#don't ask me to elaborate i fear i cannot

[horsemeatluvr23]

i think watching bdubs videos is the closest i've ever come to being convinced by organised religion

[smile-files]

this might be a hot take... but if you care about disavowing media made by bad people out of fear of looking like a bad person yourself more than you care about actually doing good things... you might have your priorities (and your morals) screwed up a bit :/

(see my tags for more of my thoughts on this topic! please try to avoid making make bad-faith assumptions about what i mean!)

[frozenmoonshine]

How TR boys show affection/love?

Long time no write, but my hyperfixation is very alive and kicking, as always! And since the weather is getting chillier as we're approaching the full blown autumn, it's the perfect time for some cozy, fluffy thoughts! 🍂🍁☕️🧦

TW: none, just some slight exaggeration for comedic purposes; Reader's gender is not specified

MIKEY - bites.

You can't convince me this adorable, emo menace to society isn't a total menace in every other aspect as well! He likes you means he wants you. He also wants dorayaki because he likes it. Dorayaki is something he chews on. ........... You can see what I'm getting at. He'll just randomly start munching on any bit of your skin he can get access to. And if he gets carried away, he can bite for real! It's just Mikey logic, don't question it, there's no use. But, fair be fair, he also protecc!

DRAKEN - acts of service.

He's the type to reflexively take off his jacket and cover you when you're cold, or go get you a bottle of water when you're out in the hot weather and he noticed you struggling with the heat. He'll always carry your bags and stuff, and doesn't allow you to refuse. You need an errand done - he's already on it. And the best part is that he never thinks twice about doing any of that, it's simply his second nature.

BAJI - surprisingly... also acts of service.

CLUMSY acts of service, but acts of service nonetheless! He'll cook for you (as in, more than just instant yakisoba - an actual meal). He'll bring you a cat when you're feeling down to cheer you up. He'll teach you to fight if you need to blow some steam off. (And he'll happily spar with you, but beware - he has ulterior motives in that sparring session, iykwim 😏) Still, the biggest sign of his affection is if he lets you touch his hair!

MITSUYA - support.

I was tempted to say 'words of affirmation', but on the second thought, just support in every shape and form that you might need. He's your shoulder to cry on when you need to, someone who believes in you when you doubt yourself, and someone you can always rely on no matter if you're going through a petty drama or your world actually just fell apart. He's always there by your side, through thick and thin!

KAZUTORA - trust.

They say that jealousy is the sign of love, but it's the exact opposite in Kazu's case! If you really mean something to him, he won't experience the least bit of jealousy, even if he saw you sitting butt-naked in another man's lap! He'll also be fully comfortable being himself around you, and feel safe to share his past, traumas, mistakes, and his healing journey, without fear of being judged or abandoned. He will just know in his heart that you are his person no matter what!

KOKO - self-sacrifice & physical touch.

I think this is pretty much canon, but allow me to elaborate nonetheless.

Hajime is passionate. When he falls in love, he falls head over heels and worships the ground his s/o walks on! His devotion can sometimes border on obsession, and there is nothing he wouldn't be willing to do for his love! And I mean - nothing - literally no limits! He'd kill or die in a heartbeat for the one he loves, no questions asked! And, since he burns so fervently in love, he cannot help the urge to constantly shower the object of his affection in kisses, to hold them tight and just feel their skin, warmth, scent... Sidenote: he doesn't hug, he embraces!

[hanihazeljade]

Tim Drake as a Rogue "Ursula"

Ursula is known as the sea witch who grants wishes to mers who is desperate enough to ask her to grant their wishes. Ursula is often portray as a mean and bitter octopus who hold grudge to her dearest brother.

And who is more fit to become the Ursula of Gotham City than the Mad Bat himself, Tim Drake.

(CW: Cursing, Disney Plot)

Next - Ursula 2

Tim doesn't want to come back as a vigilante. He rather be a dropped out high school that found a 9-5 job as he was subbing for Bruce as he recuperate on his travels in time.

He finished his job. He is not Robin anymore and he will never go back at being Robin, so that he could be tossed out once he was no longer needed.

He doesn't even want to be associated with the bats and it's colleagues but he can never ignore the pleads of the people of Gotham. Especially, the one who is "desperates", that people who have nobody that believes in them.

So, therefore, he weave a new persona. The one who everyone avoids until they used up all of their choices. The one that is supposed to be left alone, or else you are risking yourself to the cruel contracts.

He became Ursula of Gotham. With his already pale skin, he can easily stain his skin with a sheen shade of blue and he acquired a white human hair wig that he tied in an elaborate ponytail. And of course, you cannot forgot the blood red lips. And knowing some ancient curses is handy and one of the advantages he had for having archaeologists.

Tim is having fun being Ursula. Seeing the vulnerable souls come to him and he gave them adequate contracts while those who tried to manipulate him, let's just say that they got what is equivalent of turning into a sea foam.

Ursula, the wicked witch— what the others dubbed him, has a permanent residence in the Tricorner Island. Many will tell him that he is being an idiot as it was the island that also residence the Gotham City Police Department, but you know what they said, the most dangerous place is where the safety exactly is .

As months pass by, he was establishing himself as the largest shareholder of Wayne Enterprise and putting the fear of him among the WE board. It was a hard feat as some old fossils tried to question his credibility but he quickly shut those down. He understand them as he was just nothing but a dropout highschool student and was employed through nepotism. But with his knowledge on how to fuck with Lex Luthor payed off as he can very much see the fear on those old cunts every time he bring up their bullshit plans for the Wayne Enterprise.

And also in the works of establishing the wicked witch of Tricorner Island, but even with the GCPD in his tail, he was doing nothing illegal, except for some murders here and there — not like the bats will care, he is a rogue not a vigilante, he was now one of the established not to fucked with together with Black Mask, Maroni and Falcone.

Of course he is not going unnoticed by the big bad bat himself. He was doing his own deals when suddenly his door got blown up by the Batman the Second and Robin with swords. He was in the middle of keeping the poor lady on signing her contract.

"I am sorry, young Aisha. It seems like the big old bat has something to say to me, come back tomorrow." Tim, or rather Ursula, said as his piercing blue eyes gazed to the pair. He can see the Batman shivered a little bit in his glare.

As the young lady, was now out of the premises, he looks at the pair with degrading look like how Ursula looks at everyone else.

"Well, pray tell, big bat and brat, how could this poor thing could help you." he rolled his eyes.

"What is your deal?"

Ursula gasped, "I am just trying to help some poor unfortunate souls. I am doing a great charity, I believe."

"Cut the flowery words, Ursula. We don't believe in every single words you've said."

"Well, have I done anything wrong? I am just helping."

"Helping but most of your clients disappear, like a sea foam."

Ursula chuckled, "Now, you are coining a little bit too much to Disney. I am nothing but a human, not even a meta."

"Then how— Robin!" Batman was supposed to further the interrogation but the Robin beside him suddenly shank Ursula, clearly his patience run out.

Ursula grabbed the nearest thing and coincidentally, it was a broom. But still, a wooden broom has nothing compare to the steel swords of the brat. So Ursula, did as any regular people would do and grabbed the kid's hood and spray him with pepper spray that he grabbed somewhere.

He released the kid after knowing that brat inhale too much as he start to coughed so bad. He sighed heavily, "This is why Gotham has so much desperate souls, the knight that was supposed to be protecting us was accompanied by a violent demon. The previous one was more tolerable than any of you." he said and aimed the pepper spray towards Batman, "Leave."

"We are not done, Ursula." Batman said as he carried the coughing Robin out of his residence.

Ursula smirked, "It seems like Batman doesn't recognise who Ursula is."

[soldiersslut]

GHOST OF YOU — SOLDIER BOY "CHAPTER ONE"

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,638

Author's Note: I am super duper excited for this! I am happy to see others are as well. Thank you so much again!

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED PLEASE LET ME KNOW. DON'T FORGET TO FOLLOW, HEART, AND REPOST. THANK YOU AGAIN!

“I am gone for one day, and this is what happens. Was putting MM to sleep really necessary?” You asked, watching what unfolded from afar. MM told Annie ahead of time what the plan was, and Annie told you.

It was no surprise that neither Butcher or Hughie had told anyone else about the plan. Little by little their recklessness was clouding their judgment. Going as far as to putting MM to sleep. Butcher scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He is just taking a little nap. I cannot have him getting in the way and as much as you might not want to agree, you do. Soldier Boy is our weapon, and we need to make sure he is satisfied with our gift waiting inside.”

You stayed silent. There was no point in arguing with him.

“Don’t you think someone should stay inside with her? Just have eyes on her in case she tries anything?” you suggested.

Butcher nodded and tilted his head towards the direction of the door. “Since you offered to babysit, have fun. I will be waiting for him out here.”

You did not move until Butcher did. He stayed facing the trees. Your friendship with Butcher is interesting, to say the least. While you did not agree with most of Butcher’s plans the end goal was all the same. He had been the one to recruit you after MM vouched for you. Before joining the Boys you were a combat medic specialist for the Army. Most of your work consisted in base to assist soldiers as well as help in humanitarian situations. Somewhere along the way you met MM, and you made a big enough impact he remembered you.

Here you are now serving as medic most of the times, but when things get bad you are ready to fight and defend yourself.

“Who’s there?” spoke up Countess, panic heard in her tone. All you had done was enter her trailer and stay by the door for a moment.

You looked to your right to see Countess’ hands had been taped and chained down. You stepped out of the shadow so she could have a closer look at you. Though you made sure to keep your distance.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered.

You were unable to hide your confusion. Both of your eyebrows furrowed closer together and you tilted your head slightly.

“I’m sorry?” you questioned, hoping she was going to elaborate what she means by it.

She began to shake her head and a snarl formed on her lips.

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. You’ve been alive this entire fucking time!” Countess snapped and attempted to harshly pull on the chains to let herself loose.

You blinked twice at the audacity of her attitude. This is the first time you are meeting her and somehow you are supposed to know her. There is one thing you’ve noticed about Countess though. Behind her anger, there was fear.

“I am not playing stupid! What the hell are you talking about?” you snapped back.

“Come on, Mimi, you’re really wanting to play stupid? Isn’t it just a tiny bit coincidence that Soldier Boy is out of Russia and you are here. You’re not supposed to be here. I was told you stayed in Russia.”

You still could not hide your confusion. You were so taken back you blinked multiple times and shook your head.

“Well, obviously, I am not in Russia. This was the one and only time I went. Care to explain what the hell is going on through that chimp brain of yours?!” you demanded to know.

Before Countess could say anything the door to the outside opened. Your eyes remained on her while she looked behind you to see who showed up.

“Ben? Is that really you?” she asked.

Slow, but heavy footsteps can be heard. Slowly you turned around and came face to face with Soldier Boy.

And there it is again.

The same look Countess had when she saw you was the same look Soldier Boy had. Soldier Boy completely ignored Countess at the moment. He was just staring at you, and you stared back waiting for him to say something. Nothing was said, but there was a trance between you both. You nor him could look away from one another. Countess decided to break it.

