#but unfortunately for you feelings are never ration or technical

[roselensedeyes]

celeana/aelin and chaol ceased to exist as a couple the moment she was unable to forgive him for his part in nehemia's assassination. he didn't kill nehemia, but he trusted his kingdom more than he did celeana. in her eyes, he was as responsible as the person who held the weapon.

elain and lucien ceased to exist as a couple the moment she looked him in the eyes and told him "you were there. you betrayed us." he didn't kidnap nesta and elain and forced them into the cauldron, but in her eyes he's as responsible as ianthe, tamlin and he king of hybern.

[lenaellsi]

“Crowley is still an angel deep down” “Crowley is more of an angel than any of the archangels” “Crowley was only cast out because he needed to play his part in Armageddon, he's not a real demon” “Aziraphale wants to rebuild Heaven to be more like Crowley because he’s what an angel should be” no. Stop it. This is exactly where Aziraphale went wrong.

Crowley is 100% a demon. He's not actually a bit of an angel, and he's not cosmically better than any of the other demons we see in the series. He's much less vicious than most of them, yeah, but he's also much less vicious than most of the angels, because how “nice” a celestial being is has nothing to do with which side they're technically on. Crowley's kindness comes from him doing his best to help people despite the hurt he's suffered himself, not any sort of inherent residual or earned holiness. He was cast out just like the rest of the demons, and that's an important part of his history that shouldn't be minimized, excused, or, critically, 'corrected.'

Being angelic is not a positive or negative trait in the Good Omens universe. It's a species descriptor. Saying that Crowley is still an angel deep down because he helps people is an in-character thing for Aziraphale to think, certainly--Job and the final fifteen showed that in the worst possible way--but it's not something Crowley would ever react well to, and it's the main source of conflict in the entire "appoint you to be an angel" fiasco.

We know that Aziraphale thinks Crowley's fall was an injustice, but why? Well, because Crowley is actually Good, which means his fall was a mistake, or a test, or a regrettable error in judgment, or…something. Ineffable. Etc. The point is, he’s special, much better than those other demons, and if they can fix him and make him an angel again, everything will be fine! (So once Job's trials are over, everything will be restored to him? Praise be!) Aziraphale has to believe that Crowley's better traits come from traces of the angel he used to know and not the demon he's known for 6,000 years, because that’s how he can rationalize his incorrect view of Heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good with his complicated feelings about Crowley's fall.

But Crowley's fall was not an injustice because he's actually a Good Person who didn't deserve it. Crowley's fall was an injustice because the entire system of dividing people into Good (obedient) and Bad (rebellious) is bullshit. Crowley is not an unfortunate exception to God's benevolence, he is a particularly sympathetic example of God's cruelty.

And really, Crowley doesn't behave at all like an angel, especially when he's at his best. All of the things that he's done that we as the audience consider Good are things that Heaven has directly opposed. (See: saving the goats and children in defiance of God in S2E2, convincing Aziraphale to give money to Elspeth despite Heaven's views on the "virtues of poverty" in S2E3, speaking out against the flood and the crucifixion in S1E3, tempting Aziraphale to enjoy earthly pleasures because he thinks they'll make him happy, stopping Armageddon.)

Heaven as an institution has never been about helping humanity. And that's not an issue of leadership, as Aziraphale seems to think--it's by design. Aziraphale's first official act as an angel toward humanity was to literally throw them to the lions. Giving them the sword wasn't him acting like an angel, it was just him being himself. Heaven doesn't care about humans. It's not supposed to. It's supposed to win the war against Hell, with humans as chess pieces at best and collateral damage at worst.

Yes, it's easier to think that there are forces that are supposed to be fundamentally good. It's easier to think that Aziraphale is going to show those mean archangels and the Metatron what’s coming to them and reform Heaven into what it "should" be, and that God is actually super chill and watching all of this while shipping ineffable husbands and cheering for them the whole way. And of course it's easier to take Crowley, who Aziraphale (and the audience) adores, and say that he deserves to be on the Good team much more than all those angels and demons that we don’t like. But that's not how it works. People are more complicated than that, even celestial beings.

Crowley is a demon, and the tragedy of his character is not that he's secretly a good guy who is being forced to be evil; the tragedy is that he's lived his whole life stuck between two institutional forces that are both equally hostile to the love he feels for the universe and the beings in it. There are no good and bad guys. There are no "right people." Every angel, demon, and human is capable of hurting or helping others based on their choices. That is, in fact, the entire fucking point.

[enluv]

bewitched

pairing: anton x mentioned gn reader! (pls lmk if there are any gendered terms I may have missed)

synopsis: in which anton has a not so tiny actually really big crush on reader.

genre: fluff that made me smile to myself so hard that I had to remind myself this was just a fic, idol!anton & idol!reader, angst if you squint, pouty anton & his hyungs love to tease him for it!

coco’s <3 note: this was something I wrote up after a really long day of studying for finals last week so if you hate it lie to me (I’m sensitive) and it’s completely self indulgent 😭 + not edited well…

small but important a/n: I am so happy people love this fic as much as I do but I unfortunately will not be making a part two for it! originally I didn’t plan one and still in my heart feel like it doesn’t really need one!! sorry my loves, ty for the understanding 🤍

anton who smiles to himself as he watches you do his groups dance challenge, he’s seen you backstage countless times now with your group and he swears you’re his soulmate.

loud and energetic, your personality compliments his usually timid and introverted one.

the first one to notice is seunghan, always the one with the keenest eye, he teases anton throughly when you walk past them in the music show halls, pushing his shoulders and tugging at the boys pink cheeks.

the next two to notice are wonbin and shotaro, having caught their youngest replaying your groups music video just after briefly being introduced to you, he claims it’s so he can learn your dance challenge but the boys can tell from the way his voice raises an octave, that he’s lying.

eunseok and sungchan take note as they watch his eyes sparkle up at the screen in their room backstage, there’s no hiding the proud smile he wears as he watches you move about on stage smiling and enjoying the time you have with fans, they can see just how much he admires you.

sohee is the last to know as he walks right up to you, laughing and joking like old friends do, anton goes through the five stages of grief so quickly the rest of the members laugh loudly at him.

first, he denies what’s taking place in front of his eyes, he can’t fathom how you know his friend, or why you two seem so close.

second, he’s angry. not at sohee or you, never you of course, but at himself for not seeing the obvious signs. you’d done their dance because you knew his friend, not just because you were interested in him them.

third, anton tries rationalizing with himself. this was okay, it’d be okay, and if you ended up with sohee it would be fine because technically he’d never admitted to liking you, and so technically you weren’t anyone to him, so really if he thought about it, he’d be fine, especially if you made his best friend happy.

fourth, he’s pouting, and not even on purpose in a cute way, he’s full on pouting at the scene taking place in front of him. he’s sad you’re so close to sohee, sad he isn’t the one making you laugh loudly or putting a smile on your face, sad that he has absolutely no chance with you at all. this isn’t fair, but he can’t do anything so he resorts to pouting and clinging onto his older brothers for comfort (as they laugh and tease his current state).

finally, anton thinks he’s over it. he’s been watching you and sohee giggle about back and forth for what seems like hours now (it’s been less than five minutes) and he thinks he can finally accept this reality. you’re into his friend and he’s chopped liver. yeah that’s totally fine, he’s totally okay with this outcome.

the older boys smile at one another as they watch anton bury his head deeper into eunseoks broad shoulders, seemingly shielding himself from the scene in front of him. they know when their maknae is upset and it’s a million times clear just how much he is right now.

“anton, are you okay? I want to introduce you to my friend.” sohee’s soft voice pulls him out of his depression, slowly rising his head he’s met with a pair of eyes he knows too well, and his ears turn red.

“this is my roommate, he’s the one I told you about, the one that’s a big fan of you,” his friend laughs after his words and anton isn’t sure what’s worse: you being madly in love with sohee or you knowing he’s madly in love with you.

“anton right? I’m also a big fan of you, if that’s not totally embarrassing to admit to you.”

and just like that he’s swooning again, all the thoughts and feelings from before melt away as he pushes past eunseok to stand in front of you. now this, this is just perfect.

sohee shoots him a smile and a thumbs up, and it all clicks, anton is almost ashamed of how he’s acted.

sohee knew about his crush, how could he not? they shared a room together, of course he’d caught him watching your content, laughing at things you’d said, and bashfully liking your pictures from his spam account, he’d done this on purpose, he’d introduce you to one another on purpose.

“do you want to maybe grab some lunch with me?”

so maybe that wasn’t what he’d planned to say to you first but at least he’d spoken…right? even if it was straightforward and not like him at all.

your laugh makes his ears even redder, and he’s instantly smiling as you nod, taking his hand and leading him to “a really good cafe” as you put it. anton isn’t listening fully, he’s just happy he can finally admire you in person.

yeah he’s definitely too far gone. he thinks he might be in love.

coco’s <3 note x2: I love love love writing for riize they’re honestly my favorite boys ahhh I love them!! hopefully now that I am on break I can write more for them :) thinking of opening requests for them too maybe? and like if you know me you know I don’t do that often so !!! hope you enjoyed this fic, feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

riize taglist — @palajae @txtlyn @rllymark @soheekisser @luvbinnies (can’t tag those in bold 😕)

Want to join the taglist? Find the forms here!

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod With Monster!Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Reader is described with some monster features depending on which character, blood drinking, Reader is dead in Ghost’s section, descriptions of blood and a slit throat, a decent amount of spice Soap’s along with some dub-con, also mentions of eating human flesh, Reader is described with a green dress in Soap’s part because it’s part of the mythology that I read, Reader remains Gn though.

A/N: This is the post I got way too into. Soap’s especially is….way too goddamn long.

Price - House Spirit

Price first met you when he moved into his new home. He was annoyed when he thought he had mice, what sounded like their little claws scurrying all under the floorboards and in the cellar, unaware that that was just you moving about. So preoccupied with his own worries, he never wondered how dust never seemed to collect in home, despite him being gone for months at a time, how his clothes and sheets always smelled clean and unwrinkled, or how his dressers were always full despite not actually having done his laundry since he moved in.

It all comes to a head one day when he was home on leave and decided to check his cellar for the first time in the whole 3 years he’d technically lived here. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t even know he’d come home that day and were too busy reorganizing your little nest in the back corner of the room to hear the door open or his heavy footsteps coming down the steps. Not until you could feel his bewildered gaze staring holes into the back of your head.

Things from there were….tense. He wanted to believe that you were some strange person who was either trying to rob him or maybe someone who was suffering mentally and was confused. Something that didn’t fuck up his entire concept of reality and what was real and myth. That was, until he got a good look at your little horns, your long and floppy, almost bunny like, ears, and the swishing tail behind you. He promptly backed himself up the stairs and slammed the door to the cellar shut.

It took another week or so before he went back into the cellar, but this time you were hidden away from his eyes. It took some coaxing from him to get you to reveal yourself, promises that he wouldn’t hurt you or try and force you to leave. Once you did come out, he was all questions, what you were, why you were here, why you were staying in the fucking cellar of all places when he had a bed he didn’t even sleep in when he was home.

After that, things were a bit rocky but….almost domestic. He enjoyed coming home and seeing your ears perk up so cutely when he walked through the door, or how your tail swished a bit faster when he greeted you kindly. Overall, he enjoys your presence and it’s no skin off his back if you want to do all the cleaning that he can’t be bothered with on his few lazy days. Or if you feel like cooking for him when he comes home. Or if you wake him from his ptsd induced nightmares, touching his face and holding his hand, making him warm tea and something to eat to help stop his shaking.

The only thing he insists on is that you move out of the cellar and into an actual room.

Gaz - Dullahan

Gaz met you when he was lost in the woods, a chopper having crashed and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was thirsty and hungry, having run out of emergency rations and water days ago, with nothing nearby to help him. He was on Death’s door, his eyes heavy, his stomach long since having stopped it’s rumbling, body weak and feeling like lead. But, as his eyes began to close, he heard the strangest thing just before he lost consciousness.

The beating of hooves on the ground beside him.

When he came to, Gaz was feeling significantly less thirsty and weak, but still very much tired. The warmth of whatever he was laying on brought him a sense of ease and relaxation.

Until he registered that what he was laying on was ever so subtly moving up and down. At the same time that he made this realization, something cold and wet nudged at the palm of his hand, making him shoot upright. Whatever it was startled at this and snorted almost angrily, making him lose his balance and fall back.

What he saw only confused him. A large black horse with a long mane and tail, it’s eyes completely white and leaving him feeling cold every time he looked into them.

And then a voice, your voice, calling out to the giant creature. “Dubhshláine, come.” You said, and it did, but not before sniffing at Gaz’s face one more time before it trotted over to your side. Then Gaz was pushing himself back up, eyes searching for the source of the voice, almost shouting when he saw the headless body that was petting the snout of the great beast.

It took….a while for you to calm him down, frantically trying to keep him from running, your voice shouting from somewhere that he needed to calm down and that he shouldn’t move when he was like this. But his struggle only ended when he was practically dry heaving in your arms, dizzy from trying to exert himself like that when he was recovering from dehydration and starvation.

Things went a bit smoother after that, at least, once you reattached your head and offered him some berries and meat that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to eat, despite you insisting that it was just goose. He did end up eating it though, if only to stave off the incessant rumbling of his belly. And that night, as he let you guide him into a cave and helped him into a large pile of warm furs, you promised him that you’d help him get home.

But he couldn’t help but think that going home meant he’d never be able to hear your soothing voice again.

Ghost - Poltergeist

Ghost is someone who goes to thrift stores every once and a while. A habit of his, as he doesn’t like to spend too much money, and part of him likes to see what sort of things other people have collected and gotten rid of over the years. Priceless things and useless things alike. Normally he sticks to buying little, only things he needs, like a cheap and worn t-shirt because his last one finally became too ripped to wear in public.

But on that day, something else caught his eye. A simple and small Jade necklace tied on a black string. His fingers brush over it, running his thumb over the hole in the middle where the string was tied. Ghost should have known something was wrong then, as he never took interest in jewelry. Ever.

The owner seemed to take notice of his attention and told him to just take it, as it had been sitting on the rack for ages, longer than he could remember. What he didn’t tell Ghost was that people constantly avoided it, avoided even looking at it, even the owner himself. It instilled a sense of dread and fear, and made people’s hearts race. The owner had tried to simply throw it out but it ended up right back on that rack, time and time again. And if it wasn’t making this strange masked man uncomfortable then he was more then welcome to take the fucking thing off of his hands.

Ghost is surprised at the offer but accepts after a moment of hesitation. The necklace becomes sort of a good luck charm for him, and he rarely, if ever, takes it off. It’s always so warm against him (it grew almost scorching whenever he took off his clothes), making him feel a sense of security that he wasn’t sure that he ever felt before.

But soon things…changed. He noticed that if he neglected to touch the necklace for a certain length of time, things would happen around him. Things moving from where he left them, pictures falling from walls, objects jumping off of shelves. Like a brat throwing a temper tantrum after being denied attention. It was something that he brushed off time and time again as the wind or loose nails or whatever other thing he could think of. Ghost didn’t believe in the paranormal.

At least, he didn’t. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to hands oh so gently petting his face and chest, an eerie and croaky sounding cry echoing quietly in the room, he starts to believe just a little bit. His eyes slowly peek open when your hand on his face drifts down to cup the back of his neck, your other hand going from his chest to his hip as you press soft and sweet kisses to his chest, focusing particularly around the necklace that laid in the center of his skin. He only got a good look at you when you started rubbing your cheek against his clavicle, that same noise as earlier coming from your mouth.

And god when he saw you.

Your throat was slit open, that much he could make out, wide and deep, so deep that it must have damaged your vocal cords, which explained why you sounded so croaky. The blood from the cut was all down your front, staining your once white t-shirt and the panties that adorned your body. And you looked almost see through, but Ghost could certainly feel how corporeal you were.

Ghost’s eyes quickly shut again when you started to move, straddling his hips as you pressed those same kisses to his face before curling yourself against him, burying your face into his neck. You seemed…..lonely, almost. And Ghost decided he could work with lonely, especially when he had been left feeling the same way for the longest time.

Soap - Baobhan sith

It was a stupid wish, made in the dead of night, when he was lonely and sleep deprived on a mission in the middle of nowhere, his comrades sleeping around him on the forest floor while he took the watch shift. It was a wish for companionship, to not be as lonely as he often felt. Sure, he had the 141, but the 141 were family. Not a lover that would hold him tight, press kisses to his lips, tell him that he was loved and cherished.

And that was when you appeared. He didn’t see you at first, too lost in his own thoughts. You only caught his attention when you shifted, your curious and mischievous eyes peeking out at him from behind a tree trunk. He was stunned for lack of a better word, especially when you came out fully, your long green dress dragging on the ground. What were you doing out here?

He called for you quietly, his voice full of concern. Were you hurt? Looking for help? Lost? He stepped closer but you stepped back, gesturing for him to follow you, to chase you. And it was stupid that he listened. He was a soldier and he was leaving his sleeping comrades defenseless. He shouldn’t have set his gun down and took off after you, no matter how worried he was. But something about you was clouding his judgment, making him lose his way.

He stumbled through brambles and branches, through bushes and mud, your giggling the only sign that he was even going the right way. And then finally, a break in the darkness. A little homey cottage, the sudden light almost feeling blinding to his retinas. But when he opened his eyes again, you were there, excitedly beckoning him again, coaxing him into what was supposedly your house.

Soap knew he should turn back, should wake away, but his body only moved forward, his mind a fog of confused desire as you pulled him in for a kiss, your back pressed against the door. He was putty under your touch, just waiting to be molded into whatever shape you wished for, whatever shape pleased you best.

And apparently what pleased you was having him under you on your soft bed, riding his cock for your pleasure and your pleasure only, batting away his hands every time he tried to touch you. He was desperate for it, for more of you, like you were a drug he’d never be able to come back from, that he’d never stop craving.

And then you came and all he could think of was how you were pulling away, how wanting he was, how he couldn’t let you leave him like this. He didn’t notice the red in your eyes or how sharp your teeth became, how you started to go for his wide open neck, his blood pumping so deliciously fast for you.

And then you were flipped, so distracted by the thought of your own meal that you didn’t notice that he’d grabbed you until it was too late. He pushed your face into the pillows as you started to wiggle, his other hand clenching the meat of your hip tightly to keep you still as he plowed back into you, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure.

He’s overcome with the need for his own pleasure. With the need to drown himself in the pleasure your body gave him. His cock was twitching, he was so close. So so close. He needed it, needed it more than he needed the air in his lungs. He leaned in-

And you screamed.

Your cry was loud and sharp, like a banshee’s wail ringing in his ears. It shattered the haze in his mind, sent the wool flying from his eyes. He looked down and he saw your skin steaming from where his dog tags had touched your back. You seemed relieved with them gone, your body shaking under him, snarling at him over your shoulder.

It clicked for him suddenly, everythinh falling into place like one horrible puzzle that was missing its final piece. He’d grown up on old stories and legends of creatures that harmed humans, ate them down to their bones but were repelled by iron. His tags were steel, so he supposed they were close enough to iron to merit their effect on you.

You watched him. He watched you.

And then all at once he was moving again, finding your little squeak of surprise both amusing and cute. You were confused but he had never been more certain in his life. As he used you like his own personal whore, his mind was made up. You were his now. You couldn’t leave him. You were the first person in so long to take away the loneliness, the pain.

He flipped you onto your back, holding your hands above your head with one hand as the other whipped his dog tags over his head, wrapping them around your wrists as you hissed at him, bucking wildly. It only served to impale you further on his cock, making him groan with delight before his mouth was on your skin, nails raking down your sides now that you were successfully restrained. And he didn’t stop til you were a drooling whimpering mess on his cock, his cream dripping from your sore hole as he pressed kisses along your face and hands. Showing you how good he could please you and take care of you.

And then, you’d come with him, right? You chose him that night in the woods, and he chose you right back. Except instead of a quick meal, you ended up with a Sergeant who was head over heels for you and refused to leave you out in your woods all alone.

At least he was cute.

[pianostarinwonderland]

maybe skully isnt dead 🤯 [half copium half srs]

listen. ik ive been on copium for a while. ik we all are, ive seen twitter, tumblr, and everyone’s tags on my posts when they reblog

BUT PLS HEAR ME OUT. IM SO SERIOUS RN WHEN I SAY: if u wanna be technical about it, if u wanna stretch it out somehow, you can argue that the game never outright states that skully is dead, only that the skully we met was from hundreds of years ago.

“but mamsir pianostarinwonderland, how in the fuck can that be???? we HEARD that invisible kiss” LET ME COOKKKKKK 🔥🔥🔥 I SWEAR EVERYONE, I AM COOKING U JUST HAVE TO HEAR ME OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT— knocked out

Ok serious time, let me mansplain to you all the possibility of Skully being alive

Establishing first of all, Twst has kept Skully's nature vague

Simply put: we don't know if Skully is human. In his live 2D, Skully's ears are completely covered. Even in his illustration, we can barely see his ears. It's an interesting design choice. However, in his chibi (which wasn't revealed until Episode 5), we can see his ears aren't shaped like a fae, but are round like that of a human.

However, it's pretty hard to think he's human either, when we consider his "moshi, ne moshi" greeting in Episode 1 and its connection to the supernatural. Voiced, to be noted. Exactly what kind of creature he could be is currently unknown, but because this part was voiced, it's something we need to pay attention to at the very least.

In regards to his mortality, the only clue we're really given is Skully himself saying that he may never meet us except through Halloween, which implies a lifespan similar to a human or something similar. But Skully doesn't know how far into the future that the cast is from. Heck, does he even know of his nature?

Now, addressing that invisible kiss...

I feel like this is the main thing that told all of us that Skully is long gone. Heck, if you catch me in my right mind, I might just tell you that yeah, that should be enough proof that Skully is dead! Little signs from the dead such can manifest in similar ways to what Jamil and Leona sensed: hearing a kiss and feeling a kiss on your hand.

(unfortunately i'm not in my right mind so you're getting my dumb reasons why i'm arguing for otherwise)

However, if Skully is gone, I find it interesting that this is the way they decide to show it. We already know from the very first Halloween event that ghosts can manifest all year round in Night Raven College due to the high concentration of magical power in the area. Outside of that, they cannot be seen. If they really wanted to confirm with the audience that Skully is a ghost, they could have had him appear as such at the end, when they all returned to Night Raven College.

But they chose a scenario where people can draw a lot of conclusions from it: Is their senses getting fucked over as they wake up? Are they still reeling from the magic of the book? (though rationally, we know that Leona is not one to be easily stunned, so the first question is at the very least easy to dismiss)

I've also seen some people theorize that he's using invisibility magic during the invisible kiss scene. And well, while I find that funny, it makes me wonder if he could be some other kind of spirit that's not dead. Like an undead of some sort, which the residents of Halloween Town are. Heck, Azul's card line about Skully talks about how he seems to fit right at home with the Halloween Town residents. Again, we don't know Skully's true nature, but the possibility of him being a species that can turn invisible is interesting.

Moving on, we have what Dire Crowley stated about Skully

At the end of the event, Crowley tells us that he found Skully’s portrait while rummaging through the storage and shows it to us and the 11 boys who went inside the book

What he tells us is that Skully J. Graves is a NRC graduate from hundreds of years ago, before Crowley was Headmage. Note that he only was appointed for the position 100 years ago; the Skully we met is at least from around 200 years ago. During his NRC years, Skully got to share Halloween to NRC. It was a hit, and when he graduated, he spread Halloween all over the world in his travels.

I'd like to take a little detour first to discuss something that's been weighing on my mind: Some people have thought that Crowley is lying to us when he speaks about Skully and his achievements, but... I don't see why he would lie. For one, there is a decent chance that Crowley might not have gotten to see Skully. Even if he did, it's even more unsure if he was involved in Skully's affairs.

However, there's one main reason why I do think that Skully got to live a fulfilling life instead of facing an overblot that killed him or some other tragedy. I'd like to dedicate a longer post to this matter, but to make it concise, I think through Skully, Twst is starting to establish something new regarding their history. I think that historical teachings, folktales and stories, and rumors that are well-known tend to be lies or twisted truths. Whereas those that are obscure and not known are actually what occurred. Skully is called the King of Halloween who's done so much to spread the holiday to the world, yet not even NRC students, who should be the first to know considering that Skully is an alumna, know of him. Although there may be other reasons why that's the case, I like to think that at the very least, Skully's obscurity indicates that he did live the life he wanted and succeeded in working for a future that generations after him can enjoy.

Anyway, that actually isn't the main point of this section of the post, but I kind of want to air that out first. The main point is that Crowley only really said that Skully is a former NRC student from hundreds of years ago who traveled around the world to spread Halloween. But he never told us where he was buried or whether he saw his ghost roaming NRC. He never said anything about Skully being dead.

He probably said the hundreds of years ago bit, carrying the assumption that of course, Skully may have passed away. But we have to remember that we have long-living species in Twisted Wonderland. Fae that were students 200 years ago are very likely to be alive now. Crowley himself is a long-living creature, having been Headmage for 100 years. I think with that in mind, it's important for him to emphasize that Skully's gone if he really is. But he never mentioned it. Therefore, there is a good chance that Skully might just be somewhere else. That or Crowley just doesn't give a fuck where his alumni go, and I might be thinking too deeply about the absence of certain words. Honestly, that's a pretty good chance too.

Lastly, we have the scene where Jack Skellington gets shot down but survives it

Here's where it gets a bit more into speculation, but you're going to have to hear me out.

In the movie, Jack Skellington gets shot down by the military for impersonating Santa Claus. When the Halloween Townspeople watched it, they all despaired, and the mayor started declaring to all that Jack has been blown to smithereens and proclaimed him dead.

But that's not what happened: we find Jack landing on an angel's statue, alive and definitely not blown to smithereens.

And considering that Skully is still very much twisted from Jack Skellington... do you think the writers are pulling a similar move? Making us think that he's dead, just as the townspeople thought he was dead, only for us to learn eventually that he's alive.

This of course depends on what happens eventually in the sequel. From the way things are proceeding, what happened in the Lost in the Book with TNBC is events prior to the movie, and we could very well have the sequel be set during the movie events. (If you ask me, I kind of doubt that actually. I feel like Skellington got inspired by Skully's love for Halloween, enough to stay true to his identity as the Pumpkin King, which would mean the movie wouldn't happen the way we know it. So if anything, I feel like TNBC 2 would focus less on the actual movie and more on the side games where Oogie takes over Halloween Town and even kidnaps Santa and other people, but I admit, that's a stretch, especially considering that we will get Santa giving Halloween Town a taste of Christmas)

Of course, this post is really just to let some of my copium out. Rn, it's still safe to assume that yea, Skully's dead. And though I am coping hard for Skully to be alive, with the way Twst treats the dead, it's not exactly a bad thing. Ghosts continue to stay in NRC like they're living people. They honor the dead, and let the dead live among them. And even if he is in the afterlife and not stuck in the mortal plane, I have faith that Skully did live a fulfilling life that may have been forgotten but clearly changed the world. :'D

[part-time-zombie]

Show Or Tell

Pairings: implied/background analogical

Tags/Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, repression, miscommunication, technically minor spoilers for Big Hero 6 if you haven't seen it yet

Word Count: 5923

Summary:

Logan knows his role all too well. He's supposed to be Logic, the epitome of reason and rational thought. The steady constant keeping everyone grounded in a sea of chaos.

But it's hard to be that when he can feel himself falling apart day by day, and he knows he's going to fail eventually.

a.k.a. three times Logan denied his emotions and one time he didn't.

It was, rather unfortunately, no secret anymore that Logan had feelings. There had been more than enough outbursts, both positive and negative, to prove that by now. He’d sing just as frequently as he’d shout, and usually with the same reaction from the other sides for either outburst. That reaction of course being a stunned silence preceding what Logan could only describe as expressions of utter disbelief and/or disgust.

It was only natural that they would be unnerved. He was Logic, an unfeeling force that was neither equipped nor designed for emotional expressiveness. The mere concept of Logan being emotional is as impossible as Patton being unfeeling, or Roman uninventive.

And yet, here he was. As emotional as ever.

As emotional as always.

He shouldn’t be. He wishes he weren’t, so he could be what he was supposed to be. He’s supposed to be Logic, Thomas’ logic, and he can’t be that when he’s emotionally compromised. He knows that, the others know it too. That’s why they all look at him like that when he slips, when he falls, when he fails.

They look at him like he’s a malfunctioning mistake, like he’s a beast that started to walk on two legs or speak in a human tongue. They look at him like he’s a freak of nature, and he is. Because what sort of logic lets itself become so corrupted by emotion?

A flawed one, that’s what.

He was so very flawed.

And, pained as he is to admit it, he can find no means of correcting himself.

Because every time one of the others indulges in all of those feelings they have every right to express, he finds himself fighting to keep from joining them. Smiles, screams, and sobs, all fitfully forced down in the same strained manner that he knows will not last forever.

He can already feel himself losing what little control he has left, but what other option does he have? He needs to have control, or to at least perform as if he still does. Not just for himself but for the others. If they were to realize just how compromised he’s become, they’ll start to fear that the same will happen to them. Perhaps they’ll even fear that he’ll contaminate them in some horrible way, warping and ruining them just as he is now.

They’ll reject him, want him gone, because what little effectiveness he’s had will be completely destroyed once they finally see him for the wreck that he truly is.

He can’t blame them for that inevitable reaction, of course. It would only make sense to want to remove or replace a faulty instrument.

That doesn’t mean he can’t still hold on to normality as tightly as he can, clinging to this for as long as possible before he’s eventually ripped away from it.

There he is, getting sentimental again. He needs to get a hold of himself before he lets any of those flaws slip to the surface again. His place in the group depends on it.

*

It was a relatively peaceful day. Not necessarily a quiet one, but peaceful nonetheless. For once everyone was getting along with each other, sharing gentle grins and simple jokes freely and openly. The air was light and clear, ringing with musical laughter that only tempted Logan to join it.

He knew he couldn’t let himself do that, but it was getting harder to hold himself back.

“Aw come on, I know you’ve got a few jokes of your own.”

“Depends on what you consider a joke.”

Patton had been prodding Janus into joining him on his seemingly never-ending tirade of puns, convinced that just because he was good at wordplay he’d be amicable to the idea of dad jokes. The others had all already thrown a few of their own jokes into the metaphorical ring except for Logan, who merely watched their good-natured exchange with what he hoped was a bored expression as he held his own mirth down the best he could.

“Just tell us at least one joke, Jan. We’d all love to hear what you’ve got.”

Janus leaned forward from where he was seated, idly swirling the wine in his glass with a sly smile on his face. “Well, if you insist,” he started, shooting a brief glance at Logan. “Though I’m not sure it’s of the same caliber as your puns.”

“I’m sure your jokes aren’t that terrible.”

“I never said that.”

The others eyed him expectantly, Patton more excitedly, and Janus took a slow drink before starting.

“So a horse walks into a bar…”

Virgil interrupted with a groan. “And the bartender asks him, ‘why the long face?’. We’ve all heard that one before.”

“I wasn’t finished, Virgil.”

Virgil nodded with a rather unsubtle eyeroll, and Janus continued.

“A horse walks into a bar, and the bartender tells him ‘I’ve seen you come in here an awful lot, are you an alcoholic?’. The horse considers this for a moment before replying ‘I don’t think so’, and just like that the horse vanishes into thin air.”

Janus pauses for a moment, taking in the others bewildered expressions. “This of course references the famous quote by Descartes, who is best known for the statement ‘I think, therefore, I am’, but to explain that to you first would just be putting Descartes before the horse.”

Oh.

That was..

That was funny.

Logan’s quiet chuckle may as well have been riotous applause in the otherwise quiet room. The joke was clearly lost on the other sides, but going by the smug expression on Janus’ face, he knew all too well that it would get Logan to laugh.

Of course he did.

Logan managed to figuratively reel himself back a second later, but it was already far too late. They had all heard it, heard him, and he had been caught once more.

They were staring at him now, faces full of surprise and disbelief.

Janus looked awfully proud of himself, Remus looked awfully proud of him, Patton was staring slack-jawed and wide-eyed at him, and…

And Virgil and Roman were looking like they barely recognized him.

Roman’s face was as red as his sash, something that only happened when he was truly upset, while Virgil was far too embarrassed to even look at him, instead opting to hide his face behind his hands.

After all, who wouldn’t be ashamed to have such faulty logic associated with you?

The room was so quiet, too quiet.

He did it again.

Logan left the room before it could get any worse.

*

He fortunately hadn’t had any major slip-ups after that, but he got close. Far too close for comfort.

The worst it got afterwards was on their next movie night, when the votes were passed for him to count and he had to resist the urge to rub his eyes to ensure his vision wasn’t growing worse.

“Something wrong, Logan?”

“Not exactly,” he muttered, looking back up to better face Virgil. “The votes appear unanimous.”

 Indeed, every vote requested Big Hero 6. They were all clearly written by each of the sides, their own untarnished handwriting evident of no sabotage at work.

They had all chosen this movie, but why? It was a Disney movie, sure, but there were plenty of other options out there that each of them would have preferred over this one. It’s not exactly the first pick for anyone other than himself, who kept up the same silly habit of hopefully submitting his own vote requesting it and always ending up vetoed.

So why did they all agree this time?

“Well, that’s good, right? At least, when it’s not because of Princey rigging it.”

Virgil ignored Roman’s offended scoff, still looking at Logan with that odd expression.

“I suppose it is, but just to confirm, everyone is in agreement to watch Big Hero 6 tonight?”

A clear chorus of collective confirmations responded. It was decided.

Logan definitely wasn’t excited at all.

In truth, he was undeniably tentative. Not only because the entire situation felt orchestrated in a way he could not yet predict, but also because he knew the inevitability of every movie night.

The derision.

Roman would always tear the movie apart. Figuratively, of course, though it still carried all the subtle savagery of any other kind of attack. Plot holes, cheesy dialogue, underwhelming special effects, anything and everything was open to his indiscriminate mockery.

He once said he shows his love by making fun of things, but Logan knows more than anyone that something doesn’t need to be loved to be ridiculed.

That alone was evident in how Roman spoke to him. He didn’t like Logan, his frustration evident in the plethora of rolled eyes and open scorn that came with every one of their conversations. And yet he mocked him with all the readiness as he did to movies.

And now, the movie he was going to slander just so happened to be one of Logan’s favorites.

The opening credits played, and Logan could only hold his breath for what would follow. The jokes, the teasing, the endless judgement of even the most trivial things, it was only a matter of time for it all to come laughing forth.

Only, it didn’t. Not right away at least. The sides all sat in relative silence, save for a few occasional bouts of laughter from Patton or Remus at the more humorous segments.

Not from Logan.

He was too busy bracing himself to laugh even if he wanted to.

The lab scene came soon enough, finally followed by the long-anticipated start of Roman’s callous commentary.

“How does any of this stuff even work, huh?” he started, gesturing vaguely at the various inventions on the screen. “I mean, I’m sure that at least some of this stuff is possible, but if it was we’d surely have done it ourselves by now, right?”

Logan bit his tongue in the dark of the living room. He knew better than to give Roman any encouragement when it came to his critiques, it only ever prolonged them and Logan was not at all in the mood to see what else Roman had to say against this movie.

“You get what I’m saying, right, Specs? If anyone would know the science behind it, it’d be you.”

“Perhaps you should pay attention to the movie,” Logan snapped, hoping the tremor in his voice was noticeable only to himself. “They explain it well enough for even you to understand if you’d simply listen for once.”

Roman opened his mouth only to close it again, finally giving up on finding a retort and returning his attention to the movie in silence. Logan tried to do the same without thinking about the wary looks the others were now sending his way.

Better to play it safe and remain silent for the rest of the movie if he can help it.

The movie played on uninterrupted, and Logan was a bit surprised to see he wasn’t the only one shutting up. Roman was quiet, too. Probably uninterested in further provoking him tonight. Logan almost felt grateful that the room was finally quiet again.

That is, until it was too quiet.

The movie had eventually reached its midpoint before the third act, when Hiro and Baymax return from the island and the past recordings of Tadashi are played. It was already very rare for a movie to have any emotional impact on Logan, as he remained carefully adept at distancing himself from the film, but this scene…

This scene always found a way to get to him.

He supposed he could see a small part of himself reflected back through Tadashi in this scene, his optimistic determination as he faithfully attempted over and over again to make his idea work even though it failed over eighty times. Then, after the power would go out and give him his final failure, Logan instead saw something else.

He saw something that was never directed at himself.

That soft, understanding expression. One that was full of forgiveness and hope, and so much caring patience. Staring right at him, assuring him that it’s alright.

“I’m not giving up on you,” the video promised. “You don’t understand this yet, but people need you. Now let’s get back to work.”

When was the last time anyone had told him that?

When was the last time Thomas had told him anything like that?

The room was so very quiet, the only sound coming from the tv. Even though the recordings were over, the words were still ringing in Logan’s ears. They played over and over in his head, only cutting at him more with each time it repeated.

He needs it to stop, before—

“You alright, Logan?”

Virgil’s voice broke through the fog. He almost sounded concerned, but checking to compare his tone with his expression would mean turning to face him and risking his own expression revealing far too much.

For example, the stinging tears he couldn’t blink away and the lump in his throat he couldn’t force down. He most certainly couldn’t allow himself to reveal any of that.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, already getting up from his seat before he could even think about how hoarse his voice had become. “Excuse me, please.”

Logan was upstairs and in the bathroom before Gogo got to hug Hiro, locking the door behind himself and clasping his hands firmly over his mouth to stifle the sound of his labored breathing.

This is so stupid of him. Why is he getting so emotional over a movie he’s seen before? What is it about this scene that manages to break him like this so easily?

Why does he break so easily at all?

He shouldn’t be like this, tearing up over a children’s film and feebly crying to himself about it where no one will notice. He’s supposed to be unfeeling and unshakeable, not… this.

This isn’t what he’s supposed to be.

He was letting them all down. He was letting Thomas down.

No one looked at him when he eventually returned downstairs with his face resolutely blank, or they did but they made sure he didn’t catch them doing it. Logan could only imagine what they thought about him now, surely they were starting to see just how close to falling apart he really was.

He needed to get himself under control now, before it could possibly get any worse.

It that was even possible.

*

The common room was fortunately empty when Logan came downstairs the following day, quietly searching the kitchen for something to eat. He wasn’t looking for much, just enough to hold him over until dinner. He didn’t even know what would be available, as the kitchen was frequently raided and restocked in any manner of different ways.

The last thing he predicted to find was a jar of Crofters in the fridge, untouched and set in plain view.

Almost like it was placed there solely for him.

Of course, it’d be rude to assume that; Roman was fond of Crofters too, though not to the same degree, and the only side known to not eat it was Remus. He still took it, of course, for means Logan would prefer not to know about. Regardless, the point still stands; this was not a gift guaranteed for him and him alone.

Even though it was his own face printed on the jar, smiling back at him.

He still remembers the day he got his own flavor of jam, much to his utter surprise and delight. How couldn’t he? He remembers everything, first of all, and even if he could forget something this would be the one experience he’d never let himself lose.

Of all the things that have happened in his life and in Thomas’, this one managed to stir something within him that he hadn’t even realized was there.

Before that, he hadn’t known just how easy it was to smile.

Now that same smile was reprinted and reflected back at him from within the cluttered confines of the fridge with joy. Or mockery. Or both. Regardless of the intent, the result was the same. All Logan felt from this now was regret.

How could he have let this simple thing take such a hold over him like that? First it was this, then cartoons, and now puns. Puns! He wasn’t supposed to be amused by puns, or anything else for that matter. And he wasn’t supposed to cry over a movie either. All he was supposed to do was his job. Take care of Thomas and keep him healthy, that’s all. There should be no room in his existence for anything else, especially not these foolish frivolities.

He’s supposed to be better than that.

Logan threw the unopened jar in the trash before he could let himself think twice about it, returning to his room emptyhanded but no longer hungry.

*

He could hear the noise from downstairs before he even reached the end of the hall just a few hours later. An argument of some sorts, and judging by the low and threatening tone in Virgil’s voice it was not one meant to be taken lightly. Virgil hadn’t even sounded this angry when he was trying to defend Thomas from Janus, back when he was still known as Deceit.

Logan quickly descended the stairs, not willing to allow things to escalate any further.

“—because I am not messing around here!” Virgil shouted at the others, who were all gathered (or, more accurately, cornered) on the couch before him.

“Virgil, I swear, I didn’t-“

“I know you didn’t,” he growled, cutting Patton off. “But someone here did, and the sooner they fess up the sooner we can get this taken care of.”

“What’s going on, Virgil?” Logan asked, finally allowing himself to intervene. “And why do I get the sense that one of us is in trouble?”

“Oh, someone definitely is,” Virgil replied, finally turning to face him. As he did, that anger from before faded and was swiftly replaced with something softer. Something he dared to imagine was on his face when he almost caught Logan tearing up during movie night.

It likely wasn’t.

“Have you, uh… have you been downstairs at all?” he asked. “Like, in the kitchen?”

“Yes, just a few hours ago,” Logan replied. “Why exactly does that matter?”

“Did you find anything to eat?”

“Not particularly, but then again I wasn’t terribly hungry.”

Virgil sighed and gave a shaky nod, though it was clear he was shaking from anger instead of fear.

“Virgil, what is this about?” Logan asked, taking a few steps closer.

His new position in the room also gave him a different angle, one that finally revealed the jar of Crofters lying on the coffee table.

The same one that Logan had thrown away.

