#basically i have A Lot of feelings about them

[enkays-den]

An anonymous trans donator asked skizz if he'd say a "trans rights" for pride month and he softly shut it down saying "this channel about good times good vibes, and not anything political. I've got nothing against anything, I've driven that home."

I know it's parasocial to be disappointed that a man in his mid 40s considers queer rights a political topic and it doesn't mean I won't watch him but,,,,, I couldn't help but feel my heart sink a little as that played out live. Skizz says he wants to bring happiness, and joy, and that's literally all this person wanted. A firm, no room for doubt affirmation that Skizz sees and cares for his trans fans. I don't think he's transphobic, but I do think he has a misconception about why saying "trans rights" matters, and why it SHOULDNT be political. Pride month exists for the same reason there's a women's month, and a black history month, and a Juneteenth, and a Veteran's Day. We are lucky to be alive, and we're still fighting for our rights to this day, so we need times to just celebrate our continued existence.

And like,,,, I'm sure that he's heard a lot online but the discussion on trans rights is only political because basic human rights are being denied to trans people for no reason other than bigotry. We want basic human rights for all, for trans people, gay people, disabled people, people of color. We want the standard of care the government and its services and the businesses of our country to be better, more accessible, and affordable for EVERYONE, regardless of gender, race, political belief, religion. The fact that THAT desire is a political matter is because politicians keep denying it.

There were also members of his chat that subtlety ragged on the anonymous donator, saying it was "weird" and "cringe". I have no words for them.

I know Hermitcraft is supposed to be a safe space, and a place to get away from the world's problems, but so you know what is counteractive to that? Bigotry. Transphobia. There are so many young queer fans of hermitcraft, and to say that their existence, this one little piece of affirmation isn't allowed, is insulting and disheartening. Good vibes isn't all free speech and being neutral, it's explicitly saying "you are safe here. I see that you are in danger and you are safe."

I will also leave this video here because I think it's important to be firm about keeping bigotry out of your community, regardless if it means you get less viewers or are seen as "political"

[UPDATE: this is where my story ends in this matter]

[rotagnus]

the path you're taking. | ^_^

details: basically a SIX pile reading that focuses on the future path laid out for you. remember, nothing is set in stone. this reading will read CURRENT you's energy. it will focus on any/all significant aspects of your life. choose a pile that calls you AFTER you've looked at all of them. it can be inaccurate (or very accurate) if you choose on a whim, which is why i recommend looking at them all and following your gut instinct.

!!!!!!!!!this is a very heavy reading. please only read it if you're in a good mental health space. there are some triggers in multiple piles, so i highly suggest you DON'T READ IT AT ALL if you are EASILY TRIGGERED!!!!!!!!!

this does not have to resonate. i am a 17 year old tarot reader and by no means a professional, and this does not mean that my readings mesh with you!!

p1.

i think a lot of you may be overwhelmed with the future. many of you see that there are a lot of possibilities ahead of you; you're not quite sure whether you should choose what your heart is telling you, or what others expect of you. there might be the dilemma of choosing what would make you happy, and what would be most profitable. deep down, you know which one you should choose, even if you feel a little bit (or a lot) of regret facing the other choice. a lot of you may face some grief later on, abandonment wounds coming up as all things do catch up to us eventually, pile 1.

a lot of you can feel guilty, at first. for those of you who are planning on marrying, you are most likely going to be the one that's the asset between you and your partner. you guys have a deep glow about you and for most, your partner is happy enough to sit back and observe their beautiful, bright sun. for others? be careful not to attract a husband/spouse that will be jealous of your glow. unfortunately, a lot of men are stuck in the energy of seeing successful people, especially women, as competitors. make sure that you have friends, family, and romantic partners that want all of you, and hold no spite toward the choices that you make, and the glow that you possess.

many of you who are participating in higher education may study in a more urban area, or end up living in one. something about those places calls you and you feel drawn to them. some of you are my ladies in stemmm and congrats. i think that a lot of you are very talented individuals even though you underestimate yourself; so don't worry too deeply about being financially successful. you guys are resourceful and don't mind doing jobs as long as you're respected, which is definitely something to look out for. a lot of people can be a bit disturbed by your personality, but that is neverrr your fault. many people don't like seeing people like you win, whatever that means for you; but your glow cannot be dulled, my darling.

i think a lot of you will be traveling, which means a commute to work or perhaps changing homes/countries. while a lot of you are afraid of this, many are happy and see this as a way of finally spreading your wings. i was on the school bus today and thought of this phrase i've heard; 'never cage a bird that loves its flight'. nothing will be able to bind you down to a place you hate, pile 1. so for a lot of you who are/have been/will be in toxic relationships, you'll be able to leave. i think that a lot of you should understand that you have this deep ability to change within you. you will be abundant anywhere you go, babycakes.

p2.

i'm hearing that most of you so far have had a difficult life. a lot of you have seen the worst people around you win and be happy, especially toxic family members and parents, and you have a deep doubt of your own morals and your own nature as a person. you also have this large desire to please people and to make them love you by being an easier pill to swallow. the first part of your future will definitely be reworking these wounds if you choose to. if you don't, it can definitely cloud up any potential that you have, because a lot of opportunities are ahead of you, but you must recognize your worth while just EXISTING instead of dedicating your whole life to prove that you fit into your own concept of 'worth'.

despite this, i am hearing that the happy ending you desire is in your hands. you have a lot of control over what happens next, but you need to get rid of the illusion of a life that other people want for you. you will only be happy if you follow what YOUR PATH is. what YOUR CALLING is. not what other people want you to do. i think you're more on the artsy side of the spectrum of work; this can range from fashion work, graphic design, to even the more spiritual side of jobs. your future job prospects will be very correlated with your ability to express yourself. your voice is meant to be heard, and your art is meant to be seen. a focal lesson of your life will be learning how to deal with criticism from people, and how to keep doing what you're doing despite the voices that tell you that what you're doing is wrong.

many of you are in your 20s/30s and are still dealing with figuring what you want out; a specific message for you is that you're not too 'old' to be feeling this way. sometimes life takes a while to truly feel like it fits you. you have not met all of the versions of you that exist. many of you also have this deep desire to find peace and stability, particularly within other people. i think you'll definitely have the kind of love story where you meet someone and your intuition tells you that they're the one, even though you may doubt it a bit. for most of you, your future spouse won't necessarily be the person you expect. the version of them you have written in your head won't fit like a glove, but get this; it can be even better than you expect. a lot of you think you have high standards, and i don't necessarily agree with that...but i do think that you shouldn't hold such a specific version of a person to the light, y'know?

ooh. so the same card that fell out in the start of the reading fell out again. you guys can interpret this as you want, but for me, i think it symbolizes a completion of a cycle that you guys have been taking this lifetime to learn. a lot of growth will happen and at times it can feel like an endless circle of death, but at the end, you'll be at peace and recovering from the constant growth that you experienced. your path is not meant to be easy, pile 2. but it's meant to be rewarding.

p3.

a lot of you are going to flourish in whatever you're insecure about. many of you deal with crippling anxiety that can leave you with physical symptoms, and as you grow older, many of you will realize (or have realized) that to deal with physical problems, you have to have physical solutions. yoga, pilates, going on walks...you know what i'm talking about. many of you may have struggled with addictions or grown up with a relative that did, and this deeply affected your psyche and your ability to latch onto things without having a deep desire to completely and utterly possess them or have control of them. people pride you on your leadership and your ability to be strong, but they never seem to see the story behind it.

i think this life is meant to teach you security within yourself. a lot of you may perceive this as being alone, but the truth is, you're never truly alone. your ancestors, guides...whatever your belief system is, they're all rallying behind you. i think that this life is also meant to show you that you guys are truly divine, capable souls. you guys are great manifestors, and great people in general; hearts of gold, and you'd genuinely do anything that'd benefit the world. i think this life will definitely be returning all of your own inputs back to you, even though right now, you probably don't feel like it. i think many of you genuinely didn't think you'd make it this far, and now that you're here, you're experiencing this deep fear of 'what do i do, with all of this?' you guys have that main character vibe and many of you are genuine, unique people who others want to keep in their life, because that little nicheness you have? SOOO OBVIOUS. you guys are the stars, the night, and the moon, all in one.

you have a charisma that is so visible. many of you will be dealing with being seen, in your life, in many different ways. many of you that want fame will achieve it; those that desire to be understood will get it. you guys do have a strong-rooted fear of being vulnerable and exposing parts of yourselves to others, but as you go through this life, it'll become easier and easier to you. many will become mentor like figures to others, particularly younger souls (this can manifest as literal kids, or younger figures, such as students/pupils, coworkers, etc).

a lot of you will most likely end up with a future spouse that has gone down the same path you did. many of you already don't want to date someone who's 'perfect'; you understand that someone who's conventionally attractive, rich, etc. the perfect version that is very often idealized in media isn't someone who would necessarily benefit you at the end of the day. hair grays and skin sags, so a temporary feel-good wouldn't suit you. i do think that you guys will end up with someone who compliments you, and it'll heal a part of you that feared you would never find true joy in another person, due to your own 'complexity'.

p4.

many of you guys feel overlooked your whole life. nestled in the darkness, while others bathed in the light. many of you struggle with insecurities that were instilled on you by societal norms or older maternal/feminine figures that critiqued you unjustly due to their own fractured view of themselves. you hate doing things with other people and you'd much rather do them alone, partly because you know you can handle them, partly because you don't trust others, and partly because you don't want to burden others with your own problems. some of you struggled making friends growing up, and when you actually meet people who seem to like you, you're kind of like 'uhhhh right so this is a trick'.

a lot of you may end up unconventionally happy. NOW, before you get scared, let me explain. this may not be as dramatic as you think; for a lot of you, you may end up dating/marrying someone outside of your culture, which can break your relationship with your family (honestly...for some of you, good.). you may also start to break generational patterns and you're like 'mann i don't wanna do this work' but it'll truly make you happy in the end. unconventional happiness can be not having kids, or not marrying, OR just having a job/marrying someone with a job that's not a popular one, whatever. you guys are breaking norms simply by existing, and by the time you do, you're not going to give one flying fuck about what others think of you. you guys are gonna be like the rich aunt who has a history with the family. younger members will look up to you.

you guys are very impulsive people and don't have strong attachments to things, which can definitely be a benefit in some situations, however in others...you guys have a crippling fear of commitment because you believe everything is temporary, and this can really hurt the people around you if you never heal. while the other piles had open endings, there's two major ways i can see your life going; you decide that you want a good life for yourself and you start to heal and recover from the hellhole that was your younger years, and the other one is you giving up and starting to fall into old habits that leave you stranded in pain and agony until you get back up again. a lot of you may struggle with masculine figures in your life, sometimes you may seek out the feeling of 'safety' you had but is that really safety? many of you are strong women, who picked this pile, and i think that those of you who are struggling right now will be fine, just a small message.

you may have lost a battle, but you won the war. in the longer span of your life, you'll be happy. you will hold a lot of resentment for the system and people that failed you, and you will act as a guide to other people, similarly to the previous pile, that were stuck just like you. you guys have a deep empathy within you and you easily understand what others go through, which will make you a very understanding elder. romantically, there's two major paths for you too; fall for the same toxic patterns in people, or actually allow someone to see you. not every person that likes you is a trick!!!! many of you may meet your actual future spouse later in life. they'll probably be on the quieter side and what attracts you to them is the fact that they're deeply observant and actually seem to notice you, for WHO YOU ARE, deep inside that stubborn little shell of yours, rather than the image of yourself you try to put out.

p5.

you guys have hella trust issues and you're the kind of person who's verrryyy careful financially and in all aspects of life. you are blunt, honest, and deeply loyal to your friends and family. you guys tend to attract people who are loud and charming, and they kinda like you because you're sooo mysterious and alluring. shy smiles, and such a pretty face! your body is really pretty too. sorry for gushing 😔😔. BUT YEAH. a lot of you have this deep maternal energy within you and people notice this. you most likely will end up working/already do in a field that has to do with care. social workers, stay-at-home parent, teacher, etc. you guys are terribly warm people and a lot of animals and kids and women feel particularly safe with you. you uplift others without putting others down, and people think you're such a sweetheart. especially your smile. i don't know why i feel like i have to keep saying that but your smile is made of sugar spice and everything nice :)

many of you will end up with a quiet, peaceful life. you guys will truly take great care in making sure that your future is one of sweet treasures and moments of utter calm, rather than taking the easy way out and rushing through difficult processes. you guys possess a deep wisdom within you that allows you to be very committed to your goals and passions, which is ultimately the reason that you'll find security. your love is definitely going to be a focal point/lesson in this lifetime; it's the reason that you'll end up happy. you guys are the kind of people who forgive but don't forget, and your strong boundaries will definitely end up saving you many times in your future. you guys are also willing to communicate with others and work with them, which will prevent future arguments with coworkers and potential partners.

i think that i've already gushed a lot about your job prospects (you'll be fine, babe), but as for family life? many of you do desire companions. many have faced losses early on in life and you yearn for stability and softness, especially since you guys may have had family members that weren't able to show those qualities to you. you guys will have soo much intimate moments in your future, i swear. all those grocery shopping trips, all those movie nights, you'll get it all. i think many of you do struggle with patience but you're very hopeful people, so keep that up!! don't let time beat you up. everything happens on its own timeline, and listen, many of you already have a deep gut feeling that you'll end up happy, so...keep those dreams. keep your chin up. you know who you are, at the end of the day. it's never worth giving up on looking for that romcom love.

you'll end up living a long life, full of interesting moments. i think a lot of you will end up keeping a collection of journals, poems, scrapbooks, etc. that you'll end up passing onto your kids/or other younger members. you guys will truly be a spotlight for others, and they'll look to your life and your lineage for reassurance that a life of miracles and softness is truly possible. my last bit of advice for you is to never lose your belief in humanity. it is what has gotten you this far, and it'll be very useful for you later on. but also, remember that just because you're a sweetheart, doesn't mean it's your responsibility to deal with other people's bullshit. thank youuu <3

p6.

woww you guys have a deep richness inside of you. very dense with goodness, LMAO. always giving. but seriously, you guys are DOGGEDLY loyal and would do anything for your heart. a lot of you faced several problems early on; miniature adults who faced adversities way earlier than they should have. many had to act as a parent. some as an older sibling. eldest daughters here?!?! youngest daughters that ended up having to support the parents?!?! hiii. you guys feel indebted to the world, as if you have to earn something back. you guys have a deep sense of justice and people probably told you 'you should be a lawyer' before, although it wasn't always necessarily meant nicely. people try to give you backhanded compliments due to jealousy or insecurity. you guys genuinely see the good in others and it feels sooo good to be loved by you. you guys are very tender with your specific people, and others feel so graced that you let your guard up. 'i only have eyes for you'.

many of you will be intensely dedicated to your job, passion, or family. you guys don't just have a deep sense of loyalty for people, but also for other things. you guys are good, conscientious workers, and you see light in everything. but you guys also aren't afraid to stand up for what's right. you bear a lot of weight on your back. many will end up working in higher-end positions because of your dedication and your ambition. you guys deal with a similar problem that one of the other piles had; feeling like you're only good because of your achievements, not because of your existence. your optimism and creativity will carry you far, as well as your general acceptance of other people, even though they might be different from you. you have an understanding that not everyone (including you) had it easy growing up, and you feel drawn to people who have experienced suffering early on. you used to have a savior complex, but for most of you, this died away/will die away because you do recognize that you're not meant to save others, that it's their own path to heal, just like you did. you guys are willing to grow and are very determined to become a better, stronger person, not lingering in self-destructive behaviors or unhealthy connections.

your future spouse will be a figure that you yearned for your whole life. they'll see you as someone almost mystical, at first. very drawn to you, particularly to your physical looks; not just your beauty, but the hint of pain under your eyes. they will probably be someone who suffered but in the other way that you did, and deep conversations are likely. many may try to 'save' you but end up realizing you're already healed, and you can be a catalyst for change for a lot of them. either way, you'll end up in a healthy relationship, i think. it'll be a reward for not giving up, and choosing to be alone rather than to be stuck with someone who's toxic as hell. your intuition will lead you here, as well as your judgement of others who you know would end up breaking you or destroying you. you guys will end up being the powerhouse of your surroundings, and you guys would be great mothers/nurturers due to your ability to nourish others. you guys accept that life is but a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, and you are able to provide a lot of comfort to others. your future spouse will probably be similar, and you two will oftentimes be the only pairs of arms that holds the other, as primarily, you both have been givers your whole life.

you'll struggle with a lot of imposter syndrome in your life, because of the sacrifices you made. however, you will recognize that you truly deserve the goodness in your life. your whole path will be made of learning, and although you may get tired of constantly growing, you will always have the ability to bask in the arms of loved ones. you will end up making great, lifelong friends--you will always be progressing, and you will forge a life that accustoms you wholeheartedly. i would not have any doubt for you, at all, darling. you will end up in a bustling environment, for the most part, but you'll have your sweet moments; resting near your future spouse, or listening to music and dancing in your room. you'll be fine.

[sqgeism]

ive been reading too many domestic fics lately

sage...*gets on knees and bows head in utmost reverence*

domesticity with the amphoreus men. A NORMAL DAY IN THE LIFE. THERE'S TOO MUCH ANGST. MAKE THE PAIN GO AWAY I BEG OF THEE.

lots of love,

ri.

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 i don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

🍒 — ᥫ᭡ i just wanna be a part of your family . the world is kinder when i close my eyes and pretend all of it isn't on fire.

love mail — ⨾ hiii ri anaxa's #1 dove fr 👰‍♂️ i stopped writing vamp anaxa to LOCK IN. no more angst for oomfs.. only happiness 🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ (lying) rly quick sorry ri ily 🥀

anaxagoras isn't domestic.

he isn't domestic when he wakes up a little earlier than you, making sure to kiss your forehead before getting out of bed, moving the alarm you set to five more minutes since you don't want to get up too early.

surely, it isn't domestic when he makes you your preferred beverage in the morning—or a different breakfast each time for you to try. or when he had brought home your favorite snacks on the way home from the academy for you to eat later when he's gone. not at all, it's just all too sweet for the prickly professor.

and when he serves you breakfast in bed, turning off the alarm he had adjusted to instead wake you with loving kisses to your face, it isn't supposed to be interpreted as an intimate gesture, no way. "morning." anaxa whispers softly, the faintest smile gracing his lips as he watches your eyelids slowly flutter open. titan, your eyes had to be inspired by the finest of jewels when the gods were making you. simply gorgeous.

anaxa tries to make mornings as special as possible, knowing he'll be gone for hours once he walks through that door and comes home late again, to his dismay. he'd take care of you all throughout the day if he could.

don't.. don't call it domestic though.

it isn't.

anaxa will do anything but call it that </3

to say mydei yearned—that he ached and bled for this life—is an understatement.

titan forbid a man wants to scream about how much he loves his partner and the life they have together, that he loves waking up to you playing with his hair or tracing his marks. it's then followed by his home gym routine, and if you choose to join him or not—he hopes you at least stay.

if you do, he likes to talk about health and different routines he wants to try and if you're interested. if not, he likes it if you stick around and do your own thing. maybe read or some work? but stay close by, please, you're his motivation.

all meals are to be cooked by prince of castrum kremnos and prince of castum kremnos only, but if you'd like for takeout or a fancy restaurant (or he made plans), he's happy to do so! but cooking is a biiig love language for him, definitely used it to impress your friends and family. it makes him feel like a little boy getting praised whenever you tell him that your family wants him to cook something for them, he's just the happiest!

and kids, oh they're the dream. but he doesn't mean they have to be human kids, pets work too! they're basically kids, no? he just.. he wants to care for something, someone. he loves you so much but he also has so much love to give to the world too </3 agh hes such a sweetheart im sorry

he loves you because you're his last, he knows it. youre his heart and soul and he's surrendered every part of his being to you. his heartbeat is the same as your laughter and his eyes can only ever reflect you. he hopes he can give back even just a fraction of all the happiness you make him feel.

phainon is so painfully enamored with his domestic life he completely forgets he's supposed to be a warrior sometimes.

he thinks he's the luckiest man in the universe to see you when you just wake up, when you're still drowsy and trying to snuggle into his chest further, not wanting to get up.. an absolute goner. he's a 'weak' man (for you), all he needs is your sweet words to tell him to do something and he's all yours.

he likes it when you take care of him, considering how hard he works. phainon is a provider at heart but to be dote on is very very nice, who says no to kisses and sweet words from their angel anyway? absolutely not phainon. he'll HAPPILY take your attention away from the world, not like it needs it. the world has him, and he has you.

you're the one thing he doesn't have to share, to sacrifice (HOPEFULLY!!!!), and he doesn't ever want to lose sight of that fact. that no matter how much he goes through, he has someone waiting for him back at home. and they'll be expecting his arms around him before they sleep, whispering sweet nothings and look forward to waking up to have it all to themselves all over again.

and maybe that's why you two work so well together, the fact that you'll only ever be selfish with each other.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[gojover]

[2:56 a.m.] ⋆ gojo satoru knows you have a thing for his fingers.

he’s not subtle about it, either. never has been. not when he catches you staring during movie nights, drumming those absurdly long digits against the bowl of popcorn like he’s trying to be annoying (and succeeding). not when he tilts your chin up with just two knuckles, smug because he knows it drives you insane. 

and definitely not now—when it’s nearly three in the morning and you’re both in the kitchen, half-awake, standing barefoot on the cold tile while he brandishes a can of whipped cream.

you squint at him. “are you seriously doing this again?”