“You look so young,” she complimented. Soldier Boy had been quick to answer, “you don’t.” And yet he had not even looked at her for him to say such a thing. This was not your place to be at.

“I’m leaving,” you announced. The trailer was small and the amount of things Countess had made it even smaller. With three steps you would be out of the door, but as you took two steps forward Soldier Boy moved to the side to block you.

“No, you’re staying” he ordered.

You were stunned by his demand and was unable to protest. It was not going to get you anywhere and you did not want to make him angry either. The man was on a vengeance, and you had no power to fight against someone like him. He moved past you and stood in front of Countess now. She let out a laugh.

It was obvious you did not wish to be there. This was something personal, and almost intimate. You tried blocking out their conversation but it was impossible. Nothing in the room was interesting enough to stare at and zone out.

“I loved you.”

That’s when things got interesting. You did not even have to look at Soldier Boy to hear the sadness in his voice. The way he was describing his pain, torture, and yet still held onto the hope. It explains why he felt so betrayed. This time you turned to look at Soldier Boy and Countess. His back was towards you, but Countess could still see you. Her eyes moved to you and she shook her head in disbelief. She let out a scoff and spoke.

“You did not love me, you loved her. Deny it all you want, but it has always been about her. You never looked at me the way you looked at her. Hell, you fucking treated her better than you’ve ever treated anyone else. It was about damn time she got smart enough and left you. She knew her worth. When she left I was furious because I had the hope that with her being out of the picture you would have changed for the better, but you only got worse with time. I would have done the same thing and left you, but I made a vow to make you pay for everything. For every tear, pleads, and humiliation I had to endure because of you. I hated you.”

There was silence afterwards. You were not sure what to think of Countess’ speech. She keeps bringing you up, and yet it makes no sense. You have never met Countess before. Much less Soldier Boy. The last time they were together it was during the 1980s. You weren’t even a thought.

“As for you, why did you go back for him? You had a life all sorted out for you. His words might sound sweet, but you know better than I that the only person he will only look out for is himself.”

This was your opportunity to say something. You wanted to ask her for clarification. She held something against you, and you cannot even wrap your mind around what it is. Though it was too late.

“Leave.”

You looked at Soldier Boy who continues to have his back towards you.

“Wait a minute—” you began to protest but was rudely interrupted.

“Are you stupid and deaf now? Go!” he snapped.

You then realized why he demanded you left. You can see the light forming in his chest and aimed toward Countess. Without a second thought you ran out and sprinted towards Butcher.

“The hell happened in there?” Butcher demanded to know.

“He’s about to explode! Grab MM!” you yelled, and right on cue a loud explosion occurred behind you.

There was so much force that wind picked up and forced you to fall on the ground. Butcher was quick to grab MM and be out of harm’s way. From the ground you turned around and used your elbows to sit up and look at the damage. The trailer was gone, but the debris was scattered everywhere. You stood up and rushed towards MM to make sure he was okay.

Annie called out to you, and Hughie followed behind her.

“MM is alright. Butcher was able to get him out of the way,” you explained and lightly slapped MM’s face multiple times hoping that would wake him up. Once again you heard the heavy footsteps and all attention was shifted to Soldier Boy who appeared from the fog of what used to be Countess’ trailer. You got up from the floor and just watched. Annie had gotten defensive and Soldier Boy noticed. He watched Annie, but then looked at you. He stopped moving and just stared like he has done before.

Once again the both of you were in a trance. The trance got disrupted by Hughie’s voice as he tried to reason with Annie. He and Butcher began to follow behind Soldier Boy. You stayed in place with Annie and MM who was starting to wake up.

“I’m alright,” MM assured. You and Annie helped him off of the ground and watched the other trio walking away. Though Soldier Boy came to a stop and turned around to see who was following.

“What the hell is happening now?” MM asked. Soldier Boy, Butcher, and Hughie were talking and it almost looked like an argument. They began to walk back towards the other trio.

“You are coming with us,” Butcher ordered, pointing at you. Annie and MM quickly got defensive.

“It is the only way Soldier Boy is going to cooperate with us. Either she comes or he goes into destructive mode. I don’t know what the hell you told him in there, but he is demanding you” Butcher explained. Butcher was getting desperate and if he has to knock you out, carry you, or threaten you he’ll do it.

Annie and MM were not convinced, but you were. If someone has all the answers to your questions it must be him.

“Soldier Boy can suck my dick too and I still would not accept her leaving. Go fuck yourself, Butcher. He is your problem!” MM argued.

Soldier Boy now stepped forward, “we can do this the easy way where no one gets harmed, or I can do this my way where I can just kill you both” he suggested. It only made things worse as Annie’s eyes lit up. MM walked towards Soldier Boy to get in his face. You moved quickly to get in between both.

“No! One death is already enough for tonight. I will go with you under one condition and that is for you not to harm my friends. It isn’t because I am scared of you.”

You stood your ground against Soldier Boy. If it were anyone else to have spoken to him the way you did right now he would have put them six feet underground by now. Though this is you, he remained quiet but his hands turned into fist and by how tight he formed them a small squeak was let out from the leather gloves he is wearing.

You heard the squeak and knew he was holding it in together. “Shall we, then?” you asked and motioned the direction they were heading towards to. You looked up at Soldier Boy who continued to stare. At this point it was getting annoying. You said nothing to him and walked away. Before the distance got greater you looked at MM and Annie.

“I will be okay, I promise.”

That was going to be the last time you will see them both until who knows when. You said nothing else, even when you all got to the car. Butcher drove and Hughie got the passenger side. You sighed and got in the back with Soldier Boy. It was a small space and with someone large such as Soldier Boy is sitting next to you the space is limited. Your knee was forced to touch his own. You ignored the way he kept moving his knee slowly as if he was trying to feel you. Butcher was explaining their next destination but they needed to find lounging for tonight. After some time in the road they found a motel in the middle of nowhere. Butcher checked them in.

“You are staying with me Soldier Boy, while Hughie stays with you” said Butcher to you. Hughie was okay with that and offered to sleep on the couch. Soldier Boy hated the idea.

“Fuck you, I am staying with her. I’m not about to share a bed with another set of balls and a dick.”

You rolled your eyes, “and what makes you think I want to?”

“Oh, please sweetheart. Playing hard to get doesn’t get you anywhere. Drop the attitude.”

“Make me.”

Butcher intervened, “alright, alright! All of us are staying in a room together. I will sleep on the floor, Hughie gets the couch, and both of you figure it out in the room. I am going to ask for a refund on one of the rooms.”

Butcher left to the main office while the rest walked towards the room. You entered and took a look around. It was clean, a little spacious, and there was only one bed. The argument began again.

“You are indestructible, a soldier, and have been sleeping for a long time already. You do not need the bed! You can sleep anywhere else!” you snapped.

At this point Hughie had given up in playing mediator.

“The bed is large enough for the both of us. Quit your whining!” Soldier Boy reasoned.

The argument continued until Butcher showed up and put an end to it. In the end you were going to share a bed with him. You sat down on your side and just watched the rest get comfortable. Butcher had clothes for Soldier Boy to change into.

“We have a long day tomorrow. Get some sleep” Butcher ordered. He turned off the lights. Hughie said goodnight to you and you said it back. You laid on the bed and felt it sink next to you. You turned and saw Soldier Boy smirk. You were ready to wipe the smirk off of his face.

“You know you can scoot in closer if it gets too cold. I don’t bite” he whispered the last part to you. You scoffed and turned to your side. There was not enough pillow to form some wall between you both. Eventually sleepiness took over the nerves, and you had fallen asleep.

Soldier Boy had yet to fall asleep. He was the last one awake. Everything that has happened in the past two days has been replaying over in his mind. He looked down at you sleeping so peacefully. Why were you acting like this? Why was he a stranger in your eyes? It has been a conflicting thought since the moment he laid eyes on you. Even now he wonders if this was a test and he was actually at the lab still. He was hoping it wasn’t.

You moved in your sleep and was facing him now. Hair had fallen onto your face. Slowly and lightly he moved it out of the way of your face. His finger stayed on your cheek; feeling your soft skin.

Whether this was a test or a dream, he knows he never wants to wake up for he has found you once again.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two

Author’s Note: Hello again! I hope everyone is enjoying this as much as I am. As you can tell we are following season three but there will be changes along the way. I chose to start on season three so we can see how it begins to unfold for Soldier Boy and reader. There will be lots of angst and drama soon. Just please be patient and thank you so much again for reading!

[jymwahuwu]

Hi! Really love your stories they always scratch my brain (*≧∀≦*)❤️, so I got an idea and wanted to ask what you think about it

I got this question with Sunday on the minigame/event (idk what to call it lol)

"Just as you're about to pull a dusty hard-leatherback book, you hear a gentle whisper within earshot, "Averoy Rosewood's works are notorious for their obscurity," the Oak Family Head Sunday faintly smiles at you. "Perhaps you need more elaboration."

(I couldn't put the image since anon asks don't allow me to put images😮‍💨, but it's from a Board Encounter in Cosmodyssey)

and when I read it my brain immediately went WHAT IF SUNDAY FILLS THE READER WITH A VIBRATOR ON THE LIBRARY, and him just watching in amusement as he talks about books and asking her questions about them while he plays with the levels of vibrations with a control on his hands and she just struggles to make sentences, so he goes and asks "What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" To tease her and remind that she's in a public space and can't make much noise unless she wants everyone to know about what they're doing.

Hmm... I wrote this about Sunday, but I feel like maybe it could be about Jing Yuan or Aventurine 🤔, anyways sorry if it sounds weird my brain sometimes goes into unga bonga mode when I think about these men.

Sincerely,

An unhinged anon.

Thank you for telling me. I experienced this event and read the content of Sunday helping us in the library!! Wrote a little bit, I hope you like it 💗🫶

cw: yandere, non-con, abuse of power, abuse of credit, vibrator, harassment

How about you being the librarian at The Family Library? A nerdy librarian. The Family claims that this is a library open to everyone to read and borrow, covering a variety of books and hologram collections.

Sunday, the leader of the Oak Family noticed you. He can accurately talk to you about your interests, hobbies and ideals, and encourage you…but one thing is that you are not religious enough in your belief in harmony. You are too withdrawn…and cannot integrate into The Family. Sing hymns, participate in activities, and protect The Family, others can do it, but what can you do? He cannot allow you to continue in this position under these circumstances. You panicked, grabbing his sleeves and pleading with him through tears. "W-what, I really believe Lord Xipe…I need this job badly! Please Mr. Sunday…"

He offered a plan. He used his gloves to push a delicate small box in front of you. You must put two vibrators in your underwear while on duty to test your professional abilities. If you can tolerate sinful sexual pleasure, you qualify for this position.

"But… Mr. Sunday, can I-can I take a break?"

