#existing is just... it really is Something

[sunni-stuff]

Soap’s eyebrows lifted with a curious glint in his eye as he looked from you to Adira, a playful grin edging onto his face. He leaned in, never one to miss a chance at a bit of friendly prodding.

“So… you’re married?” he asked, his tone as light as his smirk.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Haha! No, I’m not.” You gave Adira’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze, glancing down at her with a smile that softened every edge on your face. 

Soap tilted his head, pretending to be shocked. “A bonnie lass like yerself? Unmarried?” he teased, hand on his chest as though it were a crime.

“Guess I’m a rare breed,” you replied with a grin, chuckling as you shifted Adira’s hand in yours.

Soap’s face lit up at your response, as if he’d just been given the most interesting bit of news he’d heard all week. He shot Ghost a quick look, but Ghost was still watching Adira, his gaze softened with something unreadable.

Meanwhile, Gaz wasn't fascinated by Soap's ability to make anyone at ease, the man was a cassanova. Roach watched Adira with curiosity, as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed until now. Price stood off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing the whole scene.

“If you aren’t married, how’d you get this little one?” Soap pushed, grinning as he wiggled a playful finger in Adira’s direction.

Adira’s gaze snapped up from Ghost to the man with the funny hair, her little brow furrowing as she studied Soap with a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned into your leg, clearly wary, but her attention stayed on the finger waving in front of her.

You chuckled, brushing a hand over Adira’s head to reassure her. “Long story,” you replied, smiling. “Let’s just say she was an unexpected blessing.”

Soap laughed softly, glancing at Ghost with a gleam in his eye. “Ah, aye, life’s full of surprises, eh?” 

Ghost, who had been studying Adira in silence, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably as Soap’s words hit a little too close to home.

“I used to be really wild back in the day,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, a hint of nostalgia coloring your tone as you thought back to those not-so-distant years.

Soap wasn’t quite done yet, though. “Does the father know?” he threw a quick glance at Ghost, who had just risen from his crouched position. A new tension ran through Ghost’s frame, his stance rigid, as if the question had struck something he’d rather not confront.

You hesitated, a shadow crossing your expression before you shook your head. “No, he doesn’t… He, uh, probably has no idea.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering from you to Adira, who was absorbed in her drink, unaware of the intensity surrounding her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, he looked as though he wanted to speak—but whatever words he had caught in his throat, locked behind his silence.

"I see, well. I'm sorry if I took up your time, ma’am, you've been a nice chat," Soap said, his voice softening with a touch of politeness, his grin still present but more reserved now.

You nodded, giving Adira’s hand a gentle tug as you continued on your way, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your steps. The blue sky stretched above, peaceful, serene. As you walked, Adira turned her head, glancing back at Ghost one final time. She refused to let go of her cup, her small fingers gripping it tightly, but she lifted her other hand in a small, hesitant wave. "Bye-bye," she whispered, her voice soft but sweet.

Ghost’s gaze lingered, but he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of things churning behind those eyes. 

Price let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and facing Ghost. “So... what’s the plan?” he asked, his tone both blunt and expectant, clearly waiting for some kind of direction. The rest of the team stood in silence, watching the exchange unfold.

Ghost didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on you and Adira, watching you both disappear further down the street, the distance growing with each step. The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound in the quiet winter air. He didn’t even notice Price's voice until the man spoke again, closer now, with a slight edge to his tone.

"Ghost, talk to me. What’s the plan here?”

Finally, Ghost shifted, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Price. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something caught between anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing regret.

"I don't know," he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips. "I wasn't expecting this. Hell, I didn't even know she existed." His voice was low, strained, but there was a quiet honesty to it, as if he was trying to process something that didn’t make sense.

Soap stepped closer, his expression serious for once. "What now, Ghost? We can help. But you need to tell us what's going on."

Ghost finally looked away, his attention drawn to the ground, his fingers twitching like he was trying to find something to hold onto. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. "All I know is... I saw her. And it hit me like a fucking truck."

Roach, always one to stay in the background, spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to talk to her, yeah? Figure out where to go from here?”

Price’s eyes narrowed, his stern gaze shifting to Ghost, assessing him. “And what exactly do you want from us? You’re in this, whether you like it or not.”

Ghost let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “But I can’t just let her slip away.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the weight of the situation settled in. Then, slowly, Ghost nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just… not now. Not here.” His eyes flicked toward the street where you had disappeared, and something in his gaze softened, just for a moment, before the mask fell back into place.

Price gave a single nod. "Alright. But we stick together on this. You’re not doing it alone, Ghost."

The team stood together for a moment longer, the wind howling through the alley, before they slowly began to move, their steps trailing off into the winter evening. The silence that hung between them was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what came next, but they knew one thing for sure: whatever happened, they were in this together.

A month passed, the team giving Ghost the space he needed to process the whirlwind that had hit him. They all knew this was something he had to handle on his own terms, but that didn't mean the questions didn't linger. What did it mean for the future? What did he want? The answers were still unclear, even to Ghost himself.

But Soap, ever the persistent one, wasn’t content to let things sit in limbo. He knew Ghost, knew how his mind worked, and that sometimes the best way to breakthrough was to take small steps. And if that meant subtly nudging you into the picture, then so be it. He’d always been good at this—at slipping in the background, making things happen without anyone noticing.

So, Soap started to "accidentally" run nto you. At the park, when you were out with Adira, he'd make sure to be in the same place at the same time, offering a casual greeting. It always started simple, harmless, with a nod or a small comment about the weather. Then, of course, there was that coffee shop where you'd gone to get hot chocolate for Adira.

The first time he "bumped" into you there, it was nothing more than a quick exchange. A question about the drink, a comment on the cold weather, just the usual small talk. But Johnny's natural charm and ease made you relax, and made the conversation flow without much effort. Over time, those small moments grew. You'd smile when you'd see him, and he'd greet you with the same friendly energy, always leaving you feeling at ease. No pressure, just casual.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Johnny began to warm you up to the idea of him. It wasn't much at first—a smile here, a shared laugh there—but he knew what he was doing. He wasn't pushing, just letting the connection build at its own pace. The more you saw him, the more comfortable you felt. The more you talked, the more you found yourself enjoying the interactions, even if they were brief.

One evening, Johnny sat beside you on the park bench, casually leaning back as Adira bounced around in the snow, her laughter filling the crisp air. The sound was contagious, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, watching her with a soft smile.

"So, me and a couple friends are meeting up at Leslie's this weekend," Johnny said, his tone light but with a hint of something more. "Would you be interested?"

You snorted, expecting the usual joke or teasing, but when you glanced over at him, his expression was far more serious than you anticipated. For a moment, you considered dismissing it. After all, Leslie's? A pub? That was a far cry from the cozy routine you’d built for yourself with Adira. 

“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I fit the scene."

Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that playful grin of his. “Please. It'll just be like old times.”

Your mind immediately wandered, trying to understand what he meant by that. What was it about old times that Johnny thought might appeal to you? You didn’t exactly have a wild past to cling to. Sure, you’d had your moments, but those felt long behind you now. 

Still, something about the invitation lingered. A night out... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You hadn’t done anything for you in a while. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to let someone else take care of the night for once. No worrying about Adira, no responsibilities for a few hours. Just some fun, whatever that meant now.

You hesitated, looking down at Adira as she made another snow angel, oblivious to the conversation happening nearby. She’d be fine, right? And you could leave if things felt uncomfortable. 

