#but they think that it doesnt work as it is and go and make up all this stuff about the characters when the reasons are literally right the

[softness-and-shattering]

And recognising that some jokes enforce the status quo means recognising that jokes arent harmless. Like suicide jokes, one occasionally can be funny or cathartic, but making them constantly changes how you think and hurts you.

I had this experience as a teenage girl, in a way I honestly suspect mightve tipped over into clinical paranoia but we cant diagnose these things in hindsight. Everyone in their various protective ways said "you are female, men are dangerous". "Men only want one thing. Cover up, dont walk alone at night even just down the street.". I became wary of my teachers. I thought any man walking down the street behind me was likely to rape or murder me. I became uncomfortable around family members who have never shown a single red flag. I also didnt have any guy friends. I got into womens venting facebook groups and I thought I was being careful, I thought I was being a good feminist. I thought everyone lived this way because thats what people kept saying.

Thats not healthy precaution. Thats not reasonable wariness. It was abject terror. And it was leagues out of proportion with any kind of helpful guardedness. Panic works in very specific situations, and long term living your life is not one of those situations. Long term anger and bitterness doesnt serve you well, even if its justified. Maybe especially if its justified.

The goal always has to be healing. Accurate threat assessment and logical steps taken toward safety with a couple backup plans. Im not saying get into a car with a guy you just met, or meet someone from the internet far away from other people. Im not saying love your oppressor. Just that once you add up all men and all cishets and all abled people and all white people etc etc thats most of the worlds population, and if you refuse to engage with them ir cannot civilly engage with them, youre cutting yourself off from multitudes of opportunities, and many many good people who are doing the work, who's hearts are in the right place, who can help you, who you can even befriend or love if that happens to be. You go out and you take and reasonable precautions, you trust your mind and your gut, and at the end of the day you go home to your ease and safety.

It is not justice or activism to be terrified. It is not ignoring or allowing oppression, to work towards healing from your trauma. If anything, healing is the best way to personally fight oppression. "Dont let them get to you" but with actual coping strategies instead of repression.

Anger is part of the process. Make bitter jokes. But make it part of the process of healing, not of everyday wallowing. And of course when its ongoing its going to be painful. Pain, like fear, is a warning of danger. Just make sure your logically verifying who specifically is a danger what circumstances are a danger, and what is only fear and bitterness holding you down.

i see "men bad" jokes as very similar to suicide jokes. like making them every once in a while isn't the worst thing, but if you Keep making them constantly. it DOES shape how you start thinking and you WILL become a more unpleasant and bitter person and also make people around you uncomfortable. and sometimes you just gotta choose to not make or engage with certain jokes, even if they are amusing to you, because its just not who you wanna be

[quarterlifekitty]

this is gonna be mean but…promethean but no ghost. just bonnie falling deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of dick and despair. Soap’s a piece of shit and this girl’s gotta find her way to stand up to him. but i think that when she cuts things off with him he doesnt gaf.. :(

Ok so. I know this isn’t what you want but I’m a weenie but general so. In my mind reader is God’s specialest princess. If it wasn’t Ghost, someone else would’ve shoved themselves into the savior role. Like imagine König working with her for a class project, developing a massive crush, and then finding out what’s going on between her and soap? Johnny’s getting pulped. Like, he’s gonna graduate with a nose like Owen Wilson.

But I’ve been considering an even better idea, to be real.

Alumn!Price who frequently visits the frat to pick up college girls to mentor the current members. And he catches you, hugging your cardigan to yourself after being dismissed particularly insensitively by Johnny. Usually people around the house just ignore you, but here’s this kind-eyed bear of a man catching you by the shoulders and asking what’s wrong, sweetheart? You hadn’t even realized you’d started crying. He’s pulling you somewhere private, getting you a drink of water and tissues.

It’s not hard to guess, but he pulls the information from you between his dabbing a tissue at your wet cheeks. That you just feel so cheap, but you don’t think anyone will ever want you the way he does—

He grits his teeth a little when you confess, and asks exactly which of his boys it is who’s been making you feel like this.

Smash cut to him using his boot to shove Soap’s face further into your cunt, making him hum apologies against your clit as he eats you.

And you might not know it yet, but Price is planning on showing you how a man is supposed to treat a sweet, sensitive, precious thing like you, and Soap is gonna clean you up after that, too. Gym rat could use some extra protein, anyways.

[honeytonedhottie]

decentering men and recentering urself⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💅🏽💓

the secret to decentering men and not having ur entire world revolving around them (bcuz it should be revolving around you, duh) is having a fulfilling life. it makes me ICK so bad when im watching a video or reading a post and im rly loving it, and then it'll find SOME way to make it revolve around men. like can we not?…💬🎀

WHY WE CENTER THE OPPOSITE SEX ;

a lot of people find themselves centering their lives around the opposite sex in an attempt to fill a void within themselves. they do it because they aren't happy with themselves or their lives, or maybe its learned behavior. whatever the reason is, its NOT hot.

some things that someone who centers men might think are "oh my life is so boring, maybe it would be spiced up if i got with a man" or "maybe it'll bring some excitement into my day" like EUGHHH. obviously the solution is to find ways to make our lives fulfilling but how do we do that? and how do we get to the root cause and squash this self sabotaging behavior?

SELF AWARENESS ;

if u have nothing going on for u, ofc ur gonna be energetically desperate and accepting anything and EVERYTHING. practice self awareness and try to get to the root cause of why u center men through things like shadow work, therapy, or just straight up having an honest conversation with urself cuz i swear it helps.

when you make the conscious effort to build ur dream life you'll notice that people that are on the same mindset as you will vibe with the REAL you. the need to fake/adjust urself to fit in with other people will dissipate because ur fitting into ur own standards and ur connections will be more meaningful because of it.

TAKE UR POWER BACK ;

no ones actions should ruin ur day or make u upset for more then a day (even less) cuz its YOUR world. 💕🍰

make time for YOU, doll. plan self care routines for urself every week. doing face masks, journalling, vision boarding, WHATEVER U LIKE TO DO. making time for urself reminds u that ur the main character of ur life so u dont have to settle for crumbs.

stop giving that power to someone else and dictate how u feel, NOT the actions of a significant other or the opposite sex or anybody. the reason why its important to make sure that ur the center of ur own life is so that you can be happy and fulfilled regardless of if there is a man or if there isnt a man present. so the objective is to decenter men -> and then put yourself at the center

GET A HOBBY ;

find something to make ur life fulfilling. pursue ur OWN interests and try out different hobbies if ur unsure of what ur interests are yet. cultivate ur world to the point where it GLEAMS with perfection and then do a little extra. build a life that u love so much that whether u get male attention or validation doesnt even matter cuz their opinions have little to no relevance 💀

challenge yourself: next time you catch yourself thinking, ‘would a guy like this?’ flip it and ask urself "hey, do i like this?" start checking with yourself first instead of checking with others.

