humor relies in part on twisting a cliché—transforming or undermining it. You do this by setting up an expectation based on the cliché and then providing a surprise outcome. In humor writing, this process is called reforming.

Use humor as a counterbalance. If you just pile on one terrible thing after another, it starts to become ridiculous, and people won’t buy it. Using humor is a great way to achieve the proper balance between fantasy and real life. Remember, if a roller coaster only did twists and turns the whole time, it wouldn’t be as fun to ride.

Level of Intensity

There are people who shrug off an insult (“That’s just the way she is”) and people who commit murder over an insult (“I’m avenging my honor!”). Plus, of course, everything in between. Which is your character?

To be believable, consider the following:

Personality. How hard does your character take events in general? Does s/he get really excited over good fortune and really depressed over setbacks? Then we’ll find it believable that s/he gets really angry and reacts accordingly.

The second cause of an intense reaction is the nature of the specific fight that you’re creating on the page. Lily Owens lets most of her father’s insults go by (“the art of survival”). But when he starts in about her mother, the topic is too important to Lily to gloss over. Lily’s reaction is intense. She runs away. Another type of character might merely have seethed silently. Still another might have fought T. Ray more intensively, setting fire to the house with him inside.

Finally, the strength of fights is culturally determined. Where public or even private scenes are disapproved of (upper-class London, old-money Boston, “well-behaved” families), arguments may be muted, even when the subject matters a great deal. In other cultures, volatility is not frowned on, and people may feel free to scream at each other in public. In extreme cases, murder may even be considered a duty, as in avenging a sister’s sexual assault.

Where is your story taking place? Are your arguers in tune with local or family culture? Maybe not. You can create interesting effects by portraying the rebels against the local mores: the meek child born into a battling family, the furious feminist in polite 19th-century English society.

On Dry Humor

Dry humor - is all about the subtle irony of the facts being stated plainly; it is the contrast between sentiment and reality that makes the situation funny.

The technique is known for its simple, often matter-of-fact declarations that will make the audience laugh or be perplexed (humor is subjective, after all).

With dry humor, delivery and intention create a sort of comedic cognitive dissonance or contrast. Sometimes it is as simple as using a bit of sarcasm, but it can also be more than that.

Dry humor lives and dies on the back of doing less.

Less facial expressions, less props, less setup—less is often more when it comes to landing the joke. You aren’t using a big, dramatic setup or a grandiose vocabulary to make your point.

Essentially, these jokes are derived from saying the opposite of what is meant or delivering them in a way that purposefully counteracts the supposed meaning of what is being said.

Dry Humor in Writing

The function of dry humor has often been to highlight the absurd.

It is effectively executed in moments where satirization of the circumstances at play require little more than noting the facts aloud.

When writing this sort of humor, quick, cutting accuracy is key to making the jokes land.

Simplicity is king, and an honest statement of the facts will always lead the way to finding the funny.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Humour ⚜ Laughter & Humour

Hope this helps with your writing!

[slutforalastor]

you never thought this day might come, sat down with the Radio Demon's head in your lap, his gaze lazy and half-lidded as he allows you, generously, so generously, to touch the pronged antlers that extend from the top of his head. His lips pass soft white noise as you run a finger from the base to the tip of his antlers, the vibration that you can feel beneath the hard exterior somewhere between the hum of a domestic appliance and the throb, throb, throb of a heartbeat

You can feel Alastor's shoulders tense up whenever you put too much pressure on them, his calm breathing briefly interrupted every time you push his sensitivity past his tolerance. Each time you find yourself being too exploratory, you correct yourself back to the safety of gentle strokes, letting your fingertips soak in the unique texture. They are somewhere between the firm smoothness of exposed bone, like his teeth when they drag across the topmost layer of your skin, leaving perfect streaks too shallow to bleed, too pronounced to refute their creator, and the spongy give of delicate flesh. You know the trust he's imparted to you to be given this kind of access; not only does he so limit incoming touch, but resents any reminder of his reincarnation as a prey animal.

"I'm surprised you're okay with this," you murmur to him, so unwilling to compromise the sanctity of this moment.

"Only because it is you," Alastor assures you, his tone just as hushed.