“Alright,” you finally said, meeting Johnny’s gaze with a reluctant but genuine smile. "I'll join you. But only if it’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound." 

Johnny’s grin widened, and you could tell he was already mentally planning the evening, no doubt with some plan to ease you in without overwhelming you. He stood up, dusting off the snow on his pants as he glanced back at you.

“Deal. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”

You just hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

The weekend seemed to arrive so fast, and here you were, standing outside your apartment, nervously adjusting your blue blouse and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the type of outfit you thought would fit a night out, but it was the best you could do. Most of your wardrobe these days consisted of comfortable clothes, ones that could be easily changed or wiped clean in case Adira had another of her toddler mishaps. Sexy or flirty clothes were a distant memory, tucked away in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.

Adira stood in the doorway, clutching her little stuffed bear to her chest, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. The sight hit you harder than you expected. You knelt down in front of her, your heart sinking at the sight of her teary eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, I promise,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out to her with a reassuring smile.

Adira sniffled, her tiny hand coming up to rub her eyes, but she didn’t break her stare. You held out your pinky, the gesture as familiar as breathing. Slowly, she reached out, her small finger wrapping around yours with the same trust she always had. The connection was brief, but it felt like a promise, one that you hoped would calm her.

"I won't be out long," you said softly to the friend you’d left with her. "And you, be good for Auntie too." The last part was directed at Adira, though the words felt bittersweet on your tongue.

Adira nodded, but her face still held that sadness, that uncertainty of what the night would bring without you. 

Standing up, you ruffled her hair and offered a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just a little fun for Mama, okay?”

Her small nod didn’t do much to ease the tightness in your chest, but you turned and gave her one last look before stepping outside. The cool evening air wrapped around you, a contrast to the warmth of the apartment behind you, but you pushed the feeling away. Tonight was for you, however strange that sounded. 

As you locked the door behind you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t just any night out. It was a night with Johnny, with his friends, with the possibility of reconnecting to parts of yourself you’d set aside for so long.

As you arrived outside the establishment, the familiar hum of chatter and music filled the night air, but what caught your attention first was Johnny standing outside, leaning against the brick wall, checking his watch. The moment his eyes met yours, they lit up, his expression shifting from casual to something almost... eager. 

“Well, well, look at you,” he said with that trademark wink of his, his gaze raking over you with a genuine appreciation that made you feel suddenly self-conscious. “You clean up well.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to resist the easy charm of Johnny.

“Let’s just hope I survive this night,” you muttered, though the words were more for yourself than him. You weren’t sure what to expect tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not go as smoothly as Johnny seemed to think.

Johnny chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

With that, you fell into step beside him, the weight of your hand at your side suddenly feeling strange in the cool night air. He led you toward the door, and as you entered the dimly lit space of the bar, your eyes scanned the room. 

It was bustling, a mix of regulars and newcomers, all seeking solace or company for the night. It smelled of beer, whiskey, and the faintest hint of fried food, a familiar and welcoming kind of atmosphere. But as soon as you stepped inside, your nerves shot back up again. You tried not to let the nerves show, but they were there, itching under your skin.

What you didn’t notice, as you made your way to the bar, was the group inside. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Roach—quietly observing, waiting for their chance to either speak to you or simply let you slip through their fingers once more. Ghost’s eyes tracked you the moment you stepped inside, and there was a hesitation in his gaze, something raw and almost pained that flickered in and out. 

For a moment, Ghost didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched you, aware that the moment he’d been dreading—he had finally stumbled into. Your gaze met his across the room, the flicker of recognition passing between you both. But that was it. You didn’t remember. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was to you.

Approaching the bar, you saw that Johnny was already leaning in, chatting with the bartender, exchanging friendly banter. You barely heard the words, only caught up in the feeling that something was different. Something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced back at the table where those men sat. They weren’t talking, but their eyes were all trained on you, as if waiting for something to happen.

Your heart raced without explanation. Ghost’s eyes—those eyes—stayed locked on you. He didn’t know how to approach, how to change what had already seemingly been set in stone. What was he supposed to say? What was the plan now that you were here, so close? God, why the fuck did johnny do this.

Johnny leaned toward you again, a soft smile curling his lips. “You good, love?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy tension brewing in your chest. “Just... getting used to being out.”

Johnny winked again, oblivious to the chaos of emotions swirling within you. “It’s all good. Let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”

Ghost’s fist clenched involuntarily under the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this distance, this silent acknowledgment of his role, or how long he could ignore what it meant to see you here now. 

“You’ll fit right in,” Johnny said, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words. “Just a bunch of mates enjoying a drink, nothing crazy.” Johnny leads you over to the table, you expected to be met with… well you didn't quite know what.  

Price leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, a soft smile on his weathered face as he regarded you with a raised brow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

"Neither did I," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile and doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered when you looked at him. You hadn’t quite expected this part of the evening.

“I’m just here for a drink, nothing more,” you said, looking over at Johnny was getting comfortable in his chair.

“Well, pull up a seat, love,” Price said, motioning to the empty spot next to him. “We’re all friends here.”

You hesitated but made your way over, perching yourself on the seat next to him. The sound of the glass being slid toward you, the clink of ice against glass, broke through the chatter around you. Your nerves buzzed as you focused on the drink in front of you, trying to ignore the sudden realization of just how different this was from the quiet, routine life you had at home with Adira.

“Enjoy yourself,” Price said with an air of casual amusement, leaning back in his chair. “This is all new for you, isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to admit just how out of place you felt in the moment. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey warming you from the inside out.

You laugh lightly, a bit awkwardly, trying to shake off the nerves that gnawed at you. "Yeah, this all a bit... newish. I haven't been out like this in years honestly," you admit, taking a deep breath and glancing around the bar. The warmth of the space was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, but the sight of the men made you feel more like a fish out of water than ever.

Johnny claps you on the back with an easy grin, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “These are my mates. Price, Kyle, Gary, and Simon," he introduces with a flourish, motioning to each man in turn. 

You give them all a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of them just yet. There was something about the way they carried themselves, all standing a little apart from the crowd, that made it clear they were more than just regulars at the pub. But you didn’t have time to focus too much on that right now. You were trying to just survive the night.

Price, who looked a bit older than the rest, nods at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost cautious. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that is polite but distant, as though he’s waiting for something, some sign.

Kyle, as Johnny had called him—gives you a friendly nod, a playful glint in his eyes, but there's a strange sharpness to his look that you can’t quite place. “Pleasure," he says, offering you a tight smile.

Gary simply gives you a quick but sincere nod. His eyes linger on you just long enough for you to catch a flicker of interest before he looks away.

And then there’s Simon. His presence, as always, is quieter, more intense. He’s sitting in the middle, arms crossed, his gaze fixed directly on you. You can feel the weight of it, though. It’s impossible not to. There was something you couldn't place with him though you couldn’t see too well under the dim light.

You try to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. “Nice to meet you all," you reply, your voice warmer than you feel. 

Johnny, oblivious to the awkwardness in the air, slaps the bar and gives a nod. “Alright, drinks all around, yeah? Let’s get this party started!” he declares, pulling the group into the rhythm of the night.

As the revelry began your stomach churns slightly, a sense of unease still lingering despite the distraction. You knew something was off, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the men—it was the way Simon’s gaze lingered on you, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for something. It unsettled you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Johnny, seemingly oblivious to your tension, slides a drink toward you. “First round’s on me," he grins, the clink of glass against the table snapping you back to the present. "Here’s to a good night.”.