MAKING THE DECISION TO DECENTER MEN ;

decentering men simply means that ur deciding to no longer think, feel, act, dress, or plan ur life around a man or for the validation of any man…💬🎀

relationships will actually get BETTER when u decenter the opposite sex. cuz ur not looking for someone to compete with and ur whole on ur own. this sets the stage for balance and mutual respect and THATS hot.

you can be in a relationship and still decenter men. decentering men simply means that you are the priority, not the relationship. how can we tell if we're decentering men or not? here are a few questions to help you know if u are ->

if i did not care about looking good to the opposite sex what would i actually like to wear?

if i did not get married, how could i create the best and most abundant life for myself?

what hobbies/interests do i have that dont involve being around men/have male attention as a component of it?

[https-murdock]

3:12pm - matt murdock

summary - Matt is always listening, even when he’s meant to be working.

word count - 1.3k

warnings - MDNI 18+ - phone sex, dirty talk, use of good girl and having rules in the bedroom, female masturbation, please tell me if i forget anything!

note - first time writing phone sex eeee, sorry if it’s shitty :) love u all (credits to og pic poster)

— — —

Matt listens - that’s obvious in many ways, but mostly in the way he can tell exactly what you mean, what you feel, just by the tone of your voice.

The way your voice heightens, pulls at the strings of his heart every time you laugh - like the most beautiful song he has ever heard. Often, he hears the way you drawl, drag the words out when you tell him how much you love him - he even hears it in the way you say it too quickly before you leave for work in the morning.

But the thing Matt loves most in this world - was listening to the change in your vocal chords as you fell apart beneath him. The way you became breathy, almost drunk on his touch, and he could always hear it in the way you begged for more of him.

Not being able to see you sometimes bothered him - but he got his fill from hearing you, hearing every change, movement and lift in your voice wherever you were - because, as you know, Matt listens. It didn’t matter where you were, what you were doing, Matt knew about it - to make sure you were safe, of course.

That’s why he was looking for your contact in his phone as soon as he heard your breathing, the way you whimpered - he knew exactly what was going on: you were touching yourself, and there was no way in his God’s hell he was letting this happen without him at least having a part in it.

After all, what good was having superhuman hearing if he didn’t put it to good use?

It was 3:12pm, and unfortunately for him - and you - Matt, Foggy and Karen were all swamped with cases, files strewn everywhere there was no way he could get off early, not matter how much he was so desperately craving to fuck you into the matress as stress relief. So, instead he chose the next best option - calling you while he finally had a few minutes to himself in his office.

“Hey, baby.” You answer, and it just confirms his suspicions when your voice comes through the speaker light, breathy - exactly how it was when he had you falling apart. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he asks, skipping past the beginning of a conversation in search of the truth.

“I-i’m-“ you stutter, a little giggle leaving your throat before you hear him start again.

“What did I say, sweetheart?” He starts, and he knows exactly what the answer will be before you even say it, so he doesnt let you respond before he carries on, “you think i can’t hear you getting yourself off without me?”

As your heart starts picking up speed, you realise he has been listening this whole time; he has been listening to the way your fingers glide through your slick, already sensitive to touch at the thought of him being home in a few hours - could you have waited for him to get home? Sure, but did you have the patience? No, you didn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Matt, i just couldn’t wait for you-” As you start to explain, you can hear the way he sighs in his disappointment.

“Lay back down, if you're not gonna wait till I get home sweetheart, I'll just get you off now, is that what you want?” Matt grunts down the phone, feeling the way his suit pants are tightening just at the mere thought of your moans being for him even when he isn’t there. “No, no please baby i’ll wait till your home, i need you.” You bed, and the lift in your voice tells Matt how desperate you really are, realising he won’t touch you tonight after the way you’ve acted. 

There wasn’t many rules you need to abide by to stay in Matt’s good books, but there were a few - do as you’re told, beggars can’t be choosers, and - obviously - no touching yourself unless he allows it. 

“You chose to try to make yourself cum without me, accept the consequences. Use your fingers sweetheart, let me hear you.” He instructs, and the seriousness in his voice sends a rush of warmth right to your core as you lay your head back into the pillows.

Listening and obeying his rules, you let your hand dance its way back down to where it was before. Whimpering when you feel yourself clench around your middle and ring fingers, you can hear the immediate effect you’re having on Matt - he’s enjoying this more than he cares to admit. You put the phone on speaker and carry it down to where he’ll be able to hear the obscene sounds of the way your wetness leaks from you with each thrust of your fingers, and there becomes so much more as soon as you hear him grunt, “Fuck.” 

Your fingers find a rhythm, curling gently but firmly inside your walls, your whole body screaming out just for Matt’s touch. Nothing could ever feel the way he does.

“Good girl, you like the way that feels? Feels better than when i touch you?” He asks, and you mumble something like, “N-no, wish it was you.”

“Mmm, would’ve been me if you’d have been a good girl for me. Would’ve been buried so deep inside you, fucking you like a good girl deserves.” He starts to palm himself gently under the desk, craving to feel some form of release.

“Being so good for me now, listening so well.” He approves, and the gravel in his voice sends a shiver right down to your toes, the way it does when you hear him whispering in your ear how much of a good girl you are for him.

“M’sorry, wanna come so bad.” you plead, and your voice trails like some form of whine - somehow even wetter than normal knowing he was listening to you moan his name, in his bed, all the way from his office. “Rub your clit for me sweetheart, but you can’t come yet, not till i say so.” Matt tells you, and he’s stern still, not letting up on the frustration you’ve caused him.

You do as you’re told, rubbing tight circles and listening to the slick sounds from between your thighs - Matt’s deep voice on speaker phone on your chest, one hand knuckle deep the other furiously trying not to bring you to release without him allowing it. You think about begging him for a second, knowing it’ll get him off even more than you are right now - but you want to save him for when he’s home, save all his tension for when he walks through the door and spends the night taking you in every place in his apartment.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” he’s whispering to himself, and you can feel the way your lower abdomen tenses at his words, orgasm building strongly across your body.

“I-fuck, baby i’m gonna-“ you gasp, and Matt can tell by the sound of your raspy breathing and the way your blood rushes around your body that you’re trying to hold back, but you’re right at the edge. “go ahead, honey, come for me.” he grants your exact wish, and the moment you let yourself tumble is when Matt decides he’s leaving early - no matter what Foggy and Karen have to say.

Your head hits the pillow behind you as everything takes over, fingers working yourself through your high as you can slightly hear Matt grunting through the speaker on your chest. Vision showing spots of white, your muscles tense as you wonder if you’ve finally entered heaven.

“Not sure if you can hear me still, but i’ll be home in 5.” Matt tells you, hanging up the phone immediately but still listening from his office to the way you try to control your breathing.

Matt knows the second he gets home, his night is about to be a long one - and not because of the mountain of work he has.

— tags <3 —

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @audreyclimbs @pupmurdock @millennial-birkin @poeticbookwormcat

[rusmii]

𝜗𝜚 (HIS) ONLY

ft. dazai, chuuya, atsushi, akutagawa x fem!reader ; how they spend their december with you. cws; tooth rotting fluff, not edited, may be ooc.

love, runi. dear gosh its been so long since ive written 😭... i have a nsfw draft in the works, but i was feeling fluff atm 🙂‍↕️💗. i hope i did the boys justice 😭😭 and it doesnt seem too ooc :(. additionally, i don't think i'm going to disclose the actual reason for being offline for so long. am i sorry for deactivating? nah...

the 24th — his hands ran cold, puffs of icy air battling the hot cry of warmth. he could feel the ache in his bones, yearning for the fire a room away. "isn't it cold?" you ask dazai, who was sitting upright on the edge of your shared futon. "it is," he answers, a whisper so loud, even the wind howls with it. you shift away, holding the large coze of your blanket up high, a cave forming in mere seconds. "then get in." you say with a tired face, "i'm cold too, 'samu." warm me up, he almost missed. without protest, he curls up into your arms—embrace heating the ac he calls his blood. "can't sleep?" you ask the obvious, knowing he appreciated the sentiment anyways. "no." you can feel the small shake his head makes, as slow as a toddler may stand to understand physics, dazai is the same with himself.

it was confusing, all energy he focuses on you, is forced back on him with a stern lecture from you. every bicker and mumbles of defeat helps see the purpose of your intentions. "how are you going to take care of me, when you can't take care of yourself?" a question he could argue with, but deep down—he'd ponder the same question in his head. if he took care of himself, it'd make you happy, and him feeling unsure. if he took care of you, it'd make him happy, at the cost of your disappointment with him. take care of yourself, osamu. you'd always cry sheep as you comforted him. the same building resentment of having his freedom forced onto a schedule quietly turned into appreciation for your efforts.

you didn't leave him. didn't need to help him. you did anyways, the warm flutter he always feels whenever his hand grazes yours or the accidental eye contact throughout the day, was already telling enough. dazai wasn't obligated to show any gratefulness, and neither were you—yet you still did it. and every year since the day of your anniversary, there was always something special waiting for him. clothes, games, your love; everything, was there, in a box wrapped with his blues and your yellows. he envisions each gift to the tune of a shake from the box. each of them perfect, and what he preferred to have on this special occasion.

the 24th, his special gift waiting for you under the tree. to be opened, to be named, that's up to you to guess. but the small gift glistening underneath, cannot wait 'til morning. "i wonder what you got me." he feels your chest rumble softly. in almost an instant, the wear and tear of his job finally catches up to him. "you'll find out soon." dazai smiles against your chest, the soothing lullaby of your breathing nearly puts him to sleep. "happy anniversary, osamu. i hope you'll like my gift tomorrow." a few small circles rub dazai's head. he doesn't fall asleep until you do first. "i know i will," his voice quieter, gentler, matching the tempo of the dying breeze. and you'll love mine too, goes unheard. baby steps, baby steps were still baby steps.

the 25th — you looked just like a dream, the prettiest girl he's ever seen. in chuuya's mind, nothing quite comes and goes as slowly as your beauty. in fact, everyone assumes it's permanent by how he's so enamored—consumed with adoration. it should come as a surprise to no one, when he gifts you a personalized advent calendar to count down the days of his super secret selection of affection that chosen day. first it was hugs all day, then came kisses on the 3rd, and—oh he was so overwhelming with his love! and yet, you could never be bore of it. an excited squeal always left your mouth as soon the clock hit midnight, chuuya already making preparations for his swooning affection for the month of deer. "how's today?" he asks, seeking your approval from the early box picking. "perfect," you say, "i think you'll have me falling from the balcony with the way i'm falling for everything you do for me." he chuckles, "don't die yet, you still have a day, counting six extra, left."

the following day, you're awoken to the soft scent of cinnamon and marshmallows filling the tiniest gaps of air. you struggle to waken fully, still groggy from your late night endeavors with chuuya. matter of fact, where was he? it wasn't unusual for him to leave in the yawn of morning hours, but on his month off.. assuming the solution by the smell, you make way to the kitchen where chuuya stood behind a counter. he notices you in his vision before releasing a blinging smile. "good mornin' beautiful." a wink catches your eye, "couldn't sleep without me?" he says while patting fluffy pancakes down, each stacked imperfectly delicious with a drizzle of syrup and fruits decorating it. "and if i did?" you match his tease, creating an easy tension that could dissolve in any minute.

"well then, i won't keep ya' waiting." his lips form a familiar slant. using his ability to carry the plates and breakfast stand, chuuya's arms are already lifting you bridal. "why're you out of bed? i thought i gave myself enough time to surprise you." he nearly pouts to your face, not embarrassed to do so in front of you. you laugh it off, " 'tis okay, chu." booping him, he drops you onto the bed as some sort of petty revenge. "only if you say so." his lips met your cheek, propping the breakfast tray as you perched on your bottom. your stomach growled in anticipation, kneading the inner lining of your stomach. "well?" he asks, awaiting your approval once again. you picked up a fork and stabbed it into the fluffy pancake. bringing it up to his face, you tell him to open his mouth.

"first bite!" you nudge it closer, "okay," and without another word, chuuya took the entire thing into his mouth, "mmm - wow delicious. why don't you say; thank you chef nakahara." the mischievous in his tone was hard to miss—a smirk you wanted to wipe off his face. "you're welcome my princess." a giggle escaped with it. acting annoyed with the nickname, chuuya sneakily placed a dot of syrup on your cheek. "chuuya!" you gasp, scrambling to wipe away the sticky substance. "my bad, dear prince."

a small smack hit his shoulder, "go away!" nodding his head, he moves to get up, but is stopped by a small tug on his arm. "and bring me my gifts please." he thinks for a moment, arms relaxing and his body sinking back onto the bed. "oh? you mean the ones i threw in the fire to keep you warm last night? those presents? from under the tree?—ow! kidding!" he threw his arms up in surrender after getting smacked again, this time harder.

the 16th — when it came to december, atsushi was no stranger to the cold weather. being nearly stripped of everything but rags for clothes, he often got sick without compromise from the orphanage. when it came to his life in the agency—his life with you—he was taken care of, given affection he was denied, able to show the vulnerability the director shut down. in his own little mind, you were the stage centerpiece; a transition from the filthy pinecone to the golden star he finally got to place on his tree. "quiet," he almost flinches, until he heard a melody instead of the desolate, angry, mob. he opened his eyes, eyes blinding him with your beauty. "an angel?" he questions, still hazed from his pain. "no," you laugh, replacing the towel on his head, "[name]."

"[name]..." he repeats, affirming his belief of being fine and alive. in your shared home—kyouka standing beside you. "is he going to be okay?" her weary voice echoes concern, to which you pat her head and tell her to fetch some more water. "of course he is, he's atsushi. i need a refill, can you do it for me?" with kyouka hurriedly jogging away, you're left alone with atsushi. he moans, his joints aching with every twist. "are you doing okay?" you ask, rubbing soft circles on his palm. "feel so nauseous." he mumbles, throat hoarse like the attack on trojans. you cooed, a sweet lullaby that comforts him through thick and thin, "feel better soon, m'kay?" he bobs his head like copier, obedient. atsushis' peace answers with silence.

admist your little moment, kyouka arrives back with the water in hand. she hands you the small bowl and takes her seat next to you again. "he seems at ease," she notes. "does he?" you question, busying yourself with replacing the towel every now and then. "mhm," she nods, "i'm glad." a small smile comes foward on her dollified expression. kyouka also takes notice of the faint blush resting on his face, daint and obvious. she doesn't speak up about it, opting to pop the question in when atsushi was better. for now, she'll wonder what you two had talked about while she was out of the room.

the 31st — if akutagawa had any say about attending any gift-related events, he'd stay home. if akutagawa had any shred of empathy left, he'd conserve it just for you. a mistake, honestly. he curses to the devils' and above for forcing his heart to ponder sweetly for you. "no," he says, unwavering in his decision. "but, ryu!!" you whine so casually, wanting him to give in and get out of his comfort zone. you knew it wasn't an easy task, seeing as your beloved friend preferred to stay within the four white walls the port mafia created. "annoying," he grumbles, eyes tilting blinding anger, "leave me be." he shoves past you, destined to cast away your binding spell. you stand there, resolve strong as ever while defending against hollow words. "be that way," you sigh, "but before you leave, let me give you this." you pull out a small present, throwing it to akutagawa who caught it with rashomon.

"what's this?" he inquired, an annoyed grunt passing his lips when you don't answer and turn on your heels to leave. annoying, he thinks again. he decides to unravel his gift later, when he was in the comforts of his own home. "what's inside?" gin poked at it, wanting her brother to hurry it up already. "don't know, [name] gave it to me]." he sighs—a gentle remonstrance. gin nods in understanding, waiting eagerly for her brother to tear the paper apart. inside laid a small box, "is it jewelry?" akutagawa shrugged his shoulds, "might be."

he uncovers the tiny trinket inside. it appeared to be a plain, silver lining necklace with nothing attached. at the bottom of the box, a note read; a pitiful necklace for your grey home, truly, a noteworthy gift you thought of. "seems like [name] really likes you," gin jokes about. akutagawa was quick to shut it down though, not in the mood to entertain any lovey dovey tease. "alright, alright," she giggles, "are you going to the party tonight?" she switches the topic. the mafia didn't often hold parties—this year being an exception—to keep their reputation in check. "no, i don't think i will." gin pouts at her brothers' rejection. "i won't force you, but maybe you'd enjoy it." you'll see [name], is what she's implying. as much as he can deny the pointed accusations, it was obvious to others around, that akutagawa held a soft spot for you. he grounded himself, "no." his mental fortude will not be broken down by measly gifts. "mhm–okay," gin hides her grin exceptionally well.

on the day of the party, you're feeling gorgeous in your outfit, hair done and kept to match it. you greet others with polite grace, "good evening to you too executive ozaki." you return her greeting. she does a curt bow before leaving the short talk. hunger gnawed a tight grip on your stomach, a loud growl emitting nothing against the loud chatter of the room. you scan the area for the nearest buffet table to ease your hunger. spotting none, you traverse the mounts of cleanliness ordor into another area of the building, where you laid eyes on an exquisite high-top table filled to the edge of some of your favorites. your inner-self squealed in excitement, still needing to maintain your professional composure while walking down to it.

the closer you got, a familiar voice rang nearby. "i'd rather not talk about it," he adjusts the chain sitting on his neck, your eyes catching wind of his movements unbeknownst to him. "aww, c'mon akutagawa! just tell us!!" tachihara whined drunkenly, using gin as support as he leaned on her. "no," he says. "my brother is a little shy on the outside. don't worry tachihara–i promise he's feeling fluttery on the inside." gin reassures her friend with light taps on his hand. "am not." he glares, hardly ever removing that mean scowl of his. tachihara was about to make a scene until he flinched from your voice, "it's all in the tone, tachi," your half assed smirk eased in—delighted to see akutagawa wearing your gift, "the chain suits you, doesn't it?" you smile, that teasing glint shining in your teeth nearly makes the man in question falter.

"it does," he mutters, walking away with a clenched heart—the blush on the tip of his ears giving away his true feelings.

@ rusmii—everything is owned by mayira, she doesn't appreciate copyright breaches.

anyways lil rant at the bottom but, if ur not a writer, then u have no right to complain abt the amount of smut to fluff ratio 😭 (even then, as a writer, u should understand that complaining is not going to change anything).

im also tired of yall bitching abt everything in the x reader tag 😐 gtfo the place where ppl come to READ fics, not read ur bitching 🙏!

[complaining abt xyz] "oh im going to put this in the x reader tags to gain attention and sympathy for my cause!" OH MY FUCKING GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

anyways, hello guys ik i wasn't gone for that long, but it feels like forever (cause i haven't written anything good yes ik). buuut.. my hyperfixiation on bsd isnt leaving anytime soon so why not make the most of it rn and write again. next fic is def smut 😴🤞.

[mymoshangthoughts]

okay, okay, okay, bear with me

mobei jun already knows about shang qinghua as airplane

oki ive decided to take advantage of the fact that WE NEVER GET A MOBEI JUN POV AND I'LL BE FORVER SALTY ABOUT THAT SHIT

but like, shen yuan figured airplane out REAL fast, right? they barely spent time together before the immortal alliance and then it takes one surprise before airplane is saying stupid shit, right?

and i cant help but think, mobei jun aint dumb and he's been spending How Many Years crashing at shang qinghua's leisure house whenever the fuck he feels like it?

he also finds shang qinghua to be Hella Sus because come on, ofc he does. a human just declares their undying loyalty to you after one fucking meeting??? even if he believes shang qinghua is being sincere in the moment, the fact that he was so quick to betray his sect doesnt speak of a loyal servant

so why wouldnt he snoop? why wouldnt he pay extra close attention when shang qinghua says shit that doesnt make sense? why wouldnt he notice when shang qinghua speaks or writes in a language that he doesnt recognize? airplane canonically isnt fluent in english so if he used a bit of it, especially chinglish, wouldnt mobei jun be able to learn some of the meanings of the words just by context clues? especially when he has YEARS to decode it? like if airplane was fluent, maybe he could hide the meaning, but a limited vocabulary adapted to another language isnt actually super hard to decode. it's the same reason that you can generally understand what slang means before you look up the definition. you might not know what 'rizz' means, but you can pick up the meaning from context clues.

anyway im over explaining the linguistic aspects ALL IM SAYING IS what if airplane kinda depends heavily on chinglish to be his Secret Language that Theres No Way That Anyone Here Can Get. and sure, for most people, it does seem like gibberish. but again, mobei jun has YEARS at his side and reasons to nitpick at it and decode it.

like what if airplane had a habit of writing out pidw plot points in chinglish bc look he is Going to forget shit no matter what, he wrote that novel a lifetime ago, but theres some info thats pretty important for him to Not Forget. so mobei jun is just left with a huge stash of Impossible Information that shang qinghua writes about

everything ranging from future events to obscure demon world facts that theres just no justifiable reason for shang qinghua to know about and just everything in between.

but also what if shang qinghua wrote his feelings? his thoughts? his issues? like cmon, he literally has NO ONE to consult with about the insanity of his life before cucumber-bro, and his life is really crazy, and he used to be the person who wrote out his feelings via novel but look dude he's not about to tempt fate by writing out another novel rn so a diary makes sense. or at least like, random venting

and again, this isnt even mentioning airplane having some potential verbal fuckups that mobei jun can add to his ever growing file of "shang qinghua has something fucking going on"

and like, maybe mobei jun hasnt actually figured out the exact truth but he has some eerily close guesses. or maybe airplane wrote a lengthy journal explaining literally his entire fucked up life and mobei jun knows Everything.