“what, indulging in life’s simple pleasures?” he says, lifting the can with his head cocked to a side.

you watch him spray a generous swirl of whipped cream directly onto the pad of his index finger and then stick it in his mouth with exaggerated bliss.

“jesus,” you mutter.

he grins around it, withdrawing his finger with an audible pop. “you say that, but your eyes are glued to my hand.”

“yeah, ‘cause that’s disgusting,” you say.

“disgustingly hot, you mean.”

you toss a dish towel at his face. he catches it with one hand, twirling it around his wrist. 

“you’re unbearable,” you tell him primly, turning to the fridge to mask the way your cheeks burn. “and you’ve had, what, three hours of sleep in two days? maybe less?”

“whipped cream is basically therapy at this point,” satoru says. “i’ve got everything i need to feel better. sugar, company, and the deeply gratifying knowledge that you are, in fact, thinking about my fingers.”

“i’m thinking of breaking them.”

“still thinking of them.”

you grab a carton of milk and turn back around. satoru reaches behind you for the cupboard—purposefully too close, arm brushing against yours—and grabs a mug. you don’t move, though you really should. your body’s too warm, and your brain’s too slow, and he’s too… him.

“you’re lying,” he says, bringing his arm back down. “you could’ve broken my fingers just then.”

you let out a disbelieving laugh. “i’m this close to pouring this milk over your head.”

“this close?” he asks, holding up his thumb and pointer finger with a sliver of space between them.

you swat at his hand without thinking. he catches your wrist mid-air, self-satisfied as always, but instead of letting go, his fingers curl around your pulse point.

“satoru—” 

“yeah?”

“you’re right,” you whisper. “i do like your fingers a lot.”

his grin returns. “hah! see, i knew—”

you elbow him in the stomach before he can finish his sentence. he wheezes in pain, but follows you back to the bedroom anyway.

[melercies]

One Bed Trope [Supports]

Pairing(s): Elliot, Dusekkar, Builderman & Taph

Author's Note: Please let me know if I mischaracterized anyone. I was practically fighting for my life trying to write for these guys. It was fun to write them, but trying to rhyme with Dusekkar made me lose brain cells every second. Survivalists are next. Likes, reposts, and comments are highly appreciated! <3

For some unknown reason, after a brutal round, you find yourself standing in front of your cabin. Gone and demolished for what reason? You don’t know, and frankly, I don’t either, but here we are! Thanks a lot, Spectre. All that was left was the pathetic remains of the foundation, some twisted wood still crackling with dying embers. Just great. You’re utterly exhausted, drained physically and mentally, as you wonder where you’re going to sleep. Out in the cold? Absolutely not, especially not with the repetitive cycle of hell that you have to go through daily. At least at the end of the day, you need to find yourself in comfort. So, with really no other option, you turn and walk yourself over to a fellow neighbor’s cabin. Sure, it was embarrassing, but it’s better than sleeping outside in the cold. 

You couldn’t care less as to who you were knocking, feeling too tired to even think properly. You just needed a place that isn’t destroyed to get some sleep, especially for tomorrow. It takes a moment or two until the door opens, revealing the individual.

Elliot:

You’re barely standing by the time you get to the nearest cabin, the smell of smoke still clung to your clothes, and the ruins of your shelter fresh in your mind. Spectre really did a number this time. You raise your hand and knock, only half expecting whoever was within their cabin to be there.

There’s the sound of muffled clutter before the door swings open.

“Whoa—!” Elliot blurts out. His visor is tilted slightly askew, eyes wide as he takes in your soot-smudged state before his expression softened into that classic worried Elliot look. “Are you okay?! What happened—no, wait, don’t answer that yet—come in, come in.”

You’re too tired to explain much beyond the words: “Spectre. Cabin’s gone. Burned down.”

Elliot ushers you in like a panicked restaurant host. “Okay, yeah. That’s… awful. You should’ve come sooner, I—I can make something warm, I’ve got pizza. Or, uh, water? You’re not hurt, are you?” He’s already moving around the room, grabbing mismatched things, tripping slightly over a pizza box, and muttering, “Smooth, Elliot. Real smooth.”

The moment you step inside, he’s already clearing a spot for you to sit down. “Sorry about the mess! I was reorganizing my stuff—uh, gear. Same thing, sorta.”

His cabin feels…weirdly cozy, even if it’s a little messy. Warm light glows from an old camping lantern, and the entire place smells faintly like garlic bread. Piles of rolled-up maps, energy drinks, empty pizza boxes, and extra red-colored visors clutter the corners. Still, it’s homey. Lived-in. Human, especially in a place like this.

You clock the single bed instantly. Elliot follows your gaze before scratching the back of his neck, trying not to meet your eyes.

“I, uh… I’ve got another blanket? And a couple of pillows. And I can totally take the floor if—”

You cut him off. “No need. We can share.”

That seems to give him a moment to process. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, I mean—I don’t snore or anything. I think. Probably.” 

He approaches the bed as he spends the next few minutes nervously straightening the bed, fluffing the pillow twice before realizing you just want to lie down already. When the lights are finally off, you expect him to roll over and go quiet.

But he doesn’t.

“…Hey,” he whispers after a while. “I know this place sucks. Like, it's basically hell. But you’re not alone, okay? I’ve got you.”

Hearing such words of reassurance and comfort. It’s a practical contradiction in this repeated cycle of survival that’s filled with constant bloodshed, but it’s enough. Everyone needs it as of right now.

A moment of silence passes after his words. Then you hear the unmistakable crinkle of foil nearby.

“…Also. I saved a slice.”

You smile faintly, not even looking, just reaching back until your hand touches warm pizza. And honestly? Maybe this night wasn’t all that bad.

Dusekkar:

The ruins of your cabin smolder in the distance, blackened wood hissing under the slow creep of night. The Spectre’s chaos had left nothing behind. Perfect. Let’s hope the Spectre had a good laugh about it. With exhaustion dragging limbs like weights and frost biting through your clothes, you approach the one cabin with a flickering lantern still glowing in the window. You barely think about whose cabin you’re standing in front of, only that it’s intact and has a door that might lead to warmth.

You knock once. Twice. Then, pause. You’re about to leave, thinking the individual has long gone to slumber or isn’t in the mood to converse with anyone, when it creaks open.

Standing in the doorway is Dusekkar.

His antlers cast jagged shadows behind him, robes rustling. The orange fire inside his dark blue pumpkin head flickers once as the firelight casts strange glyphs across the inside of his pumpkin head, and then he speaks, voice like a lantern’s flame—soft, warm, and ancient:

“A visitor calls on ashen breath,

Cold and burnt from the trial’s death,

Spectre’s rage, your home undone…

Rest you seek, until the next sun?”

Too tired to even make sense of the rhyme, you just nod. “I don't care where I sleep. I just rather…not freeze out here.”

Dusekkar doesn’t move for a second — simply studying you with that eternal, flickering stare. Then he steps aside, gesturing with the tip of his staff. You cross the threshold.

The interior is serene—more of a shrine than a home. Glowing runes shimmer along the walls, and the air carries a subtle scent of smoke and lavender. Deeper inside the cabin, shelves and tables are softly illuminated by flickering blue candles. Nearby, a single bed is tucked carefully beside a stack of scrolls and ancient-looking books that probably seem to have existed long before Telamon.

“There’s only one bed,” you mutter. “Of course there is.”

Dusekkar tilts their head, seemingly hearing what you’ve said. His staff clicks softly against the floor as they move to stir the fire. 

“This realm allows what fate permits. One bed, one soul. The tale now fits.”

He motions you toward it but makes no move to lie down himself. Instead, they settle cross-legged in the corner of the room, staff resting across their lap.

You frown. “Aren’t you going to sleep too?”

“I dream while waking—sleep, I lend. The fire burns for you, my friend.”

He gently taps his staff against the wooden wall — two knocks, pause, then one. A steady rhythm.

“A signal known, a warding spell, To shield your mind where shadows dwell. So sleep, my friend, while fire glows — And when you wake, we’ll strike our foes.”

You don’t understand everything he says. But the warmth from the fire, the eerie calm of the room, and the sense that he truly is watching over you — it’s enough. You feel protected, strangely.

Although there’s also a strange comfort in the way he speaks. 

You lie down, letting the warmth soak into your skin as the fire crackles beside you, eyes growing heavy. Just as sleep begins to take you, you hear his voice again — quieter this time, almost a lullaby:

“The bed is small, but dreams are wide — And in this cabin, you’re safe inside.”

Builderman:

Honestly, you barely remember dragging your feet back toward where your cabin once stood— a hollow, scorched impression in the natural ground now. Smoke clings to the ruins like a bitter memory. There’s nothing left. The Spectre could’ve done it out of their enjoyment or anger. Who knows?

You stand there for a while, just staring at the ash until the cold sets into your bones like ice.

There’s no time to feel sorry for yourself. Tomorrow is just another day, and the next round will come like clockwork. You won’t survive it if you’re not half-frozen and unrested.

You don’t think — you just walk. Not toward anyone in particular. Your mind’s too fogged, your legs too tired.

By the time you approach a door, knocking once, twice, then lean your head against the doorframe, eyes half-closed. You expect silence.

Instead, the door clicks open.

Builderman stands there, gray-skinned and underslept, hoodie slightly ruffled, his Turbo Builders Club hat tilted just a bit from where he’s probably been dragging his hands through his hair in stress. His default expression — somewhere between disappointed and exhausted. Not at you. At the world. This situation. At the weight he’s been carrying for years.

“...Cabin’s gone?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

You nod.

“...You look like hell,” he mutters. “Get in.”

The cabin is exactly what you’d expect — minimalistic, neat, and functional. There are workbenches tucked in the corners, plans scattered across the desk, and blueprints pinned with bent nails to the wall. A half-assembled generator lies in pieces on the floor, half-finished as if he’d given up mid-build. The air smells like solder and printer paper.

And there it is.

In all its glory.

The one bed.

You eye it, then glance back at Builderman. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a backup plan for this, too?”

He exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair before slumping against the wall. “I’ll take the floor. You’ve done enough rounds. I can’t afford to have you limping tomorrow.”

You scoff. “You think I’m gonna let the founder of Roblox sleep on the floor?”

He frowns. “That title doesn’t mean much anymore. Besides, it’s not like I sleep much.”

But later, when the fire burns low and the weight of the day finally pulls you down, you find Builderman sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing his hoodie, staring into the firelight with a thousand-yard stare.

You open one eye. “You’re gonna break your back sitting like that.”

He huffs, lips twitching like he might laugh. “I’ve built buildings and worlds from nothing. I’ll survive a night with poor posture.”

Silence before he speaks again.

“Just take the bed. I’ll be up most of the night anyway.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off with a look — the same one he gives Shedletsky when he’s about to do something stupid.

“Don’t argue. I’ve made worse sacrifices.”

So you shut your mouth, brain too exhausted to even think of sentences to say.

The sheets are surprisingly warm. Not soft, exactly, but warm — and that’s enough to suffice. Builderman returns to the desk by the window, scribbling notes, calculations, or even plans by lantern light. You watch him from under the blanket as your eyelids grow heavier.

But eventually, the cold wears him down. With a muttered “Scoot,” he lies beside you, stiff as a board, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling.

You both lie there in silence for a while — until his voice breaks the quiet, barely above a whisper:

“We’ll rebuild it. Your cabin. I’ll help you design it.”

You don’t respond at first — you’re already fading into sleep — but the corner of your mouth tugs up.

“Thanks… Boss.”

He grunts. “Don’t call me that.”

But the blanket shifts slightly more in your direction anyway. Just enough to share.

Taph:

You’re so tired that you barely feel your feet dragging through the grass. The sky is a heavy black curtain above you, and the burnt-out remains of your cabin still glow behind you like the dying embers of a failed promise.

Thanks, Spectre.

You don’t know whose cabin you’re knocking on. You’re too cold, too exhausted, and clearly, too far past the point of caring. You just need four walls and a roof.

The door opens without a word. No quick movement, no startled reaction.

Taph stands there.

His hood cast his face in deep shadow, the yellow runic lines across his robes faintly glowing under the moonlight. His bandit mask concealed any chance of reading his expression. Not that it mattered. He’d never said a word anyway.

Still, the meaning in his stillness was clear: What happened?

You gestured vaguely behind you. “Spectre. No cabin. No roof. Just…fire.”

He tilted his head slightly, then stepped aside. That’s an invitation enough.

Inside, Taph’s cabin smelled of gunpowder and old books. Dim lanterns flickered overhead, illuminating his intricate setup; trap schematics, disassembled mechanisms, spare wires, and trip lines hung with precision across the workbenches. And off to the side, one surprisingly neat bed, tucked into the corner.

Just one.

Your shoulders sag as Taph watches.

“Only one bed,” you mutter aloud. “Of course.”

Taph looks at you briefly. Then he gestures, a two-finger flick toward the bed.

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? Are you okay with that?”

He pauses, then nods once. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” you say quietly, a little unsure. 

He slowly shakes his head. 

You sigh, too drained to argue.

The mask reveals nothing, but the gesture itself is calm from Taph. It’s less about ‘you owe me’ and more ‘you’ve been through enough.’ You found yourself smiling a little at the comforting gesture.

You approach and ease down onto the edge of the bed, removing your gear. The bed is simple: wool blanket, faint scent of iron and dust, but undeniably warmer than the outside.

Taph joins you a moment later, setting down a quiet clinking of traps and parts. He lies back against the wall beside you, arms resting on his lower half. Still saying nothing. Just watching the window, the horizon, the stars beyond the fog. His breathing is soft, nearly inaudible.

Even in his presence, there’s something watchful about the air. You’re used to survivors speaking, venting, even shouting during rounds. But Taph is different.

In the quiet, your voice slips out.

“You always wear that hood, even to sleep?”

He doesn’t move.

But eventually… a single nod.

You chuckle faintly. “Figures.”

Stillness.

Then, you feel something — not a hand, not a gesture, but a subtle shift in the mattress. Just enough for your weight to balance more evenly. 

You stare up at the ceiling. The wind howls outside.

“...Do you ever wonder if we’ll make it out of this for good?”

He doesn’t answer with words.

Instead, he reaches out slowly, signing towards you.

“I hope so. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

You watch his gloved hand linger for a second before resting. No words. Just that.

Hope in a situation like this.

It was enough. For now.

[delicatefury]

Oh, honey, no.

Not only is that not true, but thinking like that is just not healthy. It also creates a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Look. I’m in my mid-thirties. I don’t think like that. I can’t think like that. The last time I thought like that I was in my early twenties and in the middle of the most severe depression of my life. My body basically started to shut down, it was that bad.

You know what helped get me out of it? My niece was born. Summer that year was gorgeous. I stumbled across a stream swarming with dragonflies while on a walk. I raised a bunny. I completed a 24-hour comic that I still quite like. My parents adopted a dog. I discovered so many new songs. Despite my brain being committed to being miserable, good things kept happening. And I began to expect them.

This year, over a decade later, I hatched chicks and every weekend I visit them at my parents’ farm. The peach trees I planted 3 years ago are bearing fruit. My dogs get compliments on our walks for how well-behaved and sweet they are. The baristas at the coffee shop know my name. That same niece is competing in the junior olympics. Today rain is falling and it smells like petrichor outside. The rain will help my roses bloom.

The problem is you’re thinking too large, too big, too grand in scope. Humans aren’t made to live like that. Very few can handle it. The rest of us? We can look for the good and fix the bad within arm’s reach. We can focus on making progress and goodness where we can see and touch it. So stop worrying about far off things all the time, whether the distance is in time or in space. Doing so will just keep you miserable and prevent you from seeing what’s in front of you.

You don’t think good things will happen? It’s happening right here and right now! Go outside, stand on the sidewalk, and look at the grass by your feet. Do you see the wood sorrel blooming? The clover? Around here we get henpin and deadnettle too. You can pick their flowers from the stem and if you see a drop at the end, that’s nectar! Have a taste, it’s sweet. If you sit and watch for a few minutes you’ll see honey bees! Moths! Butterflies! Stay quiet and a few minutes more you’ll hear birdsong. Such good things outside your door.

Even if you live by a busy road, even if you think you’re surrounded by concrete and ugliness, you’ll still see and hear these things. Take a walk and look, really look, at what’s around you. You’ll see evidence of children playing, of families. You’ll spot a stray cat or a wild bunny, squirrels, pigeons and doves. Crows and ravens. There’s a small plant growing in the crack of a wall. A bird taking a bath in a puddle.

Cats’ fur is still soft and their purrs are loud. Dog tails wag so hard with love and happiness they can sprain them!

You can expect good things. You should! But you need to recalibrate where you’re looking and refocus your expectations.

And I get that it can be hard to get to that point. But there’s a song lyric that’s been sticking with me a lot lately. “We keep doing these things not because they’re guaranteed to make us feel good. But because failing to do them? Guaranteed to make us feel bad.” (Good Morning Sunshine by the Narcissist Cookbook).

So. Stop watching the news. Get off line. They make their money in negativity. And start looking out your window. Start existing where you are. Maybe you won’t start expecting good things right away, but you’ll stop expecting things to always get worse.

[littledes1re]

Hi!!! Just wanted to say I love all your stories!!! Your Amazing! I have pretty bad anxiety and I was wondering if you could do Joel and dealing with his girl with this and how he’d get her to relax and realize she wasn’t in any danger?? If not totally ok . Thank you❤️❤️❤️

It‘s okey.

Pairing: Joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: Joels girl has very bad anxiety and this is how he deals with them.

Warnings: Anxiety, mild angst, age gap (only if you want lol), lots of fluff, Joel is a softie

Anxiety was one hell of a thing. Constantly feeling your heartbeat in your ears, not knowing wether you are dying or having a heart attack, being paranoid about the smallest things—and the overwhelming fear of…basically nothing.

In these, stressful and unpredictable moments, you are glad that you have your boyfriend.

Joel knew you like the back of his hand. Noticing the smallest changes in your voice and your demeanour. The way your leg starts to tap on the floor, your body slightly shaking—warm but also having goosebumps. Your sweet voice having a tint of shakiness, your breathing coming in short and the way you chest rises and falls is noticeable.

He does everything he can to help you unwind. When you first started dating, he was overwhelmed—watching you sit there, breath quick and uneven, like the weight of the world was pressing down on you. The flood of anxious questions, the raw vulnerability—it caught him off guard. But over time, he learned. He caught up, understood what you needed, how to be there for you. He realized how much strength it takes to navigate your world, and he made it his mission to make it a little easier. And he always did.

„Y‘want a tea, baby?“ he asks you softly, trying his best that his voice stays calm, knowing that if he is calm—you are calm.

„Mhm—I don‘t know.“

He makes the tea anyway.

„Let‘s see what we can watch yea?“

Occupying you is the best and most effective way. Watching something you love on TV, reading to you, starting to do dumb jokes and talk about whatever is in his mind right now.

„S‘right. You are okey.“ he whispers, taking you into his arms, hugging you and caressing your back and hair only if it‘s too much for you.

If you feel like crying, you can bury your head into his chest and let it all out.

Joel also knows that sometimes words aren't enough—sometimes it's about being there, a solid presence to lay your head on. His warmth seeps into your skin as he holds you close, his fingers always tracing slow, soothing patterns along your back.

"You're safe," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I'm right here."

He doesn’t rush you. If the weight in your chest needs time to loosen, he lets it. If silence is what comforts you, he offers it, his steady breathing syncing with yours in an unspoken rhythm.

Eventually, he coaxes you into taking a sip of tea, warm and fragrant, just the way you like it.

He grins as he watches you take that first sip.

“There she is,” he says, his eyes full of love, pride—like you've conquered something huge. Because you have. And every time, he's there to remind you that you‘re never alone in it.

Thank you for your sweet words!! You are also amazing and I hope you like this!!!

[dao-afterdark]

warning(s): non-consensual voyeurism, mentions of masturbation, slight feminization (? even tho oc is technically genderfluid), anal fingering, slight forbidden romance, slight age gap, scent kink, reader is half korean and technically not meant to be depicted as fair skinned, top!m!reader.

notes: ages: joon-woo (28), reader (27), sung-ho (25), seong-jin (24), hyun shik (23) || i have fallen SO HARD.. for stray kids and even ateez slightly (mfking SEONGHWA bby😩😩), and honestly danny’s (aka sooniebby) works Rockstar and Maknae (definitely give them a read) also have inspired me to do this. he’s also helped me with the group’s name, very much appreciated the help🙏🏼🙏🏼. don’t be too harsh on me y’all, i’m new into this space and i know how feral mfs can be. anyways haha enjoy this lil concept! MINORS DNI! HAVE YOUR AGE IN BIO!

tagz 🏷️: @sooniebby

You were blessed to be selected by Hwang Joon-woo after being stuck as a trainee for so long, watching every friend you made leave and blossom without you in stardom. You ticked a lot of the box's companies hunted for, but due to Korea’s set beauty standards, it was one of the reasons why they were hesitant to take someone who was not fully Korean…

Dreams you’ve held onto since you were a young were grower bleaker and bleaker, but thankfully, Joon-woo, the talented leader of the up-and-coming group, Love Fever, would see potential in you, and chose you to be a part of his group.

You’re not ashamed to admit that you sobbed like a baby that day.

Your position in the group was that you were basically Joon-woo’s second in command since you’re younger than him, and Joon-woo was relieved to finally have someone closer to his age to help shoulder some of the responsibility, and just be able to connect with someone better.

Joon-woo, although a very capable and dedicated leader, can be hard to deal with at times. He’s a perfectionist and a bit of a control freak, but overall you understand his burdens.

The industry is a fighting ring and Joon-woo just wanted to keep the group afloat.

You were welcomed with warm, and enthusiastic glee by your maknaes, and with your combined creativity, Love Fever began to shoot even further into the limitless stars.

But life is not without its hurdles.

Soon you find yourself unexpectedly growing attracted to one of your beloved maknaes, Hwang Sung-Ho, also known as Sungie or Sunnie amongst friends and fans, and Joon-woo’s younger brother.

Sung-Ho truly was blessed with good looks and talent. He was bright like the sun, charismatic, and was passionate about his craft as an artist.

It’s not exactly love, definitely lust, but maybe a pinch of feelings, and you’re cautious of all your thoughts when it comes to Sung-Ho. You respect him and his brother, and well, you have no clue if he’s even into guys.

Unfortunately for your group though- and Joon-woo even agreed with the rule- your group was not allowed to date or have hookups, especially since your first concept is being specific types of boyfriends to your fans.

Tragic, but you can deal.

So, you kept your head down, focusing on pushing out lovestruck lyrics, trained and built your body how the company wanted, and pushed your attraction down, becoming well acquainted with your hand, your own imagination, or what’s out on the web.

You were doing fine until you discovered a dirty little secret.

It was an accident.

You had slept in since you were up late with Joon-woo at the studio going over various lyrics and beats. The residence was quiet, Joon-woo at the gym, and Hyun Shik and Seong-Jin out for breakfast and coffee; you assumed Sung-Ho was also with them as the three were practically glued to each other’s sides.

After completing your little morning routine with washing your face, brushing your teeth, and fixing your hair, you were prepared to get a small bite from the kitchen when you heard a sound of distress, or so you thought.

It became very apparent that the sound wasn’t of distress, but of delight, coming straight from Sung-Ho’s room…

Morally, you should’ve just walked away and forgotten about it, but your dick won the electoral vote. So, from your place at the crack of the door, your pupils swallow your irises at the sight of Sung-Ho writhing around on his bed, your shirt, that you let him borrow the night before, adorned his frame, his legs and thighs hugged by cutesy lace thigh highs, something that has your heart racing and doing no favors for your growing hunger.

His ass greedily clenched around the three fingers he’s got thrusted inside, and his cock- which to no surprise was beautiful- was leaking and twitching against his abdomen.

A bit of drool slipped from your lips, but you weren’t focused on that, still fixated on the lewd sight that had your cock stirring.

And it gets better- or worst- however you want to see it.

"Hyung...H-Hyung,” Sung-Ho whimpers, his legs spreading even more without shame, believing he was getting off in peace. His back arches and he fists the wrinkled shirt, pressing it into his nose and inhaling deeply. “Mmh.. S’not enough,” he pants. “Hyung, I want you to fuck me soo bad...!”

Oh, you so wanted to give him what he desired. Fuck him so good that he wouldn’t be able to dance or sing properly for a good bit. But you hold yourself back and stored this tidbit of information for later.

Maybe you can work something out. He clearly wants you too, but you shouldn’t be too hasty—.

Your phone buzzes to life in your shorts.

᭄᭡ decor credits to: @/beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, & cafekitsune

[anothermariamorales]

Years ago I wanted lip filler. It wasn't as common back then so it didn't feel like it was everywhere. Really glad I didn't though, because I feel like keeping MY face, my features as I inherited them, is an act of rebellion these days. It's not like dysphoria for me, it's just vanity and comparison and feeling like I need an advantage to look prettier to give me further advantages in life.

And now it's like a med spa arms race with everyone "enhancing" their features and either lying about it or acting like it is basic grooming.

I volunteered at SXSW this year and I mostly saw educational or film/tv sessions, but I was put into one session on the beauty track and I haven't been the same since.

I looked out at the crowd and realized the audience of mostly women all pretty much had the same face. I know we've gotten used to seeing Instagram face on, well, Instagram, but the rate at which we encounter those faces in real life is a lot lower than when we're scrolling. Those feeds are not representative of our experiences in the world, where we still encounter some variety and features beyond the limitations of an inoffensive mathematical average. This crowd, however, was also not a representative sample and seeing it in person felt wrong. I was in the uncanny valley and my moderate lips felt thin, my nose felt bulbous, and I listened to the speakers talk about their beauty products that would make us, in the audience, more beautiful with less effort while upholding our values and representing our needs.

Film and TV aren't much better. The crowds at SXSW were mostly people who worked out of sight of the camera and public scrutiny. It's more acceptable to be unattractive because it's not your job to be looked at.

However, I've noticed every time I'm at an event or function for the film and tv industry, everyone is so god damn hot. Pretty privilege is probably more potent in industries where people in power are surrounded by professionally attractive people all the time.

It's pretty much expected for talent to prioritize their looks, to get the treatments and the surgeries as subtly as possible so they can continue competing with the new talent who never had an awkward phase. We look at actors who came up in the 90s and were held up as standards of beauty and applaud them when they delay aging, saying "wow they still look great, what a timeless beauty!" We don't see the irony that even in their "prime" (don't get me started on that phrase) they wouldn't hold up to the current expectations because their features were a little too different, too imperfect, too organic. To top it off, they're getting worse at emoting because their faces can't move naturally anymore. Beautiful in still photography, but film is not a still medium. Still, the aesthetics are being prioritized over the performance.

When it comes to media, low and no-budget indie are my last safe haven. I love watching the talent, who look like people you see all the time. When they're beautiful, they're beautiful in the way that your school crush was. Not perfect, but it doesn't matter because you're attached to them anyway. Sometimes they're not beautiful and it's even better because most people aren't A-list level beauties. I'm not saying beautiful people can't be interesting but, if they are famous as a hot A-lister, they are literally an exceptional beauty and we need more stories that are representative of us.

If we only ever see beauty that takes extraordinary effort or money and we compare ourselves to that, it's going to limit us. We're going to divert our energy and resources to keep up with it or feel bad because we can't keep up with it. Think of all the things we could do if we didn't divert those resources to keep up appearances. All we could do if we weren't too self-conscious or afraid of comparison from brutal audiences to put ourselves out there. We have plenty of people who can portray a story, but we're going to have a shortage of stories worth portraying.

Normalize ugliness. Normalize imperfection. It's so liberating not just for yourself but for everyone who witnesses your refusal to hold yourself back because you're not "pretty enough" to be comfortable with being observed.

We're here to live a life for ourselves. Let the actors worry about the audience.

it is so important that you are a little bit ugly. please get comfortable with having unplucked eyebrows and nonexistent jawlines and wrinkles. let your blue hair grow out into an uneven pale green and your clothes be old and mend them and modify them until they’re unique to you. wear lipstick which doesnt compliment your skintone and mismatched outfits which went out of fashion 5 years ago. be a little bit too loud and a little bit too passionate and as weird as you can be because oh my god there is nothing more disturbing to me than perfection. beauty is manufactured and sold to us and you need to realise that you are a fucking animal to live a joyful life I am so serious. you cant obsess over aesthetics forever please just live messily and make your body your home however you please.

if you dont do it for you, do it for all the teenagers who will see u in the street and know that they are not obligated to be attractive

[basket-of-radiants]

Why were you so disappointed by Rhythm of War?

This has been sitting in my askbox for years. I've taken several cracks at answering, only to get frustrated with the subject matter and burn myself out every time. I didn't like Rhythm of War. More than that, I didn't like it in a way that tainted my enjoyment of the entire series. And despite what it may seem, I don't actually enjoy discussing things which I don't like. I always want to talk from a place of good faith. Which is why now that my feelings towards the series are a little more positive, I think I can finally answer this.

I'm going to try to stay away from specific plotpoints and story beats for this post, because my goal isn't to nitpick (if for no other reason than it would take a week to write this post), I'm just looking to talk about my overall impressions. I think that might mean the only spoilers here will be structural? idk, if you haven't read Rhythm of War yourself then you should probably do that before looking for other people's opinions anyway. 

I liked Way of Kings when I first read it. I didn't love it at the time, but I liked it. Certainly enough to keep reading once I'd finished. One thing that made me a bit uncomfy, however, was the war against the Parshendi. They were this unknowable enemy which the book was not interested in knowing. An inhuman army. Their main purpose was to kill Kaladin's friends, or else be killed by Dalinar's armies. And yet the Parshendi, and the parshmen in the form of Shen, did show hints of personhood. And so it bothered me how Dalinar spoke so casually about how the Alethi had decimated their numbers, how the others used the war as a means to amass wealth and power. (It didn't bother me in a "this is a bad book" way but in a "these characters are bad people" way.)

One of my foibles as a reader is that when a book is very clearly treating one side of a conflict with more humanity, I tend to be a bit predisposed towards the other to account for that. And with the Alethi clearly being the invading party and superior military force, there was also some underdog favoritism. I didn't really like how the book treated the Parshendi. This is to say that going forward, the singers would be more important to me than any other through line.

So imagine my delight at reading Words of Radiance and meeting Eshonai, one of the Parshendi, who even gets her own point of view sections! They were no longer being treated as a faceless mass, we were getting to see things from their perspective as well. And it became plain to see the damage the Alethi had done to them. I couldn't really bring myself to root for Dalinar or really any of the humans against the listeners. I couldn't even bring myself to like most of these characters. I still enjoyed the book but once it became clear there wouldn't be a peaceful conclusion, let's just say that I wouldn't have wept for Dalinar and Adolin if Szeth had managed to off them. Like everyone in the book, I assumed that going forward all the parshmen would be turned into evil voidbringers in the everstorm and that the listeners were mostly dead. Except for Rlain, and Eshonai because I'd read or been told that book 4 would be Eshonai's book and thus had assumed she was fine. (Oathbringer spoilers, she was not fine.) So ultimately it was still a bit of a downer way to end the book. 

So imagine my delight at reading Oathbringer, where for the first time singers were being treated as people, full and real people, and where the human characters could no longer ignore or dismiss them. We met Khen and the others, common singers who were sympathetic and just wanted freedom from bondage. We see Venli grapple with the loss of her home. We see Leshwi and Moash connecting with and understanding one another. We learn of a history where singers were the original inhabitants of the planet. Parallel to this, Dalinar is having a truly excellent character arc about confronting one's past actions and acknowledging them to move forward and do better. I loved Oathbringer, for some years it was my favorite book, and I was excited as hell to see what came next. At the time, it seemed to me that there is a clear direction the story is going. Two books about needless war, and then a third where the main cast is forced to acknowledge the personhood of their enemies. This was so cool, all of my feelings from the previous installments were being validated, the characters were going to have to face what they've done in the past and outgrow their militaristic mindsets, I was so sure of that.

Imagine my disappointment when that does not even remotely resemble the direction the story went in Rhythm of War. RoW presented a clear, straightforward “us vs. them" narrative, where every character was totally fine with killing singers. Characters aligned with the singers were either flattened into wholly evil versions of themselves (Moash) or were expected to turn on their side in favor of the humans (Venli.) Because clearly there was no reason good people would be on the side that's all former slaves trying to stay free. Maybe there's some sort of accord or understanding between Navani and Raboniel that I might have found meaningful if the seeds of mutual understanding weren't already there in Oathbringer and then apparently ignored for a year by all the characters.

I have a lot of issues with how the listeners are handled in these books. (Here's some elaboration.) Following OB, I had thought that all my concerns were going to be addressed. Following RoW, I knew they never would be. 

Which is my main complaint, because that's the thread that matters most to me in this series.

I have a lot of other Things as well. Gonna just talk about a few big ones. 

One outsized source of disappointment that may seem a little petty, and which probably is, is that I felt mislead by the premise of the book. It had been announced that this book would center Venli and Eshonai, and I was unbelievably hyped for that. That did not really turn out to be the case. The purpose for their backstory chapters felt less about exploring them as people and contextualizing their arcs, and more about filling in gaps of world history. In the main plot, Venli was a POV character and she certainly played a role, but honestly not a very important one overall. To me she felt like a side character in her own book. I don't think it's controversial to say that the main character of RoW was Navani. A lot of people really like Navani and are happy about that. Unfortunately I'm not one of those people, and I found it all the more difficult to enjoy her when it felt like it was coming at the expense of some of my favorite characters. 

This particular gripe somewhat comes down to preference, obviously everyone prefers to read about characters they like more than those they don't, and it can go both ways. (For instance, on a craft/technical level RoW is probably the superior book to W&T, but I liked the latter a lot more because of my stupidly outsized attachment to Szeth and Nale.) But I do think there's something of a real criticism in how the book would rather focus on the feelings of a queen rather than those of a genocide survivor, and how the former's are given significantly more weight and import. It ties in with my main criticism, I think. 

And then there's how human/human racism had also been wholly cast aside as a plot point. Jasnah fixed slavery so that's resolved, and the only person who still cares about structural racism is the evil bad bad evil villain Moash/Vyre, who is now wholly irredeemable and who you're allowed to totally write off because he's sold his soul to Odium. I've already talked a lot about this. Other people have already talked about this, probably better than me. The writing was actually on the wall for me in OB, but again, RoW was when I fully accepted that this was never going to be addressed. 

There's something else that probably deserves its own discussion rather than being quickly tacked on at the end here, but here we are. This book changed how the series approaches war. 

In WoK, war was very clearly portrayed as a bad and inglorious thing. It was brutal, it was painful, those at the bottom died cruelly and unceremoniously and pointlessly while those at the top turned a profit. Every day was a new horror. The enemy were never evil, they were always just more people forced to go through the same thing. Through the next couple books, it felt to me that even if the characters had accepted war as necessary, there was still a tragedy to it. Conversely, in RoW (and W&T) war is basically a series of boss battles, in between which our protagonists can kill dozens of footsoldiers with barely a thought in the same way WoK had criticized.

Final note on all this, it sucks how we have no perspectives from the former-slaves-singers demographic. Those guys are really thrown under the bus, and seemingly get no self-determination now or ever. It was a glaring problem to me in RoW. Conscripted and enslaved humans and singers probably have just as much ground to form mutual understanding as a fused and a queen. (In fact they already had. In Oathbringer.)

In essence, RoW disappointed me because it left me with the distinct impression that none of the series's most important through lines (well, most important to me) were going to be resolved well. I liked W&T, but I haven't revised my opinion very much about the overall handling of these topics across the series. Maybe one of the reasons I was able to enjoy W&T so much more was because I no longer had such high expectations.

[forsaken-headcanons]

I've been saving a very long list since the ask boxes were closed

-Guest 666's body is 99% fluff

-Mafioso still watches MLP

-Mafioso is the kinda person who touches their face a lot, he hates having facial hair because it gets in the way of touching plus sensory issues, feels too weird

-Chance likes DND because of the dice and rolling randomly for every action to determine the outcome

-you know the one post of the cat in a shark hat saying they got it for the cat because it kept biting? That but 007n7 getting C00lkidd a shark onesie

-guest 1337 likes shadowboxing idk how to explain it

-Jason is the most aroace of all aroace to exist, the walking definition

-Objectum C00lkidd, not in a weird or fetish way, he just loves his toys in a very different way than most people (totally not projecting about my childhood toy sword)

-After Forsaken Elliot just blacklists everyone from the pizza place, all killers, all survivors, all NPCs

-C00lkidd catches birds with his bare hands and lets them go inside the house/school/builder brothers pizza

-Taph reads an expiration date and sees that something is several years expired but still eats it then wonders why his stomach hurts

-iTrapped has serious beef with Spade for no reason, it's very one-sided (since Spade is literally a rabbit)

-Noob and iTrapped are distant cousins, they haven't met though

-I don't remember if I sent in this one already or not, it would have been a while ago if I did, the specter subtly influenced how the people who were Forsakened from dying ended up dead. An example being how iTrapped had already been planning to kill Chance for a while but kept watching his plans fall apart so the specter influenced him to just kill him with the sword instead of trying to make it look like an accident or causing C00lkidd to become much more violent than usual and killing both Noob and Elliot

-Spade is registered as an emotional support animal

-Shed is never invited to movie night because he always complains through the entire thing and nit-picks even the smallest details

-1x1x1x1 has old person hobbies like crochet and feeding pigeons

-idk if there's a cannon way 1x1x1x1 got forsakend yet but if not here's my head cannon. So she used to look like the actual 1x account, white and green, round head, bald, etc. He got an injury playing around with Shesletsky's venomshank but didn't want to tell Shed about it since they didn't feel like getting scolded for doing something dumb and hid it. The injery became infected and caused him to become really ill, slowly changing her physical appearance to the current 1x look but also becoming fatally ill from it so the specter snatched up their soul as he was dying as specter does with everyone else

-I don't like that everyone characterizes Elliot as this kinda petty and mean dude when the source Elliot (that's what I call the original/work at a pizza place mascot version) is just this big sweetheart who's honestly too friendly so instead of having him being this always tired and angry dude I headcannon that he's basically the Bret (from inside job) of the group, he's way too happy about going along with whatever the others want, he just doesn't feel safe around 007n7 so he distances himself. He's not trying to outcast him or be actively harmful, he just wants to stay away after the trauma 7n7 caused him, the other survivors just took it too far in outcasting him

-Bluudud has really cold breath, idk how to explain it, but like normally breath is warm but his is really cold when he breathes out. You know how in winter when it's cold enough you breathe out steam, he does that in the summer instead since his mouth is cold and the air is warm. This was kinda a crappy explanation but it's the best way I could think of it

-for robloxians aging is voluntary, they can choose to stay young forever or get older, that's why most people look the same or at least very similar to the past, they choose whether or not to get older and they can even choose to get younger if they want

-1x1x1x1 acting like a bird is one of my favorite headcannons, he builds nests and leaves them everywhere, there's at least 3 in his room alone and many more around the killers cabins, she even puts them in the other killers rooms

-TwoTime has never seen a car before, if they were to see one they would immediately be terrified

-C00lkidd has chronic pain and doesn't even realize, he thinks it's normal to wake up feeling like your bones and muscle just don't work for the first 5-10ish minutes of being awake

-C00lkidd is in special education, he's a bit more independent than other students but he has a really hard time with regular classes

-Chance laughs really loud, like loud enough to get him kicked out of public places for being too loud

-1x1x1x1 talks to Shedletsky the same way Nicole (class of 09) talks to her mom

-1x1x1x1 can't read

-you know how in Steven Universe blue diamond can make other gems cry just by being there? Well 1x1x1x1 has a similar effect of survivors but anger, whenever they're near him they feel an overwhelming sense of hatred for their situations and sometimes even each other

-1x1x1x1 has episodes of age regression, often acting even younger than C00lkidd

(idk why so many of these have been about 1x1x1x1)

-C00lkidd is the one child who has a crush of the week, it's someone different every couple of days. He will just randomly choose one of the survivors (besides his dad obviously) to be that person. This is obviously not in a proship way, just a silly kid choosing a random person every so often to target next round lol

Strange green bug anon 🙃

oh my god chance liking dnd is so fucking real. he'd play himself in every campaign TRUST

the objectum part for c00lkidd is so real holy shit?? hell yeah. yoinking some o these teehee. also punching shed bc those kinds of people in movie nights are NOT fun grrr /silly

[upon-sunflower-trails]

tenna headcanons

sfw and nsfw relationship headcanons for tenna!

never doubt me because when i have a hyperfixation i don't PLAY

The sweetest to you, he will do just about anything to keep you happy. Giant bouquets of flowers, broadcasts dedicated to you, extravagant dates, the whole works

Makes sure everyone within a ten mile radius knows the two of you are an item. You're so so dear to him <3

Pet names for you consist of sweetheart, honey, sugar, and muffin. He goes overboard sometimes, and probably uses these nicknames more than your actual name

He gets veeery insecure, so he needs a lot of reassurance. Whether it be about himself or your relationship, he will constantly ask you for your favorite things about him, the reasons you're with him, if you would love him if he were a worm

Expect to play minigames with him constantly. He likes to take you on little game dates, where he leads your avatar around the beach and takes pictures of the two of you together

Anyone who asks about you will be subject to a six-page thesis in real time about how amazing you are and everything Tenna loves about you

When he's flustered, blush pops up on his screen and you can swear that you see him switch to static for a minute

He would be the one to confess first, no matter how worried he was that you would reject him

Even though Tenna is flashy, his confession of love would be incredibly personal. He would almost shrink a little as he admitted to his feelings, getting emotional as he accepted the fact that you would most likely reject him

He, of course, was overjoyed when you reciprocated. Returned to normal size as cheerful music blared, scooping you up in his arms and pressing kisses all over your face

He loves everything about you, and he thinks you're perfect. He has to sneak in at least one reference to you every time he's on-air

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

I see him as a switch; he prefers being a service top but he'll bottom when he's feeling particularly down on himself

When he's upset with his employees, dom all the way. Probably the kind of guy to bend you over his desk to blow off steam

To him, there's no better way to spend his night than with his face between your legs. Much prefers giving oral than fingering, in my very humble opinion

Will lightly toy with the idea of exhibitionism, in the way that he'd have you under his desk and sucking him off while in a meeting or something

Horrific praise kink. Please tell him how good he is, what a great job he's doing, how badly you needed him. He will increase his efforts by tenfold.

I headcanon that his antennas are super sensitive, which you likely either find out by accident or in the heat of the moment. He'll beg for you to touch them while you ride his face or fuck him

Vocal as hell (especially if you play with the antennas), he is practically incapable of staying quiet. He whimpers and moans when he's being more gentle or subbing, and lets out groans and hisses while pounding into you during his more dominant moments

Loooves to tease you, both with pet names in the moment and overstimulation. He can be unrelenting when he wants to be

Not big into pain (both giving and receiving), but will tug on your hair when particularly lost in blowing off steam

Lowkey has a breeding kink, even if he may never acknowledge it. Just can't get enough of filling you up.

Whether his comment to Mike about kids is true or not, if you are able (and want) to carry children, it'll become his newest fixation. The second you give him the go-ahead, yeah, he's creampie-ing you for weeks

He prefers to actually fuck you instead of just jacking off, but if he doesn't have any other options, he'll gladly pump himself to the thought of you while at his desk. Free hand covering his mouth while his monitor practically burns, whines of your name spilling from his lips

Size kink is basically a given with him. I mean, he towers over everybody, so you are of course no exception. Holding your much smaller hands over your head as he pins you against the wall to obliterate your insides is one of his guilty pleasures

hope you guys enjoyed reading :) tenna my beloved i hope i did you justice

[skaletoncarnage]

I think it should be noted that, and I see this EVERY DAY working in the games industry, a lot of the guilt comes from the very real lack of IRL protest action. It looks more like "Bury your friends in the morning... dance all night," and in the Media Creation Class (i.e. not just artists but people paid to do art by corporations) "bury" often means "they were laid off" or "moved away and stopped working in the arts". We think of seeing posts of atrocities across the world in this same way as burying our friends, but there is little real-world action or organization that results from it that affects our daily lives, hence this pervasive feeling of guilt. (Do not stop boosting posts about Palestine or deportations or any of the many current issues, but do it while finding real-world places to support these causes! I am clearly not talking about providing financial support to refugees or trans or disabled ppl who can't pay their bills.)

I helped organize a union, the first to get a viable wall-to-wall contract in the industry, and a big sentiment during it was "Everybody feels bad and no one will show up to the in-person events or do the direct actions we are taking to make people feel less bad." The most difficult part to union organizing, which has since influenced California law, a real-life result, was getting people to show up more than once. Getting people to show up for other people they were in the same room with every day. The union tried to host fun events, but most organizing is not fun work, and it took a lot of convincing people to do not fun work even though it would directly benefit them. This is especially true in the Media Creation Class, which recruits young and exploitable employees by posing itself as the Fun Kind of Work!

Yeah, it's important to help people unwind in these stressful times. But you need something to unwind from. If you're just going to work, reblogging some awareness posts, and then retreating into fiction to unwind, you WILL feel guilty, because you do not have a real-life result from actions of resistance, you are just practicing basic survival! Because social media posts, while being useful for bringing awareness to actions of resistance and changing narratives being spread in real life, are not real-life actions in themselves. Join an art collective, a homeless outreach program, a library club, ANYTHING!

OP is making escapism and feels guilty about it. At the end of the day we cannot escape reality, no matter how hard we try. Show up in the real world. Fight escapist tendencies being your first choice of action after work. Your work will feel more fulfilling when you see real-world results. Art is revolutionary when it spurs real-life action. Steven Universe did not legalize gay marriage or give us gender-neutral drivers license markers, but it made it easier for people in real life to show up to do the work necessary. And now examples like that are being taken from us because the right is Showing Up IRL and Doing The Work. It goes both ways. Art is important, but not as important as real life.

Feeling rough lately.

[azzifudd10]

New Teammates, Old Baggage Chapter 7

The next morning, the house was quiet except for the faint clatter of a spoon against a mug and the low hum of soft jazz from Azzi’s living room speaker — courtesy of Paige, who had woken up early to check on everything before anyone else stirred.

Jazlyn was still knocked out in the guest bed, surrounded by a sea of plush animals and Azzi’s old Huskies hoodie bunched under her head like a makeshift pillow. Azzi, meanwhile, hadn’t slept through the night. Paige had gotten up at least three times to help her adjust her ice pack, reposition her leg, or just rub gentle circles into her back when the pain meds started wearing off too soon.

Now, Paige stood barefoot in the kitchen, pouring hot water into a ceramic mug Azzi said was her “game day good luck charm.” She wrapped the tea bag string around the handle with practiced ease. Mint chamomile, just the way Azzi liked it.

The sun was beginning to fill the townhouse in warm slices, gold light cutting across the hardwood floors like a soft spotlight. Paige paused to soak it in. For a moment, everything felt still. Soft. Almost sacred.

Then came the sound of shuffling feet.

Azzi, hair wild from sleep, padded slowly into the living room in an oversized tee and shorts, eyes barely open and bandages still clean but clearly uncomfortable. She looked like a woman who had survived something — and maybe, in some ways, she had.

“You’re up early,” she murmured, wincing as she eased herself onto the couch.

“I never went back to sleep,” Paige admitted, walking over with the mug. “Tea. Not too hot. Just how you like it.”

Azzi took the cup with both hands, pausing as she looked up. “You remembered.”

“I remember a lot of things about you.”

Azzi held her gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing between them like a ripple of heat.

“Also,” Paige added, sitting beside her carefully, “I Googled concussion recovery tips at 4am, so we’re doing ice again in fifteen minutes and then a low-sodium breakfast.”

Azzi smiled, slow and lazy. “You’re intense.”

“I’m in love,” Paige said without thinking, the words leaving her mouth before she could filter them.

Azzi blinked.

Paige froze.

It wasn’t a grand confession — no dramatic music, no perfect timing — but it was real. Honest.

Azzi set the mug down slowly and turned to face her. “Say that again.”

“I’m in love with you,” Paige repeated, softer this time. “And it’s terrifying. Because I wasn’t ready to feel this again, not after everything with Jazlyn’s dad, not after what it did to me. But then you happened. And now all I want is you.”

Azzi looked at her like she was something precious. Then, bruises and all, she leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was hungry. Raw. A little desperate — like they’d both been holding their breath for days and finally found air in each other’s mouths.

Paige’s hand cradled Azzi’s jaw with the kind of gentleness reserved for fragile things. Azzi’s fingers tangled in Paige’s hoodie, pulling her closer, despite the dull ache in her ribs. When they broke apart, foreheads touching, Azzi whispered, “You’re a menace to my balance.”

Paige grinned, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s cheek. “Then sit down and let me balance you.”

Suddenly, a tiny voice rang from the hallway.

“EW.”

Both women looked up to see Jazlyn, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, hair in lopsided puffs, one sock missing and the other halfway up her shin.

“You guys are always doing the mushy face stuff.”

Azzi bit back a laugh. “Good morning to you too.”

Jazlyn huffed, climbing up onto the couch and squeezing herself between them. “My spot.”

Paige scooped her up with one arm. “There. Better?”

“Yes. But also I want cereal. The colorful kind. And can I paint Zizi’s nails today? She said maybe and that’s basically a yes.”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “I have a concussion, remember?”

Jazlyn gave her the most innocent eyes she could muster. “Painting nails is therapy.”

Paige grinned. “She’s not wrong.”

And so, half an hour later, Azzi sat with her feet propped up on a pillow while Jazlyn carefully brushed on glittery pink polish — accidentally getting some on Azzi’s toes, the couch cushion, and her own nose.

Paige watched them from the kitchen, flipping blueberry pancakes with her hair tied back and humming to herself. She couldn’t remember the last time a morning had felt so normal. So messy and real and good.

Jon and Jose popped in around noon to “check on Azzi” — which clearly translated to raiding her fridge, giving Jazlyn piggyback rides, and loudly ranking each other’s Instagram followers. At one point, Katie dropped by with extra homemade soup and a box of homemade banana muffins “just in case Paige forgot to feed herself.”

“I’m not the patient!” Paige called from the couch.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need a meal, sweetheart,” Katie replied, giving her a quick one-armed hug and pressing a muffin into her hand. “Moms don’t discriminate.”

Later that afternoon, with the chaos temporarily settled and Jazlyn busy watching a Disney movie on Azzi’s iPad, Paige tucked a blanket over Azzi’s legs and joined her on the couch again.