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the nerves that still clung to you. This was supposed to be a night out, after all. A chance to shake off the past, to let loose just a little. You couldn’t let the weight of everything pull you under before you even tried. What would be the point if you didn’t at least try and enjoy yourself?

Shaking the tension from your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of alcohol easing the knot in your stomach just slightly. The guys were chatting among themselves, Johnny’s laughter cutting through the low hum of the bar as he joked with Kyle. Price was listening intently, nodding along while Gary seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes occasionally flicking to you, though his gaze didn’t linger long.

And then there was Simon.

His presence loomed even when he wasn’t speaking, his broad frame leaning against the bar just slightly, face half hidden by the shadows. You caught his eyes for a split second, the intensity of his stare making your pulse hitch. You quickly looked away, focusing on your drink, your nerves creeping back up despite the effort to push them aside.

You could feel his gaze on you, though, like a weight pressing against your back. You tried not to let it show, tried not to acknowledge how his proximity seemed to pull at something inside you, but it was impossible to ignore. There was a pull, something in the air, but you couldn’t quite grasp it.

Sighing inwardly, you turned your attention back to the others. Just enjoy yourself, you remind yourself again. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it.

Johnny clinked his glass against yours, a grin on his face. “Here’s to not letting the night pass us by,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile back, lifting your glass.

“Cheers,” you said, the warmth of the alcohol giving you just the nudge you needed to ease into the evening. For now, you’d ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You’d enjoy yourself. 

But the eyes that lingered on you would remain, whether you were ready for them or not.

You pushed your chair back with more force than necessary, the scrape of it against the floor loud in the otherwise quiet bar. The conversation still echoed in your ears, but your focus had been on the man, Simon, for the past half hour. His silence had become suffocating, every glance he cast in your direction feeling like it held some hidden meaning. You couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. His eyes, cold and intense, had followed you too much, made you second guess every word you’d said.

"Im... gonna go powder my nose," you muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. You didn’t wait for a response, the words barely out of your mouth before you were already making your way across the room, past the low hum of idle chatter and the clink of glasses.

While you were in the bathroom, the entire team turned their attention towards Ghost, each of them sizing him up, starting with Soap.

"What is wrong with you?" Soap asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"What?" Simon blinked, genuinely confused.

"Mate, you've been gawking at her all night," Gaz added, raising an eyebrow, his voice teasing but laced with concern.

"Shit. Are you serious?" Simon muttered, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze didn't stray far from where you had just disappeared.

Roach, leaning back casually with his drink in hand, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's like you’ve been stuck in a staring contest with her since she walked in."

Price, who had been watching quietly, shook his head with a resigned sigh. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's gaze. "If you scared her off, I doubt you’ll get another chance, lad."

Simon’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realized how obvious it had been, but now that the team was calling him out on it, he felt the heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but the pull to look at you, to remember what had sparked your connection all those years ago had been almost magnetic.

“Alright, alright,” Soap teased, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don't burn a hole in her head.”

“Shut up,” Simon muttered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse.

Price shared a look with the rest of the team, a silent understanding passing between them. While Soap might have been the one to set this whole thing in motion, it didn't mean the others didn't have contingencies in place. 

Soap got up first, stretching a bit. “Gonna make sure no one's tried to get in my car,” he said with a casual tone.

“I’ll come with you,” Gaz chimed in, already pushing himself up from his seat and following Soap toward the door.

A minute later, Roach also stood, excusing himself without a word, and then Price followed suit, his movements deliberate. “I’m gonna make sure they’re not up to anything,” he said with a knowing glance.

With everyone out of the immediate area, the bar suddenly felt quieter, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. It took Ghost only a second for it all to click—he had been set up. Without thinking, he bolted from his seat, rushing outside just in time to catch the taillights of Soap's car disappearing down the street.

He cursed under his breath, but before he could make another move, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. There, in simple words from Price: 

“Good luck.”

Ghost stood still for a moment, phone in hand, as the weight of the situation hit him. His heart thudded in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now.

By the time you returned to the table, you felt a bit more at ease. The night out wasn’t all that bad… it was just that Johnny had some weird taste in friends. Well, mostly the tall one. You couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to have left, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of being ditched.

You let out a quiet sigh, about to gather your things and head out when your phone lit up in your purse. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Johnny. 

"Emergency, looks like one of the beers wasn't that good, poor Kyle threw up."

You paused, reading the message again, a small smile tugging at your lips. Aww… nevermind. At least they hadn’t forgotten about you after all. 

"Hope he's okay." You replied quickly, grabbing the straps of your bag when suddenly a hand landed on top of yours.

You looked up, meeting the intense gaze of Simon. Seriously? You couldn’t help but think. They took everyone but this guy?

You forced a smile, trying to pull your hand away, but Simon’s grip was firm, not unkind. “Look, I had a decent time, but I have to go—”

“Just a minute,” he interrupted, his voice low, steady, almost pleading. There was something about the way he said it that made you pause, something different than the usual small talk.

"Fine." The word slipped out before you could process it, and you cursed yourself inwardly. Really? You just agreed to stay with the guy who hadn’t stopped staring since you met him. You sat back down, and he mirrored you, settling across the table. 

Silence stretched between you, his intense gaze unwavering. He didn’t so much as blink, and you couldn’t help but feel more unsettled by the second.

What the hell is his deal?

“Look, if you're just going to be a creep, I don't think I want to mee—"

“Do you remember Armed Forces Day?” His voice cut through your words, quiet but resolute.

Okay, this took all day, I wanted to give you all something long to read incase I disappear for finals (which I might)

Reblogs appreciated!!!

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WOWWW LOOK AT ALL THESE NAMES. Thank you all so much for the support!! Im sorry if i missed any, I will update if I noticed any missing or comment on those who's tags didnt go through!

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[miyamiwu]

The examples in the notes are all very valid. But as someone who speaks two languages that are closely related, the scenario above is actually not that unrealistic. In fact, it can even happen a lot.

My mother tongue is Cebuano (aka Bisaya), but I’m living in the capital where everybody speaks Filipino/Tagalog, the national language of the Philippines. (To any Filos reading this: I know there’s a difference between Filipino and Tagalog, but to avoid confusion, I’m gonna refer to the language as Tagalog from now on)

Cebuano and Tagalog are distinct from each other, but since they are both Philippine languages they have an overlap in their vocabularies. Sometimes, the two have the exact same words for certain things. Other times the word is just spelled or pronounced slightly differently.

So when I suddenly use a Cebuano word while speaking in Tagalog, its because I have thought that that word also exists in Tagalog.

Example:

While at a fruit stall: “Magkano ‘tong lemoncito?” (How much is this lemoncito?)

Lemoncito is the Cebuano word for this citrus fruit:

The word has Spanish origins (the country was colonized by Spain for over 300 years), and it literally means “little lemon.”

I thought the Tagalogs also have lemoncito in their vocabulary because it’s not like the word is inherently Cebuano. It was only when the fruit seller looked at me in confusion and asked me to clarify what I said that I realized that they, in fact, do not have that word. Their word for lemoncito is only calamansi.

Example 2:

While sharing an anecdote about our rooms in the house: “Sa pikas na kwarto” (“In the other room”)

sa, na, and kwarto are words that exist in both Cebuano and Tagalog.

However, pikas (“other”) is a Cebuano-only word. The Tagalog word for it is kabila.

This time, I knew pikas does not exist in Tagalog. But I was speaking too fast and the words were just flowing out. I didn’t even realize I had codeswitched until people asked me to stop and explain.

