#are there people from that conversation who follow me here?

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） STRAWBERRY HEAD.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀a guy with a fun costume flirts with you at a party.

( 엔하이픈 희승 ) ୨୧ f .. r 12OO fluff meet cute ── flirting skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

지아 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ i am not leaving tumblr everrr don’t worry, luvdolls 💌

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

it always ends up the same. no matter what the conversation is, no matter how it began or where; it always ends up with the same conclusion. why don’t you have a boyfriend, yet?

as always, you groan while tilting your face to the ceiling. like a tradition, it is like you are begging a superior being to end your misery now and just take you before they all start to recall all your failed dates and talking stage over the past few months. it is not like they are that many, anyway.

you can try to tell each one of the people surrounding you that you are not interested in a relationship, that you think boys are fun to mess with but truly useless and that you are fine on your own— they never listen.

you successfully disappear amongst the crowd of diverse book, movie and game characters— and even … fruits? — costumes to get a drink. suddenly feeling very thirsty. 

no one notices you, too hang on debating on your love life when you are not even there to begin with.

pouring something into your glass, you feel someone standing a bit too close to you. 

“hey,” a voice greets you loudly. making your heart jump all the way to your stomach. 

you almost giggle as you turn around; a tall, grown man in a bright red hoodie, the same color as his joggings and a strawberry sort of hat wrapped around his head. 

his voice is way too deep to go with his costume.  

a smile tugs your lips, “hi.”

he smiles back. this time with a much much softer, he tells you back, “hi,” he eyes lingers on your face. “you come here often?”

you actually giggle at that, with your face falling towards the ground, with his face following yours, with his gaze never leaving you as he smirks. 

you cross one arm under your chest and plant your free arm’s elbow in your wrist, holding your drink close to your mouth, “please, don’t tell me that line has ever worked for you,” he chuckles at that, “i wouldn’t stand it.” 

the strawberry head shrugs, “tried and tested true for a reason,” then he leans his shoulder against the wall next to you. 

“what’s your name, bambi?” he asks you, biting down his lip as he smiles. 

the nickname comes from your doe makeup and the little tail on your skirt. looks like you are not the only one who makes nicknames. 

you respond while turning to face him, “what is yours?” 

“heeseung,” you admit it, ‘strawberry head’ will be missed but you like this one better. 

“it’s cute,” you nod and he laughs. 

“and yours isn’t?” he immediately says back. he rolls your name on his tongue, dear god . “it suits you well, i like it.”

you huff humoredly, “i will tell my parents you are a fan,” you don’t forget to emphasis on his name and hold your drink up, “heeseung.” 

“i hope i will be able to tell them myself one day,” he teases when you drink, making your choke. 

well, that was quite risky— although, still very smooth, you will give him that. 

your eyes wide and your mouth falls open is a surprised smile. your face must be funny because heeseung lets out a genuine laugh, that goes beyond the sound of the loud music. 

“take me to dinner first!” you tell him, while watching his body vibrate because of his laughter. 

the tall man gets serious pretty quickly after the words leave your mouth, he looks at you like he had you exactly where he wanted. 

“well,” he starts and his smirk is back again. “what about tonight?”

you can only blink at him for a moment. as if it was written on it; you scan his entire face in a hope of an answer. oh. 

“diner?” you ask, he hums. “tonight?” he hums again and your knees weaken a bit. “but we barely know each other!”

“we can get to!” his smile is more than evident in his voice, on his pink lips. “over diner!” 

he got you pressing your lips together and fighting back a smile like a highschool girl. the debate doesn’t take very long in your head, you just need to bite your inner cheek to get yourself to say it. 

strawberry head’s face is full of apprehension and enthusiasm, so much that you wonder who looks the most idiotic between the two of you. 

you sigh, then giggle, “fine, you convinced me.” 

the guy smiles. and after you successfully say goodbye to your friends while avoiding all their questions, everything gets wrapped pretty well. 

soon you stand a few meters away from heeseung’s means of transport.

“you have a bike,” you sound half impressed, half incredulous. 

heeseung, with his strawberry costume, has the audacity to look at you with an utterly shocked and offended expression splashed on his face. he even puts his hand on his heart. 

“am i not cool enough to have one?” he asks as he leans on his motorcycle. 

you take one step closer to him, letting your fingertips run through the leather seat. it is cool, very much so. him, despise his bright red ensemble, too. 

you chuckle, “it just doesn’t match your costume,” you confess and he chuckles. “you are like my very own james dean,” you turn your gaze back to him, “very cool to me.”

his look softens, his hand offered to you and helping you when you get on the passenger sit. he speaks again : 

“i promise to take care of you.” he whispers before letting your hand go gently. “i know a good restaurant a couple of blocks away.” you want to ask him if he doesn’t feel a bit ridiculous wearing this. “are you comfortable?

you thank your past self for choosing a black short instead of a skirt to wear with your black top and boots, “yeah,” you nod. “thank you.”

the wind runs through his hair when he takes off his strawberry head. it takes your breath away instantly. he was already beautiful before but now, this is something beyond and different. 

of course, his hair is pink.

“wouldn’t like to see it flying, would we?” he jokes and you only blink, eyes following him as he gets behind the bike and puts the strawberry in the box. he takes a helmet and comes back to you. 

he gets on the bike, so close to you when he turns around. 

your world completely collapse when he puts the helmet on your head for you, “i only got one,” he speaks, eyes focused on his fingers adjusting the helmet. “didn’t know a pretty girl like you would let me carry her around, you know?” 

thankfully, the tinted visor can hide your blushing face. and your stupid smile. halas— it can’t hide your giggles.

“i saw it in a dream of mine,” you respond when he turns around. you embrace his waist, “i knew the trajectory of you life would be changed tonight.” 

heeseung laughs again.

as he starts the engine you whisper in his ear, “is it the part where you tell me to hold on tight?” 

“i think you are doing that already, doll,” he taps your hand. 

and man, what a ride it was.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[philosophicalparadox]

Also to add: sometimes questions don’t get addressed. Or other parts of a conversation just naturally turn away from where they started to the point it’s too awkward to bring it back up, or there’s just no need to respond to it.

This is especially true of what I call “mediocre” (in the archaic sense of “average quality” ) questions, I.e. “do you remember how you got here?” To a patient in a hospital. Does the answer have meaning? Yes, in the right scene. But not every scene needs to focus on that, though literally any nurse is going to ask if you are unconscious upon arrival, or even if you faint while there. They also don’t particularly care about the answer, as long as you’re not obviously in distress about it.

Similarly, “are you okay?” Asked to a person who is obviously hurt or struggling needs no answer, as such; I certainly don’t tend to answer that question conventionally when the answer is itself obvious. Can it be answered, with meaning? Yes. Does it NEED an answer to feel realistic? No.

“How are you feeling?” I think can fall into this category too.

However these are different from the “flock call” questions, as I call them — the “I’m human, are you human? Oh you are!” Game, which is all social script, I.e. “how are you?” -> “I’m fine”. “How was school?” -> “it was good” etc. these are dictated by social expectations, not legitimate answers, so I don’t even really consider them questions tbh. Nonetheless, it can feel dreadfully awkward to answer those in the expected way sometimes, and for ND people in particular, we tend to have our own little way of answering those. So as a character building aspect of dialogue, they’re valuable.

Also — that body language point!!!!!! Body language IS A LANGUAGE. Entire conversations can be had with no words spoken at all, especially between people who know each other well or in intense confrontations.

And that carries into dialogue as well — sometimes what’s being said with words is Not what’s being said with body language, and that can really make a scene feel both dynamic and real!

The number of times I’ve seen my fiancé, for example, having a “pleasant” conversation with his uncle or mom, and unless you knew how to read his body language, you’d never assume by dialogue alone that he was being closed off or defensive. But nearly every time they have any kind of long talk, regardless of topic, he always crosses his arms, and leans backward, and stands up if he can, if he’s not already, and will, if they follow suit, put something between himself and them. He is the veritable picture of “please don’t talk to me” , buuuuuuut we live in a house of people who can’t read into that to save themselves, except ironically for lil old autistic me, because I had to learn that body language unintuitively lol. However, it’s a great example of that subtextual information being presented in conjunction with dialogue; if you only heard them speak on tape, you’d think they got along and had a wonderful relationship. But by observing the body language, the entire tone of even the most “nice” conversations shifts dramatically into a more questionable light.

But anyways, those are just my contributions! :)

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[oozebrain]

Art x gender neutral Reader. Art and reader are both ND.

Chapter summary: A new neighbor moves into the house beside you. Being the only other kid in the neighborhood, you’re excited to meet him and hopefully make your first friend.

Warnings include: implied child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother), angst, ableism (including r slur), swearing. Minors dni.

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter 1

The sound of a moving truck woke you up. You grumble sleepily and pull your covers over your head. It’s so piercing and loud in the quiet. You look to your alarm clock and it reads six thirty in the morning. It’s the weekend and you were looking forward to sleeping in, but with the incessant beeping it was impossible. Once the beeping subsided, you thought there would be peace, but loud banging and thudding followed after.

Annoyed, you toss your blanket off and go to the window to see what has so rudely woken you up. In the yard you see a tall woman and a smaller figure next to her. He seems restless, looking around this way and that as he soaks up his new surroundings. He looks to be about your age and excitement blossomed in your chest. 

In a hurry you put on your clothes and comb your fingers through your hair. As you enter the living room you see your mother. She is also getting ready, her own curiosity piqued. You were both nosy, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“Are we going to see the new neighbors?” You ask, pulling on your jacket. 

“That goddamn truck woke me up. I’m going over there to ask them who the hell moves in at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.”

You hoped she wouldn’t. You desperately want to make a good impression. You want a friend, an acquaintance, anything. Anyone. You try to placate her, “Maybe we can all be friends and have cookouts and stuff.”

She ignores you, muttering to herself as she puts on her own jacket and grabs her purse and keys. You silently follow her out the door, the bracing breeze of the fall morning tearing through your neck. You pull your jacket closer, the thin material doing little to actually block out the cold. You’ve gotten used to it over the years but the breezes always managed to rip you up.

The neighbors are less than a few feet away and the pair turn to acknowledge you as you walk up. The boy turns away and retreats by the garage, away from the group that’s been created. Naturally, you separate as well and migrate over to the teenager.

He is gangly and taller than you are. In the cold morning he is bundled up with a jacket and hat with ear flaps. You could barely see his face from the scarf wrapped around it, which he pulled up over his nose when you walked up. Despite being bundled up, he was still huddled up into himself and withdrew from you when you approached by taking a step back. He eyed you warily so you stopped short, offering a friendly wave.

He doesn’t speak but continues to stare at you with apprehension. He looks down at the ground and awkwardly kicks a pebble out of the way. It scoots over to you and you gently kick it back. He pauses and stands rigid for a moment before looking back to you. He says nothing but kicks the pebble back, this time with more enthusiasm and you reciprocate.

The boy doesn’t seem interested in conversation so you don’t force the subject and continue to play in a silence. You notice he keeps looking back to his mother, and you notice this because you are doing the same. Every now and again you check over your shoulder to see if she is watching you, but she is still talking to the boy’s mother.

You look back to him and offer him a smile. You can’t see his mouth but you see his eyes crinkle slightly in the smile hidden beneath. It seemed like he was shy, just as you were. You idly sway, hands behind your back and fingers fidgeting as you coax yourself through this encounter with a new person. 

It’s difficult to meet new people. You’ve lived here your whole life but can’t name a single person. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, so seeing him step out of the car gave you hope that things could change. You tried not to appear over eager but you truly were hopeful you would be able to make a friend.

“Arthur, who’s this?” Comes a voice to your left. You both turn your heads in unison to look at his mother. He doesn’t answer or move, he merely stares with wide eyes, hands in his pockets and huddled into himself. His smile is gone. Again, you notice his behavior because you do the same, your own gaze wide with apprehension now that attention has been drawn to you. 

She closes the distance and smiles down at you, “Sorry dear. He doesn’t mean to be so rude, he’s just retarded.”

You grimace some at this statement. She takes your scowl of disdain as confusion and continues to rub salt in the wound, “Retarded means he’s slow. He can’t talk. I think he can, but someone just doesn’t want to because they like making things hard for mommy, don’t they?”

She punctuated her overly sweet sounding condescension by pursing her lips and looking down at him over her glasses. He averts his gaze and stares at you instead. He is silently saying something to you with his eyes. It speaks loudly to you, it screams, it roars. He hates her. After a moment he looks away to stare off into the distance while she stands over him in her own silence.

“Well I think we’d better be going. It was great meeting you both.” Your own mother cuts in, sensing the awkward tension. You wanted to leave the situation, but didn’t particularly want to leave him. Arthur glanced back at you before dropping his gaze again. He turned and left without a word, footsteps plodding heavy on the concrete steps up to the porch. The metal screen door closes behind him with an angry slam.

Arthur’s mother sighs, throwing her hands up in the air and looking to your mother apologetically, “Kids. You give them everything and they still want more.”