You continue, relishing in this opportunity. You explore every hook and divot of the black extensions, marveling at the current of demonic energy that pulses through them. It was your impression that they only grew when Alastor was angry, but not quite: any overwhelming passion, be it joy, theoretically speaking, or fear, or sadness, and they will billow out. You wonder if you can elicit such a response. Your opening gambit is strong: you lean into his ear, whispering "If anyone else were to do this, you'd tear them apart, wouldn't you?"

"For even less than this, dearest. I'd assumed that was obvious."

"But not me?"

"But not you."

"Maybe I want you to tear me apart, love."

The first sign; you feel a shift through the skeletal system they're connected to, a tremor of recognition, of sudden awoken desire.

"I'm sure you just aren't aware of what you're asking for."

"No, I'm all too aware. You want something deeper, too, don't you? It can't be enough just to meet in such a temporary union, only to separate. I want you to bring a little piece of me along with you, knowing you've claimed more than just one part of me, but any you desire."

He shudders, deeper this time, and you feel growth. Sharp edges and deeper curves sprout like curling ivy where there had once been certain ends, like a blossoming tree bursting into life. Your loving strokes down the length of his antlers grow deeper, more pronounced, almost incessant.

"What game are you playing at?" Alastor pants, his breathing hitching every time you push against them with any kind of firmness.

"I love seeing what you do."

His body has seized, but doesn't do anything else. You can feel the efforts of the sinew across his back against your lap. Best of all are his facial expressions; his initial contentment has evolved, firstly into surprised, the edges of his bladed grin peeking out from his thin lips, his eyes squinted and playful. Now it's become a look of desire, his mouth open slightly, droning a steady song with no melody but a captivating refrain, nonetheless. His eyes plead with you; so uncharacteristic, for him to be putty in your hands. To think you could hold the high ground in any situation, much less as a result of this.

"Don't toy with me," he warns, but his voice doesn't sound assured. It sounds needy, like a request for more.

"I would never, love."

"Then end this teasing," he begs.

You do as he asks, taking your hands away from his antlers. With some strain, he manages to get his breathing back under control, his antlers receding like the retreating tide, back to their typical size. "Did you enjoy yourself?" you wonder, after he's calmed himself.

He looks at you with mischief etched in his features. "Not as much as I'm sure I will soon enough." ~~~

[guillotine-drop]

I love Benny fuckers because any time I see a post being horny for that checker suited freak it’s almost always either

A. Something tender and longing. You want to feel his hands on yours. You want to cup his face in your hands and tell him “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight alone anymore. I’ll be by your side.” You want to feel him relax in your grip, want to feel and see the breath he’s been holding in for so long leave his lungs. You want to make him feel safe, make him feel as though he’s actually going to make it this time. That he’s finally going to know peace. The boot riders, the chairmen, it was all for this moment; it was all for the sanctity of having someone he can trust, fully and openly, with his life.

Or B. You wanna grab him by the leg and swing him around over your head and throw him at the walls like a milk soaked ragdoll and hit him with a stick and just generally treat him like a chew toy (he is buck naked save for his suit jacket and enjoying all of this a little too much)

[yuechicake]

i find mhin's relationship with the other cast members fascinating, so i'm compiling my thoughts here in regards to how mhin discusses the others!

what is most prominent in regards to kuras is how highly mhin talks about him--a rarity, considering their usual acerbic tone. what makes kuras so different is how much mhin likes his kindness and goodwill. mhin values goodness and the sanctity of life as a scientist themself, but at the same time, they're wary of kuras's ulterior motives and thus can't let themself get too close to him--such altruism is frightening because it's simply too good to be true, and might mask other, more sinister intentions.

vere is someone who mhin speaks about with unrestrained vitriol, and there's no reluctant compliment or cool observation to be found. what mhin despises about vere isn't just the attempt on their life (though they aren't above personal grudges), it's vere's blatant disregard for others and his selfish actions that have no justification other than "he wants to act this way." vere's actions reinforces mhin's own notions about monsters, so what you see with vere is what you get--of course vere has done something terrible enough to warrant containment by the senobium. mhin has no pity for him, and assumes the worst of vere by default.

mhin is fond of leander for the same reason they're fond of kuras. they're slightly smitten by the idea of leander as the people's savior, and they're probably smitten by leander in general, as i think mhin is more susceptible to charisma and the persona of a good samaritan. at the same time, i think they also enjoy that leander is persistent and isn't put off by mhin's prickly demeanor. it might seem like a contradiction, but they enjoy when people try to get close to them despite how they act. it's a taste of the connection and vulnerability they long for, even if they will still deny it to themself at the end of the day. it's also why they're so quick to put distance between themself and leander, by immediately dissuading any notion they're part of the adderstones.

though all of mhin's relationships are interesting, there's something fascinating by how they view ais and the insight it gives to their mindset. ais, in mhin's own words, hasn't "done anything yet"--which means they're waiting for him to slip up and prove himself to be the monster mhin thinks he is. they expect ais to disappoint them and suspect he's the same as vere deep down. mhin's vitriol for monstrosity might be rooted in self-loathing, but it's interesting how they believe it to be inherent, not learned, which is why they're already bracing for the worst case scenario. what mhin hates about monsters the most is their disregard for others, when mhin has been shown to be someone who cares deeply about other people.

perhaps mhin wants ais to act differently, but they'll resent ais all the more for not choosing to be anything but a monster in the end. he can't be anything but his nature, so it'll be their fault for having any hope ais would be different, as possessing a monstrous nature only ever has one outcome. it's also possible there's some resentment if mhin's own monstrosity is inherent, while ais chose to make a deal with ocedeus, so mhin would despise ais for choosing to be monstrous instead of walking away, like mhin is unable to. at the same time, i wonder if mhin is ever jealous of ais and vere for their lack of restraint, when they're so cautious all the time in comparison.

[cheerfullycatholic]

President Donald Trump signed an executive order on the federal death penalty Jan. 20, among the first actions of his second term, directing the attorney general to “pursue the death penalty for all crimes of a severity demanding its use,” prompting statements of concern from Catholic opponents of the practice.

...

The death penalty order was among those Archbishop Timothy P. Broglio, president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops and head of the U.S. Archdiocese for the Military Services, called “deeply troubling” in a Jan. 22 statement about Trump’s first batch of executive orders in his second term.

...

Krisanne Vaillancourt Murphy, executive director of Catholic Mobilizing Network, a group that advocates for the abolition of capital punishment in line with Catholic teaching, said in a statement Trump’s executive order on the death penalty “makes no sense." “What we know about the death penalty is that it does not deter crime or make communities safer,” Vaillancourt Murphy said. “It’s immoral, flawed and risky, arbitrary and unfair, cruel and dehumanizing. Both the state and federal death penalty systems are broken beyond repair, and emblematic of a throwaway culture.”

...

The Catholic Church’s official magisterium opposes the use of the death penalty as inconsistent with the inherent sanctity of human life, and advocates for the abolition of the practice worldwide. In his 2020 encyclical “Fratelli Tutti,” Pope Francis addressed the moral problem of capital punishment by citing St. John Paul II, writing that his predecessor “stated clearly and firmly that the death penalty is inadequate from a moral standpoint and no longer necessary from that of penal justice.”

“There can be no stepping back from this position,” Pope Francis wrote. Echoing the teaching he clarified in his 2018 revision of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, the pontiff said, “Today we state clearly that ‘the death penalty is inadmissible’ and the church is firmly committed to calling for its abolition worldwide.”

Pope Francis on Jan. 9 in his annual audience for members of the diplomatic corps, also said the death penalty “finds no justification today among the instruments capable of restoring justice.”

[mononijikayu]

love me anyway — fushiguro megumi.

Megumi was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Then, he asked quietly, “Do you love me?” The question took you by surprise, but you nodded without hesitation. “Of course, I do. I love you more than anything.” Before you could say more, he cut you off, his voice firm yet tender. “Then love me anyway.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll love you like that too. But in my way. Okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Idol AU!

WARNING/s: General Audience, SFW, Fluff, Romance, Mild Angst, Comfort, Care, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Crying, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Confessions, Mutual Affection, Love, Hugging, Idol! Megumi, Idol! Reader, Someone Love Me Like Megumi Loves Reader;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the kanji translates to 1st bubble - 'love me anyway' and 2nd bubble - 'i'll love you like that too'; i was also supposed to publish this last night, but i was exhausted from the nightmare of trying to get admitted for classes at our unprepared uni. but alas, it is what it is. also, i keep thinking - would people be interested to ask commission me for fiction work??? if so, tell me~ anyway, i love you all!!!

main masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

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IF ANYONE ASKS ABOUT YOU, MEGUMI SAYS NOTHING. When Megumi Fushiguro was asked about his personal life, especially concerning his relationship status, he always took a measured approach. His calm demeanor, coupled with his reluctance to divulge details, created a mystery that intrigued fans and media alike. 

Interviewers would frequently probe with questions about who he might be dating, their curiosity piqued by his silence. Yet Megumi, skilled at deflecting attention, would maintain an air of nonchalance. He would often sidestep the inquiries with practiced ease. "I prefer to keep my personal life private." he’d say with a polite smile, steering the conversation to his latest projects or upcoming performances.

When pressed further, his responses would be deliberately vague. "I’m not seeing anyone special at the moment." he’d offer, though his tone hinted at something more, leaving room for speculation. Occasionally, he’d indulge in playful ambiguity, saying, "That’s a bit of a secret." allowing the press and his fans to indulge in their wild theories.

In truth, his silence was not a mere avoidance of the topic but a carefully crafted shield. The reality was that he was deeply committed to you, his fellow pop singer. To the outside world, he remained an enigma, but those who knew him well understood that his reluctance to discuss his personal life was his way of protecting something precious. 

Away from the spotlight, Megumi cherished the moments he spent with you. In the quiet of your shared spaces, there were no prying eyes, no pressure to perform or maintain a facade. Here, he could be himself—a man deeply in love, unguarded and tender in ways the world never saw.

He would often steal glances at you when you weren’t looking, a soft smile playing on his lips as he marveled at how effortlessly you fit into his life. It was in the little things—the way you brewed his coffee just the way he liked it, the shared laughter over inside jokes, the warmth of your hand in his as you walked through the city late at night, hidden from the world. These were the moments that mattered to him, far more than any public adoration or recognition.

Megumi's commitment to keeping your relationship private wasn’t just about maintaining his image—it was about preserving the sanctity of what you both had built together. The love you shared was too precious, too delicate, to be exposed to the scrutiny and speculation that came with fame. He wanted to protect it, to keep it safe from the prying eyes and intrusive questions that would inevitably come if your relationship became public knowledge.

In those rare instances when the pressure of the media became overwhelming, and the rumors started to swirl, you both found solace in the understanding that this was your choice. The secrecy wasn’t a burden but a conscious decision to prioritize each other over the demands of the world outside.

Megumi knew that one day, when the time was right, he would be ready to share his happiness with the world. But until then, he was content with the quiet, intimate life you shared—one that was filled with love, trust, and the unspoken understanding that you were both in this together, no matter what.

Fushiguro Megumi thought of this bubble as something sacred, a secret he held close, not meant for the public but for himself alone. It was his way of preserving the tenderness and intimacy of what you shared, a private world far removed from the demands and expectations of his public life.

If anyone took a closer look, they might notice the subtle signs—the small but significant traces of you woven into his daily routine. The Polaroids tucked into the inner pocket of his coat when he traveled were a tangible connection to you, a reminder of moments that were too precious to be left behind. These photos, capturing the essence of your time together, were his silent companions on the road, offering comfort and a sense of closeness no matter how far away he was.

Then there was the worn edge of the photo he kept in his wallet, a picture he glimpsed every time he paid for his usual iced Americano. The photo, though small, held a world of memories within its faded colors—a candid shot of you laughing, the kind of smile that made his heart feel lighter even on the toughest days. This simple act of seeing your face, even in passing, grounded him, reminding him of the life you had together beyond the stage and the spotlight.

During his live broadcasts, there was yet another clue—another Polaroid placed on his nightstand, visible only to those who looked closely. To the casual observer, it might seem like just another photo, but to Megumi, it was a piece of home, a visual anchor to the life he cherished with you. This photo was a quiet declaration, a subtle hint at the love that defined his private world, even if he chose not to speak of it aloud.

Each of these small, deliberate choices was Megumi’s way of carrying you with him, of keeping you close even when you were apart. It was a way of acknowledging your presence in his life without exposing it to the world, preserving the purity of what you shared. In this carefully constructed bubble, you were safe, your love shielded from the chaos and noise of the outside world. And for Megumi, that was all that mattered.

To the world, he was enigmatic, but in the quiet moments away from the cameras, Megumi’s heart was unmistakably yours. And he absolutely loved it. He adored having to see these polaroids, the ones only for his eyes and be reminded that you took them for him. Each one had notes behind it — the date it was taken, the place it was taken and unique declarations of love from you. One after the other. Only for him to see. 

It’s not that Megumi wants to keep you a secret—far from it. He dreams of the day when he can hold your hand in public, fingers intertwined without a second thought, and kiss you on the street, feeling the world fade away as his lips meet yours. He imagines looking up during a performance and spotting you in the VIP box, your face beaming with pride as you cheer him on, your presence a source of strength.

But he knows you’re not ready for that step yet. And he gets it, truly he does. Being public together is a huge deal, something that would bring your relationship under the intense scrutiny of fans and the media. The thought of everyone speculating, commenting, dissecting every interaction between the two of you—it overwhelms you. And Megumi loves you too much, loves you too much to ever subject you to something that could hurt you.

So he waits, never pressuring, always patient. He works hard to ensure you know how much he loves you, showing it in the quiet moments, in the little things he does just for you. He’s there for you in ways that matter most, understanding your needs, your boundaries. And you know that, feel that love in every glance, every touch, every word he doesn’t need to say.

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SOMETIMES, YOU THINK THAT YOU AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM. You know you really shouldn’t even be thinking that. But It was really hard not to think that. Even little things like this, being able to be together, he’ll make it possible. Just to be with you, he’ll move every schedule he has around. You watched him intently as he prepared for song rehearsals, the familiar rhythm of the venue buzzing around you.

Both of you had been invited to perform at the same song festival—two stars in your own right, each with a dedicated following and a unique presence on stage. Yet, despite the individual paths you had carved in the industry, there was an undeniable connection between you, something that always seemed to draw you closer, even in the vast world of music and fame.

The festival was a high-profile event, a convergence of talent and star power, where each performance was eagerly anticipated by fans and critics alike. You were no exception; your name alone was enough to generate buzz, your performance a highlight on the festival's lineup. But this time, there was something more personal, more intimate at stake.

His stage was scheduled right after yours, a coincidence that felt almost too perfect to be real. It provided you with the perfect opportunity to linger behind after your set, slipping into the shadows to watch him perform without drawing too much attention.

It wasn’t unusual for artists to stay and support their peers, but for you, it was more than just professional courtesy—it was a chance to savor the moments you had together, to see him in his element, knowing that soon, he would be gone, and the time you had now would be all you could hold on to for a while.

Megumi had only decided to attend the festival because he knew you would be there. The invitation had come at a time when his schedule was already packed with album promotions and interviews, and truthfully, he could have declined without anyone questioning his decision.

But the thought of spending even a few hours in the same space as you, of sharing the stage at the same event, was enough to make him rearrange his plans. It was rare for your paths to cross like this, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by.

The festival was not just a performance but a brief, precious reprieve from the hectic lives you both led. It was a chance to be together, to share a moment that was yours alone, even if it was in the midst of flashing lights and roaring crowds. The fact that you were both attending had turned what might have been just another event into something special, something you both looked forward to with a mix of excitement and bittersweet anticipation.

Because after the festival, there would be rehearsals, and then he would be off again, flying halfway across the world to promote his album. It was the nature of your lives, always moving, always in demand, but it didn’t make the goodbyes any easier. You knew that once he left, it would be weeks, maybe even months, before you could see each other again. The distance would stretch between you, filled with phone calls and texts, but it wasn’t the same as being together, as feeling his presence beside you.

Megumi was focused, his expression serious as he adjusted his in-ear monitor, the slight furrow in his brow showing his concentration. For a brief moment, his gaze shifted, landing on you. There was a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes, a connection that needed no words. You couldn’t help but smile, the simple act of being there for him filling you with warmth.

He caught the smile, and something softened in his features, though he quickly averted his gaze as the stage director’s voice echoed through the space, calling for attention. Megumi turned his focus back to the task at hand, but you knew that brief exchange had said everything it needed to.