Now, the most extreme example:

In a Discord DM: Explaining something long and complicated in Cebuano to a friend who only knows Tagalog 🥲

Yes, it has happened before. It just felt so natural while I was doing it that it was only when I finished typing everything and looked back at what I wrote that I fucking remembered that my friend doesn’t understand Cebuano 😭

I had to delete everything before she could read it because holy fuck that was embarrassing

Codeswitching one or two words? Still acceptable. Writing a long-ass rant in entirely Cebuano despite knowing I won’t be understood? I had no idea what came over me...

Some more words which I suddenly codeswitch to unintentionally: (Cebuano words are violet, while Tagalog words are orange)

To eat: kaon instead of kain

To write: suwat instead of sulat

Dipper: kabo instead of tabo

the color black: itom instead of itim

The words above only vary in spelling a little, so it’s easy to forget that they’re actually from two different languages, and hence, the codeswitching.

Now, this one is not really codeswitching, but it’s still related…

Conjugating Verbs

[Context: Cebuano and Tagalog both conjugate verbs by aspect (fabric of time), which is in contrast to English that conjugates by tense (location in time).

But I’m not gonna go too deeply in that, so for now I’ll just use the term “tense” to avoid confusion.]

In Cebuano, the present tense form of a verb is made by adding the prefix “nag-” to the root word. However, this way of conjugation coincides with the Tagalog rule of conjugation for past tense.

And so, we get this mess:

Cebuano: “I am writing” -> “nagsuwat ko”

Tagalog: “I wrote” -> “nagsulat ako”

The present form of a Tagalog verb requires that you also repeat the first syllable.

Tagalog (present): “I am writing” -> “nagsusulat ako”

Many times, I mean to say something in the present tense (“I am writing/nagsusulat ako”) but I end up talking in past tense (“I wrote/nagsulat ako”) without even realizing it. It’s like I would subconsciously apply the Cebuano rules (nagsuwat -> nagsulat) instead of the Tagalog ones when conjugating verbs...

So yeah, switching to a different language is actually not that weird when the two languages are closely related to each other.

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 6

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

DEFINETLY NSFW! Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

For somebody that filled her romance novels with plenty of smut… Sky wasn’t exactly as experienced as one may expected. 

Actually…she was woefully inexperienced.

There had been Admon…and Admon it had been.

The rest of the stuff in her books…well, that was just her fantasy wildly spinning stories about how sex should feel. Informed by plenty of books she had read, other authors, and of course…there were the two people that got to read every book she wrote before it was published: Orla, her publisher, and her friend Ressina, who was nice enough to take the pen to every thing she wrote that was woefully inaccurate. 

Because nothing ever felt to her like she portrayed it in the books.

Maybe that was normal. Maybe it was because of course her books portrayed something…better than reality, an escape from it. But still…sometimes Sky had just wondered…

As Azriel carried her towards the bedroom, Sky couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, she did, more than anything. But the truth was, she was…nervous.

She had written about this moment countless times, had described it in vivid detail in her novels. But now that it was actually happening, she felt…insecure. What if it wasn’t as good in real life as she made it out to be on paper? What if she did disappoint him?

(Sky knew that she had disappointed Admon numerous times…that she seemingly had never been enough for him…had been so bad at it in fact that he had instead slept with her sister…which was a whole other kettle of fish that she really didn’t want ot think to close about right now.)

Sky tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the here and now. 

Azriel was here with her, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way he looked at her. And yet, that nagging feeling of doubt still lingered.

And then there was the fact while he had admitted to sending his shadows to search for her… Sky was still keeping a rather big secret.

“Az…Azriel…” she said hesitantly.  “There…there is one thing you should know about me.”

Azriel paused, setting Sky down on the bed gently before turning to look at her. 

"Go on," he prompted her gently, taking her hand in his as he sat down next to her and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell me anything, Sky." She believed him. he wouldn’t judge her. She was sure of that as well. 

“You…You k…know how…how I…I write… ro…romance no..novels?” Sky asked him, biting her lip.

Azriel nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I do," he said, leaning in closer to her. "You told me.”

“I…I am Sellyn Drake,” she blurted out.

She had never outright admitted it to another person. 

Ressina had been the one who had send off her first manuscript to be published…and Orla had met with her…these were the two people in existence that knew that Skylar Alden was also Sellyn Drake. And Skylar had always been comfortable with keeping it that way. 

There was no need to tell anybody else. 

Which was why it worked so well, that Ressina was an artist and could paint the bookcovers for her. No need whatsoever to let anybody else see the hesitant first drafts until she was sure this was where she wanted to go. Just Ressina. Just one of her very few friends. If not her only. 

Azriel stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?" he asked, completely taken aback. "You're...Sellyn Drake?" There was no…outright disbelief in his voice, just shock. 

*We know! We made Master read your books!* the shadows cooed. *Lady Death, The Priestess and The Shopkeeper love them too!*

She had no idea who any of these people were but…

Azriel's eyes widened even further as the shadows spoke up. "You...you knew about this?" he asked them, turning towards the shadows in disbelief. "You knew. That’s why you gave me her books to read!”

This was just getting better and better.

Sky, who had been watching Azriel and the shadows’ exchange with a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. 

“Do…Do they always…” she couldn’t even put it into words. 

Azriel sighed. “They like to meddle,” he said darkly. “And this time they were particularly persistent.” He shot a reproachful look at the shadows, who cowered a little under his gaze. "I won't lie, they did manipulate me into reading your books. And when my shadows do something they are rather...convincing."

She swallowed. 

“Did…did you…li…like them at…at least?” Sky asked hesitantly. 

Azriel hesitated for a moment before answering. 

"I...I did," he admitted earnestly. "Your writing...it's brilliant, Sky.” Her heart soared at his words. She treasured them, hoarding them away like a dragon. But he wasn’t done. “The characters, the emotions, the way you make the reader feel everything...it's incredible. I couldn't put them down."

Sky grinned at his words, feeling a swell of pride in her chest. "I…I'm glad you..you li…liked them," she said softly.

*Master especially liked the…*

“Shut. Up.” Azriel snapped, his ears reddening and Sky started laughing. She could just about imagine what the shadows wanted to tell her at that moment. 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill them," he muttered under his breath.

"They…they are ju…just try…trying to help you, aren't they?" she asked softly, squeezing his hand in hers. Only now she noticed the violent scars that marred them, the texture of raised and bumpy skin…but she didn’t care. Not one bit.  

*Of course, we are,* the shadows said, like any other idea was simply blasphemous. *We gave Master the best information we could. So that Master would know what you like.*

Sky probably shouldn't find it as adorable as she did. But the lengths they had gone to...the way they had made Azriel read her books so that he would know what she liked...nobody in her life had ever gone to these lengths just to find out what she liked.

"I swear I am not a total creep," Azriel told her with a grimace.

Sky laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "No…no, no, you're not," she assured him, squeezing his, hands gently. "I…I ac…actually think it's… quite… sweet. In a weird, sli…slightly invasive kind of way. But sweet nonetheless."

"I think you are the only female that could possible think that," Azriel muttered, glaring at the shadows that didn't seem apologetic in the slightest.

Sky grinned, leaning in closer to him. "It’s… endearing,” she finally settled on. “Maybe even a lit…little bit charming," she promised him earnestly.

Azriel looked at her incredulously, his expression softening a little. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" he asked her.

