#as usual don't use what I say as a justification

[paper-mario-wiki]

Ok I usually agree with you on things but even as someone who didn't like tadc, I don't see the issue with selling merch?? Lackadaisy, hazbin/helluva boss, monkeywrench, literally almost every indie project does that, it's how they get a good amount of their funding, why is that itself an issue?

alright this'll be the last question i answer on it because we're officially at the point where people are saying "oh yeah, well what about this?" in reference to stuff i already spoke about, so i'll use this as a summary:

I was asked what I think about The Amazing Digital Circus a few weeks ago, and as a show, I think it's pretty inoffensive. I think the premise and character design is pretty generic, and I think the plot is definitely trend-riding, but ultimately the pilot had some funny jokes and pretty good visuals.

I added an addendum later on to follow up in saying that my perspective has shifted to one of disdain, because I'm sick of seeing it everywhere, and I'm tired of people saying it's already a masterpiece despite the minimal legwork it has put in so far as a story. This is compounded by the fact that the studio company behind it, Glitch Productions, is being unrelentingly commercial with it, to the extent that there was merch designed and available the same day the video itself went live, especially since the pilot itself was never even set to get a sequel, let alone a "series", despite the fact that it is being advertised and sold as a series. This left a bad taste in my mouth, as in my eyes it's become a pretty hollow flavor of the week fandom with a hype culture that people are conflating with actual quality.

Someone asked about the nature of the "no confirmed episode 2", which I later provided some context for in the form of a screenshot from an article where staff of Glitch Productions came forward and said pretty unambiguously that there wouldn't be more episodes unless people bought enough merch. This isn't a horrible sin by itself (Toby Fox famously sold merch for a demo of Deltarune), but the fact that merch sales are being treated like a crowdfunding campaign, with the threat of cancellation very unambiguously behind the "encouragement to buy merch in order to help greenlight the show", is a tactic that feels gross to me. Crowdfunding itself is okay, but the fact that there is no set goal in place, no "if we sell x amount of shirts the show will be get an entire season!" or anything like that, sounds a lot like "if you do not buy enough acrylic charms and tshirts then this show you like will not continue. how many have to be sold? we'll let you know when we reach the goal".

That is, in its entirety, the discourse, AKA my opinion that people kept asking for clarification and justification for. I personally really don't like The Amazing Digital Circus for its lack of depth combined with its ruthless commercialism. I find it repulsive in that way. That's it.

[kingkat12]

affair (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), dub-con, Roman using his powers for bad shit, angst, cheating, toxic relationship, justice for Peter omg

summary: when your ex-boyfriend shows up at your door, how are you supposed to push him away?

word count: 5,136

"No, please!-- We need to talk!" 

Roman forced a foot in my door to make sure I wouldn't close it on him. He was wet from the rain, his usually styled hair sticking to his forehead as he panted, desperately pleading for me to hear him out. "I made a huge mistake," he breathed, regret glossing over his green eyes. "Could you please just hear me out?"

This was definitely not the most ideal situation to be in-- my boyfriend, Peter, had just left my apartment to go home and get ready for his early shift, so I had gotten ready for bed. And I certainly wouldn't be dressed in my pyjamas and slippers had I known that my ex would show up at my door looking beyond frantic. My mind raced with uncertainty, filled with endless questions and doubt; what was he doing here? Was he drunk? Why was he doing this now, after two months of being broken up? "You-- You need to go," I didn't have the time or energy to deal with the mess Roman always dragged back into my life, especially now that I was finally happy with someone else.

Worst of all, I knew for a fact that Roman had someone else too. I knew he was seeing some woman with long, blonde hair whom I refused to stalk for my own good, so why on earth was he here? The question lingered in my mind, but I had to remind myself about the one thing I had the answer to at the moment; I needed to close the door on him now. 

Upon hearing my words of rejection and feeling the door press up on his foot in an attempt to force him out, Roman wedged his arm between the door. "Let me explain," he pleaded, chest heaving. "I just ran seventeen blocks in the fucking rain to see you, could you at least spare me a minute?"

As if that was enough of a justification to show up out of the blue? "No one asked you to do that. I certainly did not," To say that I was pissed off was an understatement, but Roman's pleading eyes were making me sick with guilt. He looked like a lost puppy of sorts, and it was certainly not helping my restraint. The hand I had on my doorknob felt like it was starting to lose blood because of how hard I was holding on-- I couldn't let him in. I shouldn't let him in. 

"I know," Roman eventually said, moving his wet hair out of his eyes. "I know you don't want to see me, but I just... I needed to see you."

"... I think you should go back to your girlfriend," I started to push at his shoe with my slipper, preparing to slam the door in his face. "You shouldn't be here."

It didn't take long for Roman to figure out what I was doing, and it became apparent that he wasn't going to go down without a fight. It didn't take much strength for him to grab the door, forcing it wide open, staring down at me with a damning look of desperation I hadn't seen in any man before. "Just a minute," he breathed. "Please let me say my piece. If I don't, I swear I'll die."

I didn't enjoy this one bit-- coming to my doorstep, threatening to die if I didn't comply? I had forgotten how manipulative he could be. Being with Peter had shown me that Roman's behavior in our relationship had been beyond toxic, and I could see it clearer than ever as he stood before me now. "You're not going to fucking die," I grumbled, feeling myself grow annoyed with how he was throwing himself back into my life, completely uninvited. "Roman, it's almost midnight, maybe this manic behaviour of yours will go away with a good night of sleep?"

Frustrated, Roman tapped his fingers against the door. "Now you're just making it hard, as always,"

"And you're being crazy, as always," I mumbled, shifting my weight from foot to foot, a sense of restlessness taking over my stance. "Could you please leave? We did this back-and-forth thing months ago, I'm not interested in doing it all over again."

In true Roman fashion, standing face to face with rejection, he didn't know what to say or do. I could recognize his patterns now that we weren't together, and it was so damn typical of him to attempt to distract me from what was making me mad; "I remember those," he said, nodding toward my slippers. "Good to see you've kept them."

I knew he was distracting me, so why did it work? Sighing, I shrugged; "They were expensive... Wasn't going to throw them away just because you picked them out,"

Letting go of the door, knowing he had tranquilized the danger of getting it slammed in his face, Roman leaned against the frame in a James Dean-esque fashion. He let out a dragged-out breath, eyes rounding out; "I've missed you,"

His words snapped me out of my daze, and I immediately pulled away from the door with a groan. "Ugh, Roman, you need to go!" I turned my back to him, walking further into my apartment, my instincts telling me to get as far away as possible. "I'm finally happy with Peter, and you have no right to show up at my door just because you're bored!--" My trail of words came to a halt as I suddenly heard my door close; I knew I was fucked in an instant. My heart trembled at the recognition of the sound of the lock turning, realizing I was in for a long night. Fuck. I turned around, holding my breath, watching as he took wary steps towards me. 

"One minute," Roman said, voice low and unsteady. "That's all I ask." 

"No!" I took a few steps back, not daring to get too close. "You can't be here! This is completely inappropriate, Roman, I have a boyfriend! And I know you have a girlfriend too, along with a huge fucking drinking problem!" 

Roman sighed, a silent declaration of his frustration. "I'm not drunk," he said, gaze falling to the floor. "I just... I've come to realize that I can't live like this anymore. I want to be with you."

I clenched my fists tightly in a futile attempt to quell my agitation, but my hands continued to shake. "That's too bad," I said, a sinking feeling taking hold and clinging to me. "I'm not doing this with you again. I'm not getting up in the middle of the night to look for you, wondering whether you're either dead or drunk in some alley. Not when I have Peter."

Exhaustion drugged Roman's movements, every movement slow, every breath. It was clear that the mention of Peter was an unpleasant reminder that we were over; his shoulders slumped, the weight of guilt settling upon them. "I haven't had a drink since the day you left me," he said, his sincere eyes finding mine. "I want to be good for you... I want you. Every second of every day." 

At this point, I had taken so many steps back that I had hit the wall. It was getting a little harder to breathe, and I ended up hyperventilating-- I couldn't do this. I could still feel Peter on my shirt. Everything about this was wrong. "You need to stop," I breathed, stepping away from the wall and wandering further into my living room as I grew restless. "Please stop. Don't do this to me."

To my dismay, Roman only followed; "I'll leave her," he pleaded. "I'll leave her if you tell me to, I'll do whatever you want! I should've fought for us, I should've done so many things that I didn't do... It keeps me up at night that I let you go. I can't sleep, I can't function, I need you to know how this pains me!"

"No, I don't need to know that!" My steps came to a halt, and I pivoted on the heel of my slipper to face him. "You put me through hell, and now think you can just show up like this! Don't you think I have enough emotional baggage from you? You think I don't have enough or something, so you come here to unload some more? What the fuck am I to you, a loading dock?!"

Roman let out a harsh sigh; "Is that a serious question?" he asked, brows weaving together in frustration. "You are everything. I see that now!"

I was already exhausted from the day I had just had, and I barely had any energy left to fight with Roman. This was what we did-- we fought, we fucked, then we made up. However, this time was completely different, and it was throwing me off my course; we couldn't fuck and make up this time. But it was clear that he hadn't shown up to fight, so what on earth was this?

"Well, it's too damn late!" I groaned loudly, hiding my face in the palm of my hands. This was way too overwhelming. When the love of your life shows up at your door telling you everything you've ever wanted to hear, you want to rejoice-- not cry? My eyes burned with the tears that begged to be set free, distorting my vision as I lifted my face from my hands, unveiling that I was swimming in tears. "Do you not see what you do to me?" I breathed, sniffling. "Did you come here to drive me to tears? Do you have no remorse, Roman?"

Roman's lips parted, the worried look on his face revealing everything, his concern written all over. In the quiet moments that followed, the only sound was the echoing resonance of regret filling the space between us with its haunting presence. Our unsaid words were scattered in the air, and it felt like I was suffocating from every apology he could muster up. 

"Let me be happy," I begged, swallowing hard. "Leave now and let me forget. I'm happy with Peter... Please."

It was clear that Roman was debating whether or not to comply. His conscience was gnawing at him-- I knew him well enough to be able to spot the signs. I hated how familiar he was, how it felt like we hadn't been apart at all, like it was yesterday that he had made me feel things I never knew I could feel. The feeling of pure bliss had been like a drug that Roman constantly pumped into me, making me a complete and utter junkie. It had resulted in me falling for him despite how beyond bad he was for me. 

I remembered it all too well. The binge drinking that would go on for days, which often had him disappearing off of the face of the earth. His wandering green eyes used to leave me with such crippling anxiety, I would spend hours crying with a lingering feeling of nausea in my throat. He used to make me so, so sick in every possible way, and my body remembered it better than I did. 

However, I could also sense that something had changed. Here he was; standing in my living room, drenched in rain, clinging onto his last slivers of hope, and I knew I was in for a good run of Roman-mania. 

Of course he would come back to claim what he thought was his. Of course he'd be arrogant enough to believe it would be okay, that I would take him back, and that it would be completely alright for him to come towards me with rushed steps, kissing me with desperation that I had never felt from him before.

Our bodies were pressed together heatedly, Roman's hands on my waist keeping me in place. I could taste our shared nervous breaths, feel the thud of my heart against his, and it was all too much-- I pushed him off of me, tears pooling in my eyes as they streaked down my cheeks. "No!" I cried, my words getting choked. I couldn't believe what he had just done; my heart was actively breaking at the thought of Peter, the loveliest boyfriend I had ever had. I couldn't do this to him. "Roman, you can't just!--"

I hated the warmth that spread in my chest as Roman pulled me back in, sparks igniting in the pool of my stomach as his impossibly perfect lips moved against mine once more. I balled my fist, landing a firm hit against his chest, fighting the ecstasy that always followed any kiss from Roman. But his grip around me was impossibly tight, not letting me budge. You'd think he'd been starved for months with the way he was kissing me with hunger unmatched any other moment I'd ever shared with him, completely taking my breath away. Like this, I could almost believe that I had been on his mind in every waking moment, ravaging through his veins like a burning ache-- I couldn't lie and say that he hadn't been on my mind either.

No one could match Roman; not even my sweet, sweet Peter. I hated it with every fiber of my being. 

The only thing I hated more, was that I never wanted him to stop. 

"No," I cried against his lips, my fingers gripping his wet shirt, bunching it up, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away once more. Was it maybe that he sensed how much I wanted this too that made him allow himself to continue?

Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating my apartment with a flash as my tears rolled down, mixing in with our kiss. No matter how wrong I knew this was, it felt like my soul was slowly leaving my body and giving itself to him once more; I knew I was dealing with a force outside of anything I could ever control. The love I had for Roman was all-consuming, crushing, devastating-- I could barely bring myself to fight him. "Stop," I breathed in between kisses. "Don't, Roman--"

My breath hitched as I realized my back was now pressed against the wall, and Roman pulled away barely an inch; I could feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath my nose, his fingers now moving through my hair as we breathed each other in. "Leave him," he whispered against my lips. "Let's try again."