"Of course. I'm not here to torture you. This is for your and everyone's happiness and harmony, I hope you understand." His words ignited the hope in your heart. "You have 2 hours a day to take them down. Allocate your own time. After get off work, you head to my office and I will check on your progress. You must do this every working day."

"Check?" Your heart sank into the starry sky and was crushed. "Okay. Mr. Sunday..."

These two vibrators… are pearl white and have an angel wings pattern on them. It's silent, but it delivers a surge of pleasure to your private parts, sometimes fast and sometimes slow down. It's not much better when it's slow - it's a long, quiet torture that gives you no relief. You kept your legs still and sorted your books and documents, your underwear getting wet. Every half minute, you check like a hawk to see if you have wet your clothes, fearing that it has become a joke in the eyes of others…

He occasionally wanders into the library to check on your work and ask you to recommend books in a certain category or answer questions about the collection.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable?" Sunday approached you with caring eyes and ruthlessly pushed the controller frequency to the highest level. You lowered your head, holding back tears, your legs trembling. "I-I'm fine. Mr. Sunday. Thank you for your concern."

This kind-hearted gentleman and leader offers to take you to another secluded corner of the library to rest. On the road, Sunday dials down the vibration frequency and doesn't crank it up until you get to the corner. The intense ecstasy immediately hits you to the extreme and stimulates your nerves. You endured your moans, trembling in Sunday's arms as you reached orgasm. His hands caressed your hair like a lovable pet. He commented that your ability to endure needs to be improved.

After you get off work, Sunday asks you to take off all your clothes in the office and fold them on the table. He uses white gloves to inspect and rub your private parts, circling them with his thumb. In the watery light, those fingers slowly inserted between your legs and twitched. He clicked his tongue in disappointment when he realized that his fingers were already wet enough to slide into the inner walls before being inserted. "Not religious enough, are you? What are you thinking about? You're letting pleasure take over your body."

"...I'm sorry!! Mr. Sunday, Please give me a chance…" you begged with a sob, then cummed hard at his disappointed sigh.

[littelestvic]

About the Damon Baker x Kris Gustin photo session and what it means to me as a queer artist obsessed with Joker Out

Note, this is not me trying to look smart and trying to talk about someone else's art pieces, although my dearest Daria made a small analysis on the Kris-Bojan set that I found very interesting, and it is interesting that these are a somewhat subjective views of Bojan and Kris's souls, or at least a visual representation of themselves as people. In any case, this is, if anything, an overview of what these art pieces make me feel and their significance to me.

First I must admit, as an artist, that these photos are beautiful and actually hold a lot of artistic value from my perspective. I think these should be seen as pieces of art and must be perceived in a different way than other Joker Out photos. However it is still very interesting how much these photos actually talk about the subject: these pieces are an exploration of Kris Gustin, the person portrayed, and I've honestly never have seen portraits that explore the nature of the subject in such a personal manner. Kris is displayed in a subjective, intimate way, whether how Damon sees him or how Kris himself sees himself deep down. I'm sure more elaborate and accurate explanations of Damon's art can be found online, as I actually didn't know of his work until now, but as I was able to read he focus a lot on the intimacy of the subject.

Anyways, there's a clear theme this session follows: femeninity and vulnerability. The usage of visible makeup (a first time for Kris on camera if I'm aware), the flowers, the exposed skin, the cloth (a typical femenine piece of clothing on Balkan/Slavic cultures), I think they were all choices to purposefully provide a more femenine vision of Kris. But he still allows himself to do poses similar to those I've seen him do before, there's still a hint of the Kris I know, his posing flows naturally and doesn't feel forced because this is just a natural extension of what he is, this is a natural exploration of his most femenine side, he is simply letting himself flow.

I think we all know Kris seems to be a man with a complex relationship with normative gender roles. Even as a cishet man he has this appearance and mannerisms that can be more related to a more "femenine" convention of gender and I have always wondered if he has ever struggled with this, and that if he has ever felt forced to keep the normative conventions of what a man should be. Things like asking to have his hair cut shorter after being called a girl when he was a child, or denying to be put makeup on by fans, he sometimes tried to run away from things that could be perceived as "feminine", maybe out of insecurity, maybe out of fear.

But there he is,

Glitter on his eyes,

Flower in his head,

Embracing himself.

I am a person with a complex relationship with gender roles. I was born a woman. I am short and tiny and have feminine features that simply cannot be ignored. I will forever be perceived as a woman by the people around me. I look like a girl, I have long hair because I am not allowed to have it short and I wear women's clothes. And while I don't want to be a girl, my relationship with femininity is actually very strong. I like pretty things, I like sparkles and pink, I like everything girly, I like girls. I've been told it's stupid to perceive myself as a guy since I look so girly, since I like so many girly things, and in times I don't feel I have deserved the masculine pronouns I use and my neutral name I've given myself (the ones I can only use online out of fear).

So I try to put some sense into it. I draw girly things because I like girly things. I draw men because I want to be like men. I draw men in pretty soft pinks and sparkles and sequins because that's what I am.

And I've found a safe place in Kris, with his non conforming masculinity that more often than not becomes femininity. As many other people like me, I like him because he helps me put sense to my feelings. I draw him in soft pastels and pretty clothes and delicate features because in my mind, if a man like him can be allowed to be femenine, then I can allow myself to feel the way I feel too. I can allow myself to simply not fit any binary gender convention, and I can allow myself to be myself. I like Kris because I find a part of me in himself, I relate to him and I see myself in his eyes. It is a complex relationship where I don't necessarily like him because I find him attractive, I am not actually sexually attracted to him; I see myself in him, in my own little weird way. I have distorted my own reality to make my own perception of him fit my needs. This is why I draw him the way I draw him. And perhaps that's why so many praise how I draw Kris. It is unique because it's personal. And I know he doesn't necessarily see himself this way, at least not in the degree I do. My Kris talks much more about how I see myself than how I see him. The way I draw Kris represents myself. My Kris is myself.

So when I saw him in this session, with the glimpse and the passion and the attitude I draw him like, it felt special.

"He looks like my art" I told myself. "He's seen himself the way I see him."

This is Kris,

This is my Kris,

This is me.

So I'm very thankful for Kris trying to open himself, and embracing this vulnerable side of him I purposefully push into the narrative of my art. He called these "therapy sessions", so I can't help but wonder if these have been helpful to him, if he has found something about him, if he has learnt to accept himself the way he is. He has helped me cope with complicated subjects of my life, and I cling to him to keep with life. He is my special little obsession that keeps me alive. So I can't help but sometimes wonder if he's happy, If he's loved, if he's content with himself.

And I think this exploration of himself will be very helpful to his soul. I am very proud of him, I am hopeful for his future, and I wish him the best.

I love you, my muse, and thank you for allowing yourself to see you with my own eyes.

[erynaster]

The Death of Me

Summary: You and Wednesday share a moment of brief vulnerability around each other one dreary afternoon at Nevermore's courtyard.

Word Count: 983

Warnings: None

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

A/N: Here you go, my attempt at a lighthearted interaction between you and Wednesday Addams. Enjoy. :>

"Why so glum?"

You turn around. Wednesday Addams steps out from behind a pillar, eyeing you with a deadpan stare.

"Oh, it's you." You sigh. "It's nothing, Wends. Don't worry about me."

"I beg to differ." She raises an eyebrow at you, her footsteps echoing throughout the empty courtyard as she approaches you. "You've been quiet all day. Quite unlike your usual talkative self."

"Didn't think you'd notice." You gaze absentmindedly at a crow gliding overhead, before landing on a branch of a nearby tree.

"It was very obvious. Something is clearly bothering you. And... I wish to know why." She says in an almost completely monotone voice. Sincerity wasn't something that Wednesday Addams was the greatest at conveying, but in the duration of your time being in a relationship together, you had learned to read her more... subtle undertones. And from what you could tell, she really was concerned about your well-being at the moment, even if it didn't show.

"I'm... I dunno, Wends. I was just... thinking about us." You sigh, gazing off into the distance.

"What about us?" She asks, her tone as flat as ever. "Care to elaborate?"

You take a moment to ponder your next words.

"Do you... think we work, Wednesday?" You ask tentatively, fearing the answer.

Wednesday stays silent. The silence drags on for a few more nerve-wracking seconds, before she opens her mouth to speak.

"... Yes, Y/N."

You turn around to face her, hardly daring to believe it.

"What?"

"I said, yes, Y/N. We do." She repeats in the same lifeless tone. "Do not ask me how, but we just...do. For some reason even I cannot explain, this relationship remains to be, to put it simply, functional."

"Oh." A wave of relief washes over you. "I guess I was just worried, that's all."

"Your fears are not at all unwarranted." She follows your gaze, staring off into the distance as she speaks. "You had every reason to doubt."

Wednesday shifts in place.

"... I haven't exactly been the most expressive partner, have I not?"

You turn to face your girlfriend, who was now pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. It still surprised you how honest Wednesday could be sometimes, even to the point of letting down her guard a little to show you a side of her that did, indeed, care for you. However often she chose to omit that fact from your daily interactions.

"What about you?" You ask.

"Pardon?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Do you ever think about us?" You fidget nervously as you await her response.

Silence.

"I suppose I do." She says simply. "In retrospect, I would not have foreseen us becoming this... close with each other." She states, an odd look forming on her face as she does.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." You chuckle.

"It isn't." She looks away from you. And for a brief moment, you swore you could see a faint blush creeping up her pale cheeks.

The two of you stand in silence. A crow caws in the distance, the sound seemingly magnified over ten times in volume due to the barren surroundings, completely devoid of any students whatsoever.

"Hey, Wednesday?"

She turns to look at you expectantly.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to... you know..." You extend your arms invitingly.

A repulsed look forms on her face.

"No, absolutely not." She says, recoiling slightly, clearly uneasy about the entire prospect of embracing you in a public space.

"Awww, come on, Wends. Please?" You tease, approaching her cautiously. "Just for a few seconds?"

"My answer remains the same, Y/N." She repeats in the same deadpan tone. But to her immense horror (though it barely shows), you throw both arms around her anyway, pulling her close in an affectionate, one-sided hug.

"Mmm..." You hum, holding her close in your unapologetic embrace.

She doesn't look pleased.

"Let. Me. Go. Y/N." She enunciates each word with clarity, each syllable dripping with a threatening aura. This you overlook, continuing to hold her fast in your arms.

"Come on, Wends. Is a hug really going to kill you?" You tease.

She stays silent. Miraculously, you can feel her leaning into your touch, however slightly.

"... You are lucky I find your boldness to be endearing."

You smirk. "I knew you'd come around."

"One word to anyone and I will end you."

"Deal." You grin, daring to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. She doesn't pull back, though both her arms remain plastered stubbornly against her sides. She's still very clearly unwilling to return the hug.

"Ah, mi amour. You are going to be the death of me, you know that?" You sigh.

"That can be arranged." She deadpans, still standing stock-still in the face of your affection. "What would you prefer?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe something quick and painless, you decide." You jest, humouring your girlfriend's dark sense of humor. Assuming that she was joking, of course.

The embrace lasts for a few more seconds. Part of you wishes to end it right then and there, but Wednesday still shows no visible signs of wanting to pull away, which was rare for her. So you continue to hold her in your arms, taking care not to squeeze her so much so as not to provoke her into ending your life right where you stood.

"Wednesday?"

She's silent.

"This... this was great." You begin to pull away, slowly. "This was—"

To your immense shock, Wednesday suddenly grips your forearm, holding it fast in its current position.

You gaze at her questioningly.

"... This isn't too bad, I suppose." She mumbles.

You beam at your girlfriend lovingly.

"I love you, Wednesday." You sigh.

"And I tolerate you, Y/N."

Though her words are as bland and unfeeling as ever, Wednesday slips both arms around your waist, returning your hug just as a faint smirk creeps up her cheeks.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

still thinking about crowley's fall.

That one quote, more specifically. "How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

It's very possible I'm overthinking it. But it still reminds me so much of art and censorship, I wrote a poem on it just now, and I just wanted to elaborate on that, on why I said that an answer is judgement but a question is justice.

Back in Ancient Greece, Plato tried to outlaw writers, the storytellers. For millennia, those in power have feared people in arts, because we're not just dealers in aesthetics, we're dealers in ideas. Even in times of war, poverty, censorship, songs were sung, paperbacks exchanged in dark alleyways, stories whispered and walls covered with graffiti.

When stories are created, the writers have to balance both opposing ideas in their head, no matter how vile or repugnant. To prove that the protagonist is strong, you can't have a weak antagonist. The opposing idea has to be as strong as the one that will win for the victory to be meaningful.

Art, and stories, aren't about being right. People say we find answers in art, and maybe for some that's true, but I think what is infinitely more important are the questions it raises.

Because what is braver, what is more shattering to the status quo, than to question it? To dare to ask what if, to present an alternative, to pull an idea up to the witness stand and cross-examine it?

That's why when we see censorship, we need to look deeper. Because if an idea is truly that 'right', it will survive even the most intense of questioning, and even sceptics will have to accept its veracity. Why, then, are people so afraid of stories that question? Maybe it is because deep down, they aren't convinced themselves. They don't believe that their idea will survive the cross-examination. They are trying to keep a lie in power over the truth.

And art isn't about finding that elusive truth, it's about daring to look the lies in their face and say, maybe, maybe you're wrong. I don't know, you don't know, nobody may ever know, but maybe.

Like the Serpent of Eden, whispering, presenting that alternative of dissent to Eve. Not coercing. Not forcing her hand. But telling her that there is an alternative, whether good or bad.

That's why the writers, the artists, the musicians, those from every walk of the arts, are journalists interviewing society. We cannot allow ourselves to be silenced.

It's not about the answers offered, and whether someone agrees with them or not. It's about the questions, and if people fear the questions, maybe think about why that is.

[chuuyaandreaderkilldazai]

Ranking JJK Characters I Don't Like

Ranging from mild dislike (14) to LOATHE WITH EVERY INCH OF MY BEING (1).

14. Mai: I don't hate her. I sympathize with her. I just wish she wasn't the way she is.

13. Junpei: I do have compassion for him, but ... school shooter vibes. Not a fan.

12. Noritoshi: Bad vibes.

11. Toji: Bad dad. And he's so nosy, too. Why does he always insert himself into situations with his fists swinging? Actually, now that I think about it, that's kind of iconic behavior. But all it ever really did was create more problems. If he had never inserted himself into the plot, Geto would have probably never turned mass-murderer-cult-leader--WE COULD HAVE HAD EVERYTHING. So it's a pass for me. Also, his haircut is off-putting for reasons I cannot articulate. It's like one day in middle school he got a haircut and just never changed up the style ever again.

10. Jogo: Ugly.

9. Uraume: Character design: slay. Helping Sukuna: not slay.

8. Like every adult from the Zenin clan: BECAUSE THEY SUCK.

7. Tengen: Old and entitled.

6. Kenjaku: Old and entitled part two. What gives him the right?

5. Sukuna: Horrid, nasty man. I feel like I shouldn't have to elaborate.

4. Ui Ui: Annoying. Literally, why are you even here?

3. Mei Mei: First of all, how am I supposed to take you seriously with that stupid braid hanging in front of your face? From the very instant her character was introduced, I did not like her, but I thought maybe I was being a woman hater for no reason, so I really did try to tolerate her. But when we finally saw that scene in season two. PRISON!!! I was right. She's the worst. We are not gonna ignore that. Check her files.

2. That thing with the blond side ponytail: I hate him so much I don't even know his name. I don't care to know it. I would say why do you as a man look like that, but honestly why do you as a HUMAN BEING look like that? Why do you act like that? Why are you skipping around wearing a poorly made DIY toga? Whole nip is hanging out, and no one asked to see that. Why are you HOLDING HANDS with your blade? Freak. There is something so intrinsically, inherently, ONTOLOGICALLY wrong with him, you can't even blame it on childhood trauma or a personality disorder. The only time I ever supported Sukuna was when he bullied this emaciated Jo Jo Siwa lookin' thing in Shibuya.

Mahito: I hate him so much. I hate him more than I've ever hated any character. I actually lose the ability to speak coherently when I think about him because I hate him so much. I think it's so cringe when try-hard dudes say, "When I'm angry all I see is red." But when I think about Mahito it really is like blood and pure rage cloud my vision. He is literally the embodiment of if you gave an edge lord psychopathic eleven year old the power to kill people. "Wee, I'm so powerful and killing people is just SoooOoOoOoOOOo much fun!!" SHUT UP!!!!!!!! SHUT UPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!! YOU ARE NOT FUNNY. YOU ARE NOT CUTE. YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL IN ANY WAY. He is genuinely the most irritating character I have ever come across. And as the story progresses, he just gets worse. What do you mean he can duplicate himself? Now we have to deal with TWO of this wretched creature? What do you mean he can be decapitated AND HIS HEAD WILL SPROUT LIMBS AND SPRINT AWAY? STOOOOOOOOOP. AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON WHAT HAPPENED TO NANAMI--I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT. Mahito is such a nasty, slithy, bothersome, despicable, nauseating little cockroach. "Yuji, you and I are the same." Huh? You thought you did something there, didn't you? You thought you ate and came up with some kind of deep, revolutionary concept? It's giving pretentious philosophy dude who thinks he's superior for being a little contrarian, nihilistic Nietzsche butt licker. When Yuji finally humbled him, I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed seeing the fear in his eyes. For one brief, fleeting moment, I could finally understand what sadists must feel like. Honestly, we deserved to watch him suffer, and I wish he would have suffered far more for far longer. Rot in anguish, Mahito. You will not be missed nor forgiven.

[tj-dragonblade]

FLUFFBRUARY 2023: Feb 18, 19, 20, 21, & 22

Feb 18 prompts: recovery flight film Feb 19 prompts: mosaic dragon nursery Feb 20 prompts: favorite reveal lounge Feb 21 prompts: marathon young journal Feb 22 prompts: bridge throw dawn

Another multi-day amalgamation. 'Recovery' was the theme that got me started; 'dragon' 'young' and 'throw' popped in as words used and 'reveal' is a theme that threads through the whole thing as well. It's more hurt/comfort than fluff until the last bit, I'm afraid, but uh. It is what it is. Spoilers - this centers on a relationship from later in comics canon but comics knowledge isn't really necessary.

On AO3 - 2900-ish words

~~~***~~~

When Dream first tells Hob he's got a girlfriend ('courting', was actually what he called it, which sounded so much more refined), Hob is surprised. Happy for him, sure, but very surprised.

And maybe a little bit…something else. Can't quite put a name to it, but he'd been getting rather worried at his friend's long absence, not having seen him for several months. Should be a relief to know all's well, that he's just been entertaining a lady-friend in the Dreaming all this time, right?

"Her name is Thessaly," Dream says when asked, his face soft and smiley, and Hob stuffs down the little voice that says Hope she's worth the worry you caused me.

"I'm happy for you," he says instead, and he is. Truly. "Tell me about her?"

~~~***~~~ "I have been neglecting our friendship, alongside my duty," Dream admits, the next time they talk, and Hob is enormously mollified to hear his own sentiments echoed.

"I don't blame you, my friend," is what he says, though. "Young love can be very distracting. Things still going well?"

"Yes," Dream says, and Hob listens politely as he elaborates, steadfastly pushing down his jealousy.

Because yes, he can admit now that that's what it is.

Finding out that his erstwhile stranger is not above romantic entanglements, that the option exists, has forced a thorough examination of his own feelings, things he'd always just steered around and refused to confront. And what he's discovered is that yes, they are indeed what he'd suspected them to be, and they're a little bruised now on top of that. Six hundred years he's known Dream, but he doesn't merit the offer of permanent residence in the Dreaming?

Not that he'd want it, mind; he loves living life. Here. He wouldn't want to give that up even if it meant being with Dream all the time, but it would be flattering to be given the option.

"She has no care for my station," Dream is saying. "It is. Refreshing, to not be regarded with awe and deference."

"Imagine it must be," Hob agrees, but inside he's nursing the nameless wound that's just opened. He has always seen Dream as more or less an equal, has always treated him as 'my friend' above all else, even after being trusted with the truth of who Dream is. Why is it unnoticed and unremarked upon in him, if it's so notable in Thessaly?

But. Dream is happy. That's truly the most important thing.

It is.

~~~***~~~ "I fear Thessaly is growing unhappy," Dream says, some weeks later, and Hob squashes the piece of him that perks up at that, because what kind of friend would he be to take joy in the possibility of relationship troubles?

"What's been going on?"

"In the begininng, I gave her. All, of my time, and attention. But my duty cannot be left neglected in the long term. There are others in my life with whom I would share my time, as well." His eyes flick up to meet Hob's for a second as he says this last, and Hob has to just breathe past the warmth lodged suddenly and sharply in his chest.

"In tending to my duty, in seeking balance, I have given her. Cause, to find fault," Dream continues, and a red flag goes up in Hob's brain.

But no. He'll put that away, for now, and not leap to conclusions just because they might benefit him.

"Talk to her," he advises instead. "Maybe she just needs the reassurance that your feelings haven't changed, even though the time you spend with her has. Honest communication can solve a lot of problems."

~~~***~~~ It's another unusually long stretch before Hob sees Dream again.

"My friend!" he greets, old habit, when Dream finally puts in an appearance at the Inn. "You look…a bit of a wreck, honestly. Are you well?"

Granted, Dream frequently seems just this side of 'mopey and depressed', and today is no different, but. There's something more in his bearing, no matter how put-together his physical presentation—something exhausted, worn down, haggard, and it alarms Hob, just a bit.

"I am. Well enough," is what Dream says, and Hob doesn't quite believe him but also knows better than to expect any sort of direct explanation. He answers Dream's questions, carries on a little while about all the things he's been up to the past couple months, before gently beginning to prod.

"And how's Thessaly?"

Whatever ease Dream had attained during their conversation vanishes instantly; his mouth hardens, his eyes redden, and Hob's heart sinks.

"She. Decided she no longer loves me," Dream says.

And Hob sees red.

He knows, rationally, that there's two sides to the story, that okay yes Dream can be a bit of an arsehole sometimes, and it's not fair to pin the failure of a relationship solely on a single party.

But Hob, he's always been a bit protective of his friends. Of this friend in particular, especially after…everything. He wants to see Dream happy. He's almost possessive, in that regard, hoarding Dream's presence and Dream's smiles and Dream's conversations over their table like a dragon with its treasure; Dream is his treasure. And to see his treasure—his friend—his treasured friend, to see him hurt this way, it makes Hob livid with fury.

He collars it, stuffs it down, turns his thoughts to sympathy instead. "I'm so sorry," he offers.

"It was not your doing." Dream sounds like he's talking about bad weather, no matter that he looks like he's ready to sink into the ground and disappear for a century or two.

"Course not, but I'm still sorry you're going through it. Heartbreak, s'rubbish."

"It will pass. It is. Passing."

"D'you wanna…talk about it? Go upstairs, have a drink, tell me everything?"

"What purpose would be served, by reliving it thus." He sounds so defeated, and Hob's heart aches.

"Closure?" he offers, gently. "Getting it out, sharing the load, leaving it behind 'stead of carrying it festering inside? Talking through your troubles is all the rage, this century. Therapy, they call it."

Dream says nothing, looks extremely unconvinced.

"I know, not exactly your style, is it." Hob gives him a rueful, sympathetic smile. "But the offer stands, if you decide you want to. I'm here for you; my door's always open."

Dream sits with him in silence awhile longer, and leaves without offering anything further.

~~~***~~~ It's three days later that Dream returns, appearing in Hob's flat late on a Friday night. "It is not. Passing," he says, like he's dragging every word kicking and screaming up from the depths within him. "I would. Try—" He stops.

Hob sets aside his marking, motions for Dream to come join him on the sofa. "Talk to me," he says, very gently.

And Dream does.

Haltingly, with long stretches of silence interspersed, the words sometimes as painful to speak as if they were being torn from him physically.

And Hob listens.

He learns a great deal about Dream's latest relationship and entire romantic history.

His opinion of Thessaly does not improve.

~~~***~~~ Dream comes back again on Monday morning, looking very much on the verge of a breakdown.

Hob cancels his classes, makes tea, sits down with Dream.

"Am I incorrect, to center my function as I do?" He sounds weary, stricken.

"No, dove, you're not," Hob says gently, the endearment slipping out almost without his notice; he lets it slide, unremarked. "There's more to you than your duty, certainly, but of course it's going to be what most of your time is devoted to."

Dream's eyes are glossy and red-rimmed and he looks utterly lost; Hob reaches across the space between them to settle his hand on Dream's knee, offering a kind touch. "Anyone who doesn't understand that you can't give one hundred percent of your time to them forever doesn't understand you. And you deserve to be understood."

I understand you, he can't help thinking; it goes unsaid, because none of this is about him.

Dream is looking at him now with his watery eyes; a tear slips free and he turns away, silent and stoic. Hob watches another tear slide down his face.

"There's no shame in crying," he says, softly, coaxing. "Sometimes you just have to let it all out."

Dream looks back to him, lip beginning to tremble, and then a sob escapes him, and Hob's heart aches.

"Oh, love, come here," he says, opening his arms. It's all instinct; had he stopped to think on it, he probably would have talked himself out of offering this degree of physical contact when the occasional hand or shoulder touch is their norm. The reality of Dream suffering here in front of him bypasses that kind of rational caution completely, though, and when Dream moves a second later to collapse into his embrace, openly weeping, Hob can't regret it.

"I've got you," he murmurs, gently folding Dream against his chest, "It's alright," and "Let it out," rocking him lightly and stroking his back while Dream cries himself out.

It's entirely possible there may have been a helpless kiss pressed to Dream's thistledown hair at some point, but a good friend would not have and Hob is choosing not to think about it.

~~~***~~~ "I do not know, anymore, whether I truly loved her," Dream says the next time they meet. "Perhaps it was. Infatuation, and simple lust."

"…I don't think she was right for you," Hob ventures, carefully. It's mild, but it's the first real criticism he's offered about Thessaly, adamant as he's been to avoid anything that feels like acting on his own interests. But Dream has told him enough to paint a picture of his ex-lover and it's not the picture of someone Hob would want his friend tangled up with.

"And what do you know, of what is right for me," Dream returns, but it's…it's far more considering than condescending, and Hob ventures onward.

"You need someone who understands you," he proposes, "and I don't think she did. From what you've told me, she was not impressed by you at first, already had this pre-conceived notion of who you are, what you should be like, and for all that you dated awhile I don't think she ever really let go of that." Dream is still just looking at him, contemplatively, so he forges ahead. "So once the honeymoon was over, once she wasn't getting spoiled by your constant attention and the newness of your love—the mundane, the everyday, they came creeping back in, and she decided her first impressions were right after all."

Silence settles over them for a few moments, Dream's tea cooling half-drunk in his cup.

Hob touches Dream's hand, gently, and their eyes meet again. "I'm sorry she hurt you," he offers, fiercely sincere. "I'm so sorry that all your past loves have ended in heartache."

Dream manages a wan smile. "I will recover," he says, standing to leave, and Hob watches him go, stepping soundlessly between realms in the blink of an eye.

"I could never hurt you that way," he dares to say to his empty kitchen after Dream has disappeared. "I could be what you need."

He resolutely pushes his bittersweet resignation aside to get ready for bed.

~~~***~~~ "I wish to be. Loved," Dream says, with such sadness in his eyes, and Hob aches.

I could love you, he thinks, desperately. I do love you, I would love you the way you want so badly, the way you deserve—

"You'll find someone," is what he says, softly, with conviction, daring to place a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder. "You will."

"Perhaps," Dream allows, which is more optimism than he's expressed since this whole thing began, and Hob counts that as progress.

~~~***~~~ "You are a good friend, Hob Gadling," Dream declares, a month or so down the road, and Hob's heart swells within him because that is all he has tried to be and to hear it acknowledged makes everything else worth it. "You have given me much to consider, and. Helped me, to settle the turmoil within."

"I'm glad you're doing better," is what Hob says in reply, and it's nothing but the truth.

Dream smiles, reserved and sincere and all for Hob, who is as ever a devoted dragon, and gathers this precious gift into his hoard, kept near his heart with every other such treasure.

"Thessaly was wrong about many things. She was. Wrong, about me as well." Dream sounds confident, certain, and Hob is so so glad to hear the healing in his words. "I am capable of balance. And I am capable of. Love."

"Course you are," Hob agrees, brimming with love himself, but still. Even if he was bold enough to act on it, even if he could be certain that Dream's exclusively-female history didn't preclude his own chances for consideration, now is not the time. He doesn't want to be Dream's rebound. "And the next time you fall in love, they are going to appreciate you for the wonderful person you are. They'll thrive on your initial fire and they'll remain steadfast once it settles. Else they'll have to answer to me." He flashes his cheeky grin, and Dream graces him with another smile, gaze warm and considering all the while.

~~~***~~~ "How goes the search for love?" Hob asks, after several more of their weekly meetings. They're upstairs in his flat, after the Inn has closed for the evening.

"I have not been. Searching," Dream replies, which doesn't actually surprise Hob. Thessaly, after all, was by Dream's own admission the first such dalliance in a very long time.

"Giving up on romance for awhile? Or just letting the wind blow as it will?"

Either way, he's got time to sort out what, if anything, he means to do with his own feelings. If he's pleased not to have to sit by while Dream lavishes his affections on someone else again, well. That's for him to know and keep.

Dream offers a small, secretive smile. "Perhaps." He meets Hob's gaze, holds it, and slowly, the smile eases into something else, solemn and serious. "Or. Perhaps, what I seek, has been before me all the while."

Hob forgets how to breathe, just for a second. "O-oh?"

Dream goes still a moment, focusing inward, and then he's somehow reaching between the realms and producing an enormous, elaborate bouquet in a magnificent crystal vase, which he sets heavily on the coffee table beside them. It's very clearly defying several natural laws, gravity included, and it's absolutely stunning—a frothy shimmering iridescent masterpiece of roses and other blooms that largely don't exist in reality; Hob knows he's gawking but can't really help it.

"From the dreams, of a master florist in Germany," Dream elaborates, as if that explains why he's done it, and then he waits.

"…For me?" Hob asks, when it becomes apparent that a response is expected, and Dream slips into another smile, soft and warm.

"For you," Dream confirms. "A small token, of my affection." He reaches across the empty space between them on the sofa, takes Hob's hand in both of his, and suddenly the dream-bouquet is just. Not that distracting anymore. "You have been. Invaluable to me, during my recent tribulations, and I have. Realized, that. Beyond even this…I care for you, deeply, and—" He's struggling with the words but his gaze is steady, direct and sincere and oh, Hob's poor immortal heart cannot take this. "I wish to court you, Hob Gadling. If you are amenable."

"Yes," he says, barely more than a whisper; then, stronger, "Yes. I am." He's about two seconds from throwing himself into Dream's arms and kissing the daylights out of him; he clasps his free hand over Dream's holding his other to quell the urge. "Please. Court me to your heart's content. I am absolutely amenable."

Dream's face is alight, his smile soft and beautiful, and he's leaning in carefully. "Then, if I may—"

But Hob has reached his limit. Abruptly he is wrenching his hands from Dream's and seizing that beautiful pale angular face and launching himself forward, pushing Dream backward against the arm of the sofa and finding his mouth along the way.

And then Dream's arms are around him, Dream's mouth open and eager underneath his, and he's thought about kissing him so many times but the reality is far, far better.

"I love you," he gasps, when he finally draws back, and Dream looks so beautifully stricken by the words he would say them again and again and again til the end of everything, just to see the wonder blossoming in his face. "Court me all you like, as long as you like, but know this: I'm yours, always, have been for ages, and I love you—"

Dream surges up, kisses him fiercely, and Hob. He.

He doesn't know quite what to do with all the happiness singing inside him, but for now, it is more than enough just to kiss and be kissed, to let himself bask in the joy of feelings revealed and feelings returned, to sink into the satisfaction of finally being right where he most wants to be.

[bloodied-serpent]

i hope you know you are driving me & my friends up the walls (in the best way) with your comments on our gifsets about emhyr and cahir. you get them, truly.

tell me more pls 👀

Thank you, I'm so happy to torture you with my tags.

I do want to give major credit to both actors, because the physicality in their scenes is *phenomenal* visual storytelling. The delivery of their lines, from their body language to the tone of voice and the microexpressions, has so much nuance that it creates a really compelling dynamic between the two of them. In every interaction between the two of them, there is purpose behind everything, and it elevates the scenes.

In terms of the characters themselves, vengeance is an ouroboros, and I think this shows in how both of them navigate the world.