Sky shook her head. "No. No, I'm not," she said, her voice unwavering. "I…I mean it, Azriel. It iss actually really sweet that you would go to… such lengths just to try to un…understand me better. And you ad…admitted to it. And not just after the mating bond was accepted but within hours of meeting me." 

Azriel didn't keep it a secret, even when he could have, and she would have been none the wiser. 

"I don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I'm not going to question it," he whispered. 

She swallowed. That's what she was thinking. The exact same words. 

Sky pulled him down, letting his forehead rest against hers.

"I know that...that I am supposed to cook you something...but how disappointed would you be if I gave you one of those caramel bonbons in my purse to accept the bond instead?" she asked him softly, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes widened and he stared at her in pure, undiluted wonder. 

"I could not possible be dissappointed by whatever you offered me," Azriel whispered. "But...are you...are you sure?"

"I am being utterly selfish," she whispered. "Yes. I want you." She didn't care that people would have thoughts about it...that she was rushing into this. 

They were probably right. 

But Sky really didn't care. Sky only wanted him. Sky was ready to throw caution overboard and rush into this headfirst without a thought about the consequences, if that meant that she would get her mate.

"Then let's be selfish together," Azriel whispered.

With shaky hands she reached into her purse, finding one of the caramel bonbon she kept in there...unwrapped it out of the paper and then...then she offered it to him, lifting it to his lips.

Azriel looked at the bonbon, then at her, and for a moment she thought he would say something. But then his mouth opened and he took it from her hand... He chewed it, swallowing carefully, his gaze never wavering from hers. For a moment, they stayed suspended in that moment of tension, the only sound their breathing. And then, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her as if she was the most precious thing in his entire world.

A Mating Frenzy had always been protrayed as animalistic in every book she read. So of course, Sky had written the exact same thing.

But it wasn't...not really.

Not for them. 

And being with Azriel was also a far cry from being with Admon...mostly because then it had often been...embarrassing and painful. 

Admon had always found something to criticise on her body...foreplay had been nonexistent, even when she had tried...and while he had been more than willing to use her mouth to find his own pleasure he had never returned that favour.

With Azriel it was different. Every touch, every caress, every kiss made her feel things she had never felt before. It was like her body was coming alive for the first time.

All her senses were heightened, every nerve in her body singing with pleasure, and Sky couldn't get enough of him. She wanted more. No, she needed more. As Azriel trailed kisses down her throat, she arched her back, pressing herself against him, her hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of him that she could reach.

"Can I...Can I touch your wings?" she asked breathlessly, not wanting to...cross some unsaid line.

"Please," Azriel breathed out. "Yes, Sky, please." He lifted his wings, extending them out behind him, giving her free rein to touch and explore to her heart's content. As Sky's fingers brushed against the contours of his wings, Azriel let out a low, guttural moan, his wings twitching and shuddering at the sensation. They were massive and pitch black.

"They are beautiful," she whispered, running her hands over the silky black skin, feeling the warmth radiating from them.

He shuddered at her touch, his wings arching and trembling beneath her gentle caress. he leaned his forehead against hers as he gently tipped her back against the bed and she went willingly, wrapping her hands over the gleaming talons at the tip of his wings as she kissed him.

Azriel growled softly in response, his hands sliding up beneath her dress, opening the lacing in one fluid motion. As the dress fell open, revealing her body beneath, Azriel pulled back for a moment, looking down at her with dark, hungry eyes. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, his gaze roaming over her body.

She didn't even have the time to feel self-conscious, not when she was drowning in the waves of desire that shot across their bond from him. Not when her whole body seemingly trembled against his and she kissed him again, opening her mouth to his tongue.

He slipped open the dress and she opened her mouth, halfway ready to tell him how he could get the corset she wore off, but he already opened the lacing. "Why?" he asked her softly, as he saw the red indents left on her body, and she grimaced.

"Claire," she whispered.

She wore corsets usually for support, because her breast could get heavy and painful without the proper support...but she never laced them as tightly as she did when she saw her family. Or her sister. Then she pulled them tight, trying to squash her body to be something…something her family could stomach, something they maybe wouldn't comment on...she always failed.

Azriel hissed softly, his fingers lightly tracing the red marks on her skin. She knew that they looked horrible, and yet he looked...angered? Almost furious. His expression softened as he looked back into her eyes, his fingers gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Why would you do something like that to yourself, Sky?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "You are beautiful. You don't need to change anything about your body." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to a particularly hard imprint the corset had left.

Sky swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat as emotion welled up in her chest. No one had ever said something like that to her, had ever made her feel like she was good enough just the way she was. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded, feeling a single tear slip down her cheek. Azriel wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand coming up to cup her face tenderly.

"You are perfect," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Just the way you are. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise. Not even your family." Sky leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and just focusing on the closeness, the warmth, the feeling of being cherished and protected.

With every word he spoke, she felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, her fears and insecurities melting away. She realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly saw her, the real her. Who accepted her exactly as she was, flaws and all.

It was so easy to sink into that. So easy to trust him. So easy to just kiss him, as she pushed the shirt he wore over his shoulders...to feel acres of gold skin, dotted with scars and dark markings...to bare him for her view and see how utterly gorgeous her mate was.

He growled softy as she ran her hand down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin. His body was a tapestry of pain and survival, yet she wasn't deterred. She only found him more beautiful for it.

"Mine," she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest, to one particularly nasty scar. "All mine." She could feel his heart pounding beneath her lips, the steady beat matching the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her hands trailed down his chest, his stomach, until she reached the waistband of his trousers.

It was so easy.

So easy, to shed clothing until they were bare...so easy to press against him and feel warm, perfect skin...so easy to relax underneath him as he stretched over her...so easy to simply cup his face as she kissed him...as her legs wrapped around his hips and he groaned and she whimpered as she felt him...hot and hard and huge, pressing against her...She was dripping wet without him even laying as single finger on her beneath the waist.

Azriel didn't look unaffected, his breath coming in ragged pants, his eyes fixed on hers as they were blown wide and dark with want. He didn't move, didn't kiss her, didn't pull her closer. He only waited. Waited for her. 

"I need you," she whimpered. "Please. Please, Az." He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, his hips rocking gently against her, teasing them both with the heat and friction between them.

Nothing hurt. Nothing ever even threatened to hurt...Even as she could feel him notch against her there...even when she could feel herself lewdly stretched open on his cock...

It was so soft and gentle and sweet and…

It was everything Sky had ever wanted. 

Not the rough kind of fucking...not the animalistic coupling she wrote half the time...but she had wanted this. She had wanted sweetness and adoration and...love...and to be wrapped up in her mate's arms like she was a precious, precious thing. She had wanted whispered praised against her skin and to be touched like she mattered...

"Sky," he whispered, his hands running up her side, his touch was soft and soothing, worshipping her body. He kissed her, slowly, deeply, and there was something...almost overwhelming about it.

About the way he made her feel. The way he made her feel loved and adored. The way he made her feel cherished. Her hands wandered up to his back, tracing the muscles shifting beneath scarred, scarred skin.

She could feel him trembling, feel the tension in his body as he held himself back, but still, he moved in slow and gentle thrusts, taking his time. He worshipped her - every little gasp and moan, every curve of her body. He traced her shape with his fingertips and lips, exploring her as though he was trying to memorize every inch of her body.

She didn't know how long they stayed that way, their bodies as one, but Sky didn't care. She was surrounded by him - the heat of his skin, the sound of his breath, the way he whispered her name like a prayer. Sky could feel the love and devotion pouring through the bond, washing over her in waves, and she knew that this was exactly where she was meant to be. With him, in his arms, completely and utterly whole.