look im just a little bit obsessed with mobei jun casually being aware for YEARS that shang qinghua is from another world and might have once had god-like powers over this world. i think this is very funny and i think it could work in a canon compliant way. cuz i also like to think that some of mobei jun's aggro at shang qinghua was a mixture of

you literally wont tell me who you really are. you claim to be my loyal subject but you wont even tell me your real name and Yes I'm Upset About That

you fucking fucker, you literally PLANNED that horrible event to happen???? you suck so bad omfg. THAT WAS TRAUMATIZING FOR ME YOU JERK NO I DONT CARE IF YOU FEEL BAD ABOUT IT NOW

your handwriting sucks and im mad that i didnt just have to decode your weird other language, i also had to decode your fucking horrendous handwriting and i dont know if i can ever forgive you for that

you barely ever show your real personality in front of me and i have to learn how you really feel by reading this fucking notes and YES IM UPSET ABOUT THAT

i also just love the idea of Something Happening to do with the multiverse and basically mobei jun is the only one who isnt remotely surprised lmfao. binghe is in crisis mode, cucumber thinks he's gonna die, airplane is freaked out, and mobei jun is just like "yeah, figured some dumb shit like this might happen. you didnt know binghe? dont you pay any attention to your husband :/ dude, they're not even good at hiding it, i thought you were supposed to be smart"

also the simultaneous heartattacks that cucumber and airplane would have that mobei jun just KNOWS like thats hilarious. imagine they need to talk about something secretly in public and its super urgent and mobei jun just starts using chinglish or webspeak or something perfectly and cumplane are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT

mobei jun: that mofo is hella sus, but keep it on the dl. ttyl i need to do a vibe check

cumplane: ?!?!?!?!?!?

[amoeganism]

UNFORTUNATELY INTERESTED michael kaiser

That weird regular with blond and blue hair stopped showing up to the cafe you work at and coping by watching every clip you find of him online isn't enough. Lucky for you, he's also a weirdo freak who missed you.

tags: birthday special!! crack, loser x loser, ness doesnt ask questions, ness third wheels, ness STAND UP, mentions of circumcisions if you dont fuck with that, reader is a freak, michael is a freak, it cancels out (no it doesnt), 2.6k words of slop, i'm lazy and am going to nap now

A man named Michael orders two drinks from your cafe each morning at seven. It’s a simple order of a mug of hot black coffee and a to-go order of black tea. He sits down at a table farthest from the entrance but still next to a large window pane, sipping on his coffee until it’s gone. Then, he’ll place the empty mug on the shelf with all the other dishes to be washed and take his tea with him, disappearing until the following morning. He isn’t the only morning regular that you encounter but the blond and blue mullet along with the tattoos of intertwining blue rose vines are intriguingly beautiful; every person has a uniqueness intangible by another but Michael’s haunting blue eyes leaves you with uncomfortable curiosity that’s seemingly impossible to be satiated. 

He stops showing up three months after his first visit. It kind of freaks you out since you had just come to terms with how you’ve been anticipating his appearance every morning for you to observe him like a scientist observing bacteria under a microscope. Part of you assumes it’s because he caught onto your weird staring and finally rationalized that there’s a creepy barista that’s a little too interested in his ritual of blowing his piping hot coffee four times before drinking or how they’ve caught onto the way he delicately trails his fingertips around the ceramic rim of the mug between every sip. Fortunately for your pride, your question as to why he disappeared was answered by a viral post on your social media feed of your more interesting customer shirtless and calling a group of teens dumb, ugly pieces of shit or something like that. You laughed at the clip before realizing that you really did look forward to seeing him again. 

It freaks you out a little bit when a different man shows up at seven in the morning ordering the exact same thing Michael did: a black coffee and black tea but this time, they’re both to-go. He gives his name as Alexis and you can’t help but think his face looks rather familiar. As he waits for his order, he scrolls on his phone and furiously types something before perking up when you call his name.

“Thank you!” he chirps, putting his phone into his pants pocket. “My teammate really likes it here. He asked me to get this for him because he can’t make it. Uh, his name is Michael?”

Your mind clicks into place at the mention of your former customer’s name. The man in front of you is Alexis Ness, the funny little guy that Michael, or rather Michael Kaiser, would exclusively pass to on the field. You’d rather die than admit that you spent a little too long stalking any and all videos of the man you could find—his awful personality was oddly entertaining. “Yeah! He used to come by every morning before falling off the grid.”

You were tempted to ask about Blue Lock, but you didn’t want to expose yourself as a freakish stalker that does background checks on their customers as a hobby. Before you can fall victim to temptation, Ness pushes the glass door open with his back and leaves with a short “have a nice day!”, leaving you with a new guy to dig up info on. 

The next morning at seven, you expected to see Ness return to order drinks for Michael, but you were greeted with two men instead of one. One of which, being Michael himself. His hair was put up with a gold claw clip rather than let down and he mindlessly nodded along to the nonsense rambling of Ness. The shirt he wore was loose around the collar, exposing a blue rose tattooed onto his neck and collarbone, a painful yet beautiful placement. Each line and stretch of color was beginning to bloom into his skin as it settled and spread, leaving slightly blurred edges as a result of aging. You had read that he was the same age as you, nineteen, and that made you wonder when he had gotten it done.

“Good morning,” you greeted with a small smile, standing in front of the register with your hands in front, ready to take their order. Directing your attention to the blond man, you attempt to start some kind of small talk, “It’s been a while since you’ve been here. It’s good to see you back. Black coffee here and black tea to-go?”

“I’m impressed that you remembered my order,” he teased, reaching into his pocket for a black wallet and pulling out a credit card. “Have I really made such a big impression on you?”

Slightly irked but also amused, you take his card to slide on the side of the register. “You came here every day for months straight. I think it’d be embarrassing for you if I didn’t remember who you are. It’s not often someone like you comes around and stays.”

“Someone like me?” Michael asks with a raised brow. 

“Y’know, tatted up and choppy, dyed hair. You kinda remind me of a peacock; I fuck with it.”

“Nice to know someone appreciates it,” with an exaggerated sigh, he combs his fingers through a loose lock of hair framing his face. “It’s a shame people tend to be so boring and unappreciative of what I bring. Peacocks you say? When I cut my hair, I can put the scraps together and make a custom peacock feather just for you.”

“Oh…I’m so glad to hear that you’re creative and confident? I think this is why you’re a soccer player and not a business owner…or pickup artist…or a customer service worker…or a respected individual.”

The mention of his athletic career catches Michael off guard for a brief moment, ignoring everything else you said like a guy stuck in delusion limbo with selective hearing, but he was quick to recover from the initial shock. “You know about me? I never knew you were such a fan. Do you want me to sign a napkin for you? I don’t offer this to just anyone.”

“I’m good, you can leave my napkins alone. And I think it’s reasonable to see what happened to my former superfan.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, I was here for the superb drinks, not you.”

“Ouch? Be careful what you say, I’m the one making your order.”

As Michael laughed at your interaction, you suddenly remember that Ness was still there, having long been done with reading the menu. Whatever embarrassment you had was replaced by judgement with how Ness was perfectly content and joyful about being left out like a cuck. Athletes are weird, you conclude. 

“What can I get for you?” you direct towards Ness, opening up a new order.

“Um, I’ll get a cold brew to-go.”

“Sounds good! Cash or card?”

Shortly after, all three drinks were made and you called both Michael and Ness to the pickup area where Ness grabbed a straw and found a table for the two to sit at. Michael, however, stayed behind, not even bothering to touch his two drinks before talking to you. 

“What time does this place close?”

“Six in the afternoon every day except for some special holidays where we either close early or don’t open at all. I can never remember which is which so I bother the owner for every one.”

“Is it just you who takes the opening shifts?”

“Yeah, I work the first hour alone and then my coworkers come in. I get off at three so it’s not too bad ‘cause I get the afternoons and evenings to myself.”

“That’s nice,” Michael muses, slowly nodding to himself. He slides his coffee over to himself and looks at you with a sly smile. “So if I were to take you out for dinner, it wouldn’t be a problem?”

“If you’re gonna kill me? Yeah that’d kinda suck, but if you’re talking about a date…sure,” you laugh at your unfunny joke. Thankfully, Michael either also shares a bad sense of humor, or laughs at you and is mocking you. If it’s the latter, you’ll find a way to get back at him (and it doesn’t have to be ethical). “Um, do you want my number or…?”

“That’d be wonderful, thank you.”

You quickly grab a ballpoint pen and scribble your contact information on a napkin from next to the sugar and sweetener packets, handing it to Michael. His slender hand brushes yours, sending goosebumps down your arm from his cold skin. Outwardly, you don’t show your surprise at the unexpected sensation but the rush it brought made you embarrassingly giddy. 

His sharp blue eyes crease along with a teasing smirk on his smooth lips. “And here I was thinking I’d be the one signing a napkin for you. How nice of you to prove me wrong, love.”

“Already starting with the pet names? That’s bold.”

“Should I stop?”

“Do whatever you want. It’s kinda funny how eager you are to be with me.”

“I can’t deny that.”

Michael carefully folds the napkin with your phone number, placing it in his wallet and meets Ness at the table he chose, bringing his beverages along with him. It didn’t take long for the pair to finish and leave, but not without Michael sending you a sly wink your way. The gesture was kind of goofy and if it were anyone else, would give you second hand embarrassment from its corniness. From how your heart skipped a beat, you silently cursed him out for bypassing your bitterness and working his way into managing to fluster you. 

—

“Hey, a customer asked for my number this morning,” you tell your coworker, Yui, as she ties an apron around her waist. Her brown eyes lit up at the news as she whipped her head around to face you. One of the first traits you learned about her was her nosiness and although it could easily become aggravating, you had always found it entertaining, making her one of your favorite people to work with. Her schedule, unlike yours, alternated between working morning shifts and afternoon shifts, making you see her a couple days a week. Yui finishes her uniform by putting on a baseball cap with the cafe logo on it, something you learned that she would take off within an hour from how sweaty it’d make her.

“Who?! Did you give it to them?! Did they text you yet?! That’s so exciting unless they're creepy and weird and in that case, I hope they get pushed in front of a subway,” Yui fires at you, her eyebrows raised with intrigue. “Well?”

“It’s the soccer guy that I told you about. The one who used to come here every day and then dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Oh! Michael Kaiser? Wait—he asked you out?! Holy shit. That’s insane! Did you say yes? Did he text you yet? You should text first—wait you can’t because he’s the one with your number.”

“I guess he technically asked me out? I mean, he just said ‘hey, what if I took you out for dinner’. If he doesn’t text me I’m going to kill him.”

“Fair, fair.”

You got a notification from an unknown number on your way home, asking you if you were the barista at your cafe. Relief flooded your body, overriding the tension you didn’t know you had. After shooting a text back, confirming your identity and asking if the message was from who you think it is, it takes five seconds too long for him to reply and in that time you consider buying a pair of scissors for a surprise circumcision. 

MICHAEL: How do you feel about 6 P.M. tomorrow?

YOU: fine with me

YOU: where should we meet

MICHAEL: I can pick you up

MICHAEL: Consider it a surprise

YOU: can you even drive

YOU: are you going to kidnap me

MICHAEL: NO

MICHAEL: PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

YOU: omfg you want me so bad

YOU: [address]

YOU: https://www.wikihow.com/Neuter-a-Dog (this is a warning)

An alarm indicating you have ten minutes before Michael picks you up blares from your phone but you stay put, stupidly blinking  into your vanity mirror as if it’s going to do anything to your appearance or do anything to turn your phone off. The gum you were chewing served as a stress reliever and something to make sure your breath wasn’t rancid but it quickly turned into garbage bin gunk as soon as you bit your tongue. Everything was starting to piss you off and you suppose you’d start with silencing your phone. 

Even though you’ve worn this outfit before, you twirl around like a dog chasing its own tail, trying to find any uncut tags or a seam that magically broke in the few minutes it spent putting it on. Several stabs to your ego outweighed the taste of blood in your mouth as you realized you were losing your cool over a guy named Michael so in an attempt to calm yourself down, you disregard any advice of breathing exercises and imagine Michael picking his nose while loudly grunting as he takes a shit. To your utmost horror, you don’t get the ick.

Exactly one minute before the clock hits six, you get a text from Michael saying that he’s outside your apartment. You stumble to get your keys, making sure your bag and everything you need is with you. Despite not spending any time wondering what his car would look like, the obnoxious electric blue car had you blinking several times and pinching yourself to confirm if what you’re seeing is real. One part of you feared that the literal beacon would attract a violent mob of paparazzi or creepy fans and it’ll end up in all your private information being leaked with a box of shit on your doorstep but another self-absorbed part of you thought the gesture was flattering and that deep down, you were thoroughly enjoying the attention. Match made in hell or whatever. 

“Nice car, you planning on totaling it anytime soon?” you ask, sliding into the passenger’s seat.

“Not yet, unless you’d like me to. I can put a blindfold on and press the gas as hard as I can if you ask,” he gleefully fantasizes. It’s a little cute how smug he is talking about ways he would cause a car accident for you. Maybe chivalry isn’t dead or maybe you’re both doing the world a favor by going off the market. “I’m a man of many talents, after all.”

“Wow. I’ve never been more attracted to a man in my life.”

You don’t know if Michael’s playing along to your deadpan comment or if he’s choosing to ignore it with the way he drives all the way to the restaurant with a smile on his face. The sight of him with such a proud expression on his face combined with the misplaced confidence is embarrassing but endearing. If you were to ask yourself why you decided to smile along with him, you’d tell yourself it’s because you’re making fun of him in your head, but in your heart, you know it’s for a different reason—one you’re too stubborn to admit. 