What fascinates me about Emhyr is how he weaves the illusion of the White Flame- this untouchable leader who is not only certain in his plan, not just guaranteed to succeed, but he acts like he's already won. His posturing is so cleverly constructed to manipulate the person(s) in front of him. We see this in how he interacts with the dwarf bladesmith, sharing drinks but reminding her of the fact they are not, can not, and will not *ever* be the same. The dwarf says as much, blatantly stating he'd kill her if the sword was faulty. And he doesn't shy away from the admission. He leans into it, cultivates that quiet fear that makes people obey. We never see Emhyr without a signifier of his position. He welcomes Cahir back in armour, as the army leader. He wakes Cahir in elaborate dress, as the emperor. Emhyr is always performing, even when he is alone, and that is his tragedy. He only ever dares hesitate when he is alone, but even as he burns the remnants of his old life, he is not allowed to be himself. He is not permitted to be Emhyr. Emhyr is the ashes of a portrait he threw in that brazier. He is the White Flame, because *that* is who will get him what he wants.

And the show emphasises how everything around Emhyr is cyclical. He condemned Fringilla to unending wine, letting her poison herself just as she poisoned his trust. He drinks with his weapon crafter, in moderation and in good spirits. He banished Cahir to the border, where he had to fight tooth and nail for his life, because he sought to cut Emhyr away from his goal. He asks Cahir to kill the only friend he has, knowing Cahir forgets the word "no" around him.

Cahir, on the other hand, is grappling with his sense of self. The only constant in his life is his king, and his king has no mercy for Cahir. Cahir cannot see choice past yearning for Emhyr, because all he has known is loyalty to him. And this hesitation, this doubt, it's apparent. And Emhyr does not hesitate to exploit it. He understands, I feel, on a fundamental level, that Emhyr understands the fact Cahir treads a fine line between his loss of self and finding one that doesn't need a king. Everything Emhyr does, from rousing Emhyr and using the advantage of his still-hazy mind to feed him crumbs enough to satisfy the ache in his heart before he asks the impossible. Something Cahir is more than willing to do, because it's for Emhyr. And this is validated- brilliantly portrayed- by how Emhyr uses language to alienate Cahir from the Others, effectively telling him things like "do it for us" because he KNOWS how desperate Cahir is for there to be an "us"

And I don't necessarily mean a romantic or sexual us here, it's more that Cahir at his core has a need to belong. So what does Emhyr do? "I wanted to welcome you back myself." Entering his room, throwing him his trousers and sitting with him, shoulder to shoulder, looking him in the eye, and telling him what he wants to hear, all the while affirming his standing as the arbiter of life itself. "Fringilla is dead. You are here," he says, meaning "You are here because I have permitted you to be."

Cahir shatters the mirror, whereas Emhyr burns the portrait. One has potential for introspection. The other is a cut link. We see how killing the elf affects Cahir, how he crumbles inward from the act. There is no one to catch him, and he doesn't recognise who he sees in the mirror, but he's not able to let go. And who would? When you have that security, that fragile peace where all you need to do is obey and you'll be rewarded, why step out of line? He tried it, and it almost got him killed. That is what makes this riveting. Cahir is painfully aware of the danger his doubt brings. And he still voices it anyway, sat side by side with the White Flame, he asks "How do you know when someone's a good leader" but he means "How do I know you're what's best for me?" And Emhyr deflects, using Cahir's need against him to placate him.

Emhyr communicates his inner world beautifully - he lays out expectations rather directly, like when he told Cahir "You did as I asked without hesitation." Hesitation is crucial to Emhyr's character, because it is his weak spot. He clutches the portrait of baby Ciri in his arms as he walks away, carrying only his agenda into the future. He buries anything that will not further his obsession, letting it suffocate and rot, instead of killing it outright, because he fears its ghost too much.

Cahir's woe is intelligence, in that he is aware of it all. He's aware of his need, of his desperation, but he's too afraid to break the cycle. The gravitational pull of Emhyr's influence keeps him in this unending loop of doubt and breakdowns and having his faith affirmed, and he's not allowed to change, because if he regains his sense of self, he will no longer be a malleable asset. Cahir can't seem to fix himself up, which shows in how he has looked throughout the season. Hair and clothes unkempt and rough, the most he managed was washing his face. Compare that with the jewellery and velvet Emhyr wore to wake him, and you get two very different worlds that mirror each other. Emhyr is scared to be himself, Cahir is scared of not being who Emhyr wants him to be.

[archivalofsins]

It's probably not something many people want to hear or even attempt to internalize.

However, if the way a person engages with any media is making people actively fearful, afraid, or anxious to engage with said media that's not good. If a good deal of people's response to trial two coming to a close is like they're clocking out of a long work shift, finally getting that vacation they've been hoping for. That's not healthy or fun.

I want it to be known that if someone cannot personally handle being around others with different opinions than them, if someone is asking why these people can't just see this how they see it- It's not even an issue of Milgram not being a healthy series for them to engage in anymore. At that point being a part of big fandom spaces may not be a healthy thing for that person in general.

Look I know that throughout trial two a vocal minority of fans have made Milgram a completely horrid experience for a good deal of people. Mostly fucking twitter users. Some of which are here now and like to bring their drama with them. I don't even use the fucking thing anymore. This ceased to be just a western fan problem and turned into a global one a long time ago.

Fans on twitter to my personal memory,

Complained about other countries being allowed to vote at all stating that Milgram should only let people who live in Japan vote, the same person who said this on twitter made a poll after the end of Amane's trial to figure out if it was just western fans that wanted her innocent. Consistently gave inaccurate information about dissociative identity disorder (focused primarily upon one person's individual experience with it multiple times in various spaces). Resulting in presenting the disorder as a monolith in order to push their own theories setting back progress for the millions of people who actually have it. Literally the western audience heavily headcanoned Mu's victim as half black while making fun of her death/how she died during her second trial. Along with using racist rhetoric/dogwhistles in order to push for an innocent verdict for the girl. Made a Kazui guilty shrine. Directly incentivizing people to vote the man guilty by giving them stuff each day they did-

Bitch I'm not paid for this. Hell I would like to be- Incentivize me real quick. Honestly, since they got paid just saying where's mine? People on tumblr write elaborate theories and analysis for free. Because they genuinely enjoy the media. Twitter is the fucking platform that's telling people how they should fucking vote and trying to decide who has the right to since trial two started. Then fucking whining when their piss poor behavior doesn't get them the verdicts they want. It's so bad that eastern fans have actively sought help from western fans to combat some of these problems on multiple occassions.

There are people in the east who wanted Amane innocent and celebrated when she was innocent just like there are people in the west who wanted her guilty. Whether the fandom on twitter believes it or not. This part of the fandom is so detached from the rest of it that they only dream about knowing what the fuck we do over here. They've created a fucking echochamber. Yet the people literally going think for yourself, this is my opinion what's yours are getting the most flack because the vocal minority doesn't like the fact the logic they share makes their feelings hurt.

That in the face of the actual facts of the situations presented to us none of the prisoners look completely good or completely bad. Yet, they're definitely not looking that good either. That some of the facts directly conflict with the squeaky clean always right image they've created of the prisoner they like in their head. Then they go online and make that the issue of whoever's take they like the least that day instead of I don't know not bothering others. Then the worst part is these people whine and play victim harder than the prisoners in their interrogations as soon as consequences present themself for their behavior usually as tangible trial results in Milgram.

Because they've continually thrown these fits publically just to have the verdict they didn't want happen over and over this trial.

Pushed for Mu innocent-

Pushed for Kazui Guilty-

Pushed for Amane Guilty-

I don't even give a fuck what Twitter is pushing for with Kotoko at this point because she's pushing up daises from the bottom of hell-

By audience choice. Literally by audience choice. Fuck the only thing I've heard about Kotoko's trial from twitter was from Star about how they're once again attempting voting fraud in an attempt to get her innocent. Though even I can admit this is fucking embarrassing. This is like really fucking sad. Everything Twitter has fucking pushed for this trial has not won. Meawhile I think maybe tumblr took one loss with Haruka this trial and just vowed never again.

I think everyone can realize how fucking wild that is. Can you fucking imagine how at your wits end you would be if you kept publicly losing like this? How dejected? It's only reasonable to think why isn't anyone listening to what I have to say or how I feel in this sort of situation. Yet, at the same time some of the fans on twitter have actively alienated the other fans on there they have no fandom unity. Which makes sense given they do the shit up there. They are literally eatting eachother over there for sport.

Because it's fucking twitter. That's how it's always been.

Hell, I fucking wouldn't even know these were losses for them if they didn't announce on every verdict post on twitter that's what happened. Or even go back to the comments of Purge March where they're still complaining about Amane's innocent verdict primarily blaming you guessed it the west.

Then they want to go I'm just trying to have fun why are people so mean- Without ever asking who their fun is at the expense of. What it says when they blame everything on overseas fans, state they shouldn't be allowed to vote, and Milgram is different now. This is the platform people are letting impact their experience and encite them into bothering people on other platforms?! People who are actually just trying to have fun in a way that is unique and personal to them? This is the platform running the milgram fandom narrative?

This is what people want the history of the fandom to be when all is said and done? I don't because I know the fandom is better than this. I know it can be better than this. The worst part of trial two is the fact that we let people with no intention to understand make us believe it couldn't be better than this. People who most of the time actively sought out someone who's privately enjoying themselves in the fandom to just go "um, actually you're doing that wrong" or picked someone from the tag to have bad faith discourse with.

Newsflash nobody asked, nobody fucking asked for a Milgram referee, nobody asked who's watching the watchmen, who's guarding the guard. If anyone's fandom hobby is trying to micromanage how others engage with media they're in a different book now and they deserve to stay in it alone or with people like them. Because the only thing people who act in this way want is for others to shut up. For them to stop saying the things that make their favorite look bad and there's only one thing to respond to that with after a while.

I hope you grow up someday~

Think about what makes people who do this more entitled to having fun discussing the things they enjoy than the person(s) that they're currently behaving in this way to? What makes them different from the others that they look down on and treat as an enemy from square one. All because they read a post and decided to define whether a fan was a good or bad person based on that alone. It's not different from coming to that conclusion from just listening to a song or watching a music video really.

Plus, I promise anyone who is doing stuff like this nobody is going to magically change their mind because someone behaves this way towards them. Because the people who do this shit are usually no different from the people who do the same shit listed above. Now everyone is not like this. This is why I said the vocal minority. It's still bad that people are behaving in this manner and treating others like this regardless of how little people are doing it.

At a point the Milgram fandom globally is going to have to reckon with how the way many have treated other fans in this space has been harmful and sown division. The solution to this hostility should not have to be disavowing an entire part of the fandom on a different platform and going we don't do that shit here. However, at a point that becomes the only correct response. Because at the point the behavior being exhibited by some fans is making others feel unsafe and anxious about enjoying the things they enjoy it is only right to go-

We don't do that shit here. We don't engage with people who do that shit here. I have no respect for anyone who mistreats real people over Milgram. If people want to have fun and not have these serious discussions the door is right there go out of it. Communication is a two way street and if you come to someone else with disrespect and hostility you should expect right back. The time of having both while some have none is fucking over. People who behave in this way, whining and bitching about how we don't need nuance it's not that serious one instance just to pivot into how can you not take this seriously are disngenuous and ultimately driven by serving only theirselves.