Azzi looked at her sideways. “You haven’t stopped moving since sunrise.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” Azzi said, quieter now. “Because you’re here.”

Paige reached up and brushed a finger along the faint bruise under Azzi’s eye. “I still see it when I close my eyes. Him hurting you. I hate that I wasn’t there.”

“You were exactly where you needed to be,” Azzi replied. “And you came right after. That means more than anything.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, letting the quiet wrap around them.

Then Paige leaned in again — this time slower, softer — and kissed her.

It was different than earlier. Not fiery, not rushed.

Just full.

Of promise.

Of care.

Of something that felt an awful lot like forever.

Azzi sighed against her lips, fingers brushing Paige’s wrist. “You taste like banana muffin.”

“You’re welcome.”

They both smiled.

And as Jazlyn shouted from the other room, “ZIZI! PAIGE! Olaf just melted and I’m sad now!” — both women groaned and laughed at the same time.

Family, Paige thought, getting up with a stretch.

It didn’t always start the way you expected.

But when it was right?

It felt like this.

By late Sunday afternoon, Azzi’s townhouse smelled like roasted garlic, rosemary chicken, and cinnamon. The sounds of cooking and laughter had filled the space for hours — Katie and Tim commanding the kitchen like a team of seasoned chefs, Jon and Jose bickering over who had the better WNBA fantasy lineup, and Jazlyn running from room to room in her self-appointed role as “party planner.”

Paige had offered to help, but Katie had waved her off with a wooden spoon. “You’ve been taking care of Azzi all week, sweetheart. Today, you sit, you eat, and you let us love on you a little.”

So Paige had done just that — settling on the couch next to Azzi, whose leg was propped on a pile of pillows and whose bandages had finally started coming off. The bruises were still visible, sure, but her energy had returned. Her smile was stronger now, her laughter less guarded.

Jazlyn sat cross-legged in front of her with a little notebook and a very serious expression.

“So. For dinner,” she began, flipping a page. “I think you should sit next to me. Because I’m the boss of seating.”

“Obviously,” Azzi said, nodding solemnly.

“And Paige sits on the other side of me, because she cuts my food best.”

“I’m honored.”

“And Jon and Jose can sit far away from the food because they eat too fast and make crumbs.”

From the kitchen, Jon’s voice rang out. “Unfair accusation!”

“You dropped an entire biscuit yesterday!” Jazlyn shouted back without missing a beat.

Azzi shook her head, smiling. “You’ve got a strong case, kid.”

“Also,” Jazlyn added, eyes flicking up with something a little more hesitant, “after dinner, can you help me with something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s secret.”

Azzi leaned in and whispered, “Even from Paige?”

Jazlyn looked between them and giggled. “Okay, she can know. But not the boys.”

Azzi crossed her heart. “No boys.”

Later, after dinner had been served — plates full of roasted vegetables, honey cornbread, buttery mashed potatoes, and that golden rosemary chicken — the house was wrapped in the warm fog of contentment. Everyone was full, happy, still laughing over Jose’s failed attempt to balance a spoon on his nose. Katie had poured tea, Tim passed around a photo album from Azzi’s college days, and the conversation shifted to funny stories about Azzi as a kid (including a highly dramatic reenactment by Jon of her one and only ballet recital).

But it was after dessert, when everyone was lounging and too full to move, that Jazlyn tugged on Azzi’s sleeve and said quietly, “Can we go now?”

Azzi glanced at Paige, who gave a soft smile and nodded.

“Be right back,” Azzi said to the room, carefully rising to her feet with Jazlyn’s help. “Jaz has a top-secret mission for me.”

As they disappeared into the hallway, Paige stayed behind, sipping tea and trying not to smile too obviously. Jose nudged her. “That kid is obsessed with Azzi.”

“She’s got good taste.”

He gave a sideways grin. “So do you.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to being likable.”

—

Down the hall, Azzi followed Jazlyn into the guest bedroom, where the lights were low and the air smelled faintly of lavender.

“Okay,” Jazlyn said, hopping onto the bed and reaching under the pillow. She pulled out a small, beat-up box. “This is my treasure box. I only show it to people I really really really like.”

Azzi sat beside her, surprised. “Wow. I’m honored.”

Jazlyn nodded. “You earned it. Even though your nose still looks a little squishy.”

Azzi laughed. “Thanks, I think.”

Jazlyn opened the box. Inside were small, precious things: a friendship bracelet with fading beads, a pressed flower, a tiny rock shaped like a heart, a photo of Paige holding baby Jazlyn, and now… she held out a folded piece of notebook paper, gently worn at the creases.

“I wrote you something,” she said shyly. “But it’s not a poem. It’s like… a wish.”

Azzi took the paper with care, unfolding it slowly.

In wobbly handwriting, it read:

"I wish Zizi stays forever. I wish we live together. I wish my daddy never comes back. I wish we can make pancakes every day. I wish Paige never cries again."

Azzi’s throat tightened.

She blinked down at the paper, the innocence of the words hitting her like a punch wrapped in velvet.

“I know wishes don’t always come true,” Jazlyn added softly, “but I still make them.”

Azzi didn’t speak at first. She set the paper down, pulled Jazlyn close, and held her tighter than she ever had.

“Those are some of the bravest wishes I’ve ever read,” she whispered.

“I’m a brave kid,” Jazlyn said into her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Azzi murmured, voice catching. “You really are.”

They stayed like that for a long time, quiet and safe in the soft light of the room.

Eventually, Paige peeked in to check on them and stopped in the doorway, heart full at the sight. She didn’t say anything, just watched — grateful and still and stunned at how deeply her life had changed.

When they finally emerged, Jazlyn proudly announced to the family that Azzi had earned “forever friend” status, and that only two people had ever earned that — “Zizi and my one-eyed stuffed panda.”

The rest of the evening passed in warmth and laughter. Katie packed them leftovers. Tim offered to fix a squeaky hinge on Azzi’s door. Jon made a TikTok dance challenge with Jazlyn. And Paige? Paige looked around the room and felt, for once, like maybe the universe was giving her a second chance.

Azzi leaned into her side.

“Happy?” she asked.

Paige didn’t need to answer.

But just as they were leaving — Azzi with her bag of soup containers, Paige balancing Jazlyn on her hip — Paige’s phone buzzed.

She glanced down.

Unknown Number. 1 New Message.

She unlocked the screen. The message was short.

“You’re playing house. But she’s still mine.”

Paige’s heart dropped.

She stared at the text. Cold dread seeped into her chest.

Azzi saw her face shift. “What is it?”

Paige didn’t answer right away.

She looked at Jazlyn, asleep on her shoulder.

Then back at Azzi.

And finally, back at the message.

“We need to talk,” Paige said quietly.

[lalaurelia]

I have thoughts about that last line of Akutagawa's about luxury. And like. Please if someone with a better knowledge of Japanese has something to add, please do.

So Dazai goes: 芥川くん頑張ったね

"Akutagawa-kun, you did well". 頑張る is such a versatile word. The easiest meaning is perseverance and persistence. So like, "good job making it this far". But I feel that Dazai's words have a more broad meaning there.

And then we have Akutagawa going:

...嗚呼 (basically an interjection, "Ah/Oh") 何と美しき音楽 (What beautiful music) 許されるのか (can it be allowed) このような贅沢が (this luxury?)

The music phrase I feel refers to Dazai's praise. Akutagawa wanted his praise and acknowledgement for so long, and hearing it is beautiful, of course.

Then the next two. This seems like a single sentence to me. Please note that there is literally no pronoun anywhere, it's open to interpretation, this happens a lot of Japanese sentences. That's why I feel more confident translating Japanese into Russian first to get the feel of the sentence flow, because in Russian you can also omit pronouns and subjects and whatnot.

So. That sentence reads to me as Akutagawa asking himself if he can be allowed to having/enjoying the luxury of Dazai's praise. Asking himself if he truly earned it.

Not acceptance, but a drive to continue clawing at the enemy to survive.

I'm really curious to see what the next chapters will bring, in light of that.

Also, Akutagawa and Atsushi have to meet again. They're the core of this manga. It can't just be the end for them, it's too abrupt that way.

[pricegotmedickmatized]

basically copy/pasted from my dms with the wife @gothghostiie but i've just been thinking about it some more so have it: price and gaz are the two who really actually talk during sex, the other two can't. like physically can not

gaz gets you in bed (against the wall/the couch/the changing room door) and suddenly the man can not shut up to save his life. every horny thought he's ever had is coming out of his mouth, pure stream of consciousness, even when his face is pressed tight against your cunt as he eats you out his still fucking talking, knowing the vibrations of his voice just get you off hotter. he's greedy with it, trying to prove a point, lots of 'you know no one else could ever make you feel this fucking good, just me, only me baby' in between his rambling fantasies about you'd look tied up in his bed while he put a vibrator on your clit and forced you to cum over and over again

price is more methodical about it, more precise. he's taken the time to analyze you, every hidden corner of your head and what makes you wet so that he doesn't even have to ask you what you'd like to hear - he can just give it to you unprompted. the man will whip out the filthiest things you've ever heard in your life, stuff that would make even a porn star blush bright red, and he'll say it rough and mean against your ear while he pounds your pussy into the next century. he's not rushing, he can just fuck you like that until he thinks you've cum enough for one night. it usually takes a long, long time before he thinks he's properly wrecked you and treated you for one night and he can take his own reward and breed you full of his cum, and he's not shy about letting you know that intent, about letting you know any of it because he's been talking you through it the entire time

soap is the one who you would think would be the biggest talker of them all. because up until he's actually got you on your back/knees/stomach/etc he is the biggest yapper of them all. and don't get it twisted, he's definitely the loudest of all of them, but it's not from talking. once he's the one getting pleasure (a hand, a mouth, a hole, anything) he can't finish a single thought. he devolves into mindless instinct and brutal thrusts of his hips and greedy searching hands, sentences that are bitten off by load moans, broken praise and calls of your name as he whines and whimpers and groans through his orgasm (after making you cum first like the true gentleman he is)

simon, simon, simon. poor rizzless bitchless simon. look, i know what we'd all like to think, but the man doesn't want to (can't) talk to people he's attracted to even stone cold sober much less when he's pussy drunk out of his mind the way he always is when he so much as senses you get slightly turned on by thinking about him or by staring at him from across the room. he can't even think in full sentences when he's inside you, much less speak any. all that comes out are some soft gasps and shocked moans, and always, always bite marks and bruises littered over your body to convey what he can't speak: that he may not have much but he has you and you are his utterly and completely