To spend months observing Michael Kaiser only for him to disappear without a trace, leaving you longing for a reunion you thought only you would anticipate is more shameful than admitting to yourself you had fallen for him first. As Michael parks his car and extends a hand out for you and opens your door, extending a tattooed hand out for you, you suppose you’ll share your affections with him the same time you share it with yourself. 

[genderqueerdykes]

this whole anti-transmasc shit is making me way more depressed than bs discourse should because for years i thought it was about us. Big US. all of us. I thought we were us. thats why it didnt matter that not a lot of the conversation about trans issues were about trans men, or that very few public figures who talked about trans issues were trans men. I thought it was enough that it was us. but apparently this whole time I wasnt included in that? apparently this whole time I was this like. half trans person who doesnt actually count as apart of the conversation? it really sucks ass.

honestly that's a great way to put it. it's bone chilling to realize how many people have been excluding you from the start, and are only trying to make it worse. this divide in the trans community is manufactured as hell. it's like you said, you thought it was about "us"- all of us. all trans people. but for some reason, there's this common online rhetoric that trans men aren't trans somehow? like being a trans man isn't "Actually trans" or you're being trans "wrong" somehow.

like how are we still perpetuating the idea that the only "right" way to be trans is to be a trans woman and everyone else is a tomboy, or a confused butch, or a crossdresser, or whatever the fuck. like we somehow still have people within the community who just deny up and down that trans men "count" as trans. what are we doing? this isn't community. it's bullies looking for fresh meat to target, and i've had enough.

i don't care if people assume shit about the trans male experience. i don't think that people believe that we instantly gain cishet male privilege (or gain it at all) and are basically cishet men and oppressors. that's just not how this shit works. we're still trans. we are a part of the trans community. you can't ignore us anymore. we're right here. and we're going to occupy the spaces we rightfully can. and we're going to keep talking about our experiences until it pisses off every last transandrophobe.

people who want to make an entire queer community about themselves are a detriment to those around them. people who think they're somehow the protagonist of a given community deserve to face pushback. we don't have to sit here and let people walk all over us anymore. this is what cishet society does to trans men. why should we have to get walked all over on in our own home? are people serious with this shit right now? you can't kick us out of our own home. we live here. we've always lived here.

[wassupmygays]

every time i listen to Runs in The Family (Reprise), i think about how Scared sodapop must be

"maybe i should finally just walk on out" darry screams, "you'd be one less thing for me to worry about!"

and suddenly soda is thinking about how much darry does for them. how much he works, how much he cleans, how much he cooks, how much money he brings in. and soda knows he cannot do that. he cant do what darry does, and if hes gone... what would happen to him and ponyboy?

"leave you boys, im heading back to school! im tired of lifting you up, tired of playing the fool"

darry cant leave. he cant. he wouldnt. soda knows this. but what if hes wrong? its looking more and more like he wont be able to de-escalate this argument, and what would happen then? he always hopes and prays that the next argument would be the last, but they always just keep growing and growing. would this be darry's final straw if soda couldnt hold them together?

"Start a new life in a different town, there aint no tellin' where i'd go without you draggin me down"

soda knows hes right. he knows that darry couldve gotten out and made a life for himself if he didnt have to devote every waking hour to making sure him and pony didnt get sent away. and god if soda didnt feel a shit ton of guilt for that every day.

"picture life without ole' Darry around!"

god soda doesnt ever want to imagine that. even if darry wasnt the one holding their family together, he wouldnt ever want to picture a life without his big brother. he loves him too much. he needs him. even before their parents died he needed his big brother there. hes never known a life without darry and he never wants to.

but he also can't sit and dwell with this fear because hes gotta de-escalate everything. and darry is yelling, and now ponyboy is yelling, and poor johnny is watching all of this and now theyre screaming. and ponyboy is saying maybe Darry should just leave and oh my god why cant they just stop fighting

and then suddenly darry has slapped ponyboy and soda watches him and johnny sprint out the front door. he doesnt even know how any of it happened. and god he prays that darry wont leave now.

he cant lose both of them

[compassionatereminders]

mostly the thing that made me fall out with the system of psychiatry is just. how rigid it is and how unwilling to bend to the patient's individual needs, that if a treatment doesnt work its implied the patient didnt try hard enough to engage as opposed to....every single person is different and just because one treatment works for the majority of patients with that illness, the illness does not make all those people the same.

as well as that i also have issues with how people in the psych system trust their colleagues. i was psychologically abused by my psychiatrist for two years which consisted of him removing any medications, lying to me and discharging me for punishments. i tried to kill myself twice under him and his treatment of me caused that. he still works at the outpatients i attend bc who is going to believe a psychotic patient over a psychiatrist (which is another thing about the system that psychotic patients raising any concern is seen as delusion). and not only that but all his coworkers think hes a great guy. so how am i meant to get treatment for the damage he did to me when all of his colleagues are more inclined to try to protect their coworker than face the fact he is Abusive and Negligent to patients with personality disorders. How am I meant to get treatment for that trauma when all the system wants to do is protect itself first?

And that's not even bringing up how hard it is to be any kind of minority in psychiatric care. I've known Deaf people left on units without access to interpreters, essentially themselves from family, friends and anyone who speaks their fucking language, unable to defend themselves or even understand what doctors are telling them. As a trans person I have to go through my transition history every appointment. For what? and when transphobic legislation gets passed and I start thinking abt how i dont want to live in this world it is exhausting to phone a hotline knowing i will have to explain this whole thing to someone who doesnt know/care. and that black people are restrained, sectioned, diagnosed with schizophrenia and labelled aggressive at exceedingly high rates compared to white people. AND THEN the fact that Being a minority at all has negative effects on your mental health but psychiatry often seems to fucking treat mental illness like its exactly the same in everyone and will not sit down with minorities and hear them out on their struggles.

my like tldr is psychiatry is a system now and it refuses to engage with patients on an individual level it doesnt ask patients what they want and instead bases things off "reccommended treatments" which involve invasive interventions for certain diagnoses that patients dont get a choice in. and people are content to just have psych patients sectioned and isolated and they dont wanna think about the fact their human rights get taken away for indefinite amounts of time for WHAT?

it frustrates me endlessly. i dont want to be this ill but the system wont help.

Well said. I really hate how psych professionals will so often see a recommended treatment not working or making things worse and treat this as proof that the patient isn't trying hard enough instead of going "hey maybe this approach just isn't right for this person"

[my-sandwich-it-was-innocent]

I realized something phenomenonal about how Sonic 3 wrote the movies story

Live and Learn was the foundation its story beats.

-Verse 1 is Shadows arc in the first half of movie

Can you feel life movin' through your mind? (Shadow mentions only being able to think about those traumatic events while in stasis)

Ooh, looks like it came back for more, yeah! (Self explanatory Shadow waking up)

Can you feel time slippin' down your spine? (Dhadow coming to terms its been 50 years)

Ooh, you try and try to ignore, yeah! (Shadow attempting to forget his grief and pain)

-Verse 2 is Sonics arc

Can you feel life tangle you up inside? (Wrestling with the fact that he Sonic the Hedgehog is not particularly unique and theres another Hedgehog like him stronger then any of him and his friends)

Yeah, now you're facedown on the floor, oh! (Literally a moment in the movie hes facedown fighting to save his new family)

But you can't save your sorrow, You've paid in trade ( Tom being injured by Shadow)

And you can't help but follow (Sonic following his anger and using the Super form he said he would never use again)

It puts you right back where you came (Sonic becoming all alone again due to his anger)

-Bridge with Sonic and Shadow reconciling

There's a face searching far, so far and wide (Shadow looking at the stars just like he did with Maria)

There's a place where you dreamed you'd never find (Sonic telling Shadow about his own grief of Longclaw and how he continues with the love they had for each other)

Hold on to "what if"! Hold on to "what if"! ( A light shines, even if the star is gone)

-Chorus is actually Geralds story and the path Shadow too wouldve followed had Sonic not talked to him on the moon

Hanging on the edge of tomorrow ( focuses on the fact he doesnt see a future and wants to make sure no one does)

From the works of yesterday ( his obsession he had with the wrongdoings GUN had done to him in the past and Marias death)

If you beg or if you borrow (about how he begged GUN to not end his project and how he then has GUN make the ARK for him to steal and use later)

You may never find your way (the fact in the end he couldnt let go of that revenge and pain like Shadow)

-and finally "Live and Learn!" (Marias wish for both Shadow and Gerald to move past her death and to live their lives with her light as a gentle pushing force one which Shadow heard)

[goldmanguyperson]

i need all people to get it in their heads right now that being horny doesnt actually strip you of your self control, if it does you need to work on that, and if you instantly assume that all other people are like that then you really need to examine why tf you think that. people who have like, a hand kink, arent instantly going to get weird at you and intrude on you just because you have your hands out, and if they do, that’s their problem, not a problem with someone having a hand kink. the whole idea that horny = uncontrollable is literally how people justify making women cover up and harassing them. Please for the love of god you cant perpetuate this

(this post not about finding concept of losing control sexy because fantasy and roleplay is not real nor reflective of who you are in a realistic situation)

[dreams-of-beloveds]

HORIKOSHI WHEN I CATCH YOU HORIKOSHI

why in the fuck were we left on cliffhanger for the end of season 7. i’m so- i don’t even know how to feel right now, because i wasn’t even expecting us to be left on cliffhanger, and THE NEXT SEASON DOESNT EVEN COME UNTIL AUTUMN R U KIDDING ME how am i supposed to cope?!?? sure i still have the ova’s and the films left to watch bUT STILL MAN I FEEL SO EMPTY RIGHT NOW DAMMIT

god i have so much to say about season 7��not only was watching the todoroki family the most devastating thing ive ever witnessed—their family history is so intricately tangled and i really wonder if touya is still alive (i haven’t read the manga, i hope he is, and i don’t wanna read it online dammit) i want to see them come to a proper closure so bad i need them to be okay with each other even if endeavor isn’t forgiven (which is honestly valid) i want this family-against-touya-to-protect-everyone-else situation to bring them together in some way dammit!

and then we had the togachako moment. oh lord. oh lord i love them, they’re so—yeah sure i see them as a queer ship, but god fucking dammit after hikimo finally came to accepting her smile and her way of showing love being “normal” because of ochaco’s words and coming to the conclusion that all she ever needed was to “give blood like how she wanted to have someone else’s” HIMIKO BETTER NOT BE DEAD DAMMIT DONT TELL ME THAT CONFESSION MIDAIR AND THE SHARING HIMIKO’S BLOOD TO KEEP OCHACO ALIVE WAS ALL FOR NOTHING

oh god and fucking hawks. oh jesus. i wasn’t expecting his quirk to be taken completely. i honestly have no idea what his ending holds, but god dammit i hope he’s alive, i know his worst fear was getting his quirk taken when that’s what made him “the best” in the first place because he was literally groomed to become a hero due to his quirk despite growing up around villains, i can’t imagine how he’d be feeling—but fuck, fuck the burden he must’ve carried for having to kill bubaigawara even though he didn’t want to, he just found a genuine friend when working undercover and yet, he almost had to face the wrath of the sad man’s death legion through himiko oh man i couldn’t stand seeing him just,, fall, after everything

all might, oh, all might. this man is in his 50s and yet still can’t let his work go can he? this damn workaholic. but seeing him with his support items all including his students quirks 🥹💔 this man adores his students so much, if he doesn’t fucking stay alive after defeating afo i’m gonna fucking riot, RIOT I TELL YOU i sure fucking hope this isn’t the ending nighteye had foreseen about all might’s death because i swear to god, hell i fucking know nighteye would’ve been so mad seeing all might go into that war against afo quirkless with only support items he would’ve been MAD AND YK WHAT SO AM I BITCH SO HE BETTER COME OUTTA THIS ALIVE

and hell we don’t even know what the situation with aizawa, present mic and kurogiri is??? WHAT HAPPENS I NEED TO KNOW I NEED THEM ALIVE i don’t fucking know if shirakumo ever comes back, he was dead to begin with, i don’t think he’s gonna but damn can aizawa and hizashi get the closure they deserve? thats all i want for them, for them to be able to work alongside shirakumo’s “soul” one last time and have some form of closure dammit

and well, i left bakugo katsuki at the end of this fucking rant because i need him alive. i remember seeing so many damn parallels of kudo—and how his expression in afo’s hands looked so defeated, as if he was ready to die for yoichi, meanwhile katsuki, fucking bakugo katsuki, he’s not ready to die, yes he fucking moved through that pain to blast one last move in shigaraki’s face knowing there was a possibility of not making it but GOD DAMMIT I DOUBT HE WANTS TO LEAVE IZUKU BEHIND NOT YET and him fucking talking to all might’s vestige. god i genuinely was bawling so much. the voice, the expression, god just looked so, so vulnerably soft which he’s never let himself before, except for when he apologises to izuku to bring him back to UA. but god fuck, how- what- HOW DO I COPE Y’ALL HELP ME SOMEONE TALK TO ME IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND

there’s so much fucking more i could yap about right now but it’s 1:15 am, my hands are hurting, my eyes are burning from crying so much after it ended, and my brain is dead. i can’t do this man

P.S. as someone who holds too much emotional intelligence and is studying psych, you can never make me hate any villain because i will always understand their pain too well, even if i don’t justify certain actions

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[wolfythewitch]

Have u considered giving the creature and victor similar factions since you know the whole theme of fatherhood

I kind of made him look like victor and Henry's lovechild LOL. Though basing it off Henry more. I think it's silly and gay but also if I go down the route of how when victor saw Clerval it brought with him memories of home and his family, and the fact that the creature destroys that one by one is very silly to me.

Sees Clerval: serene joy and calm and peace

Sees the creature: oh dear lord

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THIS THING IS SCUUUFFED AS HELL & ITS ALSO THE BEST THING I HAVE ANIMATED THUS FAR. IM SO IN LOVE WITH EMIZEL. JUST WISH I GAVE HIM MORE STUPID TATTOOS. NEXT TIME THO. NEXT TIME. I ALSO LOVE VEX&VIV SOOOO MUCH. charlies flavor of Deranged is my FAVORITE!!