“What this is about is that apparently someone around here didn’t want you having a snack for yourself, because I got this jar for you just this morning and the next thing I know it’s been thrown in the trash before you get a chance to have any!” Virgil explained, voice rising as he spoke until he was nearly shouting all over again.

“Virgil, there’s no need to be this upset-“

“Of course there is! And really, you should be upset too! Why the hell aren’t you?”

“Because I was the one who threw it out.”

Once again, they were all staring at him. And, once again, they had that look on their face usually reserved for when Logan breaks the rules and exposes his unprofessionalism. They were looking at him like he did something wrong again.

“… you what?” Virgil growled.

Patton spoke next, his voice trembling. “But why?”

“Because I had no need of it,” he replied. “Though if any of you would have preferred to eat it, you’re free to. Frankly, I should have considered that before disposing of it.”

“You know I don’t eat that crap,” Remus replied, but there oddly wasn’t any liveliness behind it.

“And that’s not even the point regarding those of us that may,” Janus added. “The point is that this food was left for you, and you just threw it away.”

This wasn’t making sense. “Why was it left there for me? And furthermore, why is it so upsetting to you that I didn’t eat it?”

Virgil’s jaw dropped. “Are you seriously asking why we got you your favorite food? Why we’re so worked up that you for some reason don’t want it? Are you—” Virgil stopped for a moment, clearly upset, and took a deep breath before continuing. “Are you saying you don’t know why we care about you?”

Well, he wasn’t not saying that.

“Logan,” Patton started. “Sweetie, you haven’t really been yourself lately.”

Ah.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Logan confessed. “I assure you, I’ve been endeavoring to put a stop to these mistakes so they won’t bother you anymore, and I was hoping that removing any temptations or reminders would expedite this. With that in mind, please refrain from purchasing anymore jam for me in the future, as it would only risk undoing any progress I’ve made on correcting myself.”

The look from before hadn’t left any of their faces. If anything, it only seemed to get worse.

“What do you mean?” Roman asked, speaking for the first time since Logan had come downstairs.

Logan sighed. Why were they wanting him to draw this out even further?

“I know that I’ve been… malfunctioning, for lack of a better word. It surely hasn’t been ideal for any of you to deal with, and for that I apologize and I promise to avoid future incidents.”

“Malfunctioning?” Virgil echoed. “Logan, what are you talking about?”

“Surely you know,” he replied. “I’ve been having these unfortunate outbursts for some time now.”

“Outbursts?”

“But you only really yelled that one time,” Remus noted. “And that was only at me, no one else was around for it.”

“A real shame, too,” Janus added. “I would’ve loved to see you really let it out like that.”

It only made sense that he’d say that, going by how he likely goaded Logan into slipping up with that joke of his. He probably likes seeing Logan unravel and fall apart, and how it only proves how much better Janus is than him.

“Even then,” Virgil muttered, “You haven’t really been all that angry lately. Just…”

“Off,” Patton finished. “You’ve just been really off. Anytime you look like you’re upset or even happy you just sorta shut down or disappear.”

“And it’s been happening a lot lately,” Virgil added. “We’re just worried about you.”

Now it was starting to make sense.

“I understand,” Logan started. “And you don’t need to worry about me anymore. Those accidents will be better controlled from now on, I assure you.”

“Accidents? Wh-“

Virgil cut himself off as the realization must have finally reached him, slowly sinking until he was sitting on the couch next to Roman. That shell-shocked look was back again, and Logan wished he wasn’t so familiar with it.

“Are you talking about having feelings?” Roman asked. He was almost as pale as Virgil now, and similarly sick to his stomach by the looks of it. “Is that… is that what you’re talking about?”

Logan nodded, both relieved that they were all on the same page and embarrassed at it having to come to such an obviously unpleasant conversation.

If only he were better at his job, then he’d have never put any of them through this.

“So, to you…” Virgil ran a hand over his face. “To you, having emotions is an accident. Shouting, crying, laughing… all of it? You think it’s all just you malfunctioning?”

“Isn’t it?”

Why do they keep looking at him like that?

“Like what?”

Roman was asking him that. Had Logan spoken aloud?

“Logan, what do you mean? Looking at you how?”

He had said that out loud.

Why did he feel so ashamed? He shouldn’t be, he’s not supposed to feel anything at all.

“Like there’s something wrong with me.” he finally muttered.

They won’t stop looking at him.

“You always look at me like this when it happens,” Logan explained. “Like I’ve done something wrong anytime I let even the smallest emotion slip. I break protocol and you all look like you don’t know what to do with me.”

“Protocol?”

The words were coming out of him in a rapid stream now. “Of course. Emotions aren’t my function, and I know that, but I can’t help it when I start to feel and it always happens no matter how hard I try to stop it. I know I’m not supposed to but it doesn’t let up, and I just wish you all wouldn’t have to see me like this, or worse yet be so disgusted by it.”

“Wait a minute, calm down,” Janus interrupted. “Take a deep breath and start again, alright? Just take a seat before you fall over.”

Logan obediently moved to sit at the very end of the couch, only noticing then how badly he had been shaking. Wasn’t he calm? He was supposed to be calm. His chest shouldn’t feel this tight.

Logan took a deep breath and slowly let it out, resenting how much it helped.

He shouldn’t be like this.

“Okay, Logan. Let’s try again. What did you mean when you said you weren’t supposed to?”

“I’m not supposed to feel,” Logan weakly replied. His voice isn’t supposed to be shaking. “It’s not my job, I shouldn’t be this emotional.”

“Why not?”

“I just said, because it’s—"

“It’s not your job, right.” Janus gently interrupted. He looked pensive about something, but at least it was better than the wide and teary eyes from everyone else. “And what is my job?”

“Your job?”

Janus nodded encouragingly.

“You are Thomas’ deceit and selfishness. Your main goal is self-preservation, and like the rest of us, your drive is to look after Thomas.”

“And what about feelings? Are there any feelings involved in my role?”

What?

“No, not to my knowledge. There shouldn’t be any emotions attached to your function.”

Janus hummed thoughtfully. “Would you argue the same about Remus, then? Do you know if he’s in charge of any feelings?”

Logan slowly shook his head. “No. Fear or a similar reaction can be one of the effects of his work, but he’s not the one in charge of that emotion.”

Janus gave him a soft smile. “No, he isn’t.”

“Janus, I don’t see the point in this.”

“Well, the point is that both he and I are just as prone to emotions as anyone else,” Janus explained, moving closer to him. “Granted, it can sometimes be hard to tell when it comes to me and him, but you’ve still seen enough instances to prove my point, right?”

He had, in fact. He’s seen Janus frustrated and smug more times than he’d care to count, and Remus almost always carried a gleeful whimsy about himself that brought his excessive cheeriness almost close to that of Patton’s. They’re both very in tune with their feelings, from what he’s seen.

“So what would be a good conclusion to reach, then?” Janus gently prompted. “If both Remus and I serve functions that don’t involve feelings but we can still feel and express emotions just fine, what do you gather that means about you? Don’t you think you’re allowed to do the same?”

That… but that would mean…

That couldn’t be right.

“You… do you want me to express my emotions more openly?”

Virgil practically fell out of his seat. “Freaking yes!”

“But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Why the hell not?” Remus asked, poking him in the ribs for presumed emphasis.

“Because if you preferred for me to do that, you wouldn’t consistently react like it were such a bizarre anomaly,” Logan mumbled, feeling his chest ache with something he hoped he’d be able to keep down for a little longer. “You all look so shaken every time I so much as smile.”

Patton’s hands were over his mouth now, almost in the same manner as Logan when he had to excuse himself from movie night. Despite the barrier muffling his voice, Logan could still make out the small “oh no…” that escaped him with a choked-off whimper.

“Logan, did you think we didn’t like seeing you happy?” Roman asked him. “Or even sad or angry for that matter? Did you really think we didn’t want you to express yourself like that around us?”

“Well, it’s a reasonable assumption to make,” Logan muttered, now feeling rather defensive and, frankly, idiotic. “It’s like when Janus told his joke. You were all staring at me in shock, like you were unsettled by it. Well, Virgil wouldn’t look at me at all, but you especially looked upset, Roman.”

Logan didn’t think it was possible for Roman to get even more bug-eyed than he had already been. His mouth fell open as he floundered for a response, but it seemed Virgil at least had an idea of what he wanted to say.

“Why did you think we were upset?” he asked.

Logan looked down at his hands for a moment. “Well, you tend to try to avoid looking at things that embarrass you or make you uncomfortable, and I know Roman’s face tends to flush when he gets especially frustrated.”

Virgil was looking away from him again, and Roman’s ears and cheeks had started to redden.

“Just like that,” Logan added, pointing at the evidence. “Now why would either of you react like that if I hadn’t been bothering you in some form?”

The sound of Remus cackling was nearly deafening while Janus tried and failed to hide his own amused smile beside him. Were they laughing at him again? Does he just not get the joke?

Is he the joke?

“Oh, sweetie,” Janus cooed. “Oh, that’s just not it.”

“Shut it,” Virgil hissed.

“Would you rather let him believe you hate him?”

Virgil only let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the couch with his face hidden behind his hands.

“That’s, um…” Roman muttered, his face redder than ever. “that’s not exactly what’s going on.”

“Well, then what is?”

“Uh, well… you see, sometimes people tend to blush when they’re kinda flustered, like when they’re around someone they really like.”

“Especially when the someone in question has a really nice laugh,” Virgil muttered, his face still stubbornly hidden. “And sometimes people try not to look at that someone because they don’t want to risk making a fool out of themselves because of it.”

“…I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“They’ve got the hots for ya, dork!” Remus shouted with an exaggerated facepalm. “Geez, you guys are all a bunch of fucking idiots!”

Oh.

Oh.

It appears that Logan may have miscalculated.

“So you all… like it when I’m open about my feelings?”

“Of course, Logan!” Patton tearily exclaimed, now wringing his hands together and looking like he was trying very hard to stop himself from leaping out of his seat and rushing over to him.

“Why else do you think I told that specific joke that I knew only you would get?” Janus stated. “Why did we all agree to watch your favorite movie together? Or even just us making sure your favorite snack is in the fridge for you? Why would we do that if we didn’t want to see you happy?”

“We only really reacted the way we did because we weren’t used to it yet,” Virgil mumbled. “It just took us by surprise a little, in a good way, but still. I guess we all should have handled it better.”

“We just want you to be happy,” Patton chimed in. “And even sad, angry, or scared. We want you to feel like you can be yourself around us.”

Logan wanted more than anything for that to be true. They had all made fairly convincing arguments, along with exceedingly compelling statements, but still…

“Then why did you make fun of the movie?” he asked Roman.

Roman stared back at him. “I didn’t—I wasn’t… that’s not what I was doing, Specs.”

“You weren’t?”

“No! I was just trying to get you to talk about the movie more. I know how much you like the science part of science-fiction so I wanted to get you to talk about the movie.”

Logan must be hallucinating, there’s no way Roman would say that about him of all sides and actually mean it. “You mean you actually like listening to what I have to say?”

Roman nodded, something in his eyes shining. “I love seeing how enthusiastic you get when you can teach us something, or how excited you are when you learn something new. You glow, Specs, I can’t get enough of it.”

“Plus it’s really nice listening to you talk,” Virgil quietly added. “It’s kind of soothing, in a way.”

“And I did tell you I make fun of things to show that I love them, right?” Roman added.

“I suppose I didn’t consider that that applied to me.”

Roman’s face softened, now looking more earnest and almost sad. “Of course it does. We all love you so much, truly.”

“And we never meant to make you upset,” Virgil said. “We just want you to smile again. You really do mean a lot to us.”

Something in Logan’s chest was aching again, and he was starting to think it never stopped. Maybe it never would stop. “You all mean that?”

Patton gave him a sad smile. “Every word.”

Well, for all the ways for Logan to be wrong about something, this was certainly not the worst. It’s much more preferable to realize that you couldn’t understand that your friends love you than to mistakenly believe that they dislike you.

They want to see him smile, to hear him laugh. They want him to let himself be happy and sad and everything in between. They care about him, and they don’t see his emotions as weaknesses or failures. They simply see them as a part of him.

And, as he’s daring to let himself believe, they promise they love every part of him.

Logan felt himself smile, genuinely smile, and for what may be the first time in his existence, he didn’t try to hide it. He didn’t need to anymore, and he wouldn’t ever again.

There would be a larger conversation later on, of course, one that further discussed in depth how and why Logan had come to the conclusions that he did. They’d talk, and maybe cry, and maybe one of them would crack a joke and get everyone laughing. And maybe Logan would let himself laugh with them.

He’d let himself laugh and cry and everything else he tried to bury, and they’d all still be there and love him while he worked to rekindle the emotions he had wanted so badly to destroy.

They’d always be there, and one day Logan would look around and wonder how he could have ever believed that it wasn’t safe to feel.

But right now, Logan is sitting on a couch with his fellow sides and rapidly coming to terms with the reality that he means something to them, that they love him and see him as family, and that discovery in and of itself is more than he could have ever dreamed of.

taglist: @nico-the-overlord @keitaisghost @britt-ish123 @mersinia @lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @oatmealdaydreams @rougeside4 @yuckypuppie @can-i-take-a-stab @holdnarrytight

[gravesung]

Satoru is looking through a magazine casually (excuse: his phone is low on battery). On the last page, a model wearing a cute pink sundress appears, light and frilly, perfect for a sunny day. Satoru's gaze focuses on it for a moment.

“ Hey, ” he says to Chiaki, his tone easy and nonchalant, “ I think you’d look really good in this. ” He doesn't wait for her to respond right away, as though it is just a passing thought, but the compliment hangs in the air, playful and spontaneous.

A MESS OF STUDY MATERIALS splays out haphazardly across the floor of her dorm room. chiaki is a very tidy person until stress enters the picture. then all bets are off. unlike someone, who barged into her room with absolutely no intention of doing anything academic, the curse-identification exam coming up has overtaken her mind and free time lately. it doesn't help that chiaki entered the school at a major disadvantage compared to those who have known what curses are for most of their lives.

not for the first time, she aches for even a scrap of satoru's privilege. but she holds no resentment towards him for that. what can you do, right? you're born how you're born. and — well, he's been much less insufferable lately. enough that chiaki feels comfortable sitting beside him in her room, a ransacked box of sweets between them, just to have another body present to help her focus. though gojo might be a strange choice of body in anyone else's opinion, he is, unfortunately, the smartest person she has ever met. ( not that she'd admit that to him, ever. ) he can probably answer any question she has about jujutsu, at least in a technical sense. he can always be counted on to stay up late. and chiaki has spent more time talking to him than any other student by a vast margin; even if they spent the whole night bickering, she'd prefer it over the awkwardness of unbroken ice.

rubbing at the back of one eye ( she took her dried-up contacts out a while ago, leaving their true mismatched colors undisguised by the usual brown ), chiaki glances at the page gojo has drawn her attention to.

it is a cute sundress, she has to admit. tie-straps done up in little bows at the model's shoulders, the hem just skimming mid-thigh. short. leggy. it's the kind of thing chiaki would never consider buying for herself.

❝ you think so? ❞

the fact that gojo saw it and pictured her wearing it — the fact that the mental image crossed him at all —

well. it's probably because she's the only one in the room with him. or maybe it's a pity-compliment, or just a bid to tease a blush out of her the way he does sometimes. but none of the rationalizations can stop her face from heating a bit when her eyes find his, wide and staring as always, then flick back down to the papers strewn about.

❝ um... thanks. that's nice of you to say. ❞ it feels weird to be so polite with gojo. wrong. alien. but it's late, and she's tired, and it was nice of him. sue her. chiaki lifts her pen, one from the bulk pack she got at muji with little animal figures on the clicky ends, and rolls it between two fingers thoughtfully. ❝ you know, girls my age really like to shop. but it never... i dunno. my family's pretty frugal — if something is damaged, we sew it or patch it. if it's impossible to save, we'll search for something like it secondhand. ❞ that would explain why she's scraped by with the same uniform jacket despite the amount of times it's been cut to ribbons by curses.

❝ it'd be nice to own something cute like that for off-days, though. maybe after we graduate? grade-one salary seems pretty good, if i make it that high. ❞ she lifts the pen between her lips, teeth, contemplating. ❝ what's it like, being super rich? is it boring to never want anything you can't have? ❞

this got way longer than i intended // @brazenlystrong

[itsnotmyfaultsomepeoplecantread]

Autism is so frustrating because sometimes I just have a severe disconnect between my feelings/reactions/cognition.

"Go to therapy," they said. "It'll help you understand your emotions." Well I did. And in theory, I do.

It never quite worked the same way for me, though, because I can actually rationalize quite well. And that was exhausting because it meant that I had to find a therapist who genuinely understood that. I am very empathetic and very rational. Sometimes, though, my brain doesn't want to be empathetic and rational. Sometimes it's just too many feelings to manage. And I never even knew the reason because I was just labeled as anxious and depressed and probably "crazy" with air quotes around it.

But unfortunately, now that I've gone through lots of therapy and spent a very long time trying to figure out why I was feeling a certain way, I discovered that I still have physical emotional reactions, I'm now just frustrated as shit that I'm having them. Like... I AM rationalizing. I KNOW that my feelings are not valid. But I'm still crying???? I don't want to be crying??? I know what needs to happen and I'm still physically upset. It's frustrating as sh*t. The tears are streaming down my face but that's not what's happening in my head.

I know, technically, that I'm allowed to have feelings. But it feels like such a burden? I'm absolutely terrified about becoming my (very reactive) parents, and that does not help. I don't want to traumatize others with my own anxiety.

BUT on the other hand, sometimes my brain cells just completely stop working. It's like the loading screen on a computer. And that's frustrating because I have STUFF TO DO. I need thoughts!! On some level, I need to be able to cognate. Instead, it just feels sort of blank, and that makes me panic in a totally different way. It's anxiety about being unable to speak. Unable to fully express myself.

And sometimes I express myself and it's just ~anxiety~.

My brain just feels like it's broken into separate spaces that can't seem to align on anything. And that's really what autism is, a lot of times. There is a lot of gray and white matter, but not quite in the right places.

And I have to just accept it, because there isn't a "cure" for autism.

Unfortunately, my ADHD somewhat keeps this in check, because it says "do things! Socialize! HAVE EVERY EMOTION" except then I can't focus on shit, and I'm slightly irritable, and still kinda useless.

[avastrasposts]

I loved writing the other Triple Frontier boys in The Pilot and his Girl, and my favourite to write was always Benny. He would always get away with funny lines. These two below the cut were my favourite passages with him.

“So let me get this straight,” Benny says, pointing his beer bottle at Frankie, “you manage to get her number, thanks to Pope’s bet, and you had a great date on Sunday.” “Impressing her with my flying skills,” Frankie interrupts, grinning.  “Right, if you say so,” Benny smirks, “then you meet up on Friday and go for drinks, you think some guy slaps her in a bar so you beat up the guy, she freaks and dumps you.” “Technically she didn’t dump me, we were never officially together, just one date,” Frankie interrupts again.  “Fine, but she freaks out and you freak out because she freaked out, Pope has to slap you around, get you to text her. She, by some miracle of god, agrees to see you again. You tell her all the shit you’ve been through and she still wants to be with you?” “I’m seeing her on Friday, she’s cooking dinner for me.”  “Fish, you are the luckiest son of a bitch I have ever met.”

“You two were way too fucking loud this morning,” he growls, Santi’s morning temper isn’t great and today he seems to have woken up on the wrong side. Unfortunately Frankie and you were probably the reason behind that and you feel a bit guilty.  “Sorry, Santi,” you say, handing him your coffee as a peace offering, which he accepts, still frowning, “we were trying to be quiet.”  “Hermana, I love you, and I love Frankie, but please…” his frown melts into a pleading look, “I do not need to hear him make those noises.”  You bite your lip to stop from grinning and Frankie shuffles behind you, “Lo siento, Pope,” he mumbles and as he passes you to grab the freeze dried rations, you see the deep flush of his neck.  “It won’t happen again, Santi,” you say, your grin is definitely breaking through again but you can hear Benny snickering by the camping stove and his mirth is making it very difficult to suppress your own giggles.  “Oh it will definitely happen again,” Santi says with an exasperated sigh, “Please just don’t do it with me sleeping next door.”  “I thought it was great!” Benny chirps, “took me like ten minutes to figure out where the noise was coming from, I thought it was maybe bear mating season or something.” 

[windsfavored]

anonymous &&. said... Who is the one who would clog the bed for himself? Is it Ren or Kazuha? or do they fall asleep in each other arms?

i  don't  feel  comfortable  saying  anything  about  kazuha  specifically  because  he  is  ultimately  milla's  muse.  (  and  you  should  totally  throw  any  questions  regarding  him  their  way!  )  however,  as  far  as  ren  is  concerned,  i  have  no  problem  whatsoever  answering!  unfortunately,  i  can't  promise  my  response  will  be  super  satisfactory  —  ren  more  or  less  DOESN'T  SLEEP.  he  is  technically  physically  capable  of  it,  but  it's  similar  to  eating  and  drinking  where  it's  something  he  can  choose  to  do  if  he  feels  so  inclined  —  but  neither  gains  nor  loses  anything  from  refusing  to  partake.  if  asked  directly,  he'll  probably  just  bluntly  say  that  it's  a  waste  of  time  and  he  doesn't  bother  with  it,  but  in  truth  he's  actually  AFRAID  of  falling  asleep.  it's  never  had  a  particularly  positive  connotation  in  his  mind.  he  always  cries  when  he  sleeps;  he  doesn't  have  any  control  over  it,  and  the  simple  act  of  doing  so  just  serves  as  a  reminder  of  everything  it's  cost  him.  on  the  less  rational  side,  ren  just  can't  shake  the  fear  that  he'll  never  wake  up  again.  (  or  sleeping  for  so  long  that  the  world  he  wakes  up  to  is  utterly  unrecognizable.  )  he's  terrified  by  the  thought  of  being  trapped  inside  his  own  head,  neither  able  to  truly  die  nor  regain  consciousness.

that  being  said,  he  and  kazuha  do  have  a  bed  in  their  teapot  home  —  and  even  prior  to  that,  they  spent  a  considerable  amount  of  time  sharing  a  room  in  an  inn  together.  (  hello  to  anyone  who  remembers  the  liyue  inn  kazuren  era.  )  most  nights,  ren  will  lay  down  with  kazuha  when  he's  feeling  tired  and  just  wait  for  him  to  fall  asleep.  he'll  pretend  to  be  sleeping,  himself  —  though  he's  really  just  closing  his  eyes.  in  any  case,  they  definitely  do  cuddle  because  these  two  have  historically  been  very  affectionate,  especially  when  they're  alone.  i  think  ren  usually  prefers  to  be  the  big  spoon  because  he  feels  more  comfortable  when  he's  shielding  kazuha  with  his  body  —  even  if  there's  no  logical  reason  he  would  need  to  PROTECT  HIM.  that  being  said,  he  isn't  entirely  opposed  to  being  the  little  spoon.  (  if  he's  had  a  particularly  terrible  day,  it's  usually  what  he  prefers.  )  he  likes  to  tuck  his  head  in  a  bit  so  he  can  listen  to  kazuha's  heartbeat;  it's  very  calming  to  him.

usually  once  kazuha  falls  asleep,  ren  will  slip  away  and  get  some  work  done.  he  never  really  strays  far  —  probably  just  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  so  whatever  light  he's  reading  or  writing  by  won't  bother  kazuha.  if  he's  feeling  particularly  ambitious,  he'll  prepare  breakfast  —  though  no  matter  what,  he  always  has  a  ritual  of  making  tea  and  watching  the  sunrise.

[hanszoe]

Idk if you answered this already, but if not, any thoughts on Moblit or his dynamic with Hansi? I like ur analyses

sadly isayama wrote very little on moblit. he's treated unfairly in my opinion, we almost never see him without hansi and don't learn anything about him as an individual outside of that.

i think that the dynamic he was going for between them is actually fun though, i guess because it's an inversion of an existing trope which is kind of uncommon, where moblit is the one going through comical levels of stress worrying over hansi who is constantly in danger. isym is not afraid to depict the common misogynistic stereotype here so i get a lot of fun seeing an inversion of it.

if the acwnr ova is to be believed moblit appeared in the sc by 844 and was already hansi's adjutant by then, so hansi knew moblit much longer than they knew levi. we can assume that he was also one of the veterans held to a high level of trust by erwin.

but unfortunately when i say "moblit treated unfairly" i also mean by hansi, they just aren't paying attention to him which i think contributes to perceptions of hansi as being inconsiderate of others. hansi is moblit's superior and in secondary material has some mentions of being tired he never gives them a break, which if we consider as valid characterization could come from feeling like he doesn't trust them despite their higher rank. moblit also appears to be deeply uncomfortable with hansi's recklessness, which is in contrast with my view of loving them requiring an understanding of their nature, trusting them to know their own limits and taking it seriously when they don't.

it's non canon material but in hansi's smartpass character interview there's also the single mention across any IP related material of suicidal ideation in relation to them and it's directly to do with moblit, i'm so sad i don't have original language for this but a translation presents it as if moblit bringing this up was something that they didn't respond seriously to but became very conscious of his doing so. more non manga canon material but we return to ilse's notebook ova and hansi being very aware that to be understood is to be vulnerable, and their holding onto this memory and trying to present it as something they don't understand why he asked i feel like comes from that

i would love so much to know the story of how moblit ended up in hansi's section and as their adjutant, was he hand picked by them and if so why. did he and hansi have such conversations about each other, just how strong was their working relationship

one of their short stories actually depicts how they internally rationalized his final choice, which i wrote once was technically insubordination. i started translating that one and will post it with an analysis later this week

moblit is one of the only two men i will drink with in the afterlife. i feel such a camaraderie with him. i want to ask him all the things the manga never depicted of him and for him to have a break for once. i want to thank him for all of the years he protected and took care of hansi the best he could. giving the ultimate sacrifice to protect them, what can i even say to that? he deserves everything. all of the kindness in the world wouldn't be enough to repay it.

[petitepatateuwu]

Forget about punctuality, I think I will never post on time (⁠╯⁠°⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠╯⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

But look, here is something pretty for you:

. . . I think it looked better on my sketchbook |⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠〰⁠ ⁠･⁠ '|

It is said at one point in the show that Mikey is a ballet master, so had the very spontaneous desire to represent it on paper…

… is something I really wanted to be true. Unfortunately, there is more backstory to this drawing than I'd want (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

You see, I once had a strong traumatic experience affiliated with dance, and just the subject being brought makes my brain freeze, caught in a long war between my traumatized braincells who are readying various coping mechanisms and the ones who want to be rational and objective about it.

And if I don't do anything about it, it will haunt me and spoil my feelings towards a show or character.

And NOTHING will distract me from being a Rise fan nor from liking my sweet sweet Michaelangelo so much that I start giggling every time I think about him.

Instead of letting this idea live rent free in my brain and wither in it, I drew Mikey dancing. And it worked.

I have no idea of how the laws of physics work up here, but as long as I can maintain my addiction to TMNT alive, I will not ask any sarcastic questions. (⁠・-・⁠)

Anyway, that was the tragic backstory, now I can talk about the technicalities.

I drew this when I was still in my beginner phase of turtles drawings, but it is around the time when I caught a grasp of understanding about how to draw them. So it is an important step in my rottmnt journey. ✌️

I'll try to finish it when I have access to colour again.

And I think I have said enough. Thank you for stopping by, I hope you're doing well and you're not awoken by nightmares, and have a nice day ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

[butchciri]

(saw ur tags on the transwidow ask post, i'm the ask op) i was a libfem tra until my partner came out actually, it's what peaked me. always had trans friends growing up (ftms though) stringently believed trans women's identities had nothing to do with fetishes etc... yea. i'm 21 and bisexual so i think i fit into the younger, groomed into believing the ideology bill! unfortunately my experiences still mirror those of older women, tbh i think the only way it's slightly different is not having any other perspective i guess? as soon as i knew what 'trans' was, the ideology was already being fed to me, so i'd never had another view other than 'this should be celebrated!' i also have only ever been able to speak honestly about my experiences with people aged 35-70, which is quite alienating since my peers are all tra if not trans, which may be different for older women. i think that's what reinforces the peaking, whether women are my age or 30 or 50 or 70, our femalexmtf relationships and feelings all seem to mirror the same path. it's eery. there is literally a formula.

oh i’m soooo glad you came into my asks, i have been wondering for a long time what the femalexmtf relationship looks like for my demographic. i know you said in your ask that the experiences you outlined are all universal, i just couldn’t help but wonder what isnt. im sure there are nuances we cant see cause the younger women are just so scared to talk. theres one straight girl i know who just broke up with her trans id boyfriend and i can tell she’s terrified to speak honestly on her experience.

but isnt it crazy how being close to these people and observing their behavior is what peaks us? part of what peaked me was my tim roommate and noticing how much they downplay the fetish and objectification of women in general. i had never interacted with one irl before, just tifs irl. being familiar with tims through the positive social media portrayal sets you up to be blindsided by the porn addiction, misogyny, and complete ineptitude/refusal to do housework. older het women who aren’t already groomed will have an outsiders perspective like you said, and tims seem to have more cut out for them when it comes to selling the tra ideology (manipulation.)

it seems like if you already have the same belief system, it opens him up for some more insidious/sneaky forms of manipulation. i dont have any good examples of that its just a hunch. i feel like the trans doctrine gives them so much power through language to obfuscate the truth, which is what abusers do to keep you on the back foot. it gives them grounds to accuse you of transphobia, which might land harder for a younger groomed woman with only tra friends compared to an older non-indoctrinated woman. so i wonder if all the common female x mtf experiences you outlined in your original ask are more easily rationalized/normalized in the ideologically captured minds of women who are reaaaaallly severely manipulated by these men, causing them to stay silent longer.

i also know of a couple women who started dating a tim with knowledge upfront that he’s transitioning, but never interacted with tims outside of social media before that. i wonder if they would also count as trans widows after getting fed up with the disgusting behavior and eventually peaking? i know technically they dont fit the definition, but its still a similar experience. because the grooming starts so young, there are likely thousands of invisible young women with stories the trans movement doesn’t want to hear. thats why beyond the looking glass is such an important piece of media for the solidarity and class consciousness it generates for a group that’s so viciously silenced. and like you said the experiences are so formulaic and similar across cultures and demographics that its like a lightbulb moment to realize you’re not alone, its not just him, its this ideology.

[chilipowder9]

Oh no I do understand fitting the "technical" definition, though as someone who has seen one too many people who I've seen as rational and "neutral" shippers start interacting with more open proshippers suddenly do things like: Defending lolicon in servers to young teens were venting about feeling sexualized by such media, claiming that there's nothing wrong with real life incest, sending NSFW audios, fics, etc. of minors' F/Os to them and generally acting overly suggestive when giving them imagines, validation, etc... Believe me, I've seen it all firsthand, and even almost went down the road myself, and I firmly believe no matter how anti-harrassment you are the open proship side of Tumblr is no good of a place to stay in. I've been silently keeping up with ship discourse for a while now and what I've been seeing has only been getting worse, and progressively more toxic; Even if proshipping was originally built on anti-harrassment, I guess that doesn't mean anything to the ones who have been occasionally sending me anon hate for not associating with them anymore. Not to mention, to people who do know these things associating with proshipping or using any dogwhistles is a major red flag, so unfortunately that leaves a lot of people with nowhere else to turn, and that's how they're dragged down a rabbit hole. That's honestly why I simply call myself an anti even if I prefer to let sleeping dogs lie.

To get to the point, no matter the original definitions of pro and antiship, we're at the point where it's more akin to "likes immoral pairings or maybe worse" and "is against immoral pairings and actions." It's a very slippery slope and I don't want to see a mutual who brightens my day go down it the same way many of my old ones did. I know it may not mean much from someone who is too introverted to come off anon, but I do care for the safety and wellbeing of the silly little people I interact with online and I did not want to hesitate on bringing to your attention something that I fear could be a threat to that.

With all that said, I do hope you can get something useful from this message. Have a great day/night/week/anything! 😊💜

I apologize sincerely for your past experiences, though my own are that antiproshippers sent me actual real child porn and compared an adult in anime who was canonically mature on top of "oh yeah she's 30" (not literally I don't think) and a character who was about the same age to actual real child porn

this was not the first nor last experience I had with an antiproshipper during my childhood, showing me such things to try to scare me away from proshipper spaces, and when I went to proshippers as a scared 12 year old kid who had no idea what was going on? they were like "oh fuck you're a kid uh Block Them" and never did I even hear a dick joke using the actual word dick in it.

I appreciate your concern, dearly, but it is very clear to me that liking a very gross ship doesn't make you evil or deserving of literally existing, and for the dozens of proshippers who protected me against actual predators online I will die on this hill

none of this is to disrespect your experience, if that is the hill you will die on I will not be the one to kill you, you are my moot and I love you (platonically, probably) and I promise you, if I knew the proshippers who sent you hate for just Not Liking That I would kill them personally

and never feel bad for being afraid, my friend, I promise you I would never attack unless you were truly harming others, even then I would try to reason with you first.

(also if a proshipper says anything about IRL incest/pedophilia/zoophilia being okay they're not a proshipper they're a predator and likely hiding behind the proship banner, ESP if talking to a minor)

[grandmasickomode]

ok so I wanted to do something like @unmecha's oc pages for their ocs so here we go.

PAULINUS

TYPES: Poison and Dark predominantly but will keep any Mon that suits her fancy

CENTRAL STRATEGY: Depends on the upcoming fight but mostly focuses on disrupting existing strategies by any means.

ALLIGNMENT: Royale

Paulinus TECHNICALLY isnt a Pokemon Empire oc, shes from the Lobotomy corporation universe but im not gonna make a brand new oc for these games.

Paulinus is wrapped up with the royal family in ways she's willing to disclose... not that you can tell if she's lying. She will say shes an illegitimate heir one day, then say her family has worked with the royal family for generations.

The fact remains that Paulinus has internalized her role in the royal family's lives as the unofficial Official Black Ops unit and Evil (tm) Advisor to the crown. She's more than willing to step over the line if it means that the Royal family is put back where they belong. She personally will put the council's heads in pikes if she has to, and stand there and take the blame.

Ultimately, she isnt a total barbarian. Paulinus is a calm, supposedly unflappable young woman, who does her research. She doesnt like going in unprepared, and will always want at least SOME modicum of knowledge relating to what lies ahead before she takes a step forward.

While she seems charming and amicable, she also is not here to make friends. After all, friends are jettisoned once shit hits the fan, and she would prefer not to deal with the emotional fallout and ties. Unfortunately, life happens so the few people she marks as 'friends', she will personally move heaven and hell to make happy. Even if it conflicts with her morals, she rationalizes that its all part of the plan, that she can use this opportunity later. That they will owe her for this and that they will need to do things for her to repay their debt.

In Empire, the game gives you two childhood friends. Pauli likes neither of them and tolerates them for the sake of appearances. Well, with Alanah at least. Alanah is a good link to the Council's movements and rumblings, and North is... in Pauli's words, 'a simpering barking little Council pet who would lick their boots to feel some sort of satsifaction with his life." She DESPISES North and once he stops being useful, he's going to be stabbed in the back and burned to ashes.

And yet, she cannot help but have a fondness for Jeanne, @unmecha's oc.

Her non-Council, non-Royale mindset are 'adorable', and she would gladly assist her in her many endeavors... for favors, of course. She thinks that she's simply misguided, that her talents might do better on a more refined side. She also adores Jeanne to piss Taylor off, and doesnt hesitate to sneer and comment on everything taylor does. Never in a rude tone,just rude enough that the message gets across.

Pauli's battle strategies are what she calls 'run and gun', meaning she will generally opt for the typical strategies one uses in a pokemon game (stats up, baton pass, sweep, or hazards abd whirlwind strats). She also will use any strategy in order to handle whatever is in front of her, be they gym challenges or rivals. However, if she can get away with it, she prefers to deal with slow debilitating statuses, as well as changing pokemons type to remove stab, and expose them to adverse hazards.

Hwr naming schemes tend to be old timey names, usually inspired by greek or roman naming schemes. But she cannot help but get lazy naming her mons if she catches them at a late hour. Such examples include Euripedes (Poison/ice Boreaptor), Antigonus (Fire/Dragon Chemera) and Bart (Gulpin).

[dixonlvr-online]

Cookie revelations

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader, Carol Peletier x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cookies! Realizing feelings! AAAHHHHH

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Even though Daryl isn't technically in this, I still loved writing it so so much.

Blood, guts, and gore. Flour, sugar, and butter. Two very different pictures, both evidence of a crime scene.

Where you currently stood was the latter scenario: in the kitchen, surrounded by a mess of your own making. Daryl had gone off with Aaron on a recruiting trip a few days prior, and since your shift at the guard tower wasn’t until later, you were bored.

It was weird, having the time to get bored. Your group had only joined Alexandria a couple of weeks ago, so you were still adjusting. Not constantly moving, or worrying about food and water, was great for your physical health. Your mental health, however, was taking a decline.

You wiped your forehead with your sleeve, groaning when you realized it was covered in flour. You’d had the bright idea to bake cookies to fill the time. Carol had inspired you with her cookies at the party, and reminded you how much you loved baking in your old life. Unfortunately, you had always relied on a detailed recipe and proper ingredients.

You’d gone to the pantry to gather ingredients earlier that day, but Olivia had explained the rationing system and you’d had to make do with some substitutions. You’d heard the possibility of substituting applesauce for eggs, so you’d grabbed that. Except now, you had no idea what to do with it.

You stared down at your bowl of mix. It was way too watery, and somehow, it was yellow. You didn’t even want to know how that happened. You sighed, leaned into the counter. If only Daryl were here to see this. He’d have a field day, you thought.

The creak of the front door sounded, followed by footsteps. In walked Carol, hand raised in greeting until she saw the mess in front of her. You watched her bite her lip, holding back a smile, before she couldn’t take it anymore and laughed.

You fake scowled at her in response, but even you couldn’t help but laugh along with her. You must be a ridiculous sight, all covered in flour and milk and whatever else you’d managed to spill. 

Carol wiped a tear from her eye. “Wow. I didn’t think I’d see this today,” she laughed. You gave her a sheepish smile.

“It’s been a long time, okay? I’m out of practice,” you said. Carol walked over and peered into your mixing bowl. She took a moment to survey your setup as well, nodding her head in approval at the ingredients you’d chosen.

“You’ve got the right idea. You bake much before?” she asked. You nodded, though it lacked conviction.

“I used to, a little. It was a hobby more than anything. I never got good enough to be…off book,” you explained, gesturing to the mess as if it were evident.

Carol smiled. “Well, I’m sure we can fix this. Let’s see what we’ve got…” Carol got to work grabbing ingredients and adding them to the mix. She explained what she was doing as she went, giving you some helpful tips while you listened intently. Finally, the cookies were mixed, scooped, and in the oven, a timer set to go off when they were done.

“So,” Carol chimed, washing her hands, “what’s the occasion? Or did you just feel like baking cookies?” You smiled.

“Honestly, I just don’t know what to do with myself. I have guard duty, sure, but only for part of the day. I feel useless the rest of the time,” you said, exasperation creeping into your voice.

Carol nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way too. The sweet old lady act gets you far, but it also gives you nothing to do. Why do you think I’ve been trying so many new recipes?” she mused, taking a seat beside you.

You sighed. “I wish I was out there with Daryl. At least then I’d be doing something useful. It was so…simple, out there. I mean, it was hard, but we only had one task: survive. Here, back in the ‘real world,’ everything’s so complicated,” you said, anxiously picking at your fingernails as you spoke.

Carol listened, nodding along. You could tell she understood what you were saying, could feel the difference like you could. The surprising toll it took on you was eating away at her too. She reached for your hand.

“This type of living is overly complicated, yes, but we have to remember some things. One, these people don’t know what it’s like out there. They’re weak,” she said, “and we’ve gone through a lot more than they have. It makes sense for us to be bored, to feel useless. We’re being forced to adapt to their way of living.”

You smiled at her, nodding as she spoke. You didn’t like to join in with Rick and Carol when they diminished these people’s experiences, but you couldn’t help but agree with some of their sentiments. These people had no idea what life was like out there, the hardships you’d faced. It was hard to connect with people who could never understand.

“Here’s the most important thing,” Carol continued. “We’re still here, alive, and we get to be here, within a civilization. That comes with responsibilities, yes, but also choices. We can choose who we want to be here. Who we want to be with. What we can do.”

You furrowed your brows, her words sinking in and forcing your thoughts inward. Who did you want to be? Who did you want to be with? How could you know these things about yourself when you’d been moving day-to-day for so long?

You thought back to the prison, the last time you were all “safe” and “within a civilization.” All the time you’d spent there, hunting in the woods, keeping watch in the tower, laughing around the bonfire. And who’d been beside you the whole time.

“Carol,” you interrupted, “when are Daryl and Aaron supposed to get back?” Carol grinned, instantly getting your meaning. She turned to read the clock on the wall behind her.

“They should be back any time now, actually,” she said. You smiled, squeezed her hand, and stood up.

“I’ll see you later, okay? We can taste test the cookies this evening,” you called, already at the front door. You didn’t wait for a response, just took off down the road.

There, at the gate, was Daryl Dixon, riding in on his motorcycle. Your best friend since the prison, the person you’d spent countless hours talking and laughing with, the man you’d come to love more than anything.

If this was your life now, then so be it. If you were given choices, you knew which path to take.

He was your choice. Who you wanted to be. Who you wanted to be with. Daryl was your answer to everything.