I myself am sick of pretending like they don't fucking realize that. Because the biggest kicker here is they treat themselves like prisoners but unlike them no one is forcing them to be here or engage at all. People who enjoy anlayzing these things and asking these questions aren't forcing them to fucking do that too. So, no one who enjoys Milgram that way is responsible for the feelings of those who do not enjoy engaging with the series in that way.

Every individual is responsible for currating their own fandom experience. Anyone entitled enough to bother another person into currating their personal fandom experience around them and only saying things that they like is the one being the issue. It's probably disappointing to hear but if the ways up there are how fans want to enjoy Milgram on Twitter and I don't like that I stay away from fucking twitter. Like I said I stopped going in the milgram tag on here and I don't go on twitter either.

I'm not going to act like the tumblr part of the fandom doesn't have problems or even a lot of the same ones as twitter. It spreads misinformation as though it's fact, the fans here can be just as hostile, a lot of fans on tumblr are from twitter as well or use it too. More fans from twitter are coming to tumblr. I can't imagine why-

On tumblr I've personally been messaged some of the rudest most guilt trippy shit by multiple people in this fandom and then blocked immediately. One of the reasons I made that post explaining what grooming is by definition was because someone condescendingly direct messaged me stating I had misused the term. Then when it boiled down to it they're entire issue was simply I don't think Kotoko is that and I don't like how you're stating that she is.

If people keep making they're interpretations your responsibility that's a personal issue not a failing on you the person they happen to be taking that out on today. Because if they feel emboldened to do it once they'll do it twice- Hell, they'll do it as many times as they can get away with doing it until someone stands firm and goes I'm not engaging in this anymore if this is the behavior that brings you joy fine go have fun. However, this isn't what I want my fandom experience to be and I'd appreciate if you respected that and if you can't we just won't talk.

Engaging with your own personal interests is meant to be fun. It's meant to be honest to how you feel and what you personally believe. Anyone making you feel bad about that for no reason by centering themselves and their enjoyment first and foremost in a shared space, regardless of how understanding you want to be, is taking advantage of you. They're saying you have to pay for my fun by giving up your own and being less of yourself publicly because the way you have fun is messing up mine. That's not fair to you and anyone who wants you to respect their fun by dampening your own fucking knows that and doesn't care.

Because if they did they would respect what you enjoy as something that makes you happy first and foremost and talk to you about like a person instead of a problem. Yet if others can't do that if they can't give you the good faith back that you extend to them. You just have to cut them off at a point. Because I'm not cutting off my own hands to put a smile on a strangers face. I'm not silencing myself just so others can applaud. That's not how this works and no one should ever think it is. Fandom while it can be personalized to one's own needs is about community and no community can be good when anyone in it is being mistreated.

Sadly we can't control others the only thing we as individuals can do is try to be kind and understanding of the other fans that share this space with us. And- when people do the things above extend the benefit of the doubt say they're having a tough time and then extend consideration towards yourself and ask is this something I want to see or engage with in any capacity. That's all. The prisoners may have to go through hell by the end of this but that doesn't mean we have to make this hell on each other.

[henghost]

Twig Liveblog for Arc 13

aaaaaa ‼️‼️‼️ idk if i've metabolized my thoughts enough to be fully coherent about them but i feel like i'll burn alive if i don't get them out, so:

it's like, after 3.1-10: "oh this is fun! a little cat and mouse game with the lambs." then after 3.11: "i am ready to commit grievous acts of violence." the earlier chapters are nonetheless worth discussing as without them there could not be such a "devastating" fifth-act catastrophe. particularly the communication experiments fascinated me. what a perfect metaphor! what if a radio could feel fear? what if a a radio could feel love? might we not also ask--what if a weapon could feel horny?

of course the lillian perspective deserves special attention as well. even before she says so explicitly, we understand that she is "ruined." there is her drug use, her physiological response to even the smallest mention of sy. this is perhaps the anatomical effect of being so close as the lambs, who are essentially a single organism: losing one, especially the one to whom you were closest, is like cutting off a limb. poor girl! like the rest of them she's wrapped up in shit too vast to possibly understand much less overcome.

helen is also going through it :( maybe she'll be the next one to join sy... mary's perspective is also quite rough--this is when i realized that this sy guy is on a level of psychosis i hadn't really considered before lmao.

and then at last there's That Scene with lillian, which reads at first like some kind of fanfiction--some kind of fanfiction lillian herself might have written--complete with typically teenaged overdetail, melodramatic descriptions of flushes, body heat, etc., till finally there's a sort of "surrealist coup," we realize we are too deep in sy's subjectivity to understand the reality of the situation, there's a break, we are lost.

it's all just so (say the line, henghost!) freudian... one of freud's most correct insights is that eros permeates all aspects of life, and therefore that to deny, suppress, or compartmentalize it cannot achieve anything but to make it sick, make the host neurotic. for example, instead of simply fucking your best friend who's clearly into you, you might design an obscenely elaborate rube goldberg type contraption throughout a monument to your darkest trauma (that psychotic fucking carnival orphanage lmao) in order to "win" your ex back. it is wrong, therefore, though understandable, to say that sy has "castrated himself"--it would be more accurate to say that wyvern has his dick twisted up in knots while he's still trying to get hard, poor guy. (by the way, i really have to write something about how wyvern is an allegory for ssri's lol.)

i won't even broach the moral ambiguity, though i'm sure there's something interesting to be said about it--for me, it's like asking about the morality of a withered tree or oedipus rex. and it really is that sophoclean: it was doomed to happened; it was fate. it is written into jamie's dna. sy is a gun who wants, and a gun cannot help but fire. libido is the engine pushing us down a railway designed at best by deus sive natura or at worst by the Academy. i feel fucking sick to my stomach!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! nonetheless, i found it life-affirming. it's pessimistic, yes, but it's a pessimism of strength.

anyway, i've gotta give kudos to the author. for all the (deserved) shit i've given him, the wildbow of twig is clearly a far more mature writer than the wildbow of worm.

i must also--since this the last recorded arc for the audiobook!!--shoutout kim dauber, who provided professional-level audibook-reading for free!!! it's possible my reading will slow down without it :(

[liquidluckandstuff]

In the Snape character meme ask thing you said Hogwarts has really gone to the dogs, and that you have opinions about it👀👀

Can you elaborate on it pls? I'm really curious👀👀👀👀

This is coming from a real world place not a fantasy place. As in "If a school like Hogwarts really existed."

First off, there are a lot of teachers like Professor McGonagall or Flitwick who are very very good at their jobs. Great. Fantastic.

But then you have teachers like Hagrid or Trelawney or even Snape who very clearly know their craft, but are absolute shit at teaching it.

This is why I HATE it when people think "Oh if you can't do, teach" because they think it's easy. It's very clearly NOT.

You have Hagrid whose heart is in the right place, and who knows what kind of experience, teaching all these kids about magical animals. There is no denying he loves what he does, and for some animals is very experienced but why does he keep teaching about the same animal all year? Skrewts, unicorns, nifflers and thats all we really hear about.

A lot of those are because he HAD to to get Umbridge off his back. Part of being a teacher is keeping student interest and doing the same thing over and over again makes them bored. They were very CLEARLY bored in his class and they themselves didn't think he was a very good teacher.

So now you have this man teaching them about something he clearly doesn't know much about, or at least HOW to teach it and these kids have to take these super important tests that could determine their fates in the wizarding world?

Hagrid clearly doesn't understand the pressure they are under because he never took a test like that himself.

Then, you have Trelawney who kind of just skirts on by with her lessons. These students are clearly faking their understanding and getting away with it for a number of reasons.

But mainly its because she doesn't know how to follow up with her teachings. She teaches it, has them do it, and then her corrections don't have any solid structure other than "Well you don't have the inner eye" which basically can translate to in the real world "You didn't get it the way I taught it the first time there must be something wrong with YOU not with the way I taught."

Honestly, part of me liked that umbridge had her leave the school. She herself could not provide one shred proof that she could do the things she claimed. Because if she WAS a good teacher, her students would have been able to put into practice the things she taught.

(I mean fuck umbridge but we are comparing to good teaching practices here. She "teaches", most of the students cannot do what she taught unless they have a natural talent, therefore she isn't really a good teacher) Sure those kids love her, but love doesn't help them pass those O.W.Ls

And finally Snape.

He is a MASTER at his craft. A POWERFUL wizard.

and he HATES children. Start there and how on earth does that make him a good teacher? He has the same problem that Trelawney has. Teach it and expect them to get it but if they don't they are idiots? And this dude actually insults them.

The environment he created is already working against him. Students do NOT learn well in an environment where they do not feel comfortable in and how are these kids supposed to be comfortable with a man who will insult them for anything?

He is literally just there because Dumbledore wants him there. Then, when does he actually offer remedial potions to anyone other than Harry? and even then it isn't real? Who would WANT to go to remedial potions with him when they aren't comfortable with it?

I would take that failing grade and a howler from my mom if it meant i didn't have to spend any more time with him.

So you have this unwelcoming environment with a man who is LOOKING to insult you (if you aren't in Slytherin but even then you might not be safe) and you better get his lesson down right the first time because otherwise there will be hell to pay.

The students who do learn do it out of fear, or get help from an outside source (like Hermione). And while I do love it when people work together like that it should NOT be how they are learning the content. That gets me PISSED.

That is horrible teaching because what is the POINT of a teacher being in a classroom at that point if the students are the ones doing all that work constantly? He isn't even monitoring them very well if that's all he is there for.

Sure there are classes where they do that but like.. that is the point of that class. There is also a lot of freedom in those sorts of classes to learn what you want to learn. But those kids? With all that pressure and having to do that for so long?

No no. It's not Snape that is a good teacher, those kids who do work hard and make those good grades on their O.W.Ls that is ALL on them. ALL their hard work and dedication. Snape just bullied them into it and sat back and got to take the credit.

Anyway. I really really hate a lot of the teaching styles at Hogwarts.