In truth, it weighed on you—the thought that Megumi was always the one making adjustments, bending and reshaping his life around you. You couldn’t help but think it was unfair to him, that relationships were supposed to be a two-way street. Yet, here he was, always the one who seemed to be giving more, doing everything he could to be with you.

When you were upset and didn’t want to talk, he’d still reach out, calling you even in the middle of his hectic workday just to make sure you were okay. When you were sick, no matter how busy his schedule was, Megumi was always the first one by your side, taking care of you with a quiet devotion that left you both comforted and conflicted.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t doing enough to reciprocate the love he so freely gave. It gnawed at you, a constant reminder that no matter how much you loved him, it felt like you were falling short. And that hurt—hurt because you loved him so much, and the thought of him always giving more than he received felt like a wound you couldn’t heal. You wanted to do better, to be better for him, because he deserved nothing less.

That feeling lingered, a quiet ache that settled deep in your chest every time you thought about how much Megumi gave and how little you felt you were able to return. He never complained, never once made you feel like you were a burden. If anything, he seemed happiest when he was with you, when he could be there for you. But that only made it harder to bear, because it felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness, his patience, his love.

You wanted to be the one to call him during a tough day, to show up unexpectedly and take care of him when he needed it most. You wanted to be the one making the sacrifices, the adjustments, to show him that your love for him was just as strong, just as unwavering. But every time you tried, it felt like your efforts fell short, like you couldn’t quite match the depth of his care.

The guilt was a constant shadow, always reminding you of how much he did for you. And no matter how many times he told you that it was enough just to be with you, that he didn’t need anything more than your presence, the doubt remained. Because deep down, you knew how much he meant to you, how deeply you loved him, and the thought of not being able to show that love in the way he deserved made your heart ache.

You resolved, quietly and firmly, to find a way to show him—to let him know just how much he meant to you. Because loving Megumi was the easiest thing in the world, but making sure he felt loved the way he made you feel was something you were determined to do, no matter how long it took. He deserved nothing less, and you would do everything in your power to make sure he knew it.

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IT WAS UNCOMFORTABLE TO SIT THERE AT THAT MOMENT. The ride home was quiet, the hum of the car engine the only sound filling the space between you and Megumi. The silence was thick, not with anger or resentment, but with the weight of unspoken emotions.

You sat beside him, staring out the window, lost in your thoughts. The city lights blurred as they passed by, each one a fleeting reminder of the moments that had slipped through your fingers—moments where you felt you hadn’t done enough, where you had fallen short as his partner.

The guilt gnawed at you, growing heavier with each passing mile. It was the little things that lingered in your mind, the times when you were too tired to ask about his day, when you were preoccupied with your own worries and missed the subtle signs of his struggles.

You replayed the conversations where you had said the right words but lacked the sincerity behind them, or the moments when you were present physically but your mind was elsewhere, distracted by the pressures of your own life.

You stole a glance at Megumi, hoping for some indication of what he was feeling, but his expression remained unreadable. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his focus seemingly on the road ahead, yet you knew his thoughts were likely miles away. You wondered if he, too, was wrestling with his own thoughts, if he was questioning your connection, or if he noticed the same cracks you did.

The guilt weighed on you like a leaden blanket, stifling the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find the courage to voice. You wanted to apologize, to explain that your distance wasn’t a reflection of your love for him, but rather your own struggles—struggles that had nothing to do with him but had somehow seeped into the space between you. But the words remained trapped in your throat, swallowed by the fear of making things worse.

As the car continued its journey, the silence grew more oppressive, filling the space where once there had been easy conversation and shared laughter. You could feel the distance between you, not just physical but emotional, a chasm that seemed to widen with every unspoken thought, every missed opportunity to connect.

Megumi, ever perceptive, noticed your silence. The way you stared out the window, lost in your thoughts, didn’t escape him. He knew you well enough to recognize when something was weighing on you, even if you didn’t voice it. The quiet between you wasn’t the comfortable silence you usually shared; it was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension that had settled in the car like a third passenger.

He glanced over at you, his eyes softening as he took in your expression—the slight furrow of your brow, the way your lips were pressed into a thin line. He could sense the turmoil swirling inside you, even if he didn’t fully understand its cause. Megumi had always been good at reading between the lines, at noticing the subtle shifts in your mood, and this time was no different. He could tell that something was off, that you were shouldering a burden you hadn’t shared with him.

His voice was gentle as he broke the silence, careful not to startle you from your reverie. “Why don’t you stay the night at my place?” he suggested, his tone laced with a warmth that he hoped would ease some of the tension you were feeling. “I’ll cook for you.”

He offered you a small, reassuring smile, trying to coax you out of your thoughts, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry whatever it was alone. Megumi knew that sometimes, all it took was a simple gesture to bring you back to the present, to help you feel grounded again. And cooking for you, spending time together in the quiet comfort of his home, was something he hoped would do just that.

“And then we could watch a movie,” he added, his smile growing a little wider, a bit more playful as he tried to lighten the mood. “I know you wanted to see a film recently, and I finally bought the CD for it.”

His offer was more than just an invitation to spend the night; it was his way of showing you that he cared, that he was there for you, even when words failed. Megumi knew you well enough to understand that sometimes, the best way to show his support wasn’t through grand gestures or deep conversations, but through the simple act of being there, of sharing a meal, a movie, a quiet evening together.

He hoped that by offering this, he could help ease the guilt he sensed you were feeling. He didn’t want you to think you had fallen short as his partner because, in his eyes, you never had.

Fushiguro Megumi had always valued the quiet, unspoken moments between you—the shared silences, the comfort of your presence, the way you understood each other without needing to say much. And tonight, he wanted to remind you of that, to let you know that no matter what was weighing on your mind, you didn’t have to face it alone.

As he waited for your response, his hand reached out to gently touch yours, a silent promise that he was there for you, no matter what. The warmth of his fingers against your skin was a quiet reassurance, a reminder that in the midst of all your doubts and worries, you had someone who loved you, who would always be by your side, ready to lift the weight of the world off your shoulders, even if just for a little while.

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making the guilt even harder to bear. “I’m sorry, Megumi.” you started, your voice wavering as you spoke.

He furrowed his brow, turning his full attention to you. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his tone full of concern. “You don’t need to–”

You hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “I… I’ve been an inadequate partner to you.” you confessed, your voice heavy with emotion. “It’s not fair to you, Megumi. You’ve done so much, and I feel like I haven’t done enough in return.”

Megumi let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as he reached over to take your hand in his. “Don’t think like that, hm?” he said gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a soothing gesture. “You’re always worthy of love, of my love. You’ve done well to love me too, you know?”

“But it’s true!” you insisted, your voice cracking as the weight of your feelings pressed down on you. “I feel like I’m always taking, and you’re always giving. It’s not fair to you.”

Megumi was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Then, he asked quietly, “Do you love me?”

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded without hesitation. “Of course, I do. I love you more than anything.”

Before you could say more, he cut you off, his voice firm yet tender. “Then love me anyway.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll love you like that too. But in my way. Okay?”

The simplicity of his words hit you with unexpected force, the sincerity behind them bringing tears to your eyes. Your Megumi always knows what to do. He knows how to reach you, to calm you down. To love you back to life. He reached up, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall, his touch gentle and full of affection.

“Don’t worry so much about what you think you should be doing.” Megumi continued, his voice soft and reassuring. “Just love me, and let me love you. That’s all that matters.”

His words wrapped around your heart, easing the guilt and replacing it with a deep sense of peace. You leaned into his touch, nodding as you let his words sink in, knowing that with him, it was enough just to be.

You leaned into Megumi's touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your cheek as he gently wiped away your tears. His presence was soothing, a quiet strength that you could always rely on, and in that moment, the weight of your worries began to lift, even if just a little.

Megumi pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he held you against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a comforting anchor, grounding you in the moment. He didn’t say anything more, allowing the silence to fill with the unspoken understanding between you. 

As the car continued down the quiet streets, Megumi rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing calming patterns on your arm. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are, okay?” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you for you—not for what you think you should be.”

His words, so simple yet so full of meaning, resonated deep within you. The guilt that had been weighing you down began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest. Megumi had always been like this—steady, unwavering in his love, never asking for more than you could give.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into his embrace, feeling the tension leave your body as you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him. “I just want to make you happy, Megumi.” you whispered, your voice tinged with emotion.