My heart had become like melted wax in my chest, making it painful to breathe. "We'll crash and burn all over again," I breathed, feeling the salty traces of my tears on my lips. "We'll kill each other, you know this."

"Let me die by your hand, then," Roman connected our foreheads, closing his eyes. Like this, I could almost believe him, I really could-- he had actually missed me, hadn't he? "A death by you would be a death worth dying."

I felt my lower lip quiver in a sob; I wanted him more than anything in the world, and I had an inkling that he knew it better than I did. I couldn't allow myself to feel all the feelings I had bottled up in our time apart, knowing it would break me and lead me right back into his arms. 

But Roman was insistent-- "I love you," He whispered it as though it was a secret he had been keeping for a thousand years. I could barely accept that this was real; the words I had wanted from him our whole relationship were being spilled out like a consolation for my pain. 

I knew there was no reason for me to fight anymore; Roman knew me too well. He knew that this was all I had ever dreamed to hear, and he knew exactly how to use it against me. Unsure whether he was telling the truth or not, the emotions I had let fester deep within came rushing through the floodgates, making it impossible to do anything but feel; the love I had for him, the feelings that had never left me, the burning sensation of need and hope coursing through my veins. 

So, I didn't fight him when he kissed me once more. I didn't fight the arm he snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I didn't fight the rush I got from finally being reunited with him in this way; I had wanted his back mouth against mine since the second we were over. 

My conscience gnawed at me as Roman pressed himself up against me, but my guilt didn't hinder me from letting my fingers run through his wet hair, giving in to the engulfing infatuation I had with him. As his hungry kisses moved down my jawline and to my neck, I dared to inhale a shaky breath; I was getting dizzy from the rush of feeling him close to me like this, grabbing my waist, running his hands up my body as though he had no self-control at all. 

The inner corners of my brows turned up, giving in to the crushing feeling of relief and sadness, closing my eyes as I held him tightly against me. There was so much I wanted to say, to do, but I couldn't bring myself to push him away-- not when it felt this good. Not when his hands dipped beneath my shirt, grazing at my bare skin, drinking me in as though I was water. It didn't take long for Roman to get my shirt off of me, and I could taste our shared breath along with the thud of our combined heartbeat as it got tossed to the floor.

Roman's fingers pressed themselves into my skin, getting reacquainted after our time apart. I hadn't realized that I was tracing my hands up and down his arms, mindlessly relishing in the familiarity; I had missed him dearly, and I couldn't bring myself to lie about it any longer. My hands went back up into his hair as he kissed down my chest, my breaths getting short and choppy as I allowed myself to bask in the feeling of his lips against my body. 

"We shouldn't," I tried, the memory of my boyfriend lingering in the back of my mind.

Roman hummed against my skin, now kneeling before me. He grasped at my hips as he pressed a wet kiss against my lower abdomen, making my breath hitch. "Push me away, then," he murmured, his wet tongue tracing where he had just kissed me; it was impossible not to shiver. 

He knew he had control. He knew, that bastard knew so well-- I couldn't push him away. I was never able to do it before, so how was I supposed to do it now? I felt my tears dry up, the familiar ache between my legs pooling, threatening to run over. As if by instinct, my hips rose from the walls, begging for him to finally do something. 

Roman's grip on my hips tightened, pushing me back in place. Something about the growing smirk on his face had me questioning everything; what was I doing? Was this just a ploy for him to get laid? A big, dark part of me didn't care at this point. The fingers I had in his hair loosened as he hooked his fingers in my pyjama pants, dragging them down with a satisfied look on his face. Roman wasted no time, humming as he leaned forward to press a keening kiss against my dampening underwear.

My breath hitched, my back arching off the wall in a knee-jerk reaction-- I had missed this more than I should've. There was no passion like this with Peter, although he was sweet and considerate. But Roman was so all-taking, so consuming, I couldn't do anything other than let him do whatever he wanted to do to me. He pulled my underwear to the side, laving his tongue against me as I whimpered, tasting me. Roman's big hands grabbed my leg, forcing it over his shoulder, pushing himself closer to my sex with an aching need. 

"Roman," I tried, my guilt mixing in with the pleasure. "Don't--" All other words suddenly fled my mind as his lips sealed around my clit, sucking at me in a way that had me crying out in shock, my vision nearly turning black.

Just as I thought I would faint from the flood of emotions, Roman came back up after taking his time, breath heavy against my lips. "Still want me to go?"

My eyes glossed over, meeting his. Thunder and lightning struck outside again, lighting up my living room, and allowing me to see the traces of my slick around his mouth. Something about it was just too scandalous-- I couldn't believe any of this was happening. But we'd gone too far to go back now; "No," I breathed, slinging my arms around his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. 

As I tasted myself on his lips, Roman picked me up, and my legs automatically wrapped around him as they always had. He didn't need to watch where he was going as he knew my apartment almost as well as I did, walking away from the wall and laying me down on the couch with ease. 

It was hard to focus on the true nature of what was going on when it felt so damn good. Everything happened in a blur; I couldn't recall how or when Roman had lost his shirt, when my underwear got pulled off and discarded, or how I had allowed this to happen. Roman's cock pressed into me slowly, still trying to be sincere despite the complexion of our encounter. With every thrust, my chest arched up against his, back curving as I whimpered at the stretch. 

My hands rested on Roman's neck as he kissed me once more, stealing my breath with every roll of his hips. The part of me that was outraged with the both of us withered away as I continued to moan beneath him, coming out in broken cries. I couldn't focus on the infidelity I was committing when he was inside of me like this, his hands wrapped around me, moving me against him. 

"Fuck, I've missed this," Roman breathed against my neck, letting out a laboured sigh of satisfaction. "All of you... All of this..."

Everything about this was dizzying; maybe this was my mind playing tricks on me, maybe this was all some dirty dream? But I could feel myself clinging to him, wet and dripping-- there was no way this wasn't real. "Rome," I cried, the old nickname slipping past my lips. 

I could feel him give in to a shiver, ears perking up. "That's sweet," Roman kissed my cheek, driving his cock further into me as I whimpered, no longer used to his length like before. Even as he whispered my name, needing me, I briefly thought of how less intimidating he was at this moment-- this was the part of Roman that would show up in my dreams, caress my cheeks as I cried, and fall asleep on top of my chest after a long day, clinging to me. I had spent so much time resenting him, that it was weird to see him so... human. Desperate.

I let out a short gasp as I suddenly realized I was almost folded in half, my legs creasing at his arms. One thing hadn't changed; Roman would always take his liberties with me, no matter the circumstances. It somehow bothered me that I was being fucked with the same amount of love as before; did he have no guilt? No thoughts of his girlfriend at home?

Fuck-- Peter!

As I remembered my boyfriend, I felt my anxiety rise. My hand shot up to Roman's chest, lips parted, ready to protest and push him away-- but as I met his eyes, the green of his irises practically engulfed my being, and not a sound would come out of my mouth. "Shh, it's okay," Roman said, voice calm, reading my panic. "It's just me... It's okay."

Something about his voice was so calming, soothing, that a certain sense of relief washed over me-- I could recall several similar instances. This had happened before; it was almost as though a greater power controlled me every time I looked into his eyes for too long. 

The hand I had on his chest went up into his hair, pulling him forward to capture his lips in a kiss. I was caught off guard as Roman pulled out only till the tip of him remained, letting out a soft gasp against him as he pushed back into me to the hilt. I felt him hum against the kiss, sighing in satisfaction. "There you go," he said, words softer than ever. "Just relax, enjoy... Let me take care of you, just like I used to."

Despite how hard my guilt was eating at me, I still felt ridiculously calm, unable to do anything else than comply. I could only moan, shivering with pleasure at the feeling of being driven forward against the couch with every thrust. 

I wrapped my arms around Roman, kissing his broad shoulders, giving in to the pleasure. I had missed this, I had missed him... All my feelings started to ball up, crying out against his shoulder at the realization of what was about to happen. "Rome, I- I can't--"

"Gonna?" His question came out along with a grunt and another snap of his hips, repeatedly pushing himself into me. 

I couldn't hold it-- I really, really couldn't. Something about the nature of our get-together mixed in with my climax, and I let my head fall back down against the couch as I cried out. It was so hard, so intense, that I had forgotten to breathe; I hadn't had an orgasm like that since the day we broke up. 

I knew I was screwed. I knew it.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

As everything started to dawn on me, my breathing got heavier-- what had we done? I pulled myself closer to Roman on the bed, completely spent, seeking comfort from the person who had dragged me into this mess in the first place. 

Eventually, Roman broke the silence; "We should do porn," he mumbled, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

What? I looked up to glare at him; "Fuck you,"

"You just did," Roman smirked, glancing back at me with a rather proud expression on his face. "But I'm serious. We're damn hot."

I groaned; this was not what I needed to hear right now-- not after we had just finished round three. Roman reached out for me with his free hand, pulling me even closer, lazily running his fingers through my hair. I embraced him as I sniffled, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I was so tired, feeling my sore legs ache as I realized that up close, Roman's hair smelled like cigarettes as well. He might've quit drinking, but quitting cigarettes was a no-go in his book.

"We're horrible people," I mumbled, my words muffled up against his skin, taking in his presence. There were many times I had dreamed about us being reunited, but never that it would end up with me cheating on Peter.

Roman shrugged, turning to press a kiss against my temple. "I told you, I'm leaving her. We're fine," 

Nothing about this felt fine. I propped myself up on my elbow, watching him as he laid comfortably in my bed, almost done with his cigarette. Even after convincing me to commit such a heinous act against my boyfriend, he looked like an angel. Fucking Lucifer. "... Don't do it. Don't leave her."

"What?" Confused, Roman's green eyes rounded out. "Why not?"

I sighed, shaking my head. The decision I had made for myself was hard to air out, and I knew that protests would ensue; "I'm not leaving Peter,"

But despite my predictions, Roman got quiet. His wide, empty eyes stared right back at me, lips parted as though he was ready to speak. "... You're kidding me?" he finally said, the hurt in his face mixing in with a smidge of anger. "After this, you're going to stay with him?"

"He's good for me!" I tried, sitting up properly. "Roman, please, just-- I don't know what came over me, but this was a mistake... We're not good for each other, you know this!--"

"You're kidding me?" Roman repeated, clearly in a state of shock. 

This whole ordeal was making me feel like the second worst person in the world, with the first place going to Roman. I buried my face in my hands, realizing that I was trembling. "Please don't make this harder than it already is," I pleaded, inhaling a shaky breath. "You had no right to show up here... I was fine just the way I was, and I'm going to go back to that."

I heard Roman shift, sitting up as well. His long, slender fingers wrapped around my wrists, prying my hands away from my face. His green eyes burned into me, the fire intent on destroying whatever it could catch, and I knew I had to look away before it was too late. "I'm leaving her," he said, intertwining his fingers with mine. "I love you. I'm leaving her."

It took a lot of willpower to shake my head, rejecting his words. "Don't," 

"I will,"

"No, Roman, I don't want you to!--"

My words came to a halt as Roman leaned forward, capturing my lips in a rushed, desperate kiss. I did my best not to cry again, having previously burst into tears in the middle of round two-- I couldn't do this. This wasn't good for me. Peter was good for me.

I felt Roman's hands leave mine, and before I knew it, his fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me to look at him. His eyes searched mine, looking to find some shred of doubt to hang onto. "Do you love him?" I barely had time to open my mouth to speak before he cut me off; "You wouldn't have done this if you did."

My tears came back, pressing up on my eyes with a burning fire, begging to be set free. "Please, just... Please just go,"

Roman let out a sigh, leaning forward to press his lips against my forehead. "Call me when you change your mind,"

"I won't,"

"You will," Roman's hand slid out of my hair, caressing my cheek with his thumb, his green eyes finding mine once more. And just as I was about to look away, I felt that familiar calm wash over me as the colour green took over my vision, the numbing of my thoughts ensuing; there was no way I could fight it. I didn't stand a chance. 

Roman's lips quirked into a shameless smirk; "You will,"

a/n: (should I do a pt.2? hihi)

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

How about headcanons for luci x reader and alastor x reader where they neglect reader and they have to fix it? I just need some fluffy diabetical sweet hurt-comfort xD if you could please 🙏 ☺️

WAP-BAP-BOOM ALAKAZAM here's a thing. I hope you don't mind I make it pre-relationship because I love me some pining

Lucifer x Reader, Alastor x Reader

Summary: Your friend has been avoiding you lately. You spiral and wonder what you did wrong.

Warnings: Anxiety go brrrrrr. Alastor is a low-key stalker, but not in a creepy way? more like a.... 'i adore you from afar' way. Luci disassociates hardcore. Reader does too.