[sheinsidemymindvro]

okay, i have questions if you dont mind, feel free to ignore otherwise:

i believe you mentioned psychics are born as such; assuming this to be correct, would you agree that it would likely be common the majority of them don’t understand themselves to be as such? & if so, how do you think they develop or discover the as you call it “intuitive” process of engaging in the disposition? or do you think the majority of predisposed individuals never knowingly engage in the practice?

are you aware of any of the minutia of the practice beyond the “picturing the face of someone” to place thoughts into said persons conscious? essentially are you aware of any of the modalities or practices wielded by a ‘psychic’ beyond the little bit youve expanded upon in response to previous asks? is the breadth of a ‘psychics’ abilities confined to this idea of speaking thoughts either into, or as the persons conscious?

you mention the ability of this psychic bothering you, to be able to manipulate muscular contractions? but the extent of this control seems rather minor? as i assume she isnt able to control your body into full on involuntary actions? or is she?

you mention the ability for the psychic to be able to mimic ones inner voice; but also mimic essentially any voice of which they physic can imagine, firstly i assume this process functions much in the same way the targeting itself does?; imaging the face of the individual you want to speak into, then imaging the words you wish to speak, as being spoken by the person of which you wish to mimic? this would assume the psychic would not be able to mimic voices of which they cannot imagine? for example the psychic could not mimic say your mother’s voice, assuming the psychic had never heard your mother speak? if this is true, my followup question would be, would hearing a recording of a voice be sufficient? or would one have to have heard the voice in person to mimic it? what if the psychic is wrongly remembering the voice in question, would their mimicry reflect the discrepancy of the voice?

lastly (at least for this moment, i may come up with further questions) in your experience, are these psychics actively working with deities/entities? or are they purely secular folks who are born with the predisposition? i fear that was sort of vague, in example, is it akin to say an individual being born with an extra extremity & simply learning how to use it? or do they actively work with deities/entities to hone the skill?

thank you! what an interesting concept, i would love to know more! also please feel free to include any knowledge or understanding of this ability you have yet to post about, you feel might be interesting for someone with no previous acquaintance to the concept/ability, as im interested in p much anything you have to share related.

this is an excellent ask thank you, i would love to elaborate further in my findings.

psychics are born with this ability, they talk to me and don't have issues with letting me know (i was intrigued af) they didn't think i would be so open about what I'm going through.

1.

to clarify - they realise they can go into someone's mind at a young age by just being. such as breathing.

its safe to say that if one is psychic, they will know, imagine being a child and suddenly your reading peoples thoughts, memories and reality. also either their mother or father will be a psychic as its passed down through dna, my guess, its their brain. I think all psychics engage in the practice , some observe and learn, others seek to harm as they think they are gods when they are just human. i think the longer they engage and experiment, the more they learn of what they can and cant do, they are all different and some have stronger abilities than others (three of them have been bothering me) example: if one is 26 and has been abusing people since a young age, they would figure out all sorts of things they can do to someone, if one can control ones electrical pulses from the brain, well that's what controls the whole human body. they don't have the ability to make me have full on involuntary reactions such as lifting my hand up (there might be someone out there who could) but they aim to make me as uncomfortable as possible, so when I'm having a good time, almost anywhere on my body they can contract muscles almost like a electrical pulse machine people use for exercise and stimulation which is intended to make me scared but i just ignore it, that stacked with feeding me with fake emotions. I've learnt the difference between my thoughts and emotions and fake ones intended to influence me into anxiety. example: i stop engaging and thinking which they really don't like because they seek constant entertainment, i will have my chest feel tight and pulses throughout my body along with a heavy feeling similar to anxiety and increased heart rate but their tricks are the same every time and I've learnt the difference, the psychics in question are just some dumb girls who cant think of anything new to do, so it becomes very repetitive on a daily basis and she admits she's a retard at least a few times a day. it feels like my body and mind are not in sync, calm in mind, body is anxious and with the pulses it just gives it away. they get mad at me for being "cool" such as finding new artists and songs pisses them off because they are lame and cant find these things on their own. their words not mine. its real petty shit. basically elusins goal is to learn internet culture through me, she thinks it will help her blow up, as I've gotten to know her, she's such a boring fake bitch. I'm not worried. it feels like they force their consciousness onto me, to have such a connection (unwanted) our emotions are intertwined, i know when shes sad when i shit on her etc, if she laughs it makes me laugh which is annoying and vice versa. she doesn't seem to be able to control this with precision, if she could stop me from feeling her emotions when it looks bad for her, i think she would. i can feel her tears without crying myself. it has been a year now. i tried contacting Elusins mother a couple times, (camilla ralkov) she didn't want to engage with me and couldn't believe her angel daughter would abuse me for a year. her mother seems to have decided to not engage in the practice in her maturity. i asked her to look into my mind but she refused, i think she was scared cause a stranger suddenly talked about her ability to her and it probably freaked her out. (elusin explained how her mother had to cover for her and her friends in elementary and pay people to keep silent as the kids abused another child)

the easiest way to describe it is imagine the way you see and look at the world through your eyes, and your thoughts being streamed into the psychics mind and its overlayed over what they see. (it doesn't blind them its subtle but they can see every single detail and hear any whisper of a thought you have) and there is no lag, our consciousness is nearing the speed of light and faster than the speed of sound. did the maths based on our distance, were on opposite sides of the world and this shit is live faster than any internet connection. i could think of anything and they say back to me instantly (they play a childish game of acting like they can guess what i will say)

2. beyond the psychic abilities i have mentioned so far, this an esp and this suggests other esp exists, i have only experienced what these particular individuals are capable of. through this experience i am convinced other esp such a telekinesis exist out there. it may not be spoon bending but more like, what if they can control electrical currents outside the limits of a human body "a more powerful psychic" concept which i think is very likely. they might be able to control a cell phone for example. its not more complicated than a brain. New info:

they amplify my imagination to become crystal clear in sight in my mind (compared to me not being connected) this connection does drain more energy from my brain as it takes up a greater amount to be able to do this shit.

we can talk without the use of language, talk in head + images, sounds, memes, anything visually moving such as a scene with characters doing anything at almost any scale that is comprehensible (eg cant comprehend 1000 individual people doing things), backgrounds, sets, shapes, colours, anything, and it can morph from one scene to another infinitely so long as we want the story to keep going, we can all pitch in. at first they acted like friends just to turn around and fuck me over with psychological abuse until i realised they were not friends.

another form of communication is feelings, without the use of words i can understand what they want to say before it is thought out loud and vice versa.

another limit is it depends what I'm able to comprehend, i can only understand them with the vocabulary that i possess, but I'm able to translate what they say into my own understanding. this shows language is not a limit. they could go into a foreigners mind and still communicate. i have stopped engaging in imagination times with them as to them its like watching a t.v show and entertains them. it only happens if i chose to engage. they can stream things into my mind which they do to annoy me but i just ignore it at this point.

Dreams :

just as they can stream images and sounds in my head when I'm awake, they can do so while I'm asleep. They have been controlling my dreams for a while now and seek to fuck with me in my sleep.

i can confirm these individuals do not have a degree in psychology so they waste their time trying to fuck with me in my dreams and i just wake up being like wtf is this the best thing u could think of. they try to get me to talk about things that make me look bad and or awkward, such as putting me in a scene that is hectic with lots of people running all around and then will ask me a question, my subconscious ignores them funnily enough. i wake up being like wtf have u ever thought of just sitting down and having a conversation instead of all this extra shit you do. these retards are still retards even if they are psychic.

what is it like? its just like the imagination games we played but now there is no reality but just my dream, so it becomes as vivid as reality and i do wake up remembering my dreams. they can do just about anything. they are limited by their IQ. recent example they know I'm scared of heights, i ended up pissing from a really high place hanging to a pole with them trying to mess with my grip and cause i was dreaming i just didn't gaf and i didn't piss myself irl as I'm not a child.

another dream i had recently, she wanted to do an experiment with my inner child so to speak, she projected herself in some traditional Victorian style pyjamas while i was in a bed, she went to another bed across me and asked me to come to her, i actually didn't care and stayed in my bed. she quickly changed the scene into us standing up with me looking her, she looks only through my perspective so in her view she was just viewing herself. she called out to me to temp me to go towards her, once again i didn't do that. I think she imagined i would skip towards her like a child, i didn't care and suddenly my pc setup showed up and i was more interested in producing music ( she tested to see if i was capable of engaging in anything in this dream, and yes i was ) she was mad and started choking me, and i choked her back and i woke up. because they are able to make my muscles twitch, they can wake me up whenever they like which is annoying, i have countered this by sleeping more often. they can also control my brain in such a way that if they want me to stay up all night, they can. they have in fact done this and i countered it by boring them, if i cant sleep all night, then i will take the day off and sleep all day, all i need to do is go completely silent and if my eyes are closed they get no input of any entertainment of my life and just let me sleep cause that's more entertaining. Muscle contractions: new info i haven't shared as well, when I masturbate, Elusin and her friends are still here, and they can amplify the rate that my hand junks my trunk. they are idiots and get horny when I wank. and suddenly the psychic attack gets weird and horny. it feels like i have to put less effort into yanking it while it going faster. i just dgaf anymore and I'm like sweet, some psychic attack this is... they get mad and are like "fuck you, you cant be having a good time" and then i continue and they just get into it, its odd. they like it i guess, they feel like they are invading my privacy and they get a kick out of it.

3.

voice mimic: your assumption of them not being able to project voices that they cannot imagine is correct. and is exactly the same as imagining anything such as faces or places.

the process breakdown is correct - they imagine me and are in my mind, and once it connected they don't need to worry about it, then for example i could imagine anyone such as a rapper lets say lil john, if i think in his voice "OKAY!" they will amplify this and make it sound genuinely like lil john saying it, its like a soundboard. truth is we all as individuals can imagine sounds, as mentioned before they just amplify the imagination for entertainment purposes. if the psychic for example has never heard my mothers voice, they cannot mimic my mothers voice. hearing a voice recording would be enough. if the psychic wrongly mimics the voice you would 100% hear the discrepancy in the voice, and i would comment on it and make them feel embarrassed.

except for one thing, i have memories of my mothers voice. they pull up things i haven't thought about in years and have mimicked my mum yelling at me when i was a child (trying their third rate psychological experiments) but yes the mimic is limited by the references they have. they can see and hear every detail that i can (included with my thoughts and memories).

they scan my memories, one thing i can confirm is that they view only from my perspective and cannot accurately perceive time in my memory, its like they skim though them instead of having an accurate account of when things happened, i imagine it as a reel that they can scan though rather being able to chose an exact age to look though. no glossary section for them. they bring shit up and I'm like yea that was like ten years ago idgaf u cant embarrass me. 4.

They do not work with any entities/deities and are purely secular. an individual can be interested in such things and practice such things but the psychic ability itself is just something they are born with. in my words i believe they are a shoot in the human evolution and have some sort of gene that lets them access an ability which i believe is located in the brain. the truth is there are more psychics out there than you might imagine, i believe there are plenty that are kind people, and many that are shitty people, just like us ordinary folk. these ones in particular have abused a lot of people since childhood and have tried all sorts of things to "hone their craft" such as learning the confines of their ability by trail and error.

Thank you for the ask, I'm happy to receive any questions regarding what I'm going through. I can 100% confirm psychic abilities are real and they have always been around. its definitely known but is not mainstream knowledge yet. unfortunately my experience has been with abusers. I am here to shed a light on the new information i have acquired since my psychic attack. before this I would have never believed this could exist. this is such a complicated subject and there's a lot to unpack, it helps having another person to help break it down with me.