#but i think fundamentally they could not understand each other

[shamera]

Darkness monsters vs. real world monsters

There's a fundamental difference between Daydream Inc. and the Supernatural Disaster Managemant Bureau that's been niggling at my brain for a while now, and I think it finally clicked for me.

Obviously there's the overt differences: Daydream is a for-profit company where employees are all working for a selfish goal-oriented purpose, while the Bureau is a government sponsored agency whose agents risk life and limb on a daily basis trying to save other people.

It's almost too easy to understand why the Bureau would think of Daydream as a 'cult-like company', one capitalizing on suffering and death of innocent people caught up in ghost stories. And the reverse is also true-- Daydream seeing the Bureau as the ultimate annoyances, trying to destroy the ghost stories that create not only profit but advance strides in-- everything! Daydream has potions that can regenerate half a body! With the dream essence they harvest from ghost stories, they can full on cultivate reality-bending wishes.

Of course, with that kind of power, there are heavy dangers and consequences... I could write a whole TED Talk on that. That part's easy to see.

But with characters of the latest arc meeting (no spoilers), I was thinking about what negates this black and white pattern we've seen between the two sides. Common enemies and all that...

Bureau agents think that the ghost stories are 'Disasters'. They're the worst thing that can happen to a person, and it's the job of an agents to RESCUE people from those disasters, from the monsters and the horrors, to allow civilians to go back to a normal life.

Daydream employees think of ghost stories as 'Darkness', and they're here to explore those Darknesses to harvest from experiences with monsters and curses and the like. Sure, a lot of them die in the process. They're certainly not here to help other people because they understand that it's dangerous enough trying to save themselves. Yet... Daydream field officers persist. In fact, they're practically unafraid of the Darkness.

Because to each and every one of them, the real horrors are out in the real world. The Bureau thinks that monsters exist only in the ghost stories, but everyone who signed up to work at Daydream risking life and limb daily is working toward a purpose-- a wish potion. Something that can change their lives.

People only need to change their lives when there's something terrible they're struggling with, and like Kim Soleum, they are willing to face the Darkness for a chance to change something in their real world.

...In the heart of it all, there really is a commonality there. The Bureau agents want to rescue people from monsters within Disasters, but Daydream employees have monsters that live outside of Darknesses that they're trying to escape.

[bumblebeeswrite]

NIGHT OWLS | JASON HOCHBERG

Part 2 to Morning Birds

summary: You suggest another all nighter, but Jason has a better idea

word count: 1,781

CW: fluff to the max again, kissing, sharing a bed

@yearsbecomingcool this one is for you

A few days had passed since the all-nighter that had shifted something fundamental between you and Jason. Things weren't drastically different on the surface – camp duties continued, kids needed wrangling, and schedules had to be kept. But underneath the routine, a new current flowed. Stolen glances across the mess hall held more weight, accidental brushes of hands sent sparks flying, and conversations, even mundane ones about bug spray or activity planning, felt charged with unspoken understanding. You’d found yourselves gravitating towards each other during free moments, sharing quiet jokes or simply enjoying the comfortable silence that now existed alongside the easy conversation.

The memory of waking up on the bunk of his cabin, his vest still draped over you, and seeing him asleep in the chair lingered vividly. It felt both incredibly intimate and slightly unfinished.

As evening activities wound down one night, the familiar longing for that quiet connection pulled at you. The campfire was just starting, the younger campers already buzzing with excitement, but you found yourself scanning the crowd for Jason. You spotted him near the edge of the woods, talking quietly with one of the other senior counselors, Liam. Waiting until Liam clapped Jason on the shoulder and headed towards the fire, you made your way over.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached. The setting sun cast long shadows, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

Jason turned, a warm smile instantly lighting up his face. "Hey, you. Skipping out on the marshmallow roasting already?"

"Thinking about it," you admitted, kicking lightly at a pinecone on the ground. "It's just… it's a really clear night. Almost like the other night." You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I was thinking… maybe another trip up to Makeout Point? See if Orion's still visible?" The suggestion felt bold, laying your cards on the table.

Jason's smile softened, his eyes searching yours. He seemed to consider it for a moment, glancing towards the darkening path that led up the hill. You saw a flicker of something in his expression – fondness, maybe, but also a hint of weariness.

"As tempting as that sounds," he began slowly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "and believe me, it does… I'm beat. Today was… a lot." He managed a small, apologetic grimace. "Dealing with the canoe incident took more out of me than I thought."

Your heart sank slightly. "Oh. Okay, yeah, no worries. I get it." You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

"But," he continued, stepping a little closer, lowering his voice slightly so only you could hear over the distant campfire songs, "I have a counter-proposal."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. How about… an early night? My cabin. We could, you know, just hang out. Talk. Maybe actually sleep this time? In beds?" He looked endearingly awkward, a faint flush rising on his neck. "Or, well, a bunk bed. Singular."

Your breath hitched. His cabin. An early night. Not the separate sleeping arrangements of last time, but an implicit invitation to share his space, his bed. The suggestion hung in the air, thick with possibility and a healthy dose of nervous tension. It was bolder than your own suggestion, in its own quiet way.

"Okay," you heard yourself say, your voice quieter than intended. "Yeah, okay. That sounds… nice."

"Nice?" He echoed, a teasing glint in his eyes, though the nervousness was still there. "Cool. Let's, uh, make a discreet exit then?"

Slipping away from the main camp area felt different this time – less like a secret adventure and more like a deliberate step towards something new. The walk to his cabin was filled with a strange mix of comfortable silence and buzzing anticipation. You were acutely aware of his presence beside you, the way his arm occasionally brushed yours, the sound of his footsteps matching yours on the pine needle-covered path.

Inside his cabin, the familiar clutter felt welcoming. He'd tidied up slightly since your last visit – the books were stacked more neatly, the sketch pad closed. He switched on a small lamp on his desk, casting a warm, soft glow over the room, much gentler than the harsh fluorescent lights of the mess hall.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the cabin's lone bunk bed. It was built into the wall, a sturdy wooden structure with a mattress on the bottom level, piled with a couple of blankets and pillows. The top bunk seemed to be used for storage, holding a duffel bag and some folded clothes.

Comfortable. Right. You perched awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, feeling suddenly shy. Jason busied himself for a moment, fiddling with the lamp's switch, then turned back to you, leaning against his small desk. An awkward silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sound of the campfire and the chirping crickets outside.

"So," you started, trying to break the tension. "No forbidden cereal tonight?"

He chuckled, the sound warm in the small space. "Nah, figured we'd skip the kitchen raid this time. Less chance of getting busted." He pushed off the desk and sat on the other end of the bunk, facing you, leaving a careful distance between you. "Besides, I'm actually tired enough to sleep."

"Me too," you admitted. The exhaustion from the day was catching up, but it was overshadowed by the nervous energy humming beneath your skin.

You talked for a while, the conversation softer, more subdued than your marathon talk at Makeout Point. You spoke about the day's events, the funny things campers had said, the small frustrations and joys of the job. It was easy, familiar, yet underscored by the awareness of where you were – alone, together, in his small cabin, inches away from him.

As the conversation lulled, the silence returned, but this time it felt heavier, charged with unspoken questions. Jason looked down at his hands, then met your gaze, his expression serious but gentle.

"So, uh," he started, clearing his throat. "About the sleeping arrangements…" He gestured towards the bunk. "It's… not huge. But it's definitely big enough for two. If… if you want?" He looked uncertain, vulnerable, a stark contrast to his usual quiet confidence. "No pressure, obviously. The floor is still an option. Or the chair of torture."

You looked at the bunk, then at him. The image of him sleeping uncomfortably in the chair while you took the bunk flashed through your mind. The thought of repeating that scenario felt wrong now. You wanted to be closer.

"The bunk sounds good," you said softly, holding his gaze. "If you're sure?"

A slow smile spread across his face, full of relief and something deeper. "Yeah. I'm sure."

There was a moment of awkward shuffling as you both figured out the logistics. Kicking off your shoes, deciding who went in first. You ended up sliding in against the wall, pulling the blanket up. Jason switched off the lamp, plunging the cabin into near darkness, save for the moonlight filtering through the window. You heard him move, felt the mattress dip as he carefully lay down beside you, initially facing the room.

He didn't immediately touch you, leaving a sliver of space between your backs. But the proximity was electric. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, hear the soft sound of his breathing. The air felt thick with anticipation.

"Comfortable?" His voice was a low murmur in the dark.

"Yeah," you whispered back. "It's... cozy." You paused. "You?"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice closer now. "Better than the chair, anyway."

You smiled in the darkness. A moment passed. Then, slowly, tentatively, he shifted, rolling onto his side to face you. In the dim moonlight, you could just make out the outline of his face, his eyes finding yours in the darkness.

"So," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is… nice."

"Yeah," you agreed softly. "It is." You hesitated, then added, "Nicer than Makeout Point, maybe?"

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through the mattress. "Different kind of nice. Less… potential for raccoon interruptions." He paused, his thumb gently stroking the blanket near your arm. "Things have felt… different, since that night. Haven't they?"

Your breath caught. "Yeah," you admitted. "Different. Good different."

"Good different," he echoed thoughtfully. "I like good different." His fingers found yours under the blanket, lacing together loosely. His touch was warm, slightly calloused from camp work, and incredibly grounding. "I've, uh… I've been wanting to do this. Just… be here. With you. Without needing the excuse of an all-nighter."

Your heart swelled. "Me too," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

He shifted slightly closer, his face just inches from yours now. You could feel the warmth of his breath, see the way the moonlight caught the curve of his lips. His gaze flickered down to your mouth for a split second before meeting your eyes again, a question held within them.

Time seemed to slow down. The distant sounds of the camp faded away completely, leaving only the sound of your intertwined breathing, the beat of your heart against your ribs, the electric anticipation crackling in the small space between you.

He hesitated for one more heartbeat, as if waiting for a sign. You gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in. His lips met yours softly, tentatively at first, a gentle pressure that sent a jolt straight through you. It wasn't rushed or demanding, but questioning, exploring. You responded instinctively, tilting your head slightly, deepening the kiss just a fraction. It was sweet, warm, and tasted faintly of the campfire smoke still clinging to his clothes. His other hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

The kiss lingered, a perfect moment suspended in the quiet darkness of the cabin. It held all the unspoken feelings, the nervous energy, the comfortable silences, and the growing affection of the past few days. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours, you were both slightly breathless.

"Wow," he breathed out, his voice husky.

"Yeah," you whispered back, a smile spreading across your face, feeling ridiculously happy.

He didn't move away, keeping his forehead pressed gently to yours, his hand still cupping your cheek. His arm was still around your waist, holding you close. Cocooned in the warmth and darkness, wrapped in his arms, the awkwardness had completely melted away, replaced by a profound sense of rightness and a thrilling new beginning. Falling asleep like this, truly together after that first, perfect kiss, felt inevitable and incredibly sweet.

[linskywords]

If you think about it willmack are really an enemies to lovers story line

Okay look I see what you're saying. But! I maintain that there's a distinctly different flavor between enemies to lovers and friends to lovers, and WillMack is so clearly the latter.

The thing is, on a fundamental level, enemies to lovers is about sexual tension overcoming animosity. And, okay, I could see there being animosity when they played against each other in Boston. If you want them to write them as enemies to lovers based on that--or based on anything--go for it! I'm not sure how much they actually interacted at that point, but fanfiction is all about writing what you want.

BUT. As soon as the two of them started playing together last summer, it's clear that they became friends INSTANTLY. That's not overcoming animosity. That's two people who didn't really know each other, who were vaguely rivals from a distance, and then when they met, they were friends. Can't-stay-apart, spend-all-night-giggling-over-cookies-and-milk friends. And, if we put our slash goggles on, friends who feel a magnetic pull towards each other that they maybe don't fully understand, friends who decide that it could be fun if they also kiss a little. Just to see how it feels.

So yeah, if you want to play up the rivals bit, you can give them an enemies to lovers narrative (or, more likely, an enemies to friends to lovers narrative). But the heart of their connection is that instant friendship they formed when they arrived on the Sharks--the thing where they spent all their time together for weeks leading up to the season, where they're clearly just so happy to have each other around. That's the context in which I see them becoming lovers. The history of rivalry is just an optional add-on at the start.

[ceciliajohanna]

a fate worse than death

The hunter and the vampire danced across the mansion, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Blades clashed against fangs and claws. Silver bullets flew in every direction; fast, but not fast enough.

The hunter’s element of surprise was long gone, and so was their momentum. The fight was reaching its crescendo. They parried and parried and parried, using every trick they could think of to fend off the inevitable for just a few more seconds.

This was no longer about survival. It was about dignity.

“Enough,” the vampire snarled. A hard shove sent the hunter flying, an ominous crack resonating through their spine as they crashed into a bookshelf on the other side of the room. Explosions of pain erupted through their body. They fell to their knees, ears ringing, heart racing. They pulled themselves together, planting a palm on the floor to bounce back up on their feet—

The hunter’s legs didn’t move.

Oh.

A final rush of adrenaline sizzled through their bloodstream before dying out altogether. Their empty gun slid out of their hand.  

It was over.

The vampire plucked a bullet from of a bleeding crater in their shoulder, frowning at the silver shell before tossing it on the cracked mahogany flooring. The wound instantly knitted itself back together, leaving nothing behind but a stain of red on the vampire’s torn shirt. They were old—far older than the hunter had expected. The hunter had taken down the fledglings inhabiting the lair, but against the monster itself, they hadn’t stood a chance.

A resigned smile tugged at the hunter’s lips as their gaze swept over the havoc they’d wrought. Toppled furniture. Shattered chandeliers. Numerous piles of ash, marking the exact location where each fledgling had met their demise. The battle had left the structure of the mansion fundamentally compromised, allowing beams of sunlight to trickle in through gaping holes in the walls. No matter what happened next, the vampire was going to have to find themselves a new batch of fledglings and a new lair.  

As far as last stands went, the hunter could have done worse.

“Are you done?” The vampire wrinkled their nose at the demolished sitting room, clearly following the same train of thought.

“I believe so,” the hunter said, and they meant it. They’d been in the business long enough to recognize a body broken beyond repair. They could feel their life slip further away from them with every rattling breath.  

“I was rather fond of this place, you know,” the vampire said, their voice clipped. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish, but I hope you’re satisfied.”

“Would’ve been nice to take you down with me, but yes.” The hunter raised their chin. “I’m satisfied.”

The hunter was not afraid of death. They’d encountered enough immortal creatures over the years to know that a limited lifetime was, in many ways, a blessing rather than a curse. Despite being little more than soft flesh and brittle bones, humans carried something within them that those monsters seemed to lack.

A soul.

Any moment now, the hunter would meet their family again. Their siblings, their parents, their grandparents—an entire bloodline of fallen hunters, waiting for them on the other side. Human lives may be fleeting, but souls were eternal. Death was not the end. Death was a journey into the unknown, marking the start of a new beginning.

The hunter was not afraid.

“Cheeky.” The vampire’s fury lost its edge, shifting into mild annoyance. They tilted their head to the side, studying their prey. “This is usually the part where my uninvited visitors break down in tears. You do understand that I’m going to kill you, right?”

“There are fates far worse than death.”

“I see,” the vampire said, their face unreadable. “How can you be so certain?”

The hunter’s skin crawled under the vampire’s unblinking scrutiny. “I just know.”

“You just know.” The vampire snorted—a surprisingly human sound coming from a monster. “You really are a peculiar creature.”

“How so?” the hunter couldn’t help but ask.

“Mortals tend to cling to life like it’s the only thing worth fighting for. It’s in your nature. You beg. You plead. You bargain. This?” The vampire finally blinked, their lips forming an uncanny imitation of a smile. “This is new.”

The vampire sauntered towards them, carefully avoiding the intruding rays of sunlight. Their effortless grace made the hunter add a few more centuries to their approximate age. There was something unmistakably wrong about the way ancient beings moved. The world seemed to curve around them, like a river branching to make room for a particularly stubborn rock.

The vampire’s presence was like a declaration of war against time itself.

“So… what’s the secret?” The vampire crouched before the hunter, their gaze lit up by genuine curiosity. “Terminal illness? Insanity?” They paused. “Nothing to live for?”

A spike of pain that had nothing to do with their ruined body needled its way into the hunter’s chest; an invisible blade slipping between the cracks of their broken rib cage. The faces of their nieces, their nephews, and the citizens they’d sworn to protect flashed before their eyes.

“I’ve got plenty to live for,” the hunter said. “Which means I’ve got plenty to die for as well.”

“Sounds a bit contradictory to me.”

“It’s not.” A guttural cough tore free from the hunter’s throat, leaving them gasping for breath. “If it’s all the same to you, I would like to… to go now. Just finish it.”  

“Finish it? After everything you just told me?” The vampire’s cold laugh shattered the sense of civility that had somehow grown between them. “Oh, little one, we’re not done yet.”  

Blood drained from the hunter’s face. An emotion they thought they’d already conquered formed a vengeful knot under their sternum, its claws digging deep into their stomach.     

Fear.

“A swift death would be a blessing for someone like you. A gift.” The vampire leaned closer. “You killed my children. You destroyed my home. I’m not feeling particularly charitable right now.”

The hunter instinctively tried to scoot backwards, but their useless legs kept them anchored to the floor. The fact that they’d even tried to move at all shook them to the core. Their fear had spread to the point that they were now acting upon it.

“I did enjoy our little chat, though. A peculiar creature indeed.” The vampire fell silent, disappearing into their own thoughts. The hunter held their breath, waiting for the final verdict.

The obvious solution seemed to hit them both at once.

No.

The vampire’s face split into a bone-chilling grin. The hunter’s heart plummeted through their chest.

No, no, no.

The hunter's pride finally cracked. They wanted to beg, to plead, to bargain, to scream, but they knew it wouldn’t make a difference.  

It was the perfect punishment for a human unfazed by death.

It was the perfect way to rob the hunter of what they valued the most.

 “I think immortality would look good on you,” the vampire said, and slid their fangs into the hunter’s throat.

[helly-ena]

I found the previous reintegration asks very intriguing.I think for the last few episodes more and more people started speculating if it was Helly and Helena at any given time(2x09 and 2x10)and I think that was incredible bit of visual story telling on both Britt and the creative team.The point was being made as soon as they started to acknowledge they are the same person they started to resemble each other.At least Helly acknowledged it outright.We didn’t see Helena do it.I think that’s meant to raise a question whether if the severed person think about himself/herself as one would it be possible to permeate the severance barrier?I think the answer is self love.Like if you acknowledge all the parts of yourself even the ones you hate and want to hide you’d recover and can move forward as a whole person.That being said it’s not Helly and Helena’s(I do love for Mark that’s the catalyst for her organic reintegration.It’s more so Helena has seen her inner child could have been a wonderful person if she’s not raised in a cult and Helly has seen what Helena has been through to make her what she is.It’s self love and acceptance.I don’t think the severance barrier can completely go away unless you go through operative reintegration.Idk if it’s in her future either.I’d love her to go through with it though.Helly/Helena is truly the best bet for innies and bring down Lumon or usher it into new direction.

yes!! we've watched helly act more like helena towards the end of the season, and it's really weird to me that some people would rather resort to a convoluted explanation of how it must be helena impersonating helly again, instead of just acknowledging that the two of them are fundamentally the same person. though, i suppose, it's quite similar to the characters' refusal to do the same lol (as we've seen with both mark and hellyna).

i definitely agree with what you're saying about acknowledging and loving all parts of yourself as the (only) way to move forward, and how you need BOTH surgical and organic processes for a successful reintegration. copying this part from a post i made before the s2 finale:

helly and helena may be undergoing some degree of natural reintegration, but i strongly suspect they will still remain forever separated (or at least fragmented) unless they undergo an actual procedure. as for the marks, they have merely undergone the technical steps without the organic basis for an actual reintegration, which i think is why mark's attempt has stagnated and/or failed.

also another observation partly inspired by this post: i think there are such elaborate measures to keep the innies and outies separate and communication between the two to a minimum because too much contact would inevitably kickstart the organic process. we watched this happen with hellyna: they are the innie/outie pairing with the highest degree and amount of contact between the two (from indirect communications to actually walking in each other's shoes), and they subtly but inevitably become more like the other. we have also watched this happen with dylan: if mark is the stitch between helly and helena, then gretchen is that for the dylans, with dylan's arc ending with the two of them reaching some level of understanding and (o)dylan aspiring to become more like his innie (which he believes he has it in him to become).

all this to say, i'm with you nonny!! truly can't wait to see where they take this forward. it's hard to imagine helena (or helly) willingly undergoing reintegration, even when it's the only logical direction for her arc to take. we're definitely in for a ride :)

[fruitageoforanges]

apparently it’s eliarhaegar hours so:

the thing that drives me absolutely nuts about them is how they have so little in common. completely different frames of reference. dorne and king’s landing, the least repressive of the seven kingdoms and the epicentre of westerosi feudalism. a loving family, a family rotten to the core with incest and abuse. the political world, the world of prophecies and doom and dragon blood. they were doomed from the start. they were so, so doomed, they could barely begin to understand each other yet their lives are bound together, and that makes me insane. two completely different worlds colliding and, while they might’ve been able to coexist in each other’s orbit for a while, the collision and the shattering itself are slow, beautiful and inevitable.

[ruvviks]

PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS YOUR OWN OC OR PAIRING.

Nathan and Ruben share a bond more powerful than most; mutual understanding through past experiences no one should ever have to go through, and through past actions so horrible they cannot be spoken of. Their grief and the blood on their hands binds them to the STEM technology they created, which has alienated them from the rest of the world— but they give each other the comfort they have both longed for so desperately for years, and that is all they need. They are each other's counterpart; you cannot imagine one without the other, like two sides of the same coin. Through their pain, their grief, their desire, and their regret, they have become one.

anna akhmatova, the guest // bones; equinox // 'i won't become' by kim jakobsson // agustín gómez-arcos, the carnivorous lamb // by oxy // achilles come down; gang of youths // czeslaw milosz, from 'new and collected poems: 1931-2001' // 'extended ambience portrait from a resonant biostructure' and 'migraine tenfold times ten' by daniel vega // a little death; the neighbourhood // marina tsvetaeva, from 'poem of the end' // by drummnist // katie maria, winter // 'nocturne in black and gold the falling rocket' by james abbott mcneill whistler // micah nemerever, these violent delights // body language; we are fury // 'the penitent' by emil melmoth // chelsea dingman, from 'of those who can't afford to be gentle'

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[entriprises]

i think we should stop letting not knowing about a fandom or franchise get in the way of writing together or simply interacting and sending questions. canons are no different from ocs, they're simply ocs with merch. you don't have to know a fandom or world to ask a question, to start a conversation!! if you don't know where to start or you don't know something or know how two muses would interact - truly i encourage everyone to ask! we are all here to learn and to talk about the stuff we love!!!

[betty-bourgeoisie]

Also I like China and Iceland as metamours/ fuck buddies who are dating the same two guys, because ultimately the history of China-Iceland relations is a history of two nations just mutually going "Well Russia and America both seem to think they're important so I guess I should talk to them...." which is, at the end of the day, possibly the most realistic metamour relationship of all

[oofuri2003]

https://images.app.goo.gl/tg4tqHZU1wosnMza7

found your guy drawn by ryoko kui!

AND ZEVVY TOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[binders-and-beanies]

Also as much as I appreciate people who identify as queer and can be normal about people not wanting to be called that. I also feel like there is a fundamental difference in worldview that cannot be explained or truly understood. Like it’s not just about one word, it’s an entirely different way of thinking about gender and sexuality and oppression.

Like sure you can respect my wishes regarding the word itself (after being reminded many times in enough different ways). But my problem is with the way you perceive me that led you to initially think of me as queer. That takes a lot more deeply layered unlearning than a simple change in vocabulary.

And it’s clear in the way that queer people talk about *why* they think I don’t like that word, that they don’t understand where I’m actually coming from. I can explain over and over in a million words what Not Queer means to me and why it’s important, and they’ll reflect back almost exactly the opposite.

Because we’re thinking from entirely different viewpoints and life experiences. Thus me not identifying w queerness in the first place. Bc we are so fundamentally not the same

[phagodyke]

ik its 4am I just woke up but I can't believe my roommate got upset with me bc she thought I thought she was "anti feminist" for shaving. girl I literally never fucking said that. sorry I was incessantly bullied by strangers friends and family for not shaving as a teen and so body hair positivity is important to me + sorry I like body hair on myself and other ppl and have explicitly said I find it attractive before. I don't care that u shave but I'm not going to clap and cheer abt it? ur already fulfilling societal expectations so why do u need my approval on top of that? its such a non issue like how the fuck is a masc dyke making u feel insecure abt ur cis femininity lmao

[alicentsgf]

we talk a lot about shauna losing jackie and her baby boy and yes those are major traumas. however, i think the moment that truly changed her fundamentally was butchering javi. that moment is truly symbolic of what shes sacrificed for all of the others. she let him die to save nat and then his blood was literally on her hands because no one else could handle the burden of butchering him. this is a kid she LIKED. that she had some small bond with. she had to pull her headband over her eyes because she couldnt bear to look at what she was doing. and the others just left her alone out there cutting up his body because none of them could bear to even watch it. so shauna shoulders it alone. how does the human brain even cope with that experience? especially since every single time gen brings back a kill, shauna has to butcher that animal and relive that moment in some way again and again

and whats crazy is yes shauna resorts to violence easily, shes impulsive and deeply angry, but she doesnt enjoy killing. when she threatened the carjacker her words were much more about the power she felt over him, enjoying the fear of someone who'd wronged her, than actually threatening his life. shes willing to kill for power and control, but her relationship with the actual physical act is complex. sometimes trauma can become strangely familar and soothing, maybe thats why shauna butchers the rabbit in season 1. its like a fucked up coping mechanism based in her need to feel a level of control. and it was okay in her mind, because the rabbit had wronged her, ruined her flowers. but when gen comes back from a hunt with nothing, dont you think shaunas the one who chooses which innocent duck or rabbit has to die so that everyone can eat? like why do you think she cried over the goat? It was probably the first time in her life she was handed something innocent and told, very explicitly, that she was not going to have to hurt it.

essentially what im saying is you dont have to agree with shaunas actions to see her point of view. all she does is feed them. she told them it was what jackie wanted. she told them to wait for javi to drown. each time shes shouldered the actual burden of the choice. and all whilst not even having any faith, in the wilderness or otherwise, to alleviate her guilt. pregnant and starving and she never took extra, she makes sure everyone eats to the detriment of herself, and what does she get in return? shes left alone. in pain. she lashes out at anyone who comes near her and because of it they give up on her, like she isnt what they made her. reliving her trauma every time she peels the skin off a stag. her baby is turned into a diety for a faith she doesnt even believe in. jackie and javi too. the others take her real, human losses and make them mythology, stake a claim on them before shes even had a chance to properly grieve. and ofc these are just kids in an impossible situation needing something to believe in, so you cant even rly judge them for it. but that doesnt make shaunas rage any less understandable

[shinynewmemories]

Listen to me Suzanne Collins did not have to give Katniss and Peeta a history before the games. She did NOT have to do that. She could have just had their story begin when Peeta's name was called. She could have had them be total strangers until the moment of the reaping.

Like: "And the boy tribute is... Peeta Mellark!" Katniss: Who's that? Or she could have made them vaguely familiar with each other! Peeta's name is called and Katniss just thinks, Oh, I know that name! He's in my class, actually. Poor boy... Anyway!

Either way, SC could have written the rest of the story exactly the same! I think many authors would have done that! Because if Peeta's purpose in the book was to be Gale's competition, to be one of the 3 corners of a love triangle, THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE WAY TO DO IT!! But that's NOT how she did it because that's NOT what Peeta is.

And what is he? To Katniss, Peeta's someone who saved her and her family and received nothing in return except a beating. Peeta's someone she has had her eye on but has never worked up the courage to talk to. Peeta's someone she associates with kindness and hope. And all this before the start of the events of the book! Just because WE, the READERS, met Gale before Peeta and immediately felt a connection with him does NOT mean that was Katniss's experience! And that's what SC is trying to tell us!

To dismiss Katniss and Peeta's past as unimportant or inconsequential compared to whatever Katniss and Gale have in the present is to fundamentally misunderstand Katniss as a character and, as a result, condemn oneself to never fully understand the choices she makes in the future.

Suzanne Collins wrote it that way on purpose because she had something to say. And no one will ever be able to convince me that something wasn't "It was always going to be Peeta".

[dubiousculturalartifact]

reading The Protector of the Small quartet again for the ????th time (could be as many as the twentieth or more tbh, they're sorta my top comfort reads) and my brain keeps being stuck on Wyldon's character this time around. like he's just FASCINATING. I've rarely read a character who is presented as such a complete fucking asshole who does such a 180 in my estimation in a way that's nuanced and COMPLETELY EARNED, while still staying the same fundamental person at the core, and still being allowed to be flawed. (because oh boy he is flawed) I rank him with Zuko in Top Fantasy Character Redemptions of All Time. I hate him. I love him. some thoughts from this read-through: -he's autistic. like he's just SO very autistic it almost hurts, and half of the reason Kel and him end up eventually understanding and respecting each other so well is exactly for this reason. he's so This Is the Way Things Should Be Done Because The Rules Say So and he is SO rigid and specific but also he EVOLVES and that's a fascinating dichotomy -this is also the SAME reason that Neal and him get along like oil on water, because they are both autistic but Opposite, it's like the personality equivalent of trying to get two hedgehogs to hug -that being said Lord Wyldon RESPECTS Neal in a really bizarre way, or at least understands him? He'd never admit that but that one moment in Lady Knight when he's explaining to Kel about why he picked her for Haven's commander, and he says that he CONSIDERED Neal FOR THE JOB? but said that he thought Neal was 'too fair' and essentially that he would simultaneously care too much and be too irreverent with the refugees, not be objective like Kel would be? again. fascinating. -Owen being Wyldon's squire is such a wild combination of personalities that ALSO should not work at all, because Owen is pure !!!! and Wyldon is like :/, but then my brain was like: oh. Owen is basically a over-excited puppy and Wyldon loves dogs -when Kel rescues Lalasa at the end of Page & passes out, then wakes up to Wyldon and her mum in the room and her mum is arguing with Wyldon about Kel's schedule and stuff. I somehow never really registered before that she FIRST NAMES HIM. She calls him Wyldon, not Lord Wyldon, and is comfortable enough to berate him. do they fucking KNOW EACH OTHER from when they were younger? WHAT IS THE STORY THERE? now I'm remembering when Wyldon got all surprised to hear the story of Illane fighting off the Scanran bandits and saving the sacred swords of the Yamani Islands. hm. interesting. much to consider.

-the bit where Wyldon is like OH SHIT the pages nearly got killed because tradition dictates I don't teach them actual battle strategy and tactics. and I fucking love tradition but I also love pages not being dead, so I guess I better get my shit together on that one.

-or when he QUITS as training master because he's like 'damn toxic masculinity fucked these kids up and I'm kinda partially to blame for that. I gotta get my shit together', and he's like the best thing that came out of being training master was having you as a page. and acknowledges he nearly fucked that up too? -while we're on the subject of 'what went through Wyldon's head' WHEN KEL RAN OFF TO SCANRA AND THEN CAME BACK HAVING BASICALLY WON THE WAR FOR THEM? AND HE WAS SO DISCOMBOBULATED HE ACCIDENTALLY AGREED WITH NEAL? -speaking of the end of Page earlier, i wanna read or possibly write a fic about what went through Wyldon's head when Kel didn't show up to the big examinations, because I think that's SUCH a turning point for his character. Like yes he respected Kel and let her stay before that, but the way he's so clearly kicking himself in the aftermath, going to far as to rope in Duke Turomot, and INVOKE THE GODDESS IN HIS PRAYER FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.... what happened when he had to give the command to start the examinations without her? Like it really struck me that he must have thought 'oh. she gave up after all' and I think part of him might have been disappointed, and part of him *relieved* because he was still clinging to those old attitudes despite everything. And to find out he was wrong? That she hadn't given up, but had sacrificed everything she had worked for in the finest single demonstration of true chivalry and courage he had probably ever witnessed from a page? like damn. Lord Wyldon of Cavall you funky, fucked up man, I want to study you like a bug

[sn-613]

Hi!!👋 I’m very excited to say that I believe this is not cloning but within the normal scope of his powers!!! Because of physics!!! Let me explain just a little (also im new to the fandom/ not an astrophysicist so do let me know if theres any grievous holes in my reasoning)

So, all of this is hinging off of the Sonic the Hedgehog: Official Game Guide (2006) which says on Silver’s tutorial page “"The Teleport Dash is a psychic jump that warps space”

Now there isn’t actually a ‘fabric of space’ to warp buuut im pretty sure they’re referring to the fabric of spacetime. Which works in our favor here! See, you cant separate the fabric of spacetime into space And time, they’re irrevocably connected.

(Oh and im just assuming that if this aspect of his power is done by warping spacetime, than it stands to reason other aspects do too)

Now, everything related to spacetime is quite convoluted, so I’m going to be glossing over things a LOT. But if anyone wants me to try and explain everything more, just ask and i can write smth up :)

So, what im thinking is possible (stretching the rules ofc, bc our current understanding of spacetime pretty much disallows any form of influencing it) is that Silver is warping spacetime to allow us to see these past ‘hims’ in the present (pretty close to time travel, which is why i included @detectiveluckys comment).

Its a similar concept to how the light of our stars is not from the present, but rather millions of years in the past (is that a well-known fact? Idk) I’m also drawing off the phenomenon where stars extremely close to the sun appear to be positioned somewhere they’re not- their light cones are being warped by the sun’s gravity (think of it like how a straw’s position in a cup of water appears different than it actually is, because the light is being warped.)(that metaphor doesn’t hold too much weight, but it can help you visualize whats going on with the stars)

Notice how Silver first goes to each spot before he appears to duplicate himself. He could be warping his light cones (himself) from a couple seconds ago so that it appears he’s in a different spot than he currently is. Repeat this another time and now you have three Silvers!

Does that make any sense? Again, i can go more in depth on all of the foundational concepts, it would just make this a much longer post lol

in Silver’s special move for the trampolines he does a bunch of flips and teleports in the air and then splits himself into three copies. Silver just has cloning powers i guess