ALASTOR

Alastor started drifting away when he realized he enjoyed having you around

He couldn't find a twisted justification for it and he just couldn't handle it

He didn't want your soul, he had no real use for you, and yet he wanted you with him

So he pushed you away without much thought.

With no explanation to you, btw

Deer boy mcgee wouldn't be (intentionally) rude or hostile towards you, but certainly more aloof.

Conversations turned into curt greetings and goodbyes

Times spent lounging around in the same room turned into a little wave here and there

Attentive listening to your venting shifted to a 'Well that's not good. Tootaloo!' before he left

The guy didn't even ramble about HIS stuff with you anymore

It hurt.

You didn't know why he was suddenly so distant with you. But surely you did something WRONG, right?

You always do something wrong

So you just had to fix it. But you needed to find out what 'it' was

When you passed by him in the hallway one day, he gave his increasingly-common wave before waltzing right by you-

"Wait, Alastor?"

He glanced at you, tilting his head at an unnatural angle. His smile was too tight.

"Did I....Did I do something wrong?"

His eye twitched.

Absolutely not, he'd think. You could do no wrong in his eyes (though his ethics were slightly askew so that might not mean much)

But you looked absolutely distraught

You were trying to cover it up - you always do - but he could tell.

He watches you a lot

"Of course not, my dear!"

"...why are you avoiding me, then?"

...

Shit.

He didn't have a lie ready and his usual quick wit appears to have failed him

Looking at your eyes. Your lovely, currently tearing up eyes-

No no no no no

He turned his attention to you fully, gently cupping the side of your face in one hand.

"Oh, my dear, no need for the waterworks. You did nothing wrong, I assure you."

"Don't lie to me, please. just- just what did I do? I'll fix it..."

He'd typically murder someone for making you feel like this. However, he was the one making you feel like this so that complicated things.

He leaned down, gently kissing away the forming tears at the corner of your eye.

"Simply...sorting some things out, dearest. You did nothing wrong. I just... Need some space."

Why were you staring at him like that?

Did he say something cruel?

Why was your face such a bright red-

OH.

OH

OH

"Well, i best be off! Let's meet for tea later, yes?"

You numbly agreed and he quickly said another farewell before shadow-travelling to who-knows-where

You gently touched the cheek had had been so gently holding earlier, a small, giddy smile on your lips

"Something to sort out, huh?"

Well. You couldn't wait until he finished that up.

LUCIFER

Lucifer had no intentions of being distant

Unfortunately...that just...kind of happens

Maybe that's why Lillith got sick of him

When you're older than all of humanity, time doesn't quite flow the same for him as it does for you.

Add his tendency to detach himself from everything and that gets even more complicated.

But he was doing so well for a while!

He'd leave his room often, he'd talk to Charlie and the other hotel-people, he'd like. Leave the building sometimes.

Maybe it was because he was doing so well that it seemed to you like he suddenly stopped caring.

Or maybe he was sick of you?

You could be pretty annoying sometimes...

You ramble and hyper-fixate and suck at emoting...

OH SHIT yeah he was...probably sick of you

Several days of being mopey later and Charlie ended up talking with you. When you told her what gives, she pretty much confirmed what you feared.

"AGH! He ALWAYS does this!"

"Hun, take a deep breath. Maybe something happened?" Vaggie said, putting a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.

Charlie's words already had you spiraling.

He ALWAYS did this?

Was...Lucifer just like that?

Your Luci was like that?

Luckily Nifty happened by at that moment, sweeping up the floor with manic glee.

Her big ol' eye watched the scene and she casually stated

"His majesty hasn't moved for like, four days. I know, I dusted him. He's just staring at the wall like this."

Nifty made her eye go comically larger, mouth pressed into a firm frown. Then her usual expression popped back up and she went back to scrubbing everything.

"....oh." You murmured as Charlie was panicking and screaming how her father was dead.

Vaggie managed to calm her down enough for you to explain what disassociating was.

You had a good amount of experience with it

Charlie proceeded to put her face in her hands and feel horrible.

You went to comfort her, but Vaggie stopped you and motioned to the stairs with a tilt of her head.

Oh....Okay, she got the Charlie and you got the Luci

You scuttled away to Lucifer's room

Lo' and behold, the Nifty was correct.

Kind of.

He wasn't exactly sitting there staring at a wall, but he was hunched over his workdesk with his head in his arms.

You put a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades.

"You okay, Luci?"

It took him a moment to respond, but he did. Looking up at you with rather dull eyes.

Which suddenly turned comically large as he sprang up and flailed about, squishing your face between his hands.

His expression went from numb to panic to absolute rage in a span of a couple seconds and it was giving you whiplash.

"Who made you cry?" He growled..

Who...Oh

Oh yeah you were crying earlier

It was so horribly ironic you laughed, tears spilling down your cheeks. Luci blinked one eye at a time.

Adorable

You explained why you cried- that you thought he was sick of you.

He offered to punch himself in the face.

That made you laugh again and you hugged him without thinking, clinging onto the silly gnome-looking man like you'd be erased if you let go

He returned the gesture in kind.

Lucifer clung onto you, pressing his forehead between your neck and shoulder, laughing in shakey, watery breaths

"What are we even laughing about!?" You cackled, tears still rolling

"No idea but I needed it." Lucifer chuckled. He nuzzled your neck, his breath steadying.

"Thank you, starling." he really needed it.

[20dollarlolita]

A lot of the stuff that I've learned so far about wearing lolita fashion and using a wheelchair:

I get some questions about this, so here goes:

Tip #1) No one is going to be better capable of knowing what your comfort and safety limits are than you. It's normal and pretty much expected that lolita fashion is going to be less comfortable to wear than cozy pajamas or sweat pants, but you're the person who has to decide if something is too uncomfortable. Also, any rules or guidelines should be ignored if following them would put you in an unsafe situation. You (and your medical care team) are the one who is responsible for your safety.

Tip #2 You are the person who is also the most capable of determining what does and doesn't count as disability accommodation. You're the person who can say, "I have to wear these kinds of shoes for safety reasons, and so I'm going to wear coords with these shoes," and that's the only justification that you need. "I'm doing this because it is a healthy decision," is a full sentence and does not need any additional justification. Disability looks different for everyone and what you need and what someone else needs are going to look different.

I've also found that people who aren't disabled don't actually have a place to say, "this is an okay accommodation for disabled lolitas, but it's not okay if you're not disabled, because that's really fucking shitty and 100% ableist. Everyone's disability is different, and it's not possible for one disabled person to make rules about what's okay for another disabled person to do. It's definitely not possible for one non-disabled person to make rules about what every disabled person is allowed to do. It's not acceptance to make different rules for disabled people; it's acceptance to listen to disabled people and help them in ways that they need and want. Every disabled lolita I know actually cares a lot more about, "how do I wear this fashion with my disability needs taken into account," than any abled person I know, so let's not have another Ballet Flat Spammer incident over here.

Okay, so now that we have the disability disclaimer for disabled and not-yet-disabled alike, we can get into:

Tips and tricks that I've learned about wearing lolita while using a wheelchair!

Part A) Petticoats:

This is the most often asked question I get: how do you fit the petticoat into the wheelchair?

The answer is that I don't. The lolita silhouette relies on the petticoat to get the right shape, when you're standing. It can contribute to getting the right shape when you're siting on a chair that does not have arm rests. If the skirt can drape over the sides of the chair, the petticoat will help poof out the hem, and keep the extravagant look with the hem fullness.

The petticoat does not contribute to the lolita shape if you're in a chair where the skirt cannot hang over the edge. This is probably pretty obvious, but if your beautiful lolita skirt is hanging over the edge of your wheelchair while you're scootin' around, you won't have a beautiful and clean lolita skirt when you get home. When we're talking about disability accommodations and safety, your clothing's safety should not be on the top of the list, but it should be somewhere on the list.

So, what does lolita look like in a wheelchair, when you're actively going out and about, moving and going places?

Pardon my "I'm not ready for you to take my picture yet," face. I don't look like I'm ready to take the picture, because I'm not ready to take the pictures.

This is how I tuck my skirt back to that it's out of the way and I have maximum mobility. My side guards aren't super tall, and later one of them cracked in half, so I have to really shove things under my backside to keep them out of the way.

There's a little bit of strategy that I've learned here, which is that if you can keep your knees covered, it looks much better. It's also usually a slightly more flattering angle to have someone take the photo from a bit above you (not normally a problem since everyone's taller than you in the wheelchair). When your skirt is above your knees and someone's on your level, you start looking a bit like everyone's taking an upskirt shot of you, which isn't really great.

I've gotten pretty used to sitting on a bunch of fabric, but it's not the most comfortable thing in the world, so when we've stopped for a while, i usually un-tuck the skirt.

Lolita dresses have a lot more volume at the waist than some other fashions, and having all of that volume hang out of the top of the skirt doesn't usually look super great. If it's casual, I'll pop the hem of the skirt out and then leave the back tucked behind the side guard.

In terms of doing a big, dramatic drape, some skirt shapes just lend themselves to that a little bit better than others. Skirts with a wider frill at the bottom, tiered skirts, and flared skirts tend to do a little bit better than gathered rectangles. You can make it work, but anything where the hem circumference is bigger than the waist really just shines.

I'm also ambulatory, so I can take pictures outside of my chair. In all the wheelchairs I've been using in these posts, I had somewhere between 0" and -4" of wiggle room in the seat width, so that didn't always showcase my skirts to their best of powers. I managed to get better coord photos by finding somewhere to sit or to stand for a few minutes. In the standing picture up there, I'm holding my skirt out so that it's not as obvious that I don't have the petticoat going on.

So that's the petticoat issue right there: I don't wear one, I just pretend I am.

Some other wheelchair lolita stuff:

Soap doesn't get wheelchair dirt out. Oxiclean doesn't get wheelchair dirt out. You need to get a brush and mechanically scrub it out. Good luck.

Shoes: I have to walk to the back of my car to get my wheelchair out, so I have to wear shoes that I can stand in and lift an awkward and bulky thing with. I like wearing fun platforms and I think they balance out looks pretty well, so I'll put my socks and shoes on after I get the wheelchair out of the car. If I'm wearing tights, I'll wear cheap socks over the tights and take them off before putting my shoes on.

If you're getting a new wheelchair and lolita is of a concern to you: If your wheelchair fitting or your doctor says to get a chair the exact size of your ass, you can still wear lolita fashion with it. There's a little bit more care that has to go into tucking it in, and a little more wrinkles to get out of the back of your skirt when you're home, but it's doable. I have a 17" butt that was in a 14" chair for a lot of these pictures, and it was great. However, if you're considering getting a new wheelchair and one of your concerns is lolita fashion, it can help a LOT to have a tiny bit of wiggle room on the sides. Tall side guards really help.

I don't like arm rests, but when I was borrowing a wheelchair with arm rests, they did really protect my clothes pretty well. If you're getting a wheelchair for yourself, and you know it'll have arm rests, get ones that flip back. This way you can get them out of the way when you want to drape your skirt for photos.

My first wheelchair was sour apple green and I never felt like it held my coords back. Get a wheelchair in the color you love, because it's not going to ruin your coord to have a pink dress and a green chair.

If you're picking between low profile side guards and taller side guards, you probably want taller.

If you really want to wear a petticoat in a wheelchair, you should probably do a late pledge on Puvithel's kickstarter for the accesible petticoat.

Anyway, that's about it for wheelchair lolita stuff on my mind. Just remember that EGL fashion is open to everyone that wants to wear it for the joy of the fashion, and that being disabled in lolita fashion means that you sometimes have to do things differently, but it doesn't mean that you can't do it.

[anghraine]

ngl I always find it wild to see Star Wars stuff that's like "if you think about it in terms of realistic statistics/science then..." about almost any aspect of it.

I mean, what about the Star Wars films gives the impression that this universe abides by realistic statistics, or realistic anything else? SW is broadly a fantasy epic projected onto an IMAX screen with a space background painted on it. Yeah, the planets and moons in the films almost always have improbably limited biomes and two major locations max, because narratively these locations are usually just fantasy city-states with space aesthetics.

Starships travel at the speed of plot and we simply jump past the amount of time that presumably is passing, and sort of imply the passage of that time through shifts in the character dynamics. But this passage of time cannot be analyzed with any kind of consistency because the only logic governing it is the pace of the story.

Just how long did it take the Empire to send a full contingent of forces to Dantooine, search the entire planet, find the Rebel base, and then report back to Tarkin between one scene and another? No one says and no one appears to care. How long did it take Han and Leia to reach Bespin and what exactly went on between them while Luke was, in the same time frame, going through a protracted training over multiple days at an absolute minimum? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How do giant space worms survive inside asteroids that somehow have an Earth-approximate gravitational field and I guess an atmosphere? Shhhh don't think about it. The point of the sequence is not "how does the giant space worm subsist off this random asteroid and how does it breathe and how does gravity work in this context, seriously" but that the giant worm sequence is fucking sick.

There's probably some after the fact EU justification invented by people who had nothing to do with the original writing of the space worm (or perhaps there are several mutually incompatible explanations) and I am profoundly disinterested in them. Nothing could make this even slightly realistic and it was never intended to be. Star Wars sings space shanties at scientific/mathematical realism as it sails past on a completely different ship going in the exact opposite direction.

And I do mean "sails" because while astronomy might tell us that space is unfamiliar and wild on a level we as Earthbound lifeforms can barely comprehend, Star Wars understands that space is basically an ocean, yet with stars and cool but survivable planets in it, or sometimes it's air but combined with a super cool space background so you can have early 20th century aerial combat that would make no sense in actual space conditions and doesn't need to.

"If you consider relativity, then just running the Empire would be..." General relativity does not govern the galaxy far, far away. Space magic does. I'm not sure there are even time zones.

[extremely-judgemental]

Subtext is completely lost in this fandom. I partly blame SJM for it. This is a rant from both reading and writing standpoint and leans towards the characters since I like to psychoanalyse them.

The one thing that tired me the most in these books is the excessive narration. I don’t mean the wordy description to support world-building but the never-ending monologues. SJM takes ‘show, don’t tell’ advice literally with the visual cues when it should apply to the characters and their personalities as well. Where subtext usually exposes depth of these characters and lets you decide who they are, SJM strips away that chance by writing it down for you word by word. The reason so many are going with 'in the book' argument is exactly this.

Here’s what I mean.

In real life, people don’t think linearly. They have an idea about themselves as much as they have about everyone else around them. There are self-imposed restrictions on their thoughts based on who they believe to be and who they strive to be. And it shows in their interaction with outside world. Say, when someone is ashamed of their actions, they will deny it for as long as possible. Someone who regrets something, they will sugarcoat it.

But in her books, her characters think clearly—way too clearly so that you latch onto the ideas she perpetuates. You don’t get to know them based on their thoughts, words, and actions, and see how these three support each other. You don't get a chance to draw conclusions as to if they are the hero/villain and good/evil based on their actions. If their behaviours match their words or if their choices are acceptable. Because SJM sets it in words for you. The characters come with a label beforehand. (Feyre, Rhysand and Inner Circle are good guys. Tamlin, Eris and Nesta, sometimes Lucien are evil.) It's why so many toxic and abusive themes are dismissed because it’s the 'good guy' or the 'morally grey guy’ who does it.

And so, her lead or ‘good’ characters fall flat since they have everything figured out. They know themselves inside out. They are never wrong about themselves, there’s no part they hide from themselves or the others. There’s nothing for you to read and identify the beauty or ugliness in the character. There’s no depth in them because they don’t contradict themselves, they don’t struggle to be someone they always believed to be. They don’t have to prove anything to themselves or others. They say what they think and they do what they say. They are very aware of their shortcomings and they all seem to know the exact consequences of their decisions.

Feyre doesn’t change in the three books. Her ‘rags to riches’ story doesn’t lead to much character growth. She starts out as an adamant, reckless child and ends up being arrogant, reckless woman with a crown. She doesn’t undergo a shift in personality but climbs up the social hierarchy. And that’s considered character development. Rhysand remains the same throughout. He starts out as a villain but later revealed as a good guy playing bad. Instead of growing into a hero—given his crimes, his ill deeds are negated with sympathetic backstory. And from there, it’s a flat line. There’s no growth.

In the end how does the character change in the aftermath of the events? Which of their beliefs are shattered and rebuilt? What is the emotional impact on the other characters? SJM does offer some closure on these regards but they are solely focused on a list of traumas and specific reactions set by SJM herself. And so readers refuse to think for themselves how these scenarios may play out and take the words relayed through the unreliable narrators who are essentially preaching SJM’s biases. Also, when they are so explicitly written down, there’s not much room for subtext. After going through pages and pages of justification, it tires you from using reason.

Even if we get past this (writing) flaw, there are other major issues. Story telling is a way of experiencing life. It helps build empathy, compassion and understanding of the world. Even in a fantasy book, when that world doesn’t exist, when the characters aren’t real, their journey are drawn from real life experiences. Relating to these characters is subjective and solely depends on the reader, but determining the rightness of their actions is not. This too is warped as SJM dictates which behaviour is acceptable and how far through her lead characters(Feyre vs Nesta imprisonment). Instead of allowing you to judge the choices, the verdict is spoon-fed through the ‘hero’. If the characters are forgiven, it’s not abuse. It’s a simple mistake. (It’s a mistake if it happens once and if there’s a changed behaviour after the apology.) If the characters are happy in the end, their acts are admissible. Unless SJM stamps the word ‘abuser’ and ‘bad guy’ in block letters herself(Tamlin), it's not even considered a possibility.

In short, ‘reading between the lines’ exists as long as it supports what the author preaches. When it contradicts ‘it’s in the books’. Logic is valid only if you use it to justify the fan favourites and applaud them. Empathy is conditional. Compassion is conditional. Critical thinking is so discouraged in this fandom that it’s pitiful.

[stromuprisahat]

Ivans loss: "soldiers aren't human beings" & "all grisha are soldiers" is probably what the author thinks. I still remember when RoW came out and someone asked Leigh Bardugo a very heated question about Fjerdans and she gave a strange justification (link below). She replied, no to making the reference (let's just respect that answer and let's say Fjerdans arent' what the question said they are - and I don't even want to type it out because it's like kicking a beehive and no good will come from it) Let's focus the issue of grisha = soldier = fair game Leigh justifies Matthias and Fjerda's actions by saying: @ 1:23 "Grisha are soldiers. they are weapons. they are ppl who are fighting back" But....SoC had Matthias and Fjerdans going after non-soldiers. They were quite literally hunting civilians, farmers, etc. in all the lands. "Pursuing rogue Grisha in other lands...liberating Grisha captives with the sole purpose of clapping them back in chains and sending them back to fjerda for trial and execution..." next page captive speaking "We are not criminals...we are ordinary people - farmers, teachers. Not me Nina thought grimly. I'm a soldier. ...Did Leigh truly forget about the 15 innocent souls who were chained in the ship? 15 souls who were there just for being grisha? Does she not re-read her works at all????? x.com/hellcatdynes/status/1584699468536221697

That woman! (derogatory)

(Ivan post)

tw: I'm not gonna hold back in this reply as much as I usually manage. It might get vulgar and harsh.

I've seen this particular pile of shit while it was fresh and gods! I can't even begin to explain how sick it makes me. No wonder so many of her fans are a bunch of ignorant idiots.

Let's start with the icky bit- the whole quote:

... people have drawn parallels between Matthias and the drüskelle and the SS, and I don't think that's completely accurate. The Jews, who were put to their death in WWII were innocent. They were civilians! Their crime was being Jewish. Grisha are soldiers. They are weapons. They are people, who are fighting back, so though the drüskelle are hateful and carry a lot of prejudice with them, it is not the same as them going after innocent civilians. And I need to make that clear, because I would never write a Nazi/Jewish romance.

Honey, that's exactly what you did!

I won't shy away from that passage, because it pisses me off immensely.

... people have drawn parallels between Matthias and the drüskelle and the SS, and I don't think that's completely accurate.

So, here we go with this one- I'm entirely sure their uniforms and Brum's accomplishments have nothing in common with fucking Nazis. If you're colour-blind, or US-American, so you don't grow up with photos of that particular chunk of history in your fucking town, because those people in nice uniforms used to burn corpses of their victims just behind the walls. The crematorium is still standing btw. Daily visited by dozens of tourists.

Seriously- fuck respecting what she said! I possess reading comprehension! These atrocities happened around HERE! It's not just an ugly story for me! I grew up in town once used as Jewish ghetto, concentration camp and Gestapo prison, so yeah, I might be overly sensitive about how you choose to dress you genocidal murder club!

The Jews, who were put to their death in WWII were innocent. They were civilians! Their crime was being Jewish. Grisha are soldiers. They are weapons.

As you mentioned:

... The drüskelle had existed for hundreds of years, but under Brum’s leadership, their force had doubled in size and become infinitely more deadly. He had changed their training, developed new techniques for rooting out Grisha in Fjerda, infiltrated Ravka’s borders, and begun pursuing rogue Grisha in other lands, even hunting down slaving ships, “liberating” Grisha captives with the sole purpose of clapping them back in chains and sending them to Fjerda for trial and execution. ...

Six of Crows- Chapter 14

If I wanted to be extremely kind, I could assume this is just Ravkan propaganda- it's what Nina had been taught-, but later we see her experience:

“You’ll be tried for espionage and crimes against the people.” “We are not criminals,” said a Fabrikator in halting Fjerdan from his place on the floor. He’d been there the longest and was too weak to rise. “We are ordinary people—farmers, teachers.” Not me, Nina thought grimly. I’m a soldier. “You’ll have a trial,” said the drüskelle. “You’ll be treated more fairly than your kind deserve.”

Six of Crows- Chapter 14

The wording's rather obvious- it's not about herding up enemy soldiers, but hunting down another species, another race, another kind. That's exactly the type of reasoning Nazis used- Jews were something different, inferior. Dehumanization is a significant part of their ideology.

*takes several deep breaths, because that Cola I've just drank is about to make a re-appearance*

I'll point out another part- already in one of the links in this post, but:

Until a drüskelle had accomplished a mission on his own and been granted officer status, he was required to remain clean-shaven. ... “Good work is right,” one said in Fjerdan. “Fifteen Grisha to deliver to the Ice Court!” “If this doesn’t earn us our teeth—” “You know it will.” “Good, I’m sick of shaving every morning.” “I’m going to grow a beard down to my navel.”

Six of Crows- Chapter 14

Capturing people to have them slaughtered is a rite of passage for drüskelle. It's an accomplishment worth marking. Something to look forward to and boast about.

Grisha are soldiers. They are weapons.

What about non-combatant members of Second Army? Healers, "untrained" Materialki, Grisha working for nobles? Those are weapons too?!

Like- we've already established nobody cares about the free-range Grisha (unless it's drüskelle in need of promotion), but even Second Army includes those, who aren't the first line of defence! Who won't be used to be attacked.

They are people, who are fighting back, so though the drüskelle are hateful and carry a lot of prejudice with them, it is not the same as them going after innocent civilians.

I'll make it even more obvious- would you say rape doesn't count as such, when its victim learnt self-defense before it happened?!

Nice opinion, Leigh! Great message for the poor young vulnerable girls! Very empowering!

And this is one of those days I'm sorry they don't organize full-experience trips to places like my ex-hometown, because I'd gladly invite that woman, so I can accompany her visit with loud reading of specific quotes from her work.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

https://x.com/l30ra/status/1746739078165377154?s=46

Hi! So, I usually don't respond to things like this, but it's getting frequent enough I do want to say something here because, while I know you're trying to do a good thing here and I genuinely applaud you for that, I think the language used in messages like this is getting dangerous.

Calling Our Flag Means Death "zionist bullshit," I think, is dangerous because it's a very potent misuse of what the word "zionist" means. The only justification for calling OFMD "zionist" is a letter that EP Taika Waititi signed - the wording on the letter isn't great but it's not great in a way that someone uninformed probably wouldn't pick up on (and I don't see any of the hundreds of non-Jewish celebrities who signed getting piled on like this), and other justifications are just nonsense (such as arguing Guz Khan was fired for supporting Palestine, even though he said himself he wasn't). Calling OFMD "zionist" just looks like wanting a moral justification for disliking a popular TV show - you don't have to like OFMD, no one cares, but words mean things.

If anyone reading this feels so inclined, there are some very good organizations to donate to in the link - I've been organizing donation drives to Doctors Without Borders and the PCRF with my JVP chapter at my university for months now - but it's important to acknowledge that you can care about multiple things at once, really. I didn't donate to the hoist the ads campaign, but people I know who did were already very vocal about making other donations previously.

I think basically it all boils down to this really:

[rise-my-angel]

How people hear the logo "fire and blood" and not think of fascism baffles me. Like it literally sounds like something the nazi's said. I know it might not be fair comparing real life history to fiction, especially in a medieval setting that doesn't match ...BUT THEY HAVE FLYING NUKES GUYS

Bear with me, but I think a lot of it stems from the dragons. In normal, or at least traditional fantasy, dragons are usually used differently in other stories. They can both be antagonists and companions to the hero. They are normally written to be while large and dangerous, also sort of majestic and awe inspiring.

So people see the dragons here, they see people riding them, and they think automatically it's cool. So if you're already someone more inclined to enjoy creatures like dragons, there's a perfect basis. A people whose culture revolves around dragons. It's an easy buy in to the Targaryean propaganda. You will automatically start seeing them in better lights because you like the dragons, whether you realize that or not.