Your own mother says nothing, but a look crosses her face having her own words repeated to her from a stranger. She makes a noncommittal noise and motions for you to come with her. You give a half-hearted wave goodbye and begin your walk home, just a short distance across the yard. 

As you turn to wave you can see Arthur staring at you from the living room window. His scarf is off to reveal a healing lip and your stomach tightens. You really don’t want to leave him here, but if you don’t comply that would be you next. But still, you have to do something, anything.

“Can me and Arthur play later, mom?” You put her on the spot. All the pressure was off you and now rested on her shoulders. She said nothing for a moment, flicking her eyes between you and Arthur’s mother before nodding.

“As long as it’s okay with his mom it’s alright with me.” She agrees and the two of you look to her. She folds her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she thought. You didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she was visibly thinking long and hard about something, and you didn’t like it.

After a time she relented, “They have to stay in the front yard. I don’t want Arthur wandering around until we know our neighbors better.”

Your mother seems a little peeved at that statement, taking it as a personal offense, but doesn’t address it. Instead she chuckles awkwardly and motions again for you to follow, which you do. The two of you make it to the house and once you are inside the truth comes out.

“I do not want you hanging out with that kid.” She turns to you, “He’s fucking weird, what if he hurts you?”

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t come off as threatening, in fact he was the one who had initially withdrawn when you approached. Arthur didn’t seem like a mean or bad kid, he looked... scared, stressed, absent. He looked the same way you did after a long night of berating, or the look of dread when you heard ‘just wait until we get home’.

“I do not want you hanging out with him. I’m going down there later to tell her you have a stomachache.”

You look at her with a pleading, but angry, expression. Your ears burn and you clench your teeth. You are twelve years old but she manages you like a toddler, “I don’t have any friends, why can’t I play with him?”

“Because he’s a freak. You have no idea what his mom told me, he’s a fucking nutcase.” She sighs, “Kids like him are why they should bring back asylums. You’re not going, that’s final. I am not sending you out with him.”

“It’s just in the yard!”

“You’re NOT going!”

“You never let me do anything!” You scream at her, fists balled and ready to fight back. You were more worked up than you should be, and part of it was your worry for Arthur. You needed a friend, and he needed a friend too. In your short time meeting him, you could tell he understood you, and you understood him. There was an unspoken solidarity. He knew, and you knew. You just wanted a friend, what the hell was wrong with everyone?

“I’m doing what’s best for you, I’m looking out for you. You should be more thankful that I actually give a shit about you and don’t let you run around with fucking psychopaths who hack up animals!” She screams back, taking an intimidating step toward you. 

You aren’t having this, not today. You scoff at her and trudge to your room. The door slams behind you, an echo from just moments before. You lock the door behind you and flop onto your bed, tightly hugging the pillow beside you. The door wasn’t allowed to be locked but you didn’t care right now, that was a problem for later you. You didn’t want to even hear her breathe right now.

Frustrated tears come and you bury your face in the pillow. You were so angry and crestfallen. She always did this, she always agreed to plans in the moment then changed them as soon as you were behind closed doors. Any attempts to make friends had been foiled, and now that it had been so long without a friend you deeply struggled to make connections.

But you felt a connection with Arthur. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to talk to him, to give him someone to confide in, and you wanted someone to confide in as well. After a small cry you sit up on your bed, still hugging your pillow in your lap. From the corner of your eye you can see a small flash of light blinking over and over.

You get up to walk to the window and shield your eyes at the flashlight. Across the way is Arthur framed by the window pane. His bedroom seems to be across from yours. He turns off the flashlight and offers you a small, shy wave which you reciprocate. He flashes the light at you again. You hold up your finger to tell him to wait a moment and retrieve your own and flicker it at him.

And then you see it, a smile. It’s small and stiff, but it’s there. The two of you sit there at the window in the dim morning light, sending nonsensical Morse code that only the two of you can understand. Fate held you both in its hands as it linked the two of you together through these small flashes of light. You were exhilarated, and judging by the growing smile on his face, so was he. 

[cumikering]

John Price x reader

2.5k | tw implied sui ideation, angst, comfort Thank you for being here today

John smiled to himself as he watched from the end of the bar. A few feet away, a group of three women chatted. The pub was packed, but it didn’t escape his notice that one in particular laughed so bright. The life of the party.

It was the same woman who ordered for the group, round after round. In fact, for other groups too. She’d sent rounds to random tables the past hour.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but what caught his eye was how his battery was at 4%. A stupid idea to be out on such little juice, but the outing wasn’t planned – it was no more than an escape.

His thoughts were interrupted when the barman placed a pint next to the bourbon he’d been nursing. He opened his mouth to clarify-

“Courtesy of the lady,” he gestured to the very same woman.

John nodded at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled. She raised her own pint in acknowledgment. He finished the last of his bourbon and made his way over with the gift.

“Noticed you’ve been buying people drinks. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Saturday night. No one should be drinking alone.” She sipped her beer.

The corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “But aren’t we all fundamentally alone?”

“Correct, but not here-“ She shrugged, teasing. “If you can help it.”

“Honest, is it your birthday?”

“Nah. Just happy.”

“Wanna be like you when I grow up.”

Her laughter was crisp yet warm. It caressed his ears despite the rumble of the establishment.

“Cheers, love.” He clinked his glass against hers and took a swig.

“Enjoy.” She followed suit before turning back to her friends.

He lingered, leaning against the bar as his gaze wandered across the room. Framed photos of vintage rugby and football stills crammed the wooden walls as they glinted under the deep yellow glow. The pub had seen better days, but from the size and chatter of the crowd, it didn’t seem like anyone cared.

He didn’t either. He didn’t pick pubs for their looks.

Behind his glass, he smiled again at the way the woman laughed so easily. She reminded him of a certain someone, a blue-eyed Scot who never stopped soaring despite his clipped wings. The one with the sun roaring in his boundless heart.

The one to do things because he was happy.

She downed her beer, and gave each of her girls a tight hug. She was leaving, but not for a short time it seemed. She turned to the barman to tap her phone on the receiver before handing him a thick wad of bills. The grin cracked his face in half as he thanked her profusely.

John took a step towards her. “Leaving already?” he asked, a little louder this time due to the swelling noise.

“It’s almost 12.”

“Are you Cinderella?”

She laughed. “Wish I was.”

“You can be. I’ll just have to make sure to find you again.”

“No, don’t think so. It’s my last night here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m moving away.”

That explained the lengthy hugs. “Oh, where to?”

“Middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t know.”

John knew a thing or two about faraway places. He spent the entirety of that day in one.

“You’re really Cinderella,” he concluded and downed the rest of his pint. “Have you got a pumpkin chariot waiting outside?”

“It’s nothing that interesting.” She grinned. “Want to enjoy my walk before it’s terribly late.”

“I can walk with you, if you’d let me. You did say no one should be alone Saturday night.“

He was nosy, clingy – not himself. But after managing to crawl out of the hellhole he called his mind, this was his first conversation of the day and he wasn’t ready to wallow in his flat again just yet.

She shrugged. “Alright, why not.”

Once more, she hugged her friends, rubbing their backs. They were teary eyed, but she wasn’t - her smile as lively as ever. He tucked a few notes under his glass before following her out.

On the pavement, she took a lungful of fresh air in, chin tipped up towards the sky. He supposed the weather was decent. At least it wasn’t raining.

His boots thudded as he walked next to her. With her hands tucked in the pockets of her light jacket, she strolled with a little bounce to her step as she looked up at the stars. They were easy to miss, but they were present, and it was enough to bring a curve to her lips.

“I’m sorry, I just have to ask,” he said in amusement. “Why are you so happy?”

“Don’t have a reason not to be.”

Could you really be happy for no reason?

He chuckled. “You make me want to dance, and I don’t even dance.”

She glanced at him teasingly. “You should. Dancing is fun.”

“You know how to?”

“No, but you don’t need to know how.”

“Want to show me?”

She turned to him with a laugh. “What, now?”

He shrugged. Her joy was contagious.

“Well, first of all, you need music.”

“Lucky you, I got the whole world in my pocket.” He pulled out his phone and clicked the power button. Once, twice. It wouldn’t light up. “I take that back,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “Your phone then.”

“If we find a busker.”

He barked out a laugh. “What are the chances at this hour!”

“Slim to none, but you’re probably luckier than me.”

John thought of the close calls he’d had: the gunshots to the shoulders or the bullets ricocheting off his helmet that sent his ears ringing, or the desperate jumps he’d executed from cold-blooded heights. But despite everything, the gift of life was still his. Still beating and fluttering in his rough hand, stained with blood that hadn’t washed off.

He hummed. “I like to think I’m pretty lucky.”

With wonder in her bright eyes, she continued to admire the sky.

Was the secret etched onto its darkness, behind the fading clouds and dying stars? Perhaps he could find out if he squinted, even that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to look at.

Midnight London was nothing close to the desert skies he’d witnessed; the marbled ones with a handful of diamond shards splattered and swirled across them, the ones that made him feel like he was nothing but a speck of stardust waiting for its inevitable dissolve.

But perhaps the answer wasn’t in the beauty, but rather in what you made of what you had.

John glanced at her again because, well, a smile was a smile. If the unassuming sky could inflict something so beautiful, maybe it would work on him too. Even if just a tiny bit. If he’d just give it a chance.

As they entered her neighbourhood, she pointed out the establishments. This flower shop, the owner stopped her one day to give her a stalk of red orchid. That one cafe around the corner had amazing coffee and croissant, but she couldn’t bear waiting over an hour for them ever again. The chippy across it used to be her favourite kebab shop.

She chuckled. “I came in every week for years. It’s been three years and I still miss them.”

“You reckon they know how much their kebabs are loved?”

“Probably not. People never love enough until it’s gone.”

He considered.

“What does it matter anyway? The world runs on the width and height of love, not its depth.”

He shrugged. “True.”

He’d never taken the time to sightsee. It wasn’t really his thing, but a little tour of the city - the city she was leaving - made him feel nostalgic, like he too was leaving. Was he?

It didn’t feel like it took any time at all before she stopped at a building.

She turned to him with a wince. “Sorry, I’m not inviting you in.”

“I know. That’s fine.” John smiled, like the weight had been lifted off his chest, even if temporarily. “Today wasn’t the best for me, but you’ve made it better. So I wanted to thank you.”

She let her gaze drop, and for a second she looked… distraught, before recovering. “Well, you can come in for a bit.”

“Oh, don’t- I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” he quickly said, but she’d headed towards the stairs. He didn’t stop her.

She pushed open the door to a studio apartment, tiny even when it was nearly empty.

“Tea?” she offered, making her way to the kitchen.

Her bed was in the far corner, a small table with two chairs by its foot. Across it, stood a dresser with a guitar leaning against it. The walls and surfaces were bare. There was no clutter apart from an empty carboard box on the floor.

“Sure.”

He didn’t judge. He too barely had enough to fill out a box, but that was his room on base, not his flat.

“You’ve got everything packed, it looks like.”

She hummed, filling the kettle up.

“Can I use your charger for a bit so I can order a ride later?”

“Of course. It’s on the nightstand.”

John made his way over, but the charger wasn’t there, nor on the floor. Nor was it in the ajar drawer. It was empty, safe for one thing. He whipped to her, chills running down his spine.

“Actually, why don’t you keep it. I don’t need it anymore,” she said lightly, flicking the kettle on.

“S’not there,” he muttered.

She scanned the room. “Oh, sorry. Then it must be by the table,” she pointed.

Wordlessly, he strode over and plugged his phone in with shaky hands. He swallowed, his throat going dry as his heart drained. He stared at the back of her head as she opened the overhead cabinet, only to chuckle to herself.

“I’ve only got a mug left. A bowl would have to do.” She set them on the counter and opened two tea bags.

He was going to be sick. He blinked rapidly, searching for something to distract himself with. His eyes fell to her guitar. He swallowed once more before he croaked, “T- That’s a gorgeous one.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled fondly at what he was pointing at. “It is. But one of the pegs broke and I never picked it back up.”

“Can I play?”

She frowned. “You can’t. It’s broken.”

“I’ll make do.”

“But it’s useless. I was going to give it away, but no one even wants it.”

“It’s still a guitar. And it’s not broken forever. Nothing is ever broken beyond repair.”

She paused before turning back to the counter. “Feel free then,” she said quietly.

He sat crossed legged on the floor, back against her bed. He strummed and tuned the dusty instrument as best he could. As expected, it didn’t sound right because of the jammed string.

His heart continued to beat out of his chest as she poured the hot water into the mug and bowl. She set them on the table before settling next to him.

The lump in his throat only swelled, but he turned towards her. His fingers trembled as he picked the strings. The first chord. A beat. A bar and two.

He let out a long, steady exhale. On any other day, he couldn’t have endured the disharmony, but today the ringing in his ears was far louder as he inhaled.

“Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind. I’ll follow you into the dark.”

John’s blue eyes stayed on hers as a smile blossomed on her lips. The sight pained him. His gaze cut to the fretboard.

“No blinding lights or tunnels to gates of white. Just our hands clasped so tight waiting for the hint of a spark.”

The metal strings buried themselves further in his fingertips. He drew a sharp breath, eyes shut, wishing the tears wouldn’t spill. Not now.

“If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied. Illuminate the ‘no’s on their vacancy signs. If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks,” he heaved, trying his best to calm his voice, but a tear finally slipped. “I’ll follow you into the dark,” he rasped.

When he looked up at her, she had turned away, wiping at her tears.

He set the guitar aside and inched closer to her. “I saw…” he started, even when he wasn’t sure what to say. “In the drawer.”

But he couldn’t help himself when he wrapped his arms around her. She clung onto him, face pressing against his shoulder.

“It hurts,” she choked between sobs, her tears seeping into his shirt. “I keep telling myself to hold on for another day… But it’s been too long, and it hasn’t stopped hurting.”

“I know. Thank you for choosing to be here, no matter how hard. Thank you for trying. Thank you for giving it a chance, every day. Thank you for letting the world love you, because it will never be the same without you.”

“I don’t know how much longer,” she mumbled into his shirt, shaking in his arms.

He rubbed her back as he let out a breath. Another tear ran down his cheek. “It might not be now. Might not be tomorrow or next week or next month, but I swear it will be okay in the end. Always. Even if the worst has happened.”

John didn’t know how long, but in the silence, he held her until her tears and its tremors dissipated. Her grip on him loosened.

“If you… Tonight…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Would you?”

She nodded. It was tiny, but it was all he needed.

He wiped his own tears with a shaky sigh. “Come on then. It’s your birthday. We can do whatever we want.”

“What?” She pulled away with a chuckle, her voice still hoarse.

“Let’s go out.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. Are you hungry? There’s waffles. Or chippy, pizza or kebab. The birthday girl can have everything.”

“What about the tea? It’s not even hot anymore.”

“Lucky me. Never been a fan of hot tea.”

She laughed through her drying tears as he chugged it down.

John Price considered himself pretty lucky, but he wasn’t lucky enough to find a busker in 2 a.m. London.

But he was lucky enough to spend hours on his tired legs walking across the city with her. They bought food - whatever that still looked appealing enough at the hour, until they decided to rest at a park. At the top of the stairs as they looked upon the rousing city, they basked in the remainder of its slumber.

At the break of dawn, in the distance, the blush of gold crept over the horizon.

She turned to him. It might not have been as wide or bright, but that smile carried something else. An empty field with the faintest sprout, stained with a tinge of hope.

“I’ll get my guitar fixed.”

It looked good on her.

Thank you for being here today. I’m so happy to have you here. Please stay safe and take care

Masterlist Ex bf Price Formula One Price

[weneepie]

neighbours w/ eddie brock & venom rules | m.list

note. yes i saw the last Venom movie and no i'm not okay, but let's act like everything's fine okay? <3 feel free to request!

You had been living in the apartment for a while now, and as you weren’t really the type to sympathise with people, you had no idea who your own neighbours were. Until one of them became way too loud for you to ignore. 

It wasn’t like you were doing a really difficult job, even if it was still debatable. Being a writer was making you stay up all night long to keep writing your book with the hope of finally being able to finish it and, one day, find an editor. But the guy living next to you? He was making things impossible for you. 

You had decided to let it pass, hoping that it would simply stop by itself ; but it didn’t. Actually, you could swear it had become worse by the time. So one night, you decided that it was already more than enough, and you left your place to come knock at his door. 

You heard sounds of stuff breaking, a guy talking by himself, until he finally opened the door. He was all alone, and he seemed to be anything but okay. The guy was sweating in his grey hoodie, and he looked completely exhausted. You frowned slightly when he offered you an awkward smile. 

“Hi, I’m sorry about the noise.” He started, and you could only sighed at his words. How could you be angry at a poor guy who seemed to be just as in a bad state as you right now? You slowly shook your hand. “It’s fine, just try to be careful. I’m not sleeping much, but it’s hard to focus with all the noise you’re making.” 

You met his gaze when you heard him murmuring something. What was his problem? You were trying to be nice, there was no way he was really speaking under his breath. “Excuse me?” You asked with an eyebrow raised, and the guy quickly looked back at you. “No, nothing! Sorry again.” And with that, the conversation was over. 

After the ‘incident’, it was always like fate wanted you to meet your neighbour more often than it was the case before. In the elevator, when you were going out of your apartment to put the trash out ; anything. By the time, you learnt that your neighbour’s name was Eddie, and that he was a journalist. Both of you weren’t doing the same job, but you had the same troubles so it felt easy to talk with him, even though Eddie was a bit… strange. 

It was almost like he was never fully comfortable, something being awkward with him all the time. You might have sounded crazy, but you could swear it was like he was never alone in his own mind. Eddie was the type to talk to himself, in a whisper or louder than expected sometimes. You learnt to deal with it, but you couldn’t get out of your head this silly idea that Eddie was hiding something from you. 

One night, after some friends almost forced you to go out with them at the bar, you were walking alone in the street to go back to your apartment. You weren’t even tipsy, as drinking wasn’t much your thing, so you were sure that the noises you heard behind you were more than real. You tried to walk faster, but it was obviously not enough. Soon, your wrist was held by a complete stranger trying to get you to come with him. 

You didn’t have much time to fight him back, because he flew away suddenly. You opened your eyes wide, following his figure crashing in the wall, not understanding what had just happened before your eyes. It didn’t make much more sense when you looked back at where he was before and saw a large dark figure standing in front of you. 

Large white eyes, and even larger teeth going out of a stupidly wide mouth ; you were sure you were about to die here and now. The monster tilted his head to the side, examining your figure before it kind of smiled, making it even creepier than before. “The little human shouldn’t walk alone so late.” His voice was deep, deeper than anything you ever heard in your life before. 

“We’ll walk you back,” it said, and you weren’t sure if you really had the choice to refuse the offer. At least, he didn’t want to eat you alive, it was a good start. “Eddie says you’re nice, and we agree with him.” 

Wait… Eddie? You looked back at the creature with a frown, and you could swear you heard someone yell at the monster under all of those muscles. “Eddie says we can’t tell you he’s here, but he’s hidden,” said the black monster. The more he spoke, and the less you understood what was going on. Until it revealed you the truth hidden for so long. 

The dark figure disappeared, only to leave you in front of your neighbour, Eddie Brock, a black head with sort of tentacles going out of his shoulder. You blinked a few times, completely at loss of words. Eddie had this awkward smile on his lips, trying to find the right words. The silence felt like an eternity, so many thoughts flooding in your mind. 

“That’s Venom. You weren’t supposed to meet him, or to know he was… well, me? Kinda.” You frowned, your eyes now locked on Eddie’s face who wasn’t helping you at all to understand everything. “Venom? You have an alien inside of you?” You almost snapped at him, the confusion too strong to think straight. “

“A symbiote, but yeah, technically an alien,” he said, and a sigh escaped your lips. You had so many questions ; and now that you knew, you weren’t going to give Eddie the choice to explain everything or not. You needed to know what was really happening, and how it was even possible. 

This is how you ended up staying almost the whole night at Eddie’s place, with him and the symbiote explaining to you the situation. You quickly understood that it wasn’t a simple possession ; Eddie was a host and they both had this kind of situationship a bit weird that was going on. Venom was way less terrifying now that you saw him bickering with your neighbour. You could almost think he was fun, but it was too early for this. 

But after this, you started to spend even more time with your neighbour. Him and his symbiote, of course. Sometimes, when they were fighting too much, Venom would leave his host to come hide with you for some time. Not too long, because hurting you was the last thing he wanted, but enough to run away from Eddie. The man was never too worried, because he knew exactly where his stupid symbiote was. 

It was a weird dynamic between the three of you, but it was something which was working pretty well. You were spending hours and hours at Eddie’s place to write while he was working on his articles, and Venom would alway complain about how boring it was to have you both working at the same time while he had nothing to do. The symbiote was an attention seeker, you learnt that quickly. 

And when things began to evolve between you and Eddie, you knew Venom would always be implicated too. You didn’t expect to be in a relationship so soon, but even less in a polyamorous thing with a man and an alien. But nothing could go wrong, right? There was absolutely no reason to be worried, or at least it was what you were trying to say to yourself. 

But you were right. It was, actually, even better than what you had imagined. Eddie was the sweetest man you ever met, always taking care of everything for you and making sure you were doing good. It was probably the most safe and sane relationship you ever had, and it was strange to say that. Because Venom was the same, in his way. 

He was a bit clumsy, most of the time, but he was always trying his best. You never felt uncomfortable, even if he could be pretty bold or franc sometimes. It was part of his charm, you had to say. When he started to share his chocolate with you, you knew he was doing the biggest step to someone in his whole life. 

After all, it wasn’t so bad to be living in this shitty apartment.

thank you for reading!

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Right again ▪ Tom Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader (+ SPOILER x f!reader)

Summary: Tom, who always thought relationships were meaningless, changed his mind when he met y/n. He plans on telling her how he feels, however, it doesn't go as planned, and he finds himself to be right - again.

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: Fluff; angst; English is not my first language.

A/N: It wasn't supposed to be this long lmao. I will write the same plot with Mattheo, Draco, Lorenzo and Theo in the future - hopefully with a better title lol. PLEASE PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP OR YOU WON'T SEE ME ON HERE AGAIN LOL. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tom Riddle was in his dorm, one of the only places in Hogwarts where he could be by himself, and where he could be doing the things he enjoyed the most - studying and reading, both in silence. But, despite being currently sitting on his desk - always perfectly arranged -, he was not currently reading a book or studying. Instead, he was doing something he never thought he would do and was feeling something he never thought he would feel: thinking about a girl, and being nervous about a girl. 

Contrary to Mattheo and his friends, Tom has never cared for relationships - he could barely bear being around Mattheo’s friends if serious, meaningful discussions or activities weren’t involved. Sure, he cared for Mattheo, more than he cared to admit, because they were of the same blood. And for Tom, blood was one of the things that mattered the most, alongside loyalty, knowledge and influence. 

And y/n. 

Tom had always thought Mattheo was the only person he could ever care for - after all, they needed to have some sort of loyalty towards each other if they wanted to have a chance to fight their father - but, just like he was surprised to learn he did not want to follow his father in his quest for tyranny, Tom was surprised to find himself caring for y/n. 

Just like he had never cared for friendship, Tom had never cared for love. He did not think it was a weakness as his father did, but he did think it was not as important as people made it out to be. And, also, why care for love when something terrible, something that would likely cost lives was being prepared? 

But then again, y/n challenged that idea. Despite being in the same house and the same year, it took Tom several years to properly notice her. He knew she was one of Mattheo’s close friends outside of his usual group, and that gave them occasions to spend time together. Strangely, Tom had first found her company more tolerable than the others - she seemed to understand his will for silence, deep conversations and his interests, seemed to have the same thirst for knowledge. She was kind as well, having what people called “a heart of gold”, always ready to help anybody in need. She was also warm and funny, two things she shared with Mattheo, and it usually didn’t take people enough to want to be her friend. Tom had considered y/n the closest thing he had to a friend, and he thought he would stay that way until, one day, he saw her and Mattheo sitting closer to each other than usual, and he felt something strange, something he didn’t expect to feel, and something he struggled to understand - jealousy. He didn’t think it was that at first, but it became obvious it indeed was jealousy when he found himself wishing that he was the one sitting next to her, and not Mattheo. 

From that moment, he kept thinking about y/n in ways he had never done before - how beautiful she was, how he loved her smile, how he wanted to hold her hand, to smell her addictive perfume, to be the person who mattered most to her… how he wanted to hold and kiss her. He had considered those thoughts as foolish at first and tried to not have them, but everytime he was with y/n, they came back running, and he sometimes had to restrain himself from sitting closer to her just to smell her perfume when they were in class, or to hold her hand when they were studying in the library. He didn’t have anybody to ask questions to - Mattheo would laugh at him - so, like he always did, Tom gave himself the answer: it was love. At first, he thought it was only temporary and it didn’t even cross his mind to tell her about it, but he was forced to admit that, instead of disappearing, those feelings became stronger with each day passing. The idea displeased him, and he tried to avoid y/n so these feelings would go away, but it was in vain, and only made him miss y/n - and made him love her more. But one day, as he was sitting on his desk busy thinking about her instead of studying, the idea of just telling her how he felt seemed right. Of course, the idea of rejection secretly terrified him, but he would accept simply being her friend. y/n deserved a loyal, sincere friend and that is what Tom was. All she had to do was give him a chance he could be the boyfriend - the word seemed so meaningless compared to what he felt - she deserved, a boyfriend who would be loyal, caring, sincere, and who would put her and her needs and safety first.  

Thus, he got her favorite flowers, and, having thought about what to say to her for hours, decided to go and ask her to have a moment of her time. And now the time had come. He grabbed the bouquet, and, trying to pull himself together, left his dorm. At that hour, y/n should be in the common room. With a bit of luck, she would be alone. Tom headed for the common room, which was nearly empty except for two first years laughing. He started looking for y/n, and his heart, which had started to beat faster with nervosity and hope, almost broke. 

y/n was indeed here, standing in a corner of the room - kissing Mattheo, who had a hand on her waist and the other in her hair. He broke the kiss, looked at her in a way Tom had never seen him and y/n had a smile before Mattheo pressed his lips on hers like he couldn’t help it. 

Tom took a step back, and the only thing that stopped him from dropping the bouquet was the noise he knew it would make. He turned around and quickly yet silently went back to his dorm - where the flowers finally met the ground. His back against the door, he almost wanted to laugh now. How could he have been so foolish? It should have been obvious to him from the start that y/n, warm and kind y/n, would prefere Mattheo, Mattheo would everybody loved or at least fond of, who had no problems making friends and be with people, Mattheo who had never been anything like their father. Mattheo, who people didn’t intimidate or rightfully found cold and strange. 

You’ve won, brother. 

As always, Tom Riddle found he had been right. Love was meaningless, and he should never have cared for it - should have never cared for her - in the first place. 

He was right, but for the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t.

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Masterlist

[faggotisaacfloofs]

the person who helped today when I fell out of my wheelchair actually did a really great job, so I want to share in case other people wonder what to do. [Note: this is not universal, this is merely a suggestion from one person, every wheelchair user's needs are different! I am a person who uses a manual chair usually pushed by someone else who is also disabled.]

Scenario: you see someone in a wheelchair fall out of their chair, and you have the ability to help.

1. Approach and ask "are you okay?"*

2. Next question if they say no, are vague, or open to continuing conversation** is, "is there anything I can do to help?" Or "what can I do?"

If they say no to help, then that's the end, just leave and go do whatever you were doing!

If they ask for help or say they are mildly injured, ask "what would you like me to do?" And wait for an answer before doing anything! If they seem dazed or confused, they might have hit their head or had another medical event*, or they might just be like that due to regular disability. Be patient.

Do not touch the person unless they say to, or they are like, unconcious in the middle of the road, ya know?? Wheelchair users usually have conditions that mean being handled improperly can severely injure us, you could cause much more damage than the fall.

Some things they might need you to do:

Bring their wheelchair closer (mine went about 5 feet away after it dumped me)

engage the brakes of the wheelchair

hold wheelchair steady if it's an unsteady surface (mud, hill, ramp, wet, etc)

offer an arm for them to hold onto to get up (them grabbing you, not you grabbing them) or move another solid item closer for them to use (i.e. a chair) [only do this if you physically have the ability to!]

If the terrain is rough (i.e. a parking lot), they *might* ask you to push their chair to a more stable area once they are back in their chair

nothing

Something else

Do what they ask, NOT what you think would be helpful. If for some reason you have to do something (i.e. you can't stop oncoming traffic and need to get them out) ASAP, tell them what you plan to do

Keep in mind they might also be D/deaf, have a communication disability, be stunned after the fall, have a head injury, not trust other people, etc. Be patient and treat them as a person with autonomy and agency! They might need to just sit on the ground for a few minutes to recover before trying to get back in their chair. They might want everyone to leave them alone. They might ask you to call someone specific. Their chair might have broken and that can be extremely distressing. All of this is like if your legs spontaneously stop working when you're out and about!

A lot of wheelchair users (NOT ALL) have ways to get into their chair on their own once the chair is close enough and brakes engaged (but it's hard from the ground!). Here's what brakes look like on a lot of manual wheelchairs, in case they ask you to lock the brakes. They're levers on each side and pushing the lever pushes a bar against the wheel to hold it still.

ID: A manual wheelchair with the brake levels circled in red and labeled "user brake levers"

*There is also the possibility of course that a person fell out of their chair due to a seizure or other medical event, so that is why it is important to ask if they are okay. If you saw them hit their head, tell them so. If they had a medical event, follow protocol for that, I'm not gonna get into it here (thought I could).

**sometimes a person will be clear after the first question i.e. "I'm all good thanks" clearly means they do not need you to ask another question, you can just leave them alone. Keep walking and don't stare. A lot of the time people will be a bit banged up but be totally fine and able to manage on their own.

TLDR: Ask the wheelchair user if they're okay, then what they need, and then do exactly that, including leaving them alone. Thanks!

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | 14

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

You and the team tore through the night and storm, fighting off the savage waves of the sea. The wind slammed on your faces as though ready to tear your flesh apart and scatter it across the water.

Ghost conversed with Graves on the comms and the boat swerved to the left towards the ship, whereas the one Johnny was on with Alejandro and Graves continued forward.

You didn't want to leave Soap alone, but for a better strategy to take over the ship and rig, spreading man power was necessary.

The boat slowed and Rodolfo shot a hook skyward and managed to get it stuck onto the railings of the ship in a second. You climbed onto the rope and immediately spotted Ghost slashing throats and blasting holes through heads on his way.

And fucking hell, you would never get enough of hot, confident men who got the strength and skills to back it up.

You slid down the floor, assisted by the water causing it to become slippery, and fired at a couple of people. You stood up and cursed, losing your balance as the ship tipped over to the right. Ahead, a container swerved to your path causing your heart to leap to your throat as you made a run to the side and shrieked when the ship tipped to where you were going, making the container follow your track.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You sprinted to the other side and screamed when you spotted another container going your way just as you slipped. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK—”

Something slammed against the container and your eyes widened when you realized it was Ghost, holding it back before the ship tilted to the side again. By the second you back up on your foot, you were heaved up in the air and thrown in a room, before another container slammed at the entrance, trapping you inside with the Lt.

“Good lord, I almost became a pancake,” you sighed in relief and looked up at Ghost. “Thank you, sir.”

God, you just wanted to jump on him and pepper him with kisses and let yourself be manhandled the way he wanted.

He looked down on you, reaching down a hand which you took and steadied yourself up. “Ya good?”

“Yeah.” You forced out a soft laugh. “I think the containers have something against me cuz two of them came at me at the same time.” You watched him gaze down on you, but not on your face, and so, you followed the direction of his eyes. “Oh.” You quickly pulled your hand back and wrapped it around your rifle instead. “Sorry.”

“Be careful,” he commanded, but it sounded more of a reminder. “Let's go.”

You nodded in agreement and rushed back out, minding the way where the ship would incline and the direction where the containers would move.

“Snapdragon.”

You turned to Ghost, who wasn't looking at you, but you knew it was him who called. He didn't say anything after, so you didn't bother uttering a word and focused on taking down the rest of the cartel.

“Shampoo.”

You grumbled. “Alright, what is it?”

“What did the Shampoo say to the hairbrush?”

“God, not Shampoo puns,” you begged, shaking your head, but it didn't stop him.

“Let’s comb-ine forces and make this hair-mazing,” he said in a flat tone, but you could hear a stifled cough from him. “Why did the shampoo get in trouble at school?”

You snorted. “Go on.”

“It kept on skipping conditioning class.” He slashed a man’s throat and pushed the person off the ship.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, slick.”

He turned to you, swiping the blood off his skull, which easily came off due to the rain. “Like the conditioner?”

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. “Get outta here.”

“Negative. You can’t condition the enemies on your own.”

“Stoooop,” you whined, removing the pin from a grenade and throwing it ahead.

“You called ‘Snapdragon’, eh?” He grabbed your arm and pulled you away from a container. “Suits you, since you snap at everything and you've got us drag on to your antics.”

“Please.” At this point, you wanted to cry. No one had ever attacked you with so many puns in a row.

“Please what?”

“. . . Sir.”

“Good.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA—

You never wanted to fuck someone in the rain, in a tilting ship, between crates and containers, above dead corpses, till you drown, till he became like the skull on his balaclava until now.

Was it the puns? Sure, okay, it did add points. Being funny was always a plus point. But heck, the guy didn't even need to talk much and he could still be hot. Because, your honor, how could a guy not be hot after stopping a fucking container to save your slippery ass?

You waved a finger at the lieutenant. “Don't call me that, sir. I might jump onto you.”

Then, Graves’ voice came from the comms, interrupting your little, spontaneous date with Ghost (which was definitely one-sided). “Shadow 0-1 to Ghost!”

You stepped before him to guard him in case there were more enemies left as Ghost tapped on his device. “Ghost to Shadow, how copy?”

“The controls . . . that ship!” Graves yelled, the connection a bit patchy due to the weather, but he repeated his words, making it clearer. “Soap and I are on the way there!”

“Rog. We'll clear the way till you get here,” Ghost answered back through the comms and nodded at you to follow him.

You clicked your tongue. “Just when I thought we're clear and having fun.”

“We can continue that later,” he said in a low voice.

You might as well break your neck as you snapped your head in his way as quickly as lightning. What was that supposed to mean? What the fuck? Did you hear him right? Was it flirting? Eh, Ghost? Eh. No way. But, what if?

You looked around for the rest of the team and spotted Rodolfo and some Shadows closing in to your spot. You gestured at him and the rest of the men to catch up with you and Ghost.

Then, you felt a rumble as something seemed to have hit the ship from the side, and from your peripheral, you saw Soap and Graves' boat flying up into the ship. You gaped at their ridiculous sight and landing.

You had seen Keegan drive a truck over dozens of people and through a wall, love him for that, but this was on another level.

“Are you two trying to be in a circus?” you exclaimed and approached them, eyeing for any sign of injuries on their bodies.

“I like the SAS,” Soap grunted as he got off. You reached out a hand to him which he took and helped him steady himself on the swaying ship.

“Nothing is greater than being a PMC.” Graves ran his hand down his face, swiping the rainwater off.

You shook your head at their answers, but didn't further say any words to them and guided them towards the entry of the building where Ghost stood by with Rodolfo. Without hesitation, Graves stuck bombs on the metal door and all of you backed away as it exploded and waited for the smoke to clear. Once it did, Graves kicked down the door, leading the way inside.

A narrow hallway welcomed you, forcing the group to step in one by one, but even though Graves wasn't a 141 member, he was swift to bring down enemies and clear the way.

Sure is a CEO of mercenaries, you thought as he and Soap found the controls in a room up the stairs, quickly tapping in to intercept the fire of the missile. And in all honesty, you would have liked him if he wasn't Shepherd's lapdog.

But sooner or later, you would have him wrapped around your finger like a string, and use it to fucking strangle the general.

“Shit, we can't disarm it!” Graves exclaimed, slamming the tablet down the table.

You peered over the device and squinted your eyes at a familiar logo. “That fucking bitch,” you said under your breath as Graves’ talked with Shepherd and shoved the man aside. “Move.” You snatched the tablet from the table.

“What are you doing?” Graves questioned, clutching the tablet as well, but you kept your grip firm.

“I know—”

Shepherd talked over you. “We don't need your bullshit right now, woman. The clock is ticking!”

You stared at the tablet for a moment, confirming the design of the logo, and huffed, letting it go. “Fine. You won't give those controls to one of its developers, your loss.”

Soap put a hand on your shoulder. “What do ya mean by that?”

“One of its developers?” Ghost echoed.

“What are you insinuating?” Shepherd asked, his voice lowering into a threatening tone.

“No bullshit, yeah?.” You moved away from the controls, walking towards the entryway of the room. “Then, I say I couldn't care less about that missile launching. And I couldn't careless if you lock me up again and torture me for months, because by the end of the day, it will be your loss.”

“I would certainly want to go back to those days, Snapdragon,” Shepherd claimed in a mocking tone. “Get onto it, Shadow.”

“On it, standby,” Graves replied, motioning at Soap to join him on the controls. Soap shot a glance at you before standing next to him and began working on the controls. Meanwhile, Ghost ordered Alejandro, his men and the rest of the Shadows to get out of the oil rig.

With a few hits on the controls, the missile flew upward and just as fast, it dove to the structure, but your attention was quickly taken as the ship tilted and you felt a tap on your shoe.

You gazed down and stared at the corpse next to your feet, the sole of your boots tainted in a puddle of blood, oozing out from his head, where the bullet went through. And thoughts once again began to erupt in your head.

As you continued to look at the hole on the man’s head and the puddle of blood that reflected your gaze, you wanted to put your finger through where the bullet landed and see if it fits.

Slowly the man’s eyes fluttered open, staring back into you, black as the void, as though wanting to swallow you whole. You felt a lump at your throat, blocking off any words from rolling out of your tongue and all you could hear was the deafening drums of your heart, and distant screams, begs . . . cries.

You tried to avert your eyes, but you couldn't. The man’s gaze kept you imprisoned, frozen in nothing but darkness. Yet you could feel their hands crawling up on your like thousands of ants on your skin until they stopped at your throat, gripping tight, digging their nails onto your skin.

It hurts. Make it stop.

Blood rushed down from your throat, mixing with the void.

Make it stop!

Make it—

“Stop!”

You were welcomed with a shade of brown so deep it reminded you of the woods, that perhaps getting lost into them instead was a salvation. The surroundings were cold like the gentle caress of the droplets of rain from the leaves on your cheek. The tug was a patient and gentle guide to which you were sure there was safety, where your eyes settled on a man with a face hidden behind the remains of a corpse.

“Bloody hell!” Simon exclaimed, tilting your head up to take a look at your neck, where blood began to spill from reddened and swollen scratches. His eyes shifted to your hands on his, your nails appeared to have tints of red.

“Yeh alright, Bonnie?” Soap asked, reaching out a hand as he stood by your side, but didn't touch you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Ghost, then, tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Five things you can see.”

“H-huh?” Your voice came out trembling, a bit taken aback by his words.

“Five things you can see,” he repeated.

“Uh . . .” You scanned the place. “Windows, computers, the sea . . .” You glanced at the Scot and settled back to him. “Soap and you.”

“Good. Four things you can hear.”

“The ocean, the rain, you and . . . Soap.”

“Okay, three things you can touch.”

“Your gloves, your hands, and Soap’s.” Just as you said that, Johnny placed his hand on your cheek and smiled softly at you.

“Two things you can smell,” Ghost demanded.

You leaned on Soap’s touch, eyes falling halfway close. “Rust and the ocean.”

“Last, one thing you can taste.”

You shook your head. “Don't know.”

Ghost nodded. “Good enough, do you feel at least a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you heaved out a loud sigh.

“Your neck isn't,” Soap remarked, shaking his head. “You suddenly got quiet, you didn't seem to hear us, and you began clawing on the throat mic till you bled. Ghost had it removed already but . . .”

You reached up your free hand to your neck, but Ghost grabbed it, stopping you.

“Touching it furthermore might cause an infection,” he said, swiping the blood from your fingertips with his gloves. “We'll take care of it later.”

“What about Graves?” You scanned the room once again, you didn't notice it earlier but the Shadow himself was nowhere to be found.

“He went out first, he was talking to Shepherd,” Soap explained and tugged down on your collar, to keep it away somehow from your scratches. He eyed the redness and the clotting blood.

Maybe, you weren't so invincible after all, that sometimes the human inside you breaks out of the shell where you were locked in as a weapon as Shepherd and Graves stated.

Maybe, you weren't exactly what he had concluded. But he wasn't one to talk.

Soap was a man who hid bodies behind closets. A man who washed the dirt and blood he had spilled.

“Come here, love,” he gently wrapped his hand around your nape.

Perhaps, he had gone crazy, because he wanted to clean up a mess, not from his brothers-in-arms nor the enemies, but someone who seemed to have been bathing on it for long.

His lips crashed onto yours as you turned to him, eyes going wide whereas his was shut close. He licked over your lips and you parted them open, closing your eyes as he took over your mouth. His tongue swirled with yours, eliciting a groan from you. But it soon ended, with him pulling away, leaving a string of saliva between you.

He smirked, running his thumb over your lower lip. “What do you taste now?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless as your face burned red.

“That's two,” Ghost claimed, making you warmer than before, as it dawned on you that he heard your moan. “That's fucking two, right in front of me.”

“And yet, you kept on holding her hands.” Johnny looked down at your hands within Ghost’s grasp, and you closed your eyes, pursing your lips. “Say it, Lt. You also like—ow!”

“Could you guys move?” You asked, pushing Soap inside the vehicle, making him scoot more towards the Lt. on which your superiors both grumbled.

 You shut the door close with a loud thud and Rodolfo shot a quick glance at the mirror, making sure you were settled before he drove off.

You peered over the window, letting the wind trash your hair and the rain kiss your skin. Others might find it suffocating, but you find comfort in the harshness it brought, and perhaps, you had become so comfortable that you only realized the vehicle had come to a stop at the entryway of Alejandro's base.

Your eyes narrowed at the unusual number of Shadows stationed at the gate and pulled yourself back in the transport, only to swing the door open. You jumped out and quickly joined Alejandro's side before Graves.

“What is this?” Alejandro motioned a hand at the Shadows, who were all lining up behind Graves.

You began counting the heads.

“Step away from the gate,” Graves commanded, making you frown.

“Hold up,” you stepped in front of Alejandro. “This is the Colonel's base.”

“Alejandro's soldiers have been relieved from this operation,” he said, tilting his chin up high and looking down at you with a half-lidded gaze. “This is under General Shepherd's order.”

“That bullshit came from him?” Soap questioned, taking the Colonel's other side.

Alejandro grabbed your shoulder, gently pushing you aside and stepping forward. “I don't take orders from you,” he glowered at the American.

You glanced over your shoulder and found a couple of Shadows behind and in front of Ghost. Then, you looked ahead and squinted your eyes at the Shadow who put his hand next to his ear and with the movements behind his balaclava, you realized he was talking to someone.

You reached for your knife.

“General Shepherd has sent his regards . . .” Graves trailed off and let go of his gun, letting it fall by his side. “Is what he told me to say, but I've got better things to do than this shi—”

“Get down!” With a swift hand, you aimed at the Shadow who raised their gun, while shoving Graves aside. You threw the knife, taking down the man, but all of them had started to shoot. “This is why I told you to fucking know your Shadows! They're hired by Shep—argh!” You staggered back as a bullet pierced through your shoulder.

Alejandro rushed forward, but a Shadow shot at his arm and hammered his head with the bottom of their gun.

You dove down behind the vehicle, grimacing at the sudden pain. Just as you were about to grab Graves, a bullet whistled past. “Graves! Alejandro!”

From your peripheral, Ghost slit a Shadow’s throat open and turned, launching the same knife at another one's neck.

At the same time, Graves had been shot at his shoulder and his men—now his own enemies quickly tied his wrist.

No, you didn't have time to worry about them. Your mission now was to keep the 141 safe. You fished out a folding knife from under your boot and swung your leg to the side as a Shadow rushed past. He fell with a thud and you plunged the blade on his neck and pulled, ripping it open.

You flinched as you heard a loud grunt. Ahead of you, Soap fell on his back, blood gushing out of his bicep.

“Fuck, fuck,” you chanted under your breath and you noticed the lieutenant dropping down on his knees.

“Soap, get out of here!” Ghost yelled from under the car.

“I’m not—”

“Just go!” You yelled over the Sergeant and breathed out as you heard his grunts and footsteps moving.

“Get him!” A Shadow demanded and you threw your resort of weapon at him, perfectly piercing through his neck.

“Ghost.” You crawled towards him. “Go, I'll distract them.”

“That's dangerous,” he glowered at you.

“Not more than me,” you pulled out the phone you got from one of Valeria’s men and stashed it under his vest. “Go.”

He nodded and patted your head. “Be safe.”

You rolled out from under the car.

“Get the woman! Shepherd needs her back!”

You sighed in relief, snatching a gun from the Shadow Ghost had taken down. Now, you can act freely as you can.

You grinned and shot up to your feet. “And you shall know why Shepherd needs me.”

But before you could fire, smoke veiled your surroundings and pained shouts echoed ahead of you. You squinted to make out what was happening.

At that moment, from the cover of darkness and the shroud of fumes, a man with a gaze as cold and piercing as a blade emerged. Like a breeze, he swept you off your feet fleeing from the scene, and as rare as the rain in a drought, he graced you with a voice you would quaff down like a man starved.

“Not more than I need you.”

Like how a single flower in the desert sought a droplet of water.

As though the heavens were crying on your behalf from the wheels of emotions you had felt tonight, rain poured down stridently, and akin to drowning, you choked out his name.

“Keegan.”

The one and only, Keegan P. Russ is on the stage! Now we only wait for our king. Also, we will be adding Price on the boat based on the votes on the prev. chap.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[imageingrunge]

A needlessly thorough review of DATV so I can move on with my life:

WHAT I LIKED:

The story pacing flows better without all that open world slog from DAI I am not bombarded by 50 side quests that have no baring on anything other than rp flavor

The game is pretty, CC is nice

They gave you far more opportunities to flesh out your Rook's background than in DAI and da2 but it's not as fun has having a mini origin story from DAO

no fall damage and if u run out of a combat zone ur companions follow u too

Hossberg wetlands really remind me of dragon age awakenings and I like the way the blight looks there, it gave me a nice nostalgic feeling for the older games

WHAT I DID NOT LIKE (IN DETAIL)

Voice Acting & Dialogue

It is really hard to be invested in a game that feels the need to recap everything you just experienced from 5 minutes ago, (verging on insulting my intelligence) and the silliest part is while i do hate this I got so checked out after act 2 I needed the recap 

A lot of the dialogue and banter is just empty small talk and meaningless pleasantries that sucked the life out of me, had me longing for the days of hearing Ohgren's beer belches reverberate off the walls in the deep roads:

 Voice acting is really consistent, I hated it when you never knew how your inquisitor would sound in DAI sometimes too serious for a funny comment or like yelling at Cassandra and cullen over nothing - Rook is more consistent but it comes at a loss of personality every line is uttered in the same annoying tone that had me being like damn can he stfu already (da2 was ideal voice acting for me if they cant deliver that again just go back to a voiceless protagonist)

Me whenever my rook opened his mouth: i was getting violent on that skip button

The dialogue between rook and their companions holds it back from being enjoyable at all really- here's some examples:

Emmerich's personal quest in act 2: "I want to do this immortality rite it's a very high honor in my order but rook I might die in the process permanently, I am an orphan and afraid of dying" Rook: "You could die?!?! That's awful". In Origins you can have a conversation with Wynn about her inevitable death and respond in a manner similar to rook and Wynn teases you by saying "well i'm not going to live for ever dear" it made me smile and sad about not being able to really help her. Did not feel that way Emmerich though, Im so uninterested in him as a character my response and feelings are "old people die all the time" and then 'wait why the fuck haven't you done this immortality ritual yet instead dragging me over here to collect some flowers"

Companions & Romance

the flirt options aren't all that flirty, its just rook being nice, all the romance content seems behind a 'romance locked in' moment (that comes in so late in the game u already forgot who u were even flirting with at times) so you can't hop ur way from one bed to another before deciding on 'the forever one' (remember when I could ride the iron bull then break up and be with Cullen- I don't think that’s an option here)

The companions are all pretty forgettable, I did everyone's personal quest (with the exception of Taash tried to kill a dragon for them n failed so bad i just moved on) and forgot there was even an approval system with them or that I was supposed to pick choices for them. It felt like i was on a train going in one direction where it did not matter what I said or did to them they would be fine. It’s like I've lost and gained nothing by doing these quests. The deepest thing I learned about Emmerich is that he is a 50 yr old orphan scared of dying. And it makes me not care all that much about them beyond “I just need you to function enough to get me to the end of the game sure Taash embrace being Rivaini, yes Harding live peacefully w that Titan shit inside you idc… Lucanis..ahh what was ur issue again I forget”

I made Lucanis live peacefully with Spite (stuck as an abomination that's supposed to be as volatile as Anders & Justice) Let Emmerich become a lich and no one batted an eye. Everyone just heehee haw hawing over Emmerich's new skeleton form and I forget about spite a lot unless he comments on something i've killed. Was there supposed to be some moral quandary? to make Emmerich a lich I had to "kill off" Manfred... the walking skeleton who might as well have been a rock with a pair of googly eyes attached to him for all i care

I don’t want to help Bellara light funeral pyres in a puzzle game play style that isnt a deep message about death. I want Aveline's speech about reading her favorite book to her dying father after hawke lost thier mother.

For Neve's romance, it took the whole world falling part and everyone dying for her to kiss me for a 2 time and then pity fuck me and afterword she’s like I’m leaving don’t want to be too distracting. All these lines carry no weight like bad actors w no chemistry

jaw on the floor comparing this (first time I said "i love you" to neve)

to the first time I said it to cullen and how he treats u before the big battle

I get that she isn't lovey dovey but at 70 hrs in and 2 kisses it feels like she just dont love me </3

Combat - as a spellblade mage*

combat was this weird mix of sometimes fun sometimes a new and unique form of human torture (wydm press shift 4 times n hold down e then press V C and 2 IM ON A KEYBOARD!) Once u make it past level 20 u are immortal but ur enemies are sponges I dreaded every single dragon fight despite that being my favorite thing to do in DAI. Don't ever want to see another Ogre in my life they body me into corners that hitting space can't save me from.

At some point u just gotta run around the place a lot hoping ur companions can do the damage for you bc the mobs aren’t interested in them at all. i was spamming 2 n slamming on that E key hopping it would be over n done with already, If i wanted to play a flashy monster hunter game, well then id play tw3 at least that combat is fun.

Lore & Story building

At the end of Trespasser, I was under the impression that the conflict in DATV would revolve around solas amassing an army of elves all over Thedas to rebel against the Evanuris. He had a whole network of Spies working against the Inquisition and the Antaam, and planned to restore the elven people, upend their religious views, and try to tear down the veil as a way of atonement. So I was understanding of there only being 3 import choices ( 1- who you romanced, 2- Save or redeem Solas 3- Disband or Keep inquisition). But that's not the story we get; instead its this??

The veil jumpers are like engineering mages with no ties to Solas beyond being an elves. There is no religious struggle they just seem to accept that these Gods have always been evil and need to be stopped. Solas is just a one man army trapped in the fade off screen for like 70% of the game. Should I have just kept the inquisition around after all? The only mention I got was my disbanded inquisition choice was inky going "my name still carries weight in southern thedas" and it seemed like disbanding or keeping it would have an affect on how easy or hard it would be to stop Solas but no it really doesn't at all

“It doesn’t feel like a Dragon Age game”

A criticism I rarely take seriously because that can mean so many different things? Like what is it the atmosphere? The aesthetics? The “dArK fAnTasy” none of these things have ever stayed consistent in any dragon age game. And I’d say DA franchise lost its teeth/edge when dai rolled around it was pretty light in the world of dark fantasy

However…theyre kinda right this time around....

It doesn’t feel like a dragon age game because they removed a lot of the lore your were exposed to in the previous games to the point where this might as well be another game all together. (i am not even a lore nerd but i do need something there to feel like i am in a dragon age game)

Yes the city is named Minrathos you were are told of its cultural significance and history as the seat of the empire but looks like a shittier version of kirkwall (and I kept getting lost going around the map so I hated it even more for wasting my time) Honestly the city felt super high tech and out of place in a fantasy setting imo, I missed it when everyone lived in a wooden hovel in the middle of the woods.

There is no reason for the venatori to follow Elgarnan and ghilian'nan or for the Qunari either but it all gets hand waved away with "they offered us power"

Reading the Inquisitors letters made me feel like im in a spinoff game and the real story is happening somewhere else. And sad to like baby take me with you!! i want to save u from this nightmare

A lot of the factions are sanitized to the point of being boring Darvin's little 'we're warden we don't do blood magic that's just not right" baby I let the wardens sacrifice elves to Corphyeus 3 weeks ago :/

Qunari Culture

So the whole reason you were fighting the Antaam in DAI was because they believed you were in cahoots with Solas, who's whole plan to them is to sow chaos and disorder- that is a HUGE no no in the Qun so they see it as their sacred duty to stop you. The Qunari we meet in DATV mindless npc mooks who attack you not because your with Solas but because the Evil elven gos promised them uhh power n shit for stopping you. Like I know I did not just waste my time in DAI reading about how egalitarian the Qun is everyone is like a Hive, they depend on each other so selfishness is rooted out so wtf was going on in Treviso with these guys. A whole culture decimated down to being darkspawn mobs part 2

What made me never want to play another DA game ever again:

Everything you ever did in Orlais, Ferelden, Kirkwall is pointless. No matter what the last letter from the Inquistor is "yeah the blight reached the south Denerim is gone, ferelden is blighted beyond repair, we took back Skyhold but barely. The Venatori disposed of whoever you put in charge of Orlais and there's giant leviathans rising out the sea in Ostwick"  There is no conclusion to this it's just the state of the world now

I cant even pretend my non solas romanced Inky is happy and safe after all this? My hof and Alistar might as well be dead for all that it ever mattered. I get that the devs wanted a clean slate but did they have to burn my house down and salt the fields? It feels so spiteful and mean, like they wanted to make a whole separate game and tack on the "dragon age" title to it for money. If they're not interested in the lore or world building why should I? it made me fully checked out of the rest of the story. Like damn idgaf about elgar'nan and the other one give me back Redcliff

TLDR I dont know if i should be sad that I still care about this or glad its over either way im blocking all datv tags n moving on

[infinite--92]

Glowing like a Lily

The following day, a knock on the door of Miranda's house echoed through the room as the women of Infinite 92 gathered for their weekly meeting. Miranda opened the door to reveal a young woman standing there, carrying a warm smile that mirrored her mother's.

She looked to be in her early twenties, her features strikingly similar to Claire’s—same bright eyes, the same confident stance. But what caught everyone’s attention was her belly, round and full, just like the rest of them. It was a sight both familiar and comforting.

A New Face Joins the Group

"Hello," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I'm Lily, Claire's eldest daughter. I hope it’s okay that I came. My mom told me about you all, and I wanted to meet you."

Sophie, who had been sitting closest to the door, immediately got up to greet her. “Of course! Come in, please. We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Lily stepped inside, looking around the room with curiosity and excitement. She could see the understanding smiles on the faces of Sophie, Miranda, Emily, and Ava, a silent acknowledgment of their shared condition.

Miranda gestured towards the couch. "Make yourself comfortable, Lily. We’re all eager to hear your story."

Lily's Introduction

Lily took a seat and looked at the women gathered before her. “It’s surreal being here,” she admitted. “Growing up, I always felt like my mom, my sister and I were the only ones with this... well, this unique condition. But seeing you all, it feels like I’m finally meeting people who understand what it’s like.”

Emily nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. “I know what you mean. It can feel isolating at times. But you’re not alone anymore.”

Lily smiled, grateful for the warm welcome. “Thank you. It’s incredible to see how supportive you all are of each other.”

Growing Up with the Condition

Miranda, always keen to learn more, leaned forward slightly. “Your mom mentioned that your belly started growing during your teenage years, just like hers did. What was it like for you, growing up with this?”

Lily took a deep breath. “It was a rollercoaster, to be honest. When I was 14, I noticed my belly beginning to swell. At first, it was gradual, and I could hide it under baggy clothes. But by the time I was 16, it became impossible to conceal. I was nervous about going to school and facing questions. People thought I was pregnant, and the rumors were hard to deal with.”

Ava reached out to pat Lily’s hand. “That sounds tough. How did you manage it?”

Lily’s expression softened as she remembered those days. “My mom was my rock. She went through it all before me, so she knew exactly what I was feeling. She helped me navigate the awkward conversations, the judgmental stares. It was hard at first, but over time, I learned to embrace it. I realised that this is just a part of who I am.”

Finding Confidence

Sophie couldn’t help but smile at the young woman’s resilience. “You’re amazing,” she said. “We’ve only been dealing with this for a few months, and it’s been such a challenge. But you’ve had years of experience.”

Lily shrugged with a playful grin. “It gets easier, trust me. I had a lot of support from my family, and eventually, I stopped caring about what other people thought. Instead, I focused on what made me feel good. I started wearing clothes that showed off my belly because hiding it felt like I was ashamed, and I wasn’t. I’m proud of who I am.”

Her words struck a chord with the women in the room. It was a reminder that their bodies, as different as they were, did not define their worth. Instead, it was their strength, their journey, and the love they had for themselves and each other that truly mattered.

A New Perspective

Miranda, intrigued by Lily’s confidence, asked, “Do you feel like this condition has held you back in any way? Your mother mentioned that she was able to live a normal life, get married, and have children.”

Lily nodded. “It hasn’t held me back, but it did shape my life in unexpected ways. I had to mature faster than my peers because of the attention and the questions. But I’ve learned to use it as a strength. I’m studying to become a therapist now because I want to help other people who feel different or out of place. I want them to see that they can still lead fulfilling lives.”

The room buzzed with admiration. Here was a young woman who had faced challenges head-on and turned them into a source of inspiration for others.

Bonding with the Group

As the conversation continued, the women shared their own stories with Lily—Sophie talked about her initial shock and fear, Emily shared how her confidence had grown after connecting with others in the group, and Ava spoke about how she was learning to embrace her new body.

Lily listened intently, her eyes shining with empathy and understanding. “You’re all incredible,” she said finally. “It’s amazing how you’ve found strength in each other. I’m so glad to be here.”

Miranda, feeling a surge of emotion, reached out and hugged Lily. “We’re glad you’re here too. The more we share, the stronger we become.”

A New Member of Infinite 92

By the end of the meeting, it was clear that Lily had found a new home within Infinite 92. She had connected with the group in a way that felt natural, as if she had always belonged there. The women welcomed her with open arms, eager to learn from her experiences and gain strength from her example.

As Lily left Miranda’s house that day, she felt a warmth in her heart she hadn’t experienced before. She had grown up feeling like an outsider, but now she had found a sisterhood, a community where she was understood and accepted. The women of Infinite 92 had become more than just friends—they were her family.

For Sophie, Miranda, Emily, Ava, and now Lily, this meeting marked the beginning of a new chapter in their journey. They were no longer just individuals dealing with a strange condition; they were a united force, a community of women who were embracing their uniqueness together. And they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them side by side.

[georgiapeach30513]

Now Jen…I LOVE your blog and your posts but I respectfully disagree about your Steve comments. Again, I use the word respectfully, because I don’t want you or your other followers to take it too seriously. But I think it needs to be said.

First of all, Bucky fans love to make virtually everything about him, especially when it comes to Steve. Please do not at me, Bucky fans never want to admit this but some of you even bleed onto the actors and like to make things about SS when it’s about CE. Think about it. Why do these two people always get compared?? Maybe because it’s a bunch of Steve Bucky fans who can’t get over it and don’t want to. And then it becomes competition and Bucky/SS fans need to make it a sticking point into virtually everything and I’m TIRED. CE fans tend to get upset because they keep having to defend Chris doing random movies instead of doing or following what Sebastian is doing and I think some of them are tired too. Or maybe I’m just projecting.

Steve in the movies did everything for this guy and he also does everything for everyone else. But the moment he does something for himself WW3 happens. I’ll agree that the ending for his arc should have been different because the endgame storyline left too many questions and as a Steve fan I find it extremely annoying. But Why is it his duty to be his friend’s butt buddy forever and always? How come Bucky fans can’t ever seem to let go? And they’re fine when Steve world revolves around him but when they have to deal with Steve being his own person and thinking about his own life for once it’s verboten. I don’t think Bucky is perfect in the slightest and mostly he annoyed me 10 fold in the falcon show. But I will allow it since he has been through a lot, he’s allowed to be grumpy. I don’t expect him to live his life for Steve and tbh I also think he should have gone back in time and relive his own life differently. But that’s a different story and clearly about whose marvel contract is still active and whose is expired.

But Steve needs to be a ray of sunshine that doesn’t do anything except exist for his friend 24/7? Also…why are we getting this “he left him for a person who aided in bucky’s demise?” How did Peggy do that? Why, once again, is it not about Steve and Peggy, but about Bucky and dumping it on Steve and Peggy???

Even now salty bucky fans make their dislike about endgame and MCU about Steve not being around for Bucky, even though the storyline literally was just writing Chris out of it. If it was in reverse and Bucky went back in time I’d 1000% bet none of you would be crying about it. You would say, good for him he deserves to lives his life over. But Steve deserves just as much if not more, he has had no life of his own and was barely existing even in his own movies, as…oh yeah, even marvel was making his story about other people, so no I don’t agree with this constant needing to be mad at Steve over Bucky, when you could just admit that you want it to be about Bucky always and Steve second.

That being said…that is just my opinion. Your opinion is valid as it is your blog. You are my favorite blogger on here but this is one thing I can’t stay silent on.

I love conversations like this, so NEVER apologize. I think the beauty with cinematic universes are we get to know the characters a bit more. And every character is going to resonate with different people in a different way. So let’s get into this, and of course I respect your take, but let me explain a bit more where I’m coming from.

I am aware that we Bucky fans love to make him the main event. As do Steve fans do that, and Loki fans do that. And I do think that there are some people who go bleed the lines of reality with fiction. Obviously when I joke around about Sebastian and Chris I do not think that they are romantic at all. I do think that Chris and Seb equally are aware that the other is attractive. And everyone knows that I am a big hater of people comparing Chris to Seb. I don’t like it. These are two different actors who have both carved out their careers very differently, and for them. Sebastian has always shown that he wanted awards, and is looking at acting as an art form, while I think Chris enjoys what he does, but maybe doesn’t center his whole life around it. As far as the random movie, Seb has done random shitty movies as well. I am not going to dive into why Chris has chosen the movies he does, because I’m not Chris.

There is a big reason why I hate time traveling movies, and honestly, this is a prime example of one of them. I’m also aware that Chris’ contract was up, so they thought they would be clever with his ending. I actually think it was a cop out, personally. It’s not just for the Bucky aspect but for the Sam aspect. Maybe Steve being a white man didn’t understand the weight he put on Sam’s shoulders. I don’t think Steve understood Sam’s position as a black man, and I think that reigns true with most white folk, including myself. I will never understand the injustices that POCs feel, I can be empathetic, but I am aware of the privilege the color of my skin has. Again, Steve’s ending left so much to be desired. And then if you think about it, Steve knew that Peggy died having a full life, and he still selfishly went back. Furthermore, he went back, and stopped the life Peggy would have had. So therefore it alters the future/present. Again, I hate time traveling movies for this reason. I think at the end of the day it was the finality of the decision, but also I feel so many people weren’t given closure with it. That includes fans, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and all the other Avengers.

I personally do not think that Steve needs to live his life for his friends. But this was the life he was given, he should have moved forward, instead of going backwards, but again, Chris’ contract ended, I get it. It was lazy writing. As far as Peggy aiding in Bucky’s demise, who was the one who allowed Zola to live? Who allowed Zola to not just live but work for SHIELD? Peggy Carter AND Howard Stark. What did Zola do? He rebuilt Hydra. What did Hydra do? They tortured Bucky. Remember when Steve learned all of this? Learned what Zola did, and who allowed Zola to live? How he built Hydra to be more powerful than ever? They created the ultimate weapon, The Winter Soldier. Bucky was no longer human to them.