“And you already do.” Megumi replied without hesitation, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just being with you makes me happy.”

His sincerity brought another wave of tears, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love for the man who held you so tenderly, who accepted you with all your flaws and insecurities.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly as the emotions overwhelmed you. “Thank you for loving me.”

Megumi’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “You don’t need to thank me, you know?” he murmured against your skin. “I love you because it’s you. And nothing will ever change that.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with an affection that made your heartache in the best way possible. “We’ll figure everything out together, okay?” he said softly. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the tears. “Okay.” you agreed, your voice steadier now. “Together.”

Megumi smiled back at you, a look of pure love and reassurance in his eyes. “Together.” he echoed, pulling you back into his arms, holding you close.

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epilogue

A few weeks had passed since that quiet ride home, and in that time, something had shifted between you and Megumi. The weight of your insecurities had eased, replaced by a growing confidence in the love you shared. You found yourself cherishing the little moments even more—the quiet exchanges, the smiles, the unspoken understanding that connected you both.

One evening, after one of Megumi's performances, you found yourself backstage, watching as he wrapped up his set. The energy in the room was electric, the audience’s cheers still echoing as Megumi made his way off the stage. He spotted you immediately, his eyes lighting up as he walked over. Without a word, you reached for him, pulling him into a kiss, a moment of pure connection amidst the chaos around you. A friend snapped a quick Polaroid of the two of you, capturing the tenderness of the moment.

Later that night, as you looked at the photo, an idea came to you. You carefully positioned the Polaroid against a backdrop of Megumi’s stage gear, the memory of that kiss still fresh in your mind. With a smile, you snapped a picture of the Polaroid and opened your social media, ready to share this piece of your world with him—and everyone else.

The caption came naturally: "Here's more Polaroids for you to hide." It was a playful nod to the many photos Megumi had tucked away over the months, small tokens of your relationship that he kept close even when the world wasn’t looking.

You hesitated for a moment before hitting ‘post,’ but something in you felt ready—ready to share this part of your life, ready to take that next step with him.

It didn’t take long for Megumi to see the post. Almost immediately, he shared his own Instagram story, adding his own words beneath your caption: "Only if you let me love you anyway."

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you both had gone through, every doubt, every moment of reassurance, every bit of love that had brought you to this point.

You smiled as you read his response, feeling a warmth spread through you. It was a promise, a reminder of the love you shared, a love that was strong enough to weather anything.

And as the notifications began to roll in, the world catching a glimpse of the two of you together, you felt at peace. Because you knew, no matter what came next, you had each other. And that was enough.

As soon as you posted the Polaroids on your Instagram, the reaction on social media was immediate. Especially on Twitter. Fans of both you and Megumi began flooding the comments with a mix of excitement, surprise, and overwhelming support.

Fan 1: "Wait, are they… official now? My heart can't take this! 😭❤️"

Fan 2: "These Polaroids are so cute! Megumi must be over the moon!"

Fan 3: "I knew something was going on! They’re perfect together. Look at that smile in the last photo!"

Fan 4: "This is the content we've been waiting for! I can't believe it's finally happening!"

Fan 5: "Only if you let me love you anyway" — Fushiguro Megumi, you romantic! 😍"

As you scrolled through the comments, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from Megumi. You know he must be excited. More than he would let on to show. And you knew only you would know. You answered with a smile, hearing the familiar warmth in his voice.

"You saw the post, huh?" you teased.

"I did, I did." Megumi replied, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "I wasn’t expecting you to share those photos just yet. But I want you to know that I’m really glad you did. I finally get to love you in front of everyone.”

"Yeah, I know." you admitted, your heart fluttering. "I just… I wanted to take that step with you. I’m ready, Megumi. Don’t worry. Just let me love you the way you deserve, okay?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and you could almost picture the gentle smile on Megumi's face. "You already do love me. But let’s keep taking polaroids for me to hide, okay? I still want some things that are just for me, from you.”

You laughed, feeling a wave of affection for him. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

“I love you.” He whispers on the other side of the line.

You smile, feeling butterflies. “I love you too.”