But the problem is, grrm does not use dragons in the traditional sense. Grrm has been very clear that he has written the dragons as essentially, one for one metaphors to weapons of mass destruction. Grrm is also very anti war, a sentiment felt throughout all of his work, how no matter what justification one side or the other feels, it is the people, the lands, the smallfolk who suffer from war the most. So, the use of nuclear weapons in war, is essentially, the worst case scenario in terms of war. Which is what the Targaryeans use dragons for. Thats what Valyria has always used them for.

Fire and Blood sounds cool beacuse it is menacing, but it is more then that. It is the statement that they will burn the country to the ground so they can be kings of the ashes. Valyria used dragons to burn cities to the ground and were incredibly cruel to the slaves they took as a result that places like Bravvos are still massively anti dragon/anti valyrian. Two seperate people of Essos fled across to Westeros to escape them (The Andals and the Rhoynar), then the Targaryeans come to the same place and do THE EXACT SAME THING TO THE SAME PEOPLE WHO FLED THEM ORIGINALLY.

I am certain grrm is not writing dragons as "Its actually okay to use nukes if you're nice to them when you're building them." He's probably more likely to say "no matter what justification you tell yourself, access to such catastrophic destruction at your will and fingertips is a power no one should ever wield."

Yes the dragons are sentient creatures, but these are not like a creature such as a direwolf. One was sent to their human companion by a fate beyond them, and acts more like an extension of their identity and a friend as human and direwolf protect each other. Such as Nymeria biting Joffery to protect Arya, and Arya chasing Nymeria off to save her life for saving hers.

Dany murdered her own slave in order to use blood magic to force dragons back into a world after a peaceful number of centuries without them. Dany then uses them to burn her enemies alive, threaten those who stand against or disobey her and doesn't even consider taking steps to control them until after Drogon burned alive an innocent three year old girl, and even then all she does is lock them away in a manner that will no doubt only make them more angry and resentful of humans.

Not all sentient creatures are the same, and dragons specifically within the world of asoiaf are symbols of the dangerous balance of the world tipping too far. The Doom of Valyria was the result of using blood magic and dragons to tip the worlds balance too far and there is nothing left but a cursed, blighted hellscape left behind to remind man not to toy with nature in ways they will never be able to control. I don't think it's a coincidence that some stories say they found the first dragons in the Fourteen Flames, and it was the eventual eruption of the Fourteen Flames that destroyed Valyria and its dragons.

The Targaryeans didn't need to die with them, it's probably good that at least one family managed to safely leave so at least some aspects of a long, forgotten culture can be remembered in the history books from somewhere. But they do not act like just people. The Targaryeans still see themselves as something like gods.

In their eyes, they are better then the people of Westeros, those people taint their bloodline. They used dragons to force them to be subservient to them when all of those Kingdoms ruled independently for thousands of years before. Then they used those same dragons to tear the country apart.

No one is looking forward to or likes talking about the storming of the Dragonpit beacuse we want to see animal death. We want to see it for what it stands for. An uprising of people pushed too far by a monarchy that uses weapons of mass destruction recklessly beacuse they see themselves as gods. They refused to be subjected to that anymore, and they knew doing it would kill more men then it would dragons but they did it anyways. They looked at the free use of nuclear weapons and decided they will not live in that fear anymore.

Fire and Blood is literally their dragons. It is why they call themselves dragons. They are the destruction of the world, and they see nothing wrong with that.

Dragons plant no trees, and neither do the Targaryeans.

[saintsenara]

You mentioned fanon turning barty crouch jr. into an uninteresting character. I don't know much about what the new fanon characterisation has really done with him, but I'm curious for your thoughts on why he's a canonically interesting character. I agree that he is, but it sounds like you might have some interesting thoughts on it that are already fleshed out.

thank you for the ask, @jamesunderwater, and i'm sorry for taking so long to drag myself around to answering this.

as you may have gathered if you’ve read my views on jegulus or wolfstar, the common fanon interpretation of marauders-era characters and i don’t really get on.

this is not a new development - me and goofy fanon sirius have been beefing for over a decade at this point, i fear - but our enmity has taken on a new form since [roughly] 2020, when the emergence of what we might call the modern marauders subfandom brought with it a whole series of expectations about characters, ships, personalities, and appearances in first war stories which - let me state my position immediately - have absolutely nothing to do with the characters as they are in canon.

i could talk about sirius or regulus or james or snape or lupin until the cows come home - as, i’m sure, could many of us - but i also dislike the expectations the marauders subfandom has around its supporting cast. these characters - who largely fall under the categories of women, slytherins, or both - have names that we might recognise from canon, but they are - to all intents and purposes - original characters.

to do some marauders fan defending, i do understand the rationale behind this. hogwarts is a school, and it needs to be filled with the sort of incidental characters that lightning-era writers can pull from the canon text [shoutout to ernie macmillan, the mvp]. if you’re writing about lily, then she needs friends - why not have them be alice, marlene, dorcas, emmeline, pandora etc.?

[well, because dumbledore isn’t running a child army. it makes no sense for the entire order of the phoenix to be in the same school year - and the idea that alice is probably around ten years older than lily, that pandora is around the same age as narcissa malfoy and isn’t a pureblood, and that marlene, dorcas, and emmeline are hard-nosed ministry bitches in their fifties who can have mad-eye moody quaking with just a look is something which can be prised from my cold, dead hands.]

and if you’re writing about the epic highs and lows of high-school football going to school during a sectarian conflict, then you need some antagonists. which is to say, you need some slytherins.

the issue i have is that the three key slytherins who seem to have been elevated to principal cast in the marauders pantheon - regulus black, barty crouch jr., and evan rosier - get what can only be called the smol bean treatment. that is, that three teenagers who all canonically join a terror organisation are turned into soft and tiny babies who thought lord voldemort was just feeling silly when he said, "my aim is the eradication of the muggleborn population through violent means."

and even fics which do acknowledge that the three willingly become terrorists often go out of their way to provide justifications for this which don’t contextualise their decision [something which is important - you can’t write about snape becoming a death eater without acknowledging the way that poverty, loneliness, and a sense of hopelessness make someone an easy target of radicalisation] but which minimise it. sometimes, their violence is turned into romantic vengeance - i’ve seen a fair amount of suggestions that barty goes to torture the longbottoms because frank was the auror who killed evan. sometimes, authors imply - or even outright state - that there’s no need to see these boys as aspiring villains: voldemort is right; the class system is good and should be maintained; and purebloods [usually james, sirius, regulus, barty, evan and maybe a token woman or two] should stick together while the half-breeds and the mudbloods go hang.

this - like all aristocracy wank in this fandom - annoys me enough with regulus and evan. but it’s particularly grating when it comes to barty crouch jr. because - unlike evan, who is literally just a name in the text, and regulus, who isn’t much more - he actually has a canon personality.

and it’s fascinating. indeed, i would even go so far as to say that barty crouch jr. is the greatest villain in the harry potter series.

[my apologies to lord voldemort.]

after all, even though he’s been imprisoned under the imperius curse for over a decade, barty is still so lucid and powerful that he is able to:

produce magic capable of tricking the goblet of fire, which is treated by all the adult characters involved as unprecedented.

pull off a year-long impersonation of a man whom dumbledore evidently knows extremely well without being clocked until his mission has been successful, even though his opportunities to observe the real moody can have been virtually non-existent. he is in character within seconds of his ambush on moody’s home - after the intruder-alert dustbins are set off - and is able to persuade ministry personnel who can be presumed to have met moody personally [including both amos diggory and arthur weasley, who appear to know him not only personally, but well] that he is the real deal. he maintains his performance even under close scrutiny from the teaching colleagues he has to interact with daily at hogwarts, despite the fact that he presumably can’t get a great deal out of the real moody, since he’s having to be kept deliberately weak and docile under the imperius curse.

manipulate multiple people into become accessories to his crimes, without ever being suspected of doing so. with the hindsight of knowing who he is, the first defence against the dark arts lesson in goblet of fire, in which "moody" deliberately distresses neville by using the cruciatus curse directly in front of him, before swooping in to be the person to cheer him up so that he can plant information which will help harry win the triwizard tournament and deliver him to voldemort, is chilling. he just gets unlucky that harry has the biggest martyr complex in human history.

commit murder on hogwarts’ grounds without ever being suspected of wrongdoing.

execute lord voldemort’s plan to kidnap harry and use him in his resurrection ritual flawlessly. the plan itself may be convoluted - but dark lords are allowed to have a flair for the dramatic, as a treat - but, crucially, it works, and barty succeeds in every respect.

but, i concede, we’re talking about the adult barty here. perhaps he was once a sweetheart who went unfortunately off the rails after his father sent him to prison and then - in effect - drugged him for years. that wouldn’t be a ridiculous suggestion.

except for the fact that - canonically - the teen barty was just as clever, sly, manipulative, and - above all - ardent in his support for voldemort as his adult self.

at his trial in the early 1980s, young barty gives the performance of a lifetime. he screams, he shakes, he looks terrified of the dementors, he is pale and weak and harmless-looking, he begs his mother to help him, he pleads with his father for mercy, he maintains his innocence as he's dragged off to his cell. he gives off the impression of simply having been in the wrong place at the wrong time so well that harry is almost certain that his conviction is illegitimate. so too, it is implied, is dumbledore.

indeed, barty plays the part of the wrongfully imprisoned so well that - as canon tells us - he not only influences public opinion to be broadly in favour of his probable innocence [or, at least, his diminished culpability - sirius suggests that the widespread view was that he was probably there, but that he only ended up involved in what was clearly bellatrix’s idea because of his father’s failure to relate to him properly], but also changes public opinion against the government’s anti-death-eater strategy entirely.

following his imprisonment, his father - a man who never met an extrajudicial punishment he didn’t like, and whose ruthless approach to dealing with the death eaters in the first war [such as his use of internment for suspected terrorists and his order to aurors to shoot to kill] was, we are told, enormously popular with the wizarding public - is forced to resign in disgrace from his role as head of the department of magical law enforcement. crouch sr. is quietly shuffled off into a boring bureaucratic position, his ambitions to be minister in tatters, and his only way forward to free his son from the prison cell where he is languishing for the crime he very literally did.

[as an aside, i do think that we are supposed to read bellatrix as the ringleader of the torture of the longbottoms. but, all too often, that gets reduced to her doing everything while rodolphus, rabastan, and barty just stand there gormlessly. they were clearly performing the curses too!]

now, barty’s unusual cunning can - of course - be explained by narrative reasons. the text needs to conceal that he’s the villain [since, as with philosopher’s stone, it wants to imply that the dark lord’s faithful servant at hogwarts is snape] until the very end - and this naturally requires dumbledore to not think too hard about whether his good judy alastor is behaving even more strangely than usual.

the text also needs to suggest that he's innocent in order to properly stick the landing on the narrative role of his father - barty crouch sr. as with dolores umbridge in order of the phoenix, crouch sr. exists to show harry [and the reader] that the rot in the wizarding world was not caused by - and will not stop with the defeat of - voldemort. his ruthlessness and inflexibility, his lack of respect for due process, his astonishingly cruel treatment of winky [brutal beyond even the standard way in which wizards abuse their enslaved elves] all serve to teach harry that the anti-voldemort cause can become just as easily corrupted as the disillusioned young men in voldemort’s orbit. the suggestion that crouch sent his own son to azkaban without good reason, simply because he would not deviate from his beliefs, is an important lesson to harry about what "justice" actually means.

but, despite this, barty is also able to pull off his deception because he’s spectacularly talented. it’s not all just narrative.

and his talents are caused by characteristics which aren’t good or bad in and of themselves. he’s clearly very intelligent [he got twelve owls, the series’ benchmark for genius]. he’s hyper-observant, creative, adaptable, good under pressure, and possessed of nerves of steel. he shares these traits with other villains in the series - voldemort above all - but he also shares them with plenty of the heroes. harry, for one.

which is to say that all of his personality traits could be put to non-criminal uses. but - as with harry, who is capable of being quite sinister when he wants to be [for example, when he manipulates slughorn into giving up the horcrux memory] - they would give a non-criminal barty an edge. and this doesn’t seem to be present in his standard fanon persona - as sweet and goofy as all marauders-era men - to any great extent.

finally, there is another aspect of barty’s character which is absent from his fanon version - that he clearly has some sort of childhood trauma, but that this does not excuse any of what he does.

even though crouch sr. is right to send him to azkaban, he was clearly also a cold and distant father, who had absolutely no idea how to relate to his son.

[as another aside, this emotional negligence is bad enough without it needing to be written as having been accompanied by extreme physical and/or sexual abuse. there seems to be a real tendency in fanfiction - not only in marauders-era stuff, although the exaggeration of orion and walburga black into despotic villains is one example of this - to make childhood misery "worse", in order to justify a character’s later actions.]

voldemort demonstrably uses barty’s terrible relationship with crouch sr. [and his absolutely flagrant daddy kink] to groom him into taking the dark mark [not least because there’s otherwise no explanation for why he cheerfully informs him that he too is named after his dad], which he may very well end up taking when he’s still at school. my reading is that he’s recruited to inform on his father - since voldemort would undoubtedly wish to keep the head of the department of magical law enforcement under constant surveillance - and that this is why the dark lord pays him the attention he is so obviously lacking.

but, as with snape and regulus and draco malfoy and all the other young death eaters, barty also colludes in his own radicalisation. voldemort is a master at ensnaring recruits, sure, but he’s also a busy man. he only bothers to make the effort because the clever, creative, cunning, manipulative young man - who wishes to avenge himself on the father who never paid him attention [sound familiar?] - he finds before him is very much determined to become a spectacular part of his terrorist organisation. and stories which feature him owe it to him to give him that dark complexity of character

show the series’ best villain some respect.

[milaisreading]

Hi, can i request something about the players fighting for who get the managers birthday number like for example if the manager was born on 11th of July then the birthday number is 11 

Author: I hope u find this to ur liking and thank u for the request🩷 the date I took is honestly random, just pretend it's your birthday on February 4th

Warnings ⚠️: none in particular. Reader uses she/her. Requests are open!

⚽️Blue lock belongs to: Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

"Hmmm I wonder who will get which jersey number." Bachira hummed to himself as the team was resting the their room. Nagi looked away from his phone and thought it over for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Whichever we get will be fine. The most important part is that we can play soon." The white haired boy said back. Chigiri was fast asleep on his futon and Isagi used the opportunity to cover him up with one of the blankets. Hiori nodded his head as Niko and Gagamaru were chatting with each other next to him.

"Besides, I am really excited to be able to play against a team like the U-20. It will just show how much we improved as players."

"Yeah, I can't wait for to see their defeated looks. That old man from the JFU will eat up his words in a few weeks."

"What do you mean, Baro?" Yukimiya asked, looking at the tall boy.

"Yeah? What did he even say?"

"How this is all a waste of money and that Ego-san will be out of job the moment Japan's star players defeat us. He said that we will be out of opportunities to play at the World Cup."

"Where did you hear that?" Rin blinked, getting a little heated by those words.

"I heard (Y/n) and Teieri-san talk about it a few days ago. (Y/n) sounded pretty upset at some points."

"Was she? Well imagine how upset that old geezer will be is 'accidentally' a ball was to hits him in the face." Reo said in a cold tone, looking between Isagi and Nagi, who seemed to get the message.

"Yeah, by accident... imagine how badly he will be hurt."

"So hurt that he might think twice on opening his mouth." Isagi and Nagi said, already agreeing on a plan with the purple-haired boy.

"Where are Karasu and Otoya anyways? It's close to our bedtime." Gagamaru suddenly spoke up, noticing the duo missing.

"They are still eating since they had to do some extra laps for joking and messing around." Kurona answered.

"And Aryu?"

"You know je stays behind for (Y/n) to braid his hair... Lucky bastard, I wish I had long hair." Isagi said, prompting the others to nod their heads.

"No way, it would look much better on me."

"Shut up Karasu, you don't have the grace to carry that number. I on the other hand..."

"You are both wrong, the number would look way better on me."

The rest of the group, minus Chigiri, looked at Karasu, Aryu and Otoya as they walked inside, wondering what they could be arguing about now.

"What happened?" Rin asked calmly.

"We were talking about our jersey numbers we will be receiving in a few days." Otoya answered, annoyed with his two friends.

"What a coincidence! I am not the only one who is curious." Bachira exclaimed.

"Well, I have been telling my wonderful friends..." Karasu said sarcastically as he pointed at Aryu and Otoya.

"That I should be the one to carry the number 4."

"And gave no justification on why."

"Neither did you, Aryu!"

"My looks are enough of a justification!"

"Wait! Why the number 4?" Niko wondered.

"Well, (Y/n)'s birthday is on February 4th, it would be so cute for me to wear her number." Otoya said calmly as the other two kept on arguing.

"You all are being stupid." Reo said.

"He is right... I should be the one with the number 4." Nagi added, earning a glare from his friend.

"Nagi you backstabber! That number is mine!"

"Hold up! I want the number 4!" Gagamaru suddenly added.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but goalkeepers usually get the number 1... I as a captain should get that privilege." Rin said, pointing at himself.

"No! Me, I am the ace of Blue Lock, and (Y/n) gets along way better with me!" Isagi protested as Baro sent them both a glare.

"I think I have more rights to that number than any of you, I am a way stronger player."

"Well, I am smarter. The number should be mine."

The room soon turned into a arguing mess and out of curiosity what it was about, Ego turned on one of his cameras. And boy did he regret that decision.

'I hate kids.' He rubbed his face.

During the whole ordeal Chigiri was asleep, too tired from the training.

A  few days passed and the team excitedly too the jerseys (Y/n) and Anri had brought them. The two looked on in confusion as their excited expressions turned into sour ones.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, you guys look like someone kicked a puppy. Are the uniforms bad?" Anri and (Y/n) wondered as the boys shook their heads, saying how it was nothing.

"It fits perfectly. The blue shade is nice too." The team looked at Chigiri, who had put his shirt already on, and it felt like a ton of ice fell on the room as they saw the number on his jersey.

'Why did he get the number 4?!'

'Not the princess beating me to it!'

'Blatant favoritism on Ego's part!'

The team thought, forcefully smiling at Chigiri, who was unaware of the fight from a few nights ago.

"They are weird today... well, weirder than usually." Anri whispered to (Y/n), who nodded her head in agreement.

"Maybe pre-game fever?"

[twst-rose-prisms]

Twst boys and their respective Vocaloid songs

As the title said, I've been wanting to assign some Vocaloid songs for the twst characters as there are quite a lot of songs that specifically fit them! I'll include some lyrics part as of why I think it fits along with a small analysis + song link! I'm letting my Vocaloid braincells taking over this time hehe 🌹❤️

Shout out to my bestie @twst-megane for helping me out a bunch once again!!

Characters: All NRC students Warning: Some of these songs contain angsty/dark themes or imply self-harm, however it's nothing too much as that's the nature of Vocaloid songs in general and I recommend you checking them out if you guys can!

Part 1 | Part 2

🌹 Heartslabyul 🌹

Riddle: Bitter Choco Decoration

Pretty self-explanatory from the lyrics if you remember Riddle’s backstory with his strict, controlling mother. His entire life up until he became a student has been under his mom’s influence and it ended up him being too strict even to himself and his emotions - just like the meaning of the song too.

“Bitter choco decoration I long for the ideal that everyone wishes for Bitter choco decoration I reduce my individuality and my emotions to ashes Bitter choco decoration Kill your desires and ego, and bury them all underground Bitter choco decoration I've finally grown up, mama” “Surely, tomorrow, and the days after This hell will continue on and on. Alas, so please, just for now Let me keep the feelings I had when I was but a child And be the naked me.”

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Ace: Lost One’s Weeping

Being a rebellious person, I’m thinking this song fits Ace the most as it’s about questioning the flawed system, questioning one’s being and purpose and that if we have to keep living under some sort of authority for the rest of our life. As you can already see how he acts in Book 1 towards Riddle - defying authority, questioning it, and being rebellious about it.

“Can you say the formula for area ratio? Can you say the dreams of your childhood? Who threw those dreams in a ditch? Hey, who was it? You know who it was! When are you going to grow up!? What is a grown-up anyway? Do you know who has the answers? Hey, what should I do? I don't care anymore!”

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Deuce: RAD DOGS

I picked this song for Deuce because of the lyrics, but also the beat and the meaning. The strong, powerful beat with the fast rap part really fit him don’t you think? The lyrics speaks of the struggle of going against the grain and choosing a life of freedom, although it comes with an effort and the ability to face everything life throws at us. We need to take a leap of faith and not settle for anything less than what we truly want, emphasizes the importance of taking a risk and restarting, not worrying about the reason or justifications for doing so, just like how Deuce acts in general with his goal and dream.

"My unseen devotion, sympathy that I don’t feel, and all the things that I can't have What kind of story? Whose story is it? If you don't have something, you'll start to want it, isn’t that right?" "Now, I’ve decided to restart for the first time Just saying “I want to be like you” is all you need, right? Not knowing the reason why, not needing the reason why I'm defying against fate’s rules" "Now, I’ve decided to restart and burst out Just saying “I want to see it” is all you need, right? Let that groovy sound beat, let me hear that heartbeat Since there’s no time to just stand still" "With the tailwind blowing Alright, we keep going forward without looking back"

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Trey: Ai no Material

Trey gives me a melancholic, casual and mature vibe, like an older brother who you can depend on anytime and he would give you his usual smile. That’s why I picked this song for him, although he always helps out everyone but I feel like he can be lonely sometimes, like perhaps he would need a helping hand or maybe some support. When I read the lyrics I think of him! I want to interpret it as Heartslabyul to Trey, who’s been always working hard for the dorm, and it’s the message that he might want to hear the most!

"(Jump into tomorrow!) It seems that the stars will fall down. (Always) You wear a sparkling smile. (With a smile) But even if it's hard, you hide the pain away, (Want to meet you) and without showing it, you just laughed." "I always want to smile, after all. It's not hard, so I'm going to try harder! I wonder if I've been embracing such a lie tightly, And kept walking all this time." "Fly up more, higher and higher. If it's you, you can do it with a smile. But it's okay even if it's just a little bit, It's okay to quietly depend on me too." "Words like "I'm alright" or saying "I'm okay", While showing your usual smile. I understand those lies you utter, And that's why I tug on your hand."

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Cater: Phony

I know it might sound like it doesn’t fit him but in my opinion, this song sums up Cater as a character. We haven’t seen much of him in actual depth, but I definitely think he has more than he just appears. This song talks about how a person can mask and deceive themselves in lies, they’re aware of it, but they have to put it up in order to meet societal expectations. A constructed image or persona - the “fake” that they created and now they struggle to reconcile with their true self, and I think he is like that as well. (Aniplex please more Cater content for us we're waiting-)

“There’s no flower in this world more beautiful than an artificial one That’s because everything is manufactured from lies Antipathy world” “The rain of despair pelts my umbrella and Dampens my bangs and the hidden side of my heart Oh, it’s all so troublesome” “Before I knew it, the words had already withered The fruit of the truth is ripening within me Painting lies upon the mirror’s reflection, a “makeup” of the loss of oneself” “Before I knew it, the mimicked cries joined the unpleasant chorus Their eyes, leery, are dissolving you I am missing from the mirror’s reflection. There is only a “fake” that everyone mistook for someone else”

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🦁 Savanaclaw 🦁

Leona: Meltdown

The song is about one wanting to disappear, wanting to kill their old self and erase everything as if it’s like falling asleep. Though I think this song can be interpreted as having depression - and from what we see going on with Leona, I feel like he does show signs of it, I wish they would dive deeper into his story in Book 2 though! Other than that, I feel like the lyrics in here suit him a lot, especially the “sleep” part in the lyrics.

“I'm like a lighter out of fluid My insides are on fire Sometimes I wish It was all a lie” “I want to jump into the core My memories would melt into brilliant whiteness and disappear If I could jump into the core I feel like I’d be able to sleep again like I used to” “If I jumped into the core I'd vanish, like I had gone to sleep A morning without me Would be perfect All the gears meshing together That's how the world would be”

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Jack: Night Sky Patrol of Tomorrow

I think this song fits Jack a lot, the vibe is definitely for him but also the lyrics as well. The headstrong vibe, full of uncertainty but also full of hope for tomorrow, despite feeling hopeless at times but what is important is never give up and head forward to the future. The song’s meaning is to convey resilience, independence, and the importance of cherishing the present moment even when you’re uncertain about some things. You could also take this as a JackMC song haha, It just fits him a lot imo!

“I'm a boy who picks out his enemies to fight, Depending on whatever suits my mood. No hopes for the future, I wanted to be drawn in a dream." "And yet I fear the future, Hating tomorrow, wishing towards the past. There's no longer anything I can do, so I shout, "Tomorrow, tomorrow, please, don't come!" "If you want it, then make it come true yourself." Eh... You said that..." "I think about what I want, To go see you again tomorrow night. But I don't know, maybe you won't be there, But even so, we will always be one." "So, see you later, Sky Arrow, let's smile on! I want to be together with you in the future, However short our time may be, so I'll shout out, "Remember this day someday in the future, whoever we are then..."

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Ruggie: Moonlight

This song fits Ruggie a lot in terms of lyrics, with numerous mentions of rags and junk and collecting them together to the longing of being your own self instead of being in someone else’s shadow and chasing after them. The singer compares themselves to a piece of junk or trash as they think of themselves lowly, just like Ruggie himself. The mention of moonlight here represents the singer’s ideal that they always chase after, like Ruggie’s life goal. Overall, the vibe of the song fit him a lot! (I recommend checking out the Vivid Bad Squad version too!)

“A collection of junk, Covered with a piece of rag, A replica in a hideous shape Words spun by someone else, Tones played by someone else, A fake made by a distorted collage of them” “Even being junks, even a piece of rag In the blood pumped from its heart There was only my own anger In the end, there must be nothing left Love, spun songs, and my name will one day fade away I wonder why? It's stuck in the back of my chest, A loneliness similar to the silence of a winter night” “Whether or not I'm a fake, Looking back now, there was only Those blurred memories” “The irony of being a waste, I'm trying to get out of the cliché, but "Another rehash of someone else’s work?" "Is even your identity a trick?" "Do you want love, even if you have to steal it?" “Even being junks, even a piece of rag After following the never ending dream I'll find my own light, all the way”

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🐚 Octavinelle 🐚

Azul: Delusion Tax

In my opinion, this is the most fitting song I could think of for Azul. As said in the lyrics, we all have desires of our own, and the person (or in this case Miku) in this song is a genie that can grant any wishes, but in the end everything come with a price, anyone who make a wish with her will have to sell a part of themselves. Sounds just like Azul and his contracts don’t you think? But you can also think this reflects Azul’s own desires once you know his backstory too! (and also, check out this amazing art by my bestie! Her art is amazing!!)

“Turning wishes into reality Right now, buy back your future! Afflicted by so badly wanting to do “that”, consumed by desire Come now, let’s go beyond all this pain” “Existing for your sake alone, mandatory affections and obligated kindness Though you should be satisfied, a voice from within shouts “NO!” We have an idiot on our hands, it seems…” “None of it will come true if you don't pay the price Look, just up and borrow the "desired amount" Reality is a bitter-sweet pill to swallow Come now, let’s go beyond all this pain” “That which you wish for, the person you think of, The past which you hate as well, they’ll all be as you like. The kind of face and chest you desire, they’ll be granted if you pay. “It’s a promise”

-----------------------------------

Jade: SHANTI

I feel like the song is pretty self-explanatory, as you can see with the lyrics. It just fits Jade’s job and his approach to the “targets” and lure them into signing a contract with Azul, but it’s probably just more than the said goal… But you can never tell with that smile of his as his “kind” words accompany his looks. Until you realized you fell into the trap and become one of Azul’s underlings due to the contract (at least, until post-Book 3, but who knows)

“Hey, young man who’s hanging his head Did something bad happen? If you’re fine with me, do you wanna talk about it? I can help you What in the world happened? That sounds terrible, brother I'll give you this, so cheer up, ok You can pay me back next time” “So you came again tonight Was it to your liking? The fee is this much Huh? Huh? Huh? So you can’t pay Then it can’t be helped I’ve got the perfect job for you, so come and follow me”

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Floyd: Matryoshka

A chaotic, addictive rock song that is very fitting for Floyd. Why though? According to the wiki “Most of the lyrics are nonsensically vague or ridiculous, with a slight hint of pain or sadness, giving the overall song a crazy and psychotic feeling. Therefore, the lyrics have been interpreted in various ways.” Just like the moody guy himself, don’t you think?

“My headache is singing about a package The clock's hand is stuck at 4 o'clock No one would tell me why But the world has begun to rotate in reverse” “Ah, would you please dance even more? Kalinka? Malinka? Just play the strings" "What should I do with these kinds of emotions? Won't you please tell me? The signal reception is good, 5-2-4! Freud? Keloid? Just hit the keys Let's just laugh everything off Hurry up and dance, you group of fools!" "Together let's clap our childish hands To this intentionally deranged rhythm Surely, I couldn't care less about everything The world's temperature is beginning to melt”

-----------------------------------

[shiftingparadise]

*gets on knees before repeatedly blowing*

May we PLEASEEEEE get another soft spot part where Feitan and reader have a fluffy and smutty day? I NEED MOREE THE SERIES IS SO GOOODDDD 😭

I hope you like this 🥺 I wanted to show another side of Feitan. Anyway, thank you for your request and your kind words 🤍🤍🤍 You guys don't realise how much this means to me <3

Word count: 1468

Warnings: smut!!!

His mind was made up. He was going to punish you for what you did. You were his and his alone.

Feitan shook his head at the thought. You weren’t his. Not his alone anyway, but he had agreed to share you a long time ago. It was better to have a part of you than nothing at all. “Tsk”, he narrowed his eyes. Feitan felt betrayed more than anything – a feeling you seemed to give him more often than not.

Yes. That feeling you gave him was a sweet justification for what would come. He talked with Chrollo about your punishment and he gave his full permission. A part of him felt excited. After all, he never thought he’d got to treat you so rough again; that he got to punish you like before. With a determined heart, he opened the door to your room.

“Fei!”, you happily jumped from your desk, “Look, I just finished reading this”.

Feitan froze as he noticed your enthusiasm; your glittering eyes that seemed to light up the darkest of nights.

“You see? It’s a classic”, you proudly held it in front of you, “At first it was kind of hard to understand what was happening but now-“.

 Feitan could only watch as you rambled on. It seemed you were unaware of his mood and feelings toward you but still… A part of him enjoyed seeing you like this, despite his anger toward you.

“What’s wrong?”, your hands dropped to your side, “You seem tense. Is something wrong? Can I do something?”.

Why? Why did you have to make everything so hard for him? He wanted to punish you. You deserved to be punished. So why? Why did he feel like this? So soft, so…

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you”, you looked to the ground, “We can talk about something else”. “No”, he hastily intervened, “Tell me more”.

He didn’t want you to stop; to lose that spark in your eyes. He loved seeing you like this.

“Really?”, your eyes lit up again.  “Hm”, he coldly nodded. “Come, sit down!”, you happily jumped on your bed, “I’ll tell you everything”.

Feitan shuddered as your soft touch met his cold skin. He never got used it.

“Besides, where’s Chrollo? He recommended me this”. “Out”, Feitan’s heart shattered a bit. He was supposed to hurt you and here he was, listening to you rambling about a book he couldn’t care less about. “Oh, okay”, you smiled as you gestured for him to lay down on your thighs.

Feitan hesitated for a bit, but he quickly realized he’d never say no to such a luxury.

“Okay so, if you didn’t know this book is called “Metamorphosis”. Franz Kafka wrote this”, you shifted a bit before stroking through his dark hair. “It’s about a cockroach, but it isn’t about a cockroach. Get it?”. Feitan only hummed in response.

Despite is stiff position; he felt more comfortable than ever. It never took him long to doze off like this.

“One day, this business clerk wakes up as a cockroach and his entire family-“.

Those were the last words he heard before he fell asleep. It didn’t take him longer than a minute – as usual.

When he woke up, he found his arms wrapped around your body. You must’ve fallen asleep not too long after him.

Feitan stared at your face. Something he cursed himself for. Were you an angel? Sent by the Lord himself? Or a demon that had him wrapped around your finger? It didn’t matter to him. You had his heart, his soul, his mind… Every part of him belonged to you.

He softly positioned himself on top of you; his hands resting beside your head. “Y/N?”, his voice still rough as he gently moved a strand of your hair. “Hm?”, a frown on your face as you woke up. “Please”, his gaze fixed on your eyes. “Fei?”, you softly grunted as your tired eyes looked at him. “Can I- Can we”, he never felt so unsure. “What?”, your brows pulled together at his strange behavior. “Can you take care of me?”, his eyes seemed cold, but his breathing betrayed how he truly felt. “Oh, you want me to-“, your eyes widened. “N-no, I want you to take care of me”, he coldly looked at you. “I don’t understand”, a confused look in your eyes. “I think I want something else today”, he gently grabbed your hand and placed it against your cheek, “I don’t know what, exactly, but I know that I want to feel as I did earlier”. “Earlier?”. “When you were stroking through my hair… I want that feeling”, he softly guided your hand to his hair.

He didn’t know what he was asking. He didn’t even understand this part of himself or what he craved.

“I think I understand”, you sweetly smiled, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you”.

Feitan watched as you moved away.

“Where are you going?”, he jolted upright. “Well, you asked me to take care of you, right?”, your cheeks reddened. “Hm”, he nodded. “Don’t worry”, you shyly slipped out of your gown, “I’ll take care of you”.

Feitan didn’t answer. Instead, he sat back again.

“You always take care of me”, you gently sat on his lap; your arms wrapped around his neck. “You think I don’t notice everything you do for me?”, you whispered as you massaged the back of his head.

Feitan’s heart started to race. Your voice never sounded so soft.

“Hm”, his eyes were locked to the ground. “Fei?”, you gently wrapped your hands around his cheeks, “I notice everything”.

His eyes widened as he saw the vulnerable look in your eyes.

“D-don't-” he frowned as you pushed against his chest. “Let me take care of you. I promise I’ll make you feel good”, you placed another soft kiss on his cheek.

He wasn’t used to this; for you take control but… It felt nice.

Your hands gently tugged on his belt, eager to see more of him.

Feitan took off his clothes and threw them into the nearest corner of your room.  

“Fei?”, you gently placed yourself on top of him. “What?”, his cold gaze hid every ounce of emotion he felt. “Tell me what you want me to do”, another kiss against his cheek.

“I-I want you to take care of me-“. “How?”, you left a trail of kisses on his chest, down to his stomach. “You know how”, an irritated sigh. “I don’t”, your hand gently stroked his member. “F-fine”, he loudly swallowed, “I want you on top of me… I want you to tell me how much you enjoy being mine and… And I want you to tell me that you, I don’t know, love me or something”.

Your eyes widened as you noticed his stubborn expression. You never saw this side of him. Despite knowing him for so long, you still didn’t know who he truly was; what he was hiding deep inside of him.

You nodded as you shifted on top of him; his member easily sliding into you. “S-shit”, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t used to you being on top. “Fei-“, you slowly started to ride him. “Hm?”, his hands grabbed your waist; guiding you. “I love you”, your hands resting against his chest, “I love you not because you make me feel good but because you take care of me-“. “Y/N-“, he practically moaned your name. “I love the way you look out for me; how you ignore your own needs for me… I love how you look at me and at anyone who dares to look in my direction-“. “S-stop-“, he pressed his head against the mattress.

He didn’t want to come already. Not now. This felt too good to be true.

“I-I love how jealous you get and how good you look when you’re angry at me-“, you picked up the pace, your eyes closed in pleasure. “Y-you like that?”, he admired how your breasts bounced up and down as they invited him them. “I-I do”, you grabbed his hand before he could do so and placed it between your thighs. “F-fuck Y/N-“, he loudly swallowed. “Together?”, you leaned forward as you pressed your lips against his. “H-hm”, he gently grabbed your jaw as his other hand rested on the back of your neck.

It didn’t take long before you both reached your climax.

“Fuck, that felt good”, you softly moaned against his ear. Your body still shaking. “You were amazing”. You noticed how his voice didn’t feel as cold as before. “Fei?”, you gently pulled away. “Yes?”, he softly stroked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you”, you barely whispered.

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond, but luckily his heart knew.

“I don’t know what love is”, his voice still rough, “But I think that this comes pretty close”.

[oh-saints]

anything with max please! but please make it happy ending?

taking a little break from footballers, shall we?

you

despite all the success and achievements max verstappen has secured in his bag, there's still one thing he wishes to have but knows he can't.

max verstappen x doctor!reader

note: this is inspired by one of the scene from one of my favourite kdrama; hospital playlist (s1; 2020). i hope i do the drama some justice for its amazing rollercoaster ride (#spoiler) so max can be humbled for a minute. but this time, i happen to write during my family trip so this is not proof-read yet.

when the name of his very bestfriend popped up, max couldn't hold back from smiling.

he'd previously told her that he's coming back tonight and asked if she was free for a catch up session. due to the nature of their jobs, the two friends couldn't see each other as much as they'd love to.

if he had his way, she wouldn't be working as hard as she is now. nothing in this world can make max's life better—and this was saying a lot when he's achieved everything earthly possible—than to have her at every race. win or lose, max knows there's always someone waiting on him to cross the finish line, as long as he's safe and sound.

nobody ever asks that of him. it's always wins, titles. no matter the cost, no matter the consequence of this very dangerous sport.

"hi—"

"can you come over tonight?"

max's heart immediately took a free dive.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

"so sorry i called you very late into the night,"

she didn't let him express how much he'd missed seeing her. as soon as she opened the door, she strode back inside of her apartment. her hands immediately reached for the white pristine coat hanging on the wall as she passed by.

"i got a call from the hospital but my nanny's not picking up,"

max was still silent. they'd fallen into the habit of her saying the same thing and he'd remembered them all by now. after this, she'd cited her usual justification. "sorry, i forgot telling you about it because there's always someone calling me when i want to do that."

"sorry, i forgot to tell you—"

"i know, i understand," and max truly does. with how little monaco is, he understands she becomes a well-sought surgeon here. he's actually rather proud, if anything. "go save the world."

she looked up at him from behind the kitchen counter, and max swore she looked dashing as ever, with the gentle yellow lighting highlighting her features. she is one of the rare kind, one who never needs an elaborative piece of clothing to enhance her beauty. she is inner beauty personified—at least per max's standard, but supposedly it says a lot because max isn't kidding when he said he'd seen the bests of the world.

"thank you, max. you don't know how grateful i am of you," and that smile right there, radiating gentleness and calmness and pure yet gratitude, is the very reason why he always heeds to her whims. "but my kid's burning right now so can you do things i've listed down here while i'm gone?"

"sure."

there went another of max's resolution, even before he knows what she'd asked of him. he's so puny in her hands that his father once gaslighted him with her as a bait. so different to the cold, ruthless max verstappen everyone labels him to be.

after running through everything on the list together and making sure max understood them once more, for she wouldn't be able to be contacted for at least the next 3 hours, she finally put her arms to the coat hanging on her shoulder proudly. she reached for her bag, and when she was about to pick up the car keys, max halted her hand.

"please use taxi," he said, and she wondered why. "for my sanity sake, knowing you'll make it safe there."

she wanted to argue that there was no guarantee she'd make it safe with a taxi, no different than driving on her own, but she nodded wordlessly. she'd asked max to come down here in short notice, not long after he told her he was in town and only to make him babysit her kid, but he'd come with no question asked. taking taxi was the least she could do for him.

it seemed like the kid knew she left their home, for the cry ensued not long after, like a chick looking for the hen. thankfully it wasn't max's first rodeo, more over when his girlfriend has her kid of her own.

unfortunately.

"hey, hey," he cooed gently, and the little one scratched the teary eyes, crying stopped at the sight of max. he was always the favourite in this household, always coming here with something in his hands the kid doesn't know it exists. toys, actions figures, you name it. "are you okay?"

"maxie?" suddenly he remembered his sister's comment about his father instinct spiking whenever this particular kid was around. he'd even let them call him by his first name, no specific title else needed. so unlike him, when he taught leo and luka to call him by "oom maxie" or uncle maxie in dutch.

"thirsty or hungry, schatje?" max immediately picked up the split version of his best friend, and the feeling of being hugged back affectionately by his best friend's entire world contended the best feeling in the world for him. it was as if the little treasure was trying to get a hold of him entirely with their little arms and hands, like he meant the world for them.

like he is the world to them as much as the kid means the world to him. oh, if only they knew...

the kid passionately shook their head as soon as they tucked themselves comfortably against the crook of his neck. max paced back and forth for them, in hope his bouncy steps would calm them down.

"alright, lieve. you let me know when you do, okay?"

but he was only met by soft snores.

he peered down at his best friend's entire world, the axis to her existence, the reason behind her juggling her personal and professional world just to make sure they get only the best of both worlds. for that alone, max had already loved the kid like his own.

and he'd love to have them as his own, providing everything the kid's heart desire, knowing he could give them everything of it at a heartbeat. knowing he could give them what they deserve, after being deprived of a proper, fatherly love for so long.

if only she let him. if only she saw him as one.

but max knew it all boiled down to him. if only he'd denied her desire to get married to that good-for-nothing that turned out to be a cheating bastard she called her ex-husband, she wouldn't have to suffer everything of this on her own. the child didn't have to go through all the mess life would bring to someone so early in their age.

it pained him that he never let out the "marry me instead" that was poking the tip of his tongue when she'd asked you to be her men of honour. it hurt max verstappen to the point of no return, more than being robbed a championship win, that he could've had the smart kid with her instead from a long time ago, and a life he'd always dreamed of building.

with her, and no one else.

because he knew that whatever he was feeling right now, as he was holding her entire life in the home she built so hard despite the single-mother stigma, is the closest thing to right in this life that feels so wrong.

not even his multiple championship titles he had in his bag. not even the feeling of winning a race so many he'd grown accustomed to. per max verstappen's standard, that was given; with so much hard work he'd been putting since he could walk, thanks to his father.

his phone dinged, breaking his train of thought. it was the alarm that he'd set up to remind him of the checklist she'd made for him. the sound stirred the child in their sleep, and as they noticed him walking away from the room, they whined, "please stay, maxie."

like the effect of the mother had on him, he succumbed to the whim. but good lord, my goodness, there had never been something as liberating as that. it was a paradoxic feeling where you don't feel weak as you surrender yourself, instead it grew so much on him that someone needed him. it feels so damn good to be needed by someone, his heart soared so high as the revelation hit him.

maybe that was what max verstappen had been yearning for.

that one piece in his life that anyone around him didn't know how to fill the void. a home to go back to, he thought, as he fell asleep in such a ridiculous position to fit the crib's size.

but due to his lightning reflex towards every sound and movement around him, max jolted up when he heard a click of the door closing. it was small; he deducted it wasn't mean to be disturbing.

that could only be her checking up on him.

the kid was now drenched in sweat in his embrace, so he decided to change the pajamas first before heading out of the nursery. he did it as fast as he could because he knew she was making his favourite mushroom soup outside from the smell of it.

the pang on his chest came back as he got out of the child's room, only to be met by his best friend's back from the kitchen, busy scooping her signature delicacy to a bowl matching the set only designated for her and her child—his bowl—because it looked so domestic. they looked so domestic like this. they looked like they'd make a great family.

yes, it wasn't the first time they did this, but that was what made it hurt all the same everytime he came over.

"how was the surgery?"

just in time when she turned her body to him. she smiled immediately, both at the sight of a disheveled max and at the question thrown at her. max looked so bulky in the house full of her delicate touch, so different yet not out of touch, for his question brought warmth to her chest.

it'd been a while since someone had asked the question—the simplest question of asking how she'd been holding up at work—that didn't come out from her child's mouth. from someone who actually knew how hard it was to make a living. from someone who was genuinely interested at what she did. from someone all of the above.

"got a bleeding out of hand but all's good now," she'd spare the bloody detail later. right now, she just wanted to bask how peaceful their rhythms are as the f1 winner took a seat on the other end of the kitchen counter. "i hope my kid's not a hassle for you."

"you and your kid can never be a hassle to me," max made sure to stare down at her as he replied her, wanting her to know he wasn't kidding. "i love spending time with you two."

and it scared her deep down to see max so set on what he said. she could only hope he wasn't implying anything else behind his words, for she was afraid it would bring unattained hope to her heart.

despite her strong display she'd paraded around the town, she is only a human with two hands and feet and a heart. and she is a woman, first and foremost, who was once in love in max verstappen.

the real max verstappen before all the achievements, the fame, the titles. when max verstappen had eyes only for the glory, and never hungry for anything else.

but the one-sided journey could be so lonely, she never realised that. it resulted her finding love in a hopeless place. at least that was was she thought, love, until she discovered her ex was cheating with one of her fellow doctors.

so she knew she had to extinguish every kind of sparks before it grew stronger. especially now, where every of her decision doesn't only affect her, but her child also.

"spend your time for something else, max," she smiled bitterly now and max already hated whatever her mind fed her just seconds ago. "tell me, what's your favourite thing to do in your spare time? going for a vacation?"

"whatever it is we're doing now," max replied, soup still untouched. it frightened her that the eyes were not just set anymore; she'd recognised that winning determination anywhere. "wanna know why?"

she sat down, eyes trying to hold his, ignoring the fluttering feeling inside of her and set her mind to simply wanting to know the words he had in mind. max took it as an invitation to might as well break it down.

"because it's you. it's always been you."

[confessionsofamasc]

#1

I was born in a hospital that I drive by sometimes. I don’t understand gender or sex more than anyone. I’ve read a lot of theory. I’ve taken comfort in it. It hasn't changed my conditions, but it's granted me a sense of stability. The best of it offers clarification. The worst of it makes me feel like I don’t exist. It’s like anything, it’s complicated. It has made me suspicious of any unifying theory of gender, of simplification. That abstraction feels like more of the same. The reduction, the disappearance, the slow death. Everything begs the question and everyone is too afraid to try and answer it.

The more I read the more ambiguity I am able to accept in myself and others. It usually isn't reciprocated.

I’m a man. Right now my hair is long. It’s annoying, it gets in the way. Recently I was enjoying wearing feminine clothing, but not so much at the moment. I used to date women. I used to be a lesbian. I used to be butch, in a lot of ways I still am. I got myself into a lot of trouble that way. I sought out people who could see my maleness somewhere inside of my womanhood. This was fraught. I try not to blame myself. My maleness made me vulnerable and people could tell. That's on them.

I don’t know what I look like. People see me as different things. I’ve been told that some of these different things lie in complete contradiction with each other. To some people I negate myself and they hate that. I don’t mind being a paradox. I didn’t make it a paradox. I know how I feel and I know what I want. How other people see me is not my responsibility. I know what feels right and what feels wrong. It's one of those things, like love. No justification needed. I like what this has given me, a general ambivalence I find freeing. No one owes me understanding, not even myself, just acceptance. I roll with the punches.

No one’s going to be able to know me from a short interaction. That’s fine. That’s not my problem. It’s not their problem either. But I correct them, I give them a chance. I am as honest as possible. It’s awkward. Sometimes it isn’t, sometimes there is that moment of two people meeting, like two comrades undercover. The nod, the smiles. Some people get angry. I avoid going places where they might be able to react. I don’t go out. Sometimes I don’t correct people. 

Sometimes I know that people want me to make myself smaller, more understandable, that I must diminish myself. Categorize, define, summarize, defend, defer. I get the feeling my complexity is the wrong kind of complexity. I hate deference, I want to be an equal participant in the conversation.

I was in line for a friend’s show, waiting to get my bag searched, my ID checked and a man behind me got close, started touching my bag. Same old. Bad jokes, mean jokes, stuff to try and make me feel vulnerable. Said he was putting his gun in my bag to hold onto. Trying to get me to engage to protect myself. Flatter him, don’t hurt his ego. That boring misogynistic flirting that kids start honing in grade school. I didn’t say anything. I made myself as uninteresting as I could. That hurt his feelings. “I bet you think I’m such an asshole”, he said with little kid anger. I continued to ignore him. I didn’t want him to hear my voice or see my face. He figured I was a girl. It's the hair. Then came his quick turn to vitriol, insults under his breath. I got inside and none of my friends were there yet. I pretended to be alright, cold-blooded. Like I don't feel anything.

I learned that quickly, that being a man is not a trump card, not for me. Some people tell me this can't be true, it's not the part about being a man. I become comprehensible to them only if they separate me from an important part of my whole, if they dictate myself back to me in a way they find acceptable, in line with their worldview. Sometimes I am asked to completely disavow it to be let back into life. That is a very old trick. I got tired of it when I was still a little girl.

I know that it is the catalyst. The thing about me, the nail in the coffin. No matter what kind of man I've been, it's been true. I can't forget it even if I'm told that I must be coming at it the wrong way because I have to hold that knowledge close to survive. When I abandon it I abandon myself. Bad things start to happen again.

Why is my understanding of the violence that happens to me up for debate? How can you debate a thing you can't even look wholly at? Who gets to abstract it, define it? I should really be asking, who decides what is too insignificant to be considered part of the definition? What violence gets to slip through the cracks, undefined as violence? Why? Why are my friends disappearing into abusive relationships like I did for most of my life? Why are my friends killing themselves? Why does no one notice?

I guess there are a lot of questions that everyone's afraid to ask.

[anamericangirl]

I'm okay with abortion up to 24 weeks as long as the pyramidal cell dendritic spines haven't formed on the neurons.

For those that don't know what that means, the pyramidal cell dendritic spines are the parts of neurons that allow the transfer of signals.

They usually don't form in a fetus until the 28th week, but they can sometimes form earlier, at which point their nervous system can actually start functioning the same way it does in humans like you and me.

Before these cell structures are formed, a fetus is incapable of thinking or feeling in any meaningful way outside of the most intrinsic responses to stimulus that don't require brain activity.

I believe that before this benchmark, the fetus is intrinsically less valuable than the mother because the fetus is literally incapable of "living" and having experiences like you and me do.

After this benchmark the fetus and mother should be considered equal, since they have the same capacity for the conscious experiences we refer to as "living".

It's simply morally wrong to consider something literally incapable of experiencing anything to be more valuable than something capable of having experiences.

First, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop copy/pasting the exact same comments you’re leaving on the stuff you reblog from me in my inbox. It’s a little bit spammy.

Secondly, that is a terrible justification for killing a child. There’s a lot we don’t know about what babies in the womb are capable of perception wise and our understanding of it changes by the decade.

But even if you are correct about what babies in the womb can or can’t think or feel, that doesn’t mean it’s ok to kill them. And it doesn’t mean their lives are worthless and not equal with more developed human beings.

It is morally reprehensible to define human worth based on how developed a person is or what they are capable of, which is exactly what you have done.

You are saying it’s ok to kill a developing child before they have reached the point in their development that you deem them valuable and equal to more developed people. That is evil.

Creating arbitrary standards of human development that you pretend define human worth and then using those pretend standards to justify killing people who haven’t yet met those points in development although you know they will if you refrain from murdering them is absolutely vile.

It’s not ok to kill children just because they are still growing.