I can’t speak for everyone else, but had the roles been reversed, I would still be irritated. Again, lazy writing. In my ending, Steve had his dance with Peggy, but he returned. I actually wish that Steve made a bargain with Red Skull, a soul for a soul, and he retrieved Natasha. He got his dance, and he said his goodbye, but he came back to the time he was supposed to be in. Take Bucky and Sam out of the equation. Steve still should have stayed in the present even if those two characters died. He rewrote Peggy’s history, and therefore the present. Don’t get me started on Marvel making his story about others, Civil War still irritates me. That was just a lower scale Avengers movie, and we deserved better. I enjoy the movie, just not as a Cap movie.

Now as to the last comment, I jokingly say I can’t ever look at Steve the same. I actually choose to believe my ending for him over what happened. I don’t want him to constantly live to serve Bucky. I want Steve to have his time to grow into Steve. Oddly enough, Steve is also my number 8 Chris character. I don’t think I resonated with him as much as Bucky, and I can admit that this is why I put Bucky on a pedestal. It’s funny that the two best friends had very similar and yet very different lives. I wish that Marvel would have dove into that more. I would love to see a piece where it explores both Steve and Bucky’s mental health. We got a bit of that with TFATWS, but not enough, and without Steve. I guess I love the Cap trio so much, including Sam, I selfishly want more and more of all three.

Again, I love these conversations. And I think all your statements are valid.

[l-in-the-light]

Chapter 1131 commentary

Finally the long break is over!! And no break next week :3 Let's start from the survey again, they're honestly quite fun to come up with :D

Now, let's move on to the chapter itself :D

Luffy's so excited! And why? Because finally it's confirmed they're in Elbaf! Which means I was right, his excitement from before wasn't because he saw Elbaf (this is the reaction right here instead), it was because of the snow! :D

Luffy is so excited and he's not even listening to Loki anymore, lol. Loki at first follows through, but soon he can't even sneak in a word anymore, haha. The manipulator having a hard time getting Luffy's attention. A moment later he snaps and scolds Luffy, I mean... for a master manipulator he's not overly patient or good at steering those conversations in direction he wants them to go...

Hm, interesting how Loki treats humans. He clearly takes care of them, but thinks of himself as their master and requires they call and treat him this way. Reminds me of those thoughts I had in previous chapter commentaries, that for giant people normal humans will seem like toys, puppets or slaves. Though it is worth noting Loki seems to indeed take care of them properly, so maybe more puppets or underlings. I wonder why they wear gas masks... because of the putrid smell?

Treasure Tree Adam confirmed!!! So it's actually not Yggdrasil!

Seems Loki has the same issue as Luffy with remembering people's names, lolol. Loppy, can you imagine...

The Realm of the Dead, lowest layer of Elbaf or also "the first world", where criminals and condemned are kept, a prison and execution ground. Where humans wander around as "walking corpses" (in clothes covered in "putrid smell", in blood from the deceased perhaps?), to disguise their presence to survive, otherwise they will get devoured by the beasts. They seem to be also servants (of the sun god?), they end up here by "defying Elbaf" or by trying to challenge it. It's indeed a lot like Rodo's detention centre roleplay model. Seems Luffy doesn't like the sound of it. Later in Hajrudin's scene we learn that it's also a hunting ground for the brave warriors (but who isn't brave in Elbaf, the land of war?).

It's worth noting that the accursed prince Loki apparently was held in this lowest layer since he was born (or soon after he was born). He says it himself: he friended the beasts because he knows them ever since he was a child. So the conclusion here is that he must have been kept in this underworld realm for most of his life? After all only those "who defy Elbaf, criminals and condemned" are living here. My hypothesis that he is called accursed because of some prophecy or mark he was born with, seems to line up with those pieces of information we got so far.

I admit I'm impressed with Luffy. He actually did not attempt to free Loki, despite the fact he was so shocked that Loki was kept here for 6 years. He listens to him and stays with him, but doesn't agree to his ideas and doesn't even comment much. I'm proud of Luffy, Law would be proud too, Luffy is no longer causing random chaos without knowing more about the situation. Is Luffy finally growing up? 💔

More lore. The World of the Dead belongs to the Sun, hm? Is that why Loki is kept here or is he calling himself a sun god as the result of becoming a master of this realm (by making everyone his underlings so now he is their god)? Interesting.

Also it's kinda rare to associate sun with underworld, not counting some indigenous beliefs of people from Amazon rainforest. I remember reading in anthropology books that sun can be linked with the realm of the dead, because everyday it makes a journey on the sky and finishes it in the underworld (then the night falls on the world). If you hop in on the sun god's carriage (it's actually a canoe swimming on the sky carried by two big birds), you can actually travel between the world of the living and the world of the dead. The god can be nice enough to transport back a lost human that ended up in the underworld because of grief and falling through one of the pekari pig's holes in the ground. But the human that is dead but returns back to the world of living will appear to humans like a regular pekari pig. Apparently after humans die they turn into pekari pigs and are kept in pens by the god of the underworld, who takes care of them. It's actually not clear which god it was. The myths refer to them as "master of the pigs". It might have been the sun god, or god of the underworld, or maybe it's one and the same being.

Amazonian myths are very interesting, but rarely ever referenced in modern fiction. I don't know if Oda is referencing it here, but the moment they called Sun the God of the Underworld, I instantly thought of that. I will be surprised if anyone in OP fandom even considered the possiblity that sun can be linked with the realm of the dead! Oh, it makes me have so many interesting thoughts and observations about the world of One Piece in general...

Also, nice worldbuilding intro to Elbaf. Seems Elbaf has "multiple" worlds, each located on it's own level of the tree Adam; it's very similar to the norse mythology realms that you can travel into by descending or ascending Yggdrasil :D

Luffy already tamed those beasts, huh XD five beasts, a bear, a gorilla, a wolf (I think it's a wolf at least?), an elephant/mammoth and a snake. Snakes and gorillas often appear in important worldbuilding arcs of One Piece, somehow. I know the zoology of OP is often overlooked, but I feel like it will bite us in the ass before the end of the series.

Because look at people's reactions every time Luffy tames the beasts easily. It's a really uncommon talent! It seems very important, maybe it's some special trait only passed down in Luffy's lineage? The picture Oda drew of child Garp taming some wild beast also comes to my mind... it might be a D. clan trait, or maybe it's just Luffy's lineage trait. Was Joyboy good with animals? :P I mean, that question just begs to be finally asked... at least minks and Zunesha have an important connection to Joyboy...

I solemnly swear I'm up to no good, signed by Loki, lol. He said all this shit on purpose to provoke Luffy, but I dunno what his plan here actually was. If he realized that Luffy was so happy at the mention of Shanks, then calling Shanks names is not gonna get him what he wants from Luffy, quite the opposite really. And again, the triple dot of doom... We shall remember this moment, I guess.

TCB is kinda failing with their translation a bit in this chapter. The last line is definitely spoken by Loki again, because it's another pissed off bubble, but they translated it like it was something said by a third party instead... The alternative translation also makes more sense: "if you can't move, then don't piss me off" as in "should you even provoke me if you can't fight back?" instead of the "whatever, I don't care" attitude. Makes more sense for Luffy's personality, he's not a "whatever" type of person. It was also a while since we last saw Luffy defending his friends like this :D

Loki doesn't seem to like Luffy very much, there goes the good first impression, haha. Already plans to kill him off in anger lol. (that will definitely not happen btw, he will 100% change his opinion on Luffy) Curiously enough Luffy seems to like him a bit, as long as he doesn't trashtalk Shanks.

See? Now here it makes more sense. "I will tell you more about Shanks if you do something for me". The earlier "coward" approach was such a nonsense in comparison. Did Loki seriously just expect Luffy to sit there and listen to him trashtalking Shanks? For a master manipulator, Loki kinda falls a bit flat, ngl. People have already pointed it out that he seems more like Usopp-type, selling some lies to appear more important/respected than he actually is. That attitude might have the root in similar childhood: always staying on his own so telling talltales is his coping mechanism, just like it was for Usopp.

At this point we might question whether Loki will indeed bring any sort of end to the world or is it yet another lie (or perhaps he got banned to this underworld realm as the result of a prophecy told at his birth?). And he most definitely isn't a sun god, he just thinks he is because he considers himself the ruler of this lowest realm of Elbaf, which according to the beliefs is the realm of Sun God. So it's a natural conclusion: if he's on top of it then he is the sun god himself, right. But despite his name, he's not really a trickster or anything like that, Doflamingo would easily outclass him.

Also a moment of appreciation for cute blushy Luffy :D last time we saw his blushy cheeks from the cold was in Punk Hazard!

Sunny spotted! It looks like a toy when Giants are carrying it, haha. Like a cool boat toy for kids. I can't with Zoro, always trying to cut up their problems, lol. Glad Usopp is the brain of the group.

I bet the Giants actually want to catch up to Strawhats to get them to safety, not to kidnap them again lol. Well, maybe except Rodo, he might want some payback 😂 though would he openly oppose Hajrudin, even if he refused to work under Strawhats? I'm not sure Rodo has it in him tbh, now that it's been exposed that he kept them hostage, lol. I wonder if he's now in trouble or what haha. Or maybe he lied and said he wanted to deliver them to the feast once they wake up but they escaped him instead lol.

Random appreciation for Usopp the brave warrior getting over his fear of heights thanks to his fear of being chased by their captor :D

Appreciation for their cute little song :D

I wonder what's that all about? Sun stone? I guess I will have to wait for Japanese youtubers to address this, they might have something interesting to share.

I like how Hajrudin is still full of gratitude towards the Strawhats! Even preparing a feast for them. I have a feeling Giants really like to drink and have feasts all the time XD

Woah, what a fun snake-like creature there in the sea!

Brook is cute with how anxious he is. I'm glad that finally he's around new people who are laughing at his skull jokes, because Strawhats are so used to it already that they just ignore Brook by now, heh.

Bonney's excitement :D Franky is suddenly becoming very nostalgic, no wonder, he met Robin at Water 7, his home, and they had that "adventure" at Enies Lobby together. (he really looks great in those clothes btw. Some people speculate his cowboy hat actually belongs to Robin and she borrowed it to him, I actually love that idea!)

Yet another triple dot of doom, this time coming from Robin hmmm.

She looks cute indeed. Oda really highlighted this scene though, hm. her blush is adorable :D

And another triple dot of doom. Third one already this chapter, and two from Robin alone. I wonder, is it time for callback to Water 7 finally? They even mentioned the events of that arc in this chapter, it feels like a build-up honestly. Are we finally getting the payoff from that arc?? Is it finally the time to share my Robin conspiracy theory with the world?! (yes, I do have one. I have it ever since I reread Water 7 for the third time. There are loose ends there and I think I know where Robin's story is going towards from now on. Hence why I'm so hmmmm over all those triple dots bubbles lol)

Hm, TCB translated this as "he fell and can't get up" while other translation went with "he fell and he's not moving". Honestly the second one sounds waaay more dramatic. I mean, he might be just drunk, we saw Saul drinking while he was listening to Vegapunk's broadcast. But that would make this cliffhanger really lame, ngl XD

But IT IS very curious that we get this cliffhanger teaser here just before Robin and Saul can finally reunite, right?? I kinda want it to lead to some serious development, not a gag.

Time to share the results of the previous survey! Technically, everything listed up there can *still* happen in the future, so I will keep it in mind to return to those results later as far, just to see how correct we all were, for the laughs and potential self-satisfaction gloating moment!

But as for this chapter alone, the second option seems to be the winner. "It's not Luffy's business" lol. So far in my surveys only the minority choices win and we all thought we know Luffy so well already! Hey, I was also completely off, I really thought Luffy would attempt to free Loki immediately :D

This break was way too long, I already need the next chapter please, it was hardly enough!

[deskraven]

(Below are some personal thoughts on Nightshade and queer representation. OG poster I have nothing against you and this is not an attempt to persuade you into liking Nightshade. Your feelings are valid and I understand where you are coming from.)

Nightshade is an icon to me in Season 1. I always joke about "fox news is not wrong that Nightshade is trans-ing people" - they are a key factor I started using nonbinary pronouns in real life. So sure, my opinion on them is biased - there might be too much insertion and projection involved and I'm looking at them through rose-colored glasses.

So let's start with facts instead:

"The character's very existence is unnecessary" is a very subjective statement. There is a thread on Twitter that asked "(Without saying its woke) What's your reason for disliking Earthspark?" While many pointed out that there are too many Terrans and only 2-3 of them are well developed / interesting, the 2-3 they listed are very diverse among the comments! The following are all direct quotes:

I never found most of the kids/terrans entertaining (except for Nightshade and Jawbreaker)

... only Nightshade and Hashtag are interesting, the rest have the personality of a piece of cardboard.

A few of the Terrans feel underdeveloped, Thrash and Hashtag feel like nothing characters compared to Twitch, Jawbreaker, and Nightshade.

the Terrans don’t really stand out from one another in terms of personalities except for maybe Hashtag and Twitch.

The other terrans that are not twitch and thrash are really boring and lame

All of these are valid statements. I'm not accusing the original poster to be mistaking a subjective feeling as a factual statement - they very well clarified that this is their own personal feelings and acknowledged that Nightshade is a popular character. I just want to use the opportunity to show how diverse people's feelings can be.

I also don't think Nightshade "solely exists to make a statement".

If so, people who didn't even hear their statement should be really confused what the character is even here for. We do have such a group of people - in the Japanese dub, Nightshade's nonbinary identity wasn't revealed until their conversation with Sam. I'm not Japanese so I can't say for sure, but there were a lot of Japanese fanart about them prior to "Home" being aired in Japan. It seems that they are well-liked.

Now my opinions:

Nightshade has a very tasteful introduction and implementation. I see the "came flying in to throw all sorts of people into a tizzy" as part of their personality - which I cherish. I also see the "forced, self righteous, and more than a little annoying at times" as part of their personality, which I cherish even more because it reminds me of many queer neurodivergent friends of mine.

But Nightshade doesn't just appeal to queer people. A friend of mine adores them for a very specific line they said, "You've just proven you don't really know me - because I was never lost!" She's a cishet Chinese woman who doesn't know much about US queer culture, but she remembers saying something similar to her parents.

But even if they really are just a tasteless boring character who exists for the sake of representation, I wouldn't say they shouldn't be there either. I would sure be angry - a year ago I was enraged by the portrayal of Lake Ripple (Elementals) because this nonbinary character really literally serves no purpose. It is frustrating when there's finally a nonbinary character on big screen yet they are just a soulless background cardboard. But most of Lake's cisgender relatives are also background cardboards, yet no one would say they shouldn't exist in the first place. Imagine if all it takes to make a character's mediocracy tolerable is to remove their minority identity - it's unfair.

Anyways I like Nightshade very much they are the second perfect transformer character imo ^ ^ It's a pity they got shafted in S2 and S3 but they will forever live rent free in my heart and I unironically love how you described them as "self righteous and more than a little annoying at times" and "came flying in to throw all sorts of people into a tizzy". These are the reasons I love them and I couldn't have put it any better.

I can never change your dislike for Nightshade. But have you considered that Nick basically reduced their role in the show because of all the controversy? It's harsh to think that they shouldn't be there. This show has studio interference written all over it.

Today is the die I become hated.

Le sigh.

I recognize that studios have their money hungry fingers all over everything, but that does not change what Nightshade, and other similar characters, represent. I think Nightshade's very existence is unnecessary. Even without the controversy, the character is just kind of there for no real reason other than making a statement. For me, Nightshade feels a great deal like the ridiculous arrogance of Elita-One in Transformers One.

Both characters are there to leave a message, one that could be good if done correctly. But due to its implementation, it comes off as forced, self righteous, and more than a little annoying at times. Elita was an attempt to represent girl power that went sideways by making her worse as a person. Nightshade was a studio's shot at reaching more diverse audiences that just came off as out of the blue and tasteless. Nightshade has very little purpose, even before people got upset, my point remains. Additionally, the character is largely there for diversity rather than actual functionality in the show.

For all I care, your character could be named Squishy von Veek and could go by screams of the damned as pronouns, so long as said character is USEFUL to the story and makes sense in the lore. Nightshade sadly does not check any of these boxes for me, at least not in initial implementation. There was no lore groundwork, no tasteful introduction. It just happened and Nightshade came flying in to throw all sorts of people into a tizzy.

I will admit though, the design and name for Nightshade rock.

[alas--pringles]

I was already thinking my suspicions about my brain were a bit more confirmed the past few days due to getting irrationally overly frustrated with a combination of "black and white thinking" "a strong sense of justice" and no one understanding what i was actually trying to communicate.

Then the "all your friends only tolerate you at besr, notice how whenever youre the one trying to make plans they never happen?" mean brain thoughts started up after work which only reminded me of plans i was trying to make (with an entirely separate group than the thoughts were mainly about.) Started that conversation again and. Wow what do you know the plans evaporated.

Ive been emotional in so many different ways before, like lowkey panicking or being anxious for various reasons, or like what may count as RSD (i usually just call it the mean part of my brain.) But this felt different. Sometimes emotions make me quieter or less talkative of course but ive never in my life experienced being nonverbal or anything. Idk if this was that but its the only way i can describe it. I was alone in my room, i wasnt trying to talk out loud, but it felt like i couldnt even really type words. Like i was basically limited to emojis, maybe gifs. (That dumb post about sodo with the emojis last night? That was then, i was looking for emojis and found the 🤏 which reminded me of him mocking rain lol.) So maybe theres a different word than just a general minor emotional breakdown for whatever last night was. Meltdown? Shutdown? Idk.

I'm ok now, probably need a break from certain topics, but wanted to get my thoughts about my weird brain out.

[wellfine]

Hey I found ur art uncredited on tik Tok

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMreQSnaw/

They said they "found it on Reddit" so they just decided to steal it and post it ig?? Ugh!!

Wow, that's a whole other repost to the one I thought it was going to be, lol. It's been reposted to TikTok once before, and I'm also not surprised this person got it from Reddit, where I doubt I was credited either.

At the end of the day I appreciate the heads up but there's nothing I can really do about it. The most helpful thing anyone can do is to leave comments on the reposts to provide credit,* because if artists ever try and comment then we pretty invariably get attacked. Don't be mean or aggressive, that just builds their animosity towards the artists, but I do think people respond positively to outside pressure to do the right thing 🤷

*Remember to make sure there's enough context - eg. something like "art by @ landegart on Twitter" is more searchable/useful than "artist is Landeg" to someone on TikTok who has no idea who I am haha

[screambirdscreaming]

I used to like saying "gender is a social construct," but I stopped saying that because people didn't tend to react well - they thought that I was saying gender wasn't real, or didn't matter, or could be safely ignored without consequences. Which has always baffled me a bit as an interpretation, honestly, because many things are social constructs - like money, school, and the police - and they certainly have profound effects on your life whether or not you believe in them. And they sure don't go away if you ignore them.

Anyway. What I've taken to saying instead is, "gender is a cultural practice." This gives more of a sense of respect for the significance gender holds to many people. And it also opens the door to another couple layers of analysis.

Gender is cultural. It is not globally or historically homogeneous. It shifts over time, develops differently in different communities, and can be influenced by cross-cultural contact. Like many, many aspects of culture, the current status of gender is dramatically influenced by colonialism. Colonial gender norms are shaped by the hierarchical structure of imperialist society, and enforced onto colonized cultures as part of the project of imperial cultural hedgemony.

Gender is practiced. What constitutes a gender includes affects and behaviors, jobs or areas of work, skillsets, clothing, collective and individual practices of gender affiliation and affirmation. Any or all of these things, in any combination, depending on the gender, the culture, and the practitioner.

Gender encompasses shared cultural archetypes. These can include specific figures - gods and goddesses, mythic or fictional characters, etc - or they can be more abstract or general. The Wise Woman, Robin Hood, the Dyke, the Working Man, the Plucky Heroine, the Effete Gay Man, etc etc. The range of archetypes does not circumscribe a given gender, that is, they're not all there is to gender. But they provide frameworks and reference points by which people relate to gender. They may be guides for ways to inhabit or practice a gender. They may be stereotypes through which the gendered behavior of others is viewed.

Gender as a framework can be changed. Because it is created collectively, by shared acknowledgement and enforcement by members of society. Various movements have made significant shifts in how gender is structured at various times and places. The impact of these shifts has been widely variable - for example, depending on what city I'm in, even within my (fairly culturally homogeneous) home country, the way I am gendered and reacted to changes dramatically. Looping back to point one, we often speak of gender in very broad terms that obscure significant variability which exists on many scales.

Gender is structured recursively. This can be seen in the archetypes mentioned above, which range from extremely general (say, the Mother) to highly specific (the PTA Soccer Mom). Even people who claim to acknowledge only two genders will have many concepts of gendered-ways-of-being within each of them, which they may view and react to VERY differently.

Gender is experienced as an external cultural force. It cannot be opted out of, any more than living in a society can be opted out of. Regardless of the internal experience of gender, the external experience is also present. Operating within the shared cultural understanding of gender, one can aim to express a certain practice of gender - to make legible to other people how it is you interface with gender. This is always somewhat of a two-way process of communication. Other people may or may not perceive what you're going for - and they may or may not respect it. They may try to bring your expressed gender into alignment with a gender they know, or they might parcel you off into your own little box.

Gender is normative. Within the structure of the "cultural mainstream," there are allowable ways to practice gender. Any gendered behavior is considered relative to these standards. What behavior is allowed, rewarded, punished, or shunned is determined relative to what is gender normative for your perceived gender. Failure to have a clearly perceivable gender is also, generally, punished. So is having a perceivable gender which is in itself not normative.

Gender is taught by a combination of narratives, punishments, and encouragements. This teaching process is directed most strongly towards children but continues throughout adulthood. Practice of normatively-gendered behaviors and alignment with 'appropriate' archetypes is affirmed, encouraged, and rewarded. Likewise 'other'- gendered behavior and affinity to archetypes is scolded, punished, or shunned. This teaching process is inherently coercive, as social acceptance/rejection is a powerful force. However it can't be likened to programming, everyone experiences and reacts to it differently. Also, this process teaches the cultural roles and practices of both (normative) genders, even as it attempts to force conformity to only one.

Gender regulates access to certain levers of social power. This one is complicated by the fact that access to levers of social power is also affected by *many* other things, most notably race, class, and citizenship. I am not going to attempt to describe this in any general terms, I'm not equipped for that. I'll give a few examples to explain what I'm talking about though. (1) In a social situation, a man is able to imply authority, which is implicitly backed by his ability to intimidate by yelling, looming, or threatening physical violence. How much authority he is perceived to have in response to this display is a function of his race and class. It is also modified by how strongly he appears to conform to a masculine ideal. Whether or not he will receive social backlash for this behavior (as a separate consideration to how effective it will be) is again a function of race/class/other forms of social standing. (2) In a social situation, a woman is able to invoke moral judgment, and attempt to modify the behavior of others by shame. The strength of her perceived moral authority depends not just on her conformity to ideal womanhood, but especially on if she can invoke certain archetypes - such as an Innocent, a Mother, or better yet a Grandmother. Whether her moral authority is considered a relevant consideration to influence the behavior of others (vs whether she will be belittled or ignored) strongly depends on her relative social standing to those she is addressing, on basis of gender/race/class/other.

[Again, these examples are *not* meant to be exhaustive, nor to pass judgment on employing any social power in any situation. Only to illustrate what "gendered access to social power" might mean. And to illustrate that types of power are not uniform and may play out according to complex factors.]

Gender is not based in physical traits, but physical traits are ascribed gendered value. Earlier, I described gender as practiced, citing almost entirely things a person can do or change. And I firmly believe this is the core of gender as it exists culturally - and not just aspirationally. After the moment when a gender is "assigned" based on infant physical characteristics, they are raised into that gender regardless of the physical traits they go on to develop (in most circumstances, and unless/until they denounce that gender.) The range of physical traits like height, facial shape, body hair, ability to put on muscle mass - is distributed so that there is complete overlap between the range of possible traits for people assigned male and people assigned female. Much is made of slight trends in things that are "more common" for one binary sex or the other, but it's statistically quite minor once you get over selection bias. However, these traits are ascribed gendered connotations, often extremely strongly so. As such, the experience of presented and perceived gender is strongly effected by physical traits. The practice of gender therefore naturally expands to include modification of physical traits. Meanwhile, the social movements to change how gender is constructed can include pushing to decrease or change the gendered association of physical traits - although this does not seem to consistently be a priority.

Gender roles are related to the hypothetical ability to bear children, but more obliquely than is often claimed. It is popular to say that the types of work considered feminine derive from things it is possible to do while pregnant or tending small children. However, research on the broader span of human history does not hold this up. It may be true of the cultures that gave immediate rise to the colonial gender roles we are familiar with - secondary to the fact that childcare was designated as women's work. (Which it does not have to be, even a nursing infant doesn't need to be with the person who feeds it 24 hours a day.) More directly, gender roles have been influenced by structures of social control aiming for reproductive control. In the direct precursors of colonial society, attempts to track paternal lineage led to extreme degrees of social control over women, which we still see reflected in normative gender today. Many struggles for women's liberation have attempted to push back these forms of social control. It is my firm opinion that any attempt to re-emphasize childbearing as a touchstone of womanhood is frankly sick. We are at a time where solidarity in struggle for gender liberation, and for reproductive rights, is crucial. We need to cast off shackles of control in both fights. Trying to tie childbearing back to womanhood hobbles both fights and demeans us all.

Gender is baked deeply enough into our culture that it is unlikely to ever go away. Many people feel strongly about the practice of gender, in one way or another, and would not want it to. However we have the power to change how gender is structured and enforced. We can push open the doors of what is allowable, and reduce the pain of social punishment and isolation. We can dismantle another of the tools of colonial hedgemony and social control. We can change the culture!