It nearly came as a shock as she came.

A breathless moan fell from her lips as her orgasm rushed over her, her body arching as she called out his name. He kissed her through it, murmuring praise against her lips as he held her close, his own release following soon after.

They stayed there for a moment, tangled together, both of them breathless and sated. Azriel's wings slowly wrapped around them, cocooning them in a warm, protective embrace that made Sky feel safe and cherished in a way she had never experienced before.

***

There was not one inch of his mate's body that wasn't utterly beautiful. From the tips of her arched ears, to her beautiful eyes...to the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist and the soft flesh of her belly and the flare of her hips...she smelled so good too...especially now that their scents had started to mix, and he could breath in caramel and hazelnuts and cedars and the sweet, beautiful scent of happiness as she laid underneath him. His head was bedded on her stomach, as she drew short fingernails through his messy dark hair. He nearly wanted to start to purr as she scratched at his scalp.

Azriel felt...content.

More content than he ever remembered feeling. He was wrapped up in her, his mate, with her gentle hands in his hair, and he felt utterly and completely at peace. He didn't care if they never moved from that bed again. He didn't care if the world outside their little cocoon burned. So long as she was by his side, he was content. He had never felt like this before. He had never felt this...happy. This...whole.

"I need to go feed Hector," Sky told him softly, trailing her fingers through his hair.

"Can I just have the shadows kidnap him and bring him here?" he asked, not wanting to move.

"You can't go kidnapping my cat, Az," she chided him gently, but even as she said the words, she didn't stop drawing her fingers through his hair, and Azriel didn't move. He was far too comfortable.

"Why not?" he complained.

"You'll terrify him," she said with a laugh. "Besides, do you have cat food here?"

"I'll have the shadows find some Tuna," he mumbled.

"Do…Do they just ac…acquire whatever you tell them to?" she asked him with some amusement. 

And lots of things he didn't tell them to, as well. They thought he didn’t know. 

Azriel raised himself on his forearms, looking down at Sky with a glint in his eye. "You have no idea how many things I've acquired that way," he told her with a grin.

She lifted her hands, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down towards her, resting her forehead against his. "You're a menace," she murmured against his lips.

"Your menace," he replied, kissing her softly.

Sky smiled, a warm, slow curve of her lips that made his chest feel tight. "Mine," she agreed, her voice soft. "But no kidnap…kidnapping my cat. He's at home."

"We could make this our home," he protested softly. "Move in with me."

Azriel had no fucking clue what was even coming over him. They should have slowed down, stopped to think...but neither of them seemed to want to.

They just…they seemed utterly content to crash through what other people considered a normal timeline and just be together right now. 

He just wanted to be near her. He wanted to share a life with her, a home. He wanted to curl up with her in front of the fire on a cold winter's night, and spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with her. He wanted to take her flying, and watch as she wrote and listened to her read the words she wrote. 

And he wanted - Gods, he wanted her to want that too. He held his breath as he waited for her response.

For a moment, she was silent, and Azriel wondered if he had stepped too far, asked too much too soon. 

But then, Sky smiled again, her eyes sparkling with emotions. 

"...Al…Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll…I’ll move in with you." 

Azriel couldn't help but grin as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Really? You mean it?" he asked, still unable to believe his ears.

"Really," she echoed with a laugh, before her expression turned serious. "But I…I have one co…condition." 

Azriel raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"

"If I move in with you..." she began, wrapping her arms around his neck. "All my books need to come to," she told him seriously.

Azriel laughed, leaning back in to kiss her softly. "All your books can come, if that's what you want," he said. "As long as you're here, I don't care what else you bring."

And then the shadows unceremoniously dumped a screeching demon on the bed with them.

Sky let out a surprised yelp as Hector landed next to them with a thud, quickly scrambling away from the cat - and from under Azriel's weight. Azriel, for his part, sprang up, his wings flaring out in alarm. For several long moments, the three of them just stared at each other. Hector, his mismatched eyes glowing, his fur puffed up to twice it’s normal size, and Sky, her expression a mixture of surprise and affection as she looked at her pet. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Well, that's one way to introduce the two of you. Az, meet Hector."

...Gods, the shadows had really not been lying when they said that the cat was the ugliest thing they had ever seen.

Azriel slowly lowered his wings, eyeing the creature that was half-cat and half-demon. "He...looks like he wants to kill me," he said slowly.

Sky laughed, reaching out to scratch Hector's head. "He's just grumpy because he got teleported here so suddenly," she told him. "And he's not used to strangers." Hector's fur slowly flattened, and he began to purr, rubbing his head against Sky's hand. "Besides, he'd never hurt anyone," she added, looking up at Azriel with a smile.

Somehow Azriel highly doubted that.

Sky picked Hector up, cradling the cat in her arms as his purring grew louder. "See? He's not so bad," she told Azriel, moving towards him, and Azriel had to resist the urge to back away. "Hold out your hand, let him sniff you. He just needs to get used to you."

Azriel hesitantly held out his hand, trying his best to ignore the way Hector's eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light. After a moment, Hector moved forward, sniffing at Azriel's hand. Azriel felt the soft brush of whiskers against the palm of his hand, and Hector nudged his head against him, purring louder.

"See, he loves you!" Sky said enthusiastically

Azriel let out a laugh, slowly scratching the top of Hector's head. "I think he's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security before he scratches my eyes out, you know."

She rolled her eyes, "You are the most handsome cat I know," she cooed at him. "And you won't ever scratch out Azriel's eyes. No, you won't.”

Azriel would not quite go as far as describe the cat as handsome...but then...his own scarred hands weren't particularly beautiful either.

So Hector and him had that in common.

And the fact that they both wanted to cuddle with Sky. Actually, he was pretty sure that the cat hated him just for taking away his monopoly on that.

But Azriel would have shared a house with the King of Hybern if that meant that he got to have Sky in his bed.

She smiled at him, her eyes warm and adoring. "I knew you two would hit it off," she said, holding Hector in the crook of her arm. The cat stared at Azriel for a moment, as if sizing him up, before leaping off Sky's lap and disappearing under the bed with a soft patter of paws. "He'll warm up to you eventually," Sky assured him, but Azriel wasn't so sure about that.

He pulled Sky in closer to him, slipping back underneath the sheets with her, kissing her forehead. "I'll win him over, eventually," he promised her. At least, he hoped he would - he didn't particularly enjoy the idea of having to wake up with his throat being sliced open by an angry cat.

He would buy that damn cat all the Tuna in the world if that made Sky happy.

[sharoo]

Self-knowledge as a theme in STP messes me up so bad, bros.

This all starts with how little the Princess can tell you if you ask her about herself. How little you can say about yourself, more often than not. Most of the time Quiet doesn't even know what they look like!

The Narrator makes it a point to make the Princess' cluelessness, her lack of self-knowledge, into deception, but really, both the protagonists don't know themselves. How could they?

The concepts of bounds, of something that isn't you, the distinction of "self" and "other", "you" and "I", the concept of something being not like yourself... this is the first time this deity which is now two has ever experienced it.

The Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet did not exist until the Narrator tore a whole into parts.

Now, this deity in twain has to reorient. It has only begun existing, it's not yet known itself. A toddler has to develop a self-concept, and the concepts of others.

Now imagine, for the first time in your solitary existence, that there is something that you are not. Unknowable, foreign.

What are they like, you think? Are they a friend? Should I get to know them? Are they a foe? I do not know them, I cannot trust them... Or can I?

This brings to mind, of all things, Contrapoints' video on Twilight, where she speaks about the concepts of Union and Division in relation to love. And while she speaks of it in terms of eros, it can apply here just as easily, romantically and platonically.

Love is the union of two beings. We love because something outside of us allows us to be more than ourself. In others, many seek that which they lack. We seek out people so that we may develop through our similarities and contrasts with them, to change an be changed.

We seek out people because there can be no I without a You. To exist in a void is not a fulfilling experience.

We cannot discover ourself if he have nothing that allows us to compare ourself. The mirrors elude us throughout the game, always leading to the princess - she is the only way we may know ourselves, the mirrors tease as they disappear. And at the end of the route, only then, can you see yourself, now that you have a complete knowledge of yourself in a given scenario, with a given persona.

Was the princess someone you decided to trust? Or to betray? Was she a foe? A friend? A nightmare? A victim?

You both try to find out who you are through your relationship.

The princess assumes many faces and attitudes in response to you, you assume voices and attitudes in response to her. You're two batches of clay shaping each other at the same time. It's almost like knowing someone your entire life, seeing them go through different phases as they try to find out their identity in the world, their place. The 5 routes, whatever they be, are your "adolescence".

And growing means you will hurt each other, intentionally or not. There will be fights, disagreements, there will be heartache, and comfort and love.

And everything will pass.

Shifty, before she's complete, before she discovers her godhood, makes this point so clear.

How could she not be kind to you? You are the only thing in this place that is not her. What reason could she have to hate you? To make the only friend she could have into an enemy?

That's why, at the end of every route, all hurts are forgiven. All the heartache is acknowledged, understood, and then she moves on. So that you may continue being together, so that she may see what else you do.

Even godhood can become a phase. The Shifting Mound recognises what you both were, but it need not be you unless you accept it. Because self-knowledge is unending. You are always changing, and you can always change.

You can accept being a god, and that becomes you.

You can reject being a god, and that becomes you.

You are by that point an "adult". The figure trying to dictate who both of you are is gone, and you can decide for yourself.

I think this is partially why I love the Leave with Stranger ending the best of all the endings. You begin it by avoiding knowledge of yourself and of another. The self can only exist as far as it is not like the others.

And you meet the Stranger, this being who knows so little about herself, because she too has been deprived of another. The route is quick. It really cannot amount to much, because if you don't know yourself, it's so hard to build a relationship.

But at the end, they've matured. You gave each other time to become fuller beings. You met this person again and they seem so much happier with themself than they were in youth.

I love how they say "We're just a stranger.", and the voices point out how it needn't be sad that you don't know her, unless you make it out to be. You can get to know them, the real them, and they can do that with you.

The way the Stranger speaks if the position of a God only underlines how much the heart of the Shifting Mound can understand self-knowledge.

They speak of how they feel themself be pulled towards taking the position of godhood, of being everything, yet find it confining. Restricting.

"We want more. We want whatever might be on the other side of this door. Something new, that we'll experience together. With someone who exists outside of us. Someone who can see us in a way we can never see ourself."

Self-knowledge through relationships and reflection on how you impact other people.

[mortalityplays]

Forgive me if I'm mistaking you for another person, but I remember you speaking at multiple points on the unsustainability of free social media services (I think especially in response to the cohost collapse?), and I'm curious on what your thoughts on bluesky are so far. I'm not an expert on the subject, but from what I've read previously it seemed like they were on track to be financially sustainable, but I don't know if the recent floods of users has thrown those projections off. Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else on my timeline, in that case just ignore me.

bluesky will almost certainly follow the same trajectory of monetisation => bloat => enshittification => decline as every other major platform built on venture capital and user hoarding. it's a terrible model that only works in the short term as a mirage for attracting funding and making founders look good for a year or two before they sell.

you can see the same effect in the decline of all the subscription box services that came into vogue just before covid: they feel great to use for as long as the initial injection of venture funding lasts, because the purpose of that funding at that stage is to attract users and impress the next round of funders with how pleasant/intuitive/efficient/ethical/good value the service is. that's the stage where they're handing out freebies and bowling over influencers, and every ingredient in the box is fresh and high quality and locally sourced. wow what a good deal, what a great system!!! why hasn't anyone done this before? the answer is because it's unsustainable by design. they rack up good reviews, sign on a billion new users, attract new funding from a bunch of much more credulous investors, and then gut all of the expensive parts. portions get smaller, ingredients get worse, packaging gets flimsier, prices go up, freebies turn into "5% off your first 9 boxes when you invite 3 friends", and customer service vanishes.

with social media (and platforms like discord) the logic is the same, it's just a little less glaringly obvious to the end user because they're not coming home to leaking packages of rancid chicken on the doorstep. bluesky has an advantage over tiny operations like cohost because it was founded by a billionaire making a point for the sake of his own image. it got a really significant chunk of startup funding, and the owner had existing connections and rep in the space to attract more. That's why it has survived the goldrush period, why it still feels good to use, and why users who have been burned so many times before are finally accepting it as a stable, reliable option. It's still in its venture capital honeymoon phase where the only thing worth spending money on is making the service attractive to users.

What I expect we will see next, with another mass influx of users from twitter and new funding from a rogue's gallery of tech venture sickos led by Blockchain Capital is a strong ramp up into monetising that userbase. They've already been pretty forthright about how they plan to do this, and I think it's a solid roadmap of how Bluesky will bloat and decay over the next few years:

this is a huge lol. don't worry, we're not going to hyperfinancialize the social experience through NFTs. the thing even crypto freaks started feigning amnesia about a year ago. real "our health conscious sodas are 100% arsenic free" messaging here. They know perfectly well that rubes users are suspicious of their typical 5 dimensional tech finance chess games and are patting our hands about last week's bogeymen so nobody worries too hard about whatever 'decentralised developer ecosystem' just happens to be helmed by a bunch of crypto guys. this definitely means something good and based and not a google-like single sign on user data harvesting operation.

This is the same shit that's currently rotting the floorboards of discord. Bluntly, there is no way to run a platform on this scale without gating functionality behind paid services. Discord has been squeezing free-tier file uploads and call quality etc. down steadily and cranking up subscription costs over the last year or two, throwing in chaff like animated avatar frames to try and justify the user cost. They're also doing the same misdirection thing again here, pointing to Thing We All Hate to deflect from thing we might not like very much when they do it. Booo elon booo we all hate elon!!! wait how do we feel about subscription models again,

watch out for this to kill porn on bsky like it has killed porn on every other social platform 👍 boooo we hate elon boooo stupid idiot and his 'everything app' booooo wait why do you need my tax information, what's that about mastercard,

Look, we are all aware social media is a money pit. Let's not forget dorsey was looking to sell twitter in the first place, long before elon's very public plunge into total online derangement. Subscription services are not going to plug the hole, so we are gradually going to see more and more spaghetti thrown at the wall while early funders shuffle cards and do their pyramid scheme bit bringing in stupider and stupider investments. this is the window in which bluesky will be temporarily worth using for us, for the idiot public, the poorly rendered crowd jpegs in the background of their venture capital MOBA. it's in their interests to slow and pad the decline as much as possible, because that is how they get maximally paid.

Given the scale of the money involved, and dorsey's weird ego investment, I think bluesky will probably manage a controlled drift for a good few years before it gets really bloated and painful. and by then we will all be so used to the *checks notes* decentralised developer ecosystem that we'll just be posting through it, watching another generation of columnists call another collapsing platform 'their beloved hellsite' and passing around that meme about not getting out of our chairs no sir until idk we all get on a fediverse neurolink alternative to stick it to the elongated muskrat and our brains pop peacefully in our sleep. which I guess is the closest thing to viability any social media platform can achieve.

anyway diogenes the cynic is also on bluesky

[hairmetal666]

Eddie stands at the edge of the ruined, stinking field, heart somewhere down by the soles of his feet. He watches the grey vines creep across the rotten earth, bracketing the blackened and split pumpkins.

"This can't be happening again," Steve says next to him. There's nothing in his voice, in his expression.

And Eddie doesn't know what to say because it is happening, the Upside Down is creeping into Hawkins, Vecna defeated or not.

"We have to tell the others," is Eddie's response. He doesn't know how he sounds normal when his heart is breaking, when Steve's blankness is killing him.

They walk back to Eddie's van in heavy silence. He can't read what Steve is thinking and that's--they're not something, not yet, but they spend all their time together and it's right there, under the surface, and--

He always knows what Steve is thinking, now. Can read his face like Tolkien wrote it, no matter what's happening, but right now it's empty, unreadable, unfathomable, untouchable King Steve risen from the grave.

The drive back to Hop's cabin is silent. Eddie doesn't even turn on music, his brain can't take it.

Cars fill the cabin's driveway, everyone in attendance, everyone waiting. On the porch, they hear the TV, the tinny whirr of lightsabers. It all stops when they push open the door, movie paused, conversations broken off, every face turned in their direction.

Neither of them speaks. Looking at all these faces, the kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Hop and Joyce, the hope and trust, and he can't--he can't.

"Well?" Joyce prompts. She's working a kitchen towel between her fingers.

He nods as Steve says, "it's back."

Eddie expects an outcry, horror, an explosion, but it's quiet. Quiet enough he can hear Steve's soft breaths next to him. Quiet enough he gets to watch as the news hits on each face in the room. It's like a punch every time.

It's so much different from planning the fight against Vecna. There was so much energy, drive, to get it done, to defeat the Upside Down forever. There wasn't silence, not ever, no faces painted with grief. Even when things were at their worst, an undercurrent of hope buoyed the group.

"Are you sure?" It's Nancy who breaks the silence, of course it is.

"It's the tunnels all over again," Steve answers.

"El?" Hopper asks. "Have you--?"

Will and El are looking at each other, Eddie's sure that no one else in the room exists for them.

"We haven't felt anything." El finally says.

"Nothing?" Mike's eyes flick between them.

"Not since Vecna," Will says.

"It's--it feels--" El waves at the back of her neck.

"Blank." Will finishes.

"Blank isn't gone," Erica says.

Dustin hums, eyes distant. "So, it went dormant."

That gets all the kids going, arguing and shouting over each other, and it isn't long before everyone is involved.

Eddie throws himself into it, grateful to be back in a familiar place of planning, discovering what they're up against, fighting. They're at their best like this, all of them, and it takes the edge off the fear eating up his insides.

He doesn't really get a chance to talk to Steve one-on-one, but Eddie's aware of him always, catches the moments in between bickering with Mike and shouting with Dustin and whispering with Robin where he goes distant, empty, just like at the field, just like in the car.

Eventually, everyone trickles home for the night, Hop's cabin emptying until it's just the Byers, Hoppers, and Steve. And since Eddie goes wherever Steve is--

Steve stands at the window in their room, back to Eddie. His shoulders are rigid, and Eddie is--he's scared in a whole new way. Steve is--he's strong, he keeps them together, he. They look to him to be brave, to be the first to jump, and--

"Steve?" Eddie comes up next to him.

His eyes are squeezed shut, fists clenched.

"Sweetheart?"

Steve opens his eyes, tears track down his cheeks. "I don't think I can do this again," he sobs. "I don't think--" He presses his fists to his eyes, like he's trying to force the moisture back inside.

Eddie grabs his wrists, gentle, murmurs, "it's okay, it'll be okay, I've got you."

"How can it be okay?" Steve asks. His face is wrecked and Eddie's heart shatters. "This was supposed to be over, Eddie. We were supposed to be done with fighting, we beat Vecna. So, tell me how it's going to be okay."

He freezes, unsure how to respond. In the end, "you're right," he says. "it's not okay. And I don't want to pretend that it is. It fucking sucks. We did the work already. We shouldn't be right back here like it never happened."

"But we are," Steve sniffles.

"But we are. And you know what?"

"What?"

"We're going to get through this. Just like we did the last time."

"We almost lost you last time, Ed. We almost lost Max. What if--what if--" Steve's eyes fill again. "I can't do this without you," he sobs.

Eddie doesn't hesitate, pulls Steve into his arms, holds him as tight and close as physically possible. "You won't." Eddie soothes. "You won't. I'll be right here with you. I promise."

"How can you know?"

Again, there's only one answer for that. "I don't. But I know I'll never leave your side willingly. None of us would. And I know that we're going to fight--all of us--like we always do."

"How can you have so much hope?" He asks. "After everything?"

"It's hard," he answers. "I'm terrified. But I know I have you, and Robin, and Dustin, and Wayne, and--everyone. We fight for each other, you know?"

"We keep going because we have to," Steve says.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We protect each other and this godforsaken town, no matter how much it sucks."

Steve's laugh is husky and short. "It sucks so much."

"Real trash heap of a place."

"And that's without the alternate dimension and monsters."

"I think we've got a really strong ad campaign for the Hawkins tourism board." The giggle that escapes from Steve is the sweetest thing Eddie's ever heard.

Later, the lights off, Steve pulls him close. "I'm so glad I have you," he whispers, fingers trailing through Eddie's curls. "You give me something to hope for."

[phantom-chirp]

Something I think about a lot with Maruki's perfect reality thing in terms of Akechi is how like, defanged he is for lack of a better term. I know Maruki's actual reasoning for things like that is just that his perfect reality removes a lot of the trauma from people, so they would inherently act differently, but to me it ends up just pushing the idea of "you can't be happy the way that you are"

It's reflected in a lot of the characters honestly, since a lot of their trauma didn't happen or is covered up by the reality none of them are themselves. Aspects of their personality caused by the hardships they faced no longer exist

Sumire is also a big example of this. I could talk a lot about Sumire but in relation to this topic, again her perfect reality being one where she is not herself (literally) and doesn't have any of the past trauma or experiences that made her who Sumire is just pushes that idea even more, not even getting into how it also reinforces her own negative ideas about herself by Maruki doing that

In the perfect reality, Akechi and Sumire are both different people than who they actually are, so it's really not a reality in which they are happy, is it? "You're too broken of a person to ever be happy while being who you are" is the message that gets sent across to me, whether or not Maruki intended that

Sumire is Kasumi now, a happy and determined person who isn't bitter and angry and overwhelmed with grief about the death of her sister, a person who doesn't hate herself and a person who doesn't have those experiences. Someone who now never has the chance to explore who she really is and grow and face her struggles head on, someone who will never get to learn that she is worth more than she grew up believing, replaced by the sister who she always felt was better then her

Akechi is now a cheerful and kind person, a reflection of his Detective Prince act, who is no longer resentful and lonely, no longer traumatized from all the actions he had to take throughout his life and someone who could've found happiness if he just had more time. Someone who had people who accepted the parts of him that would make most view him as unworthy of affection, the less palatable person who longed for someone to want him, as he is, replaced by a version of him that's seen as easier to love

[aeth-eris]

★ dark truth of the planets in the 12th house ★

★ sun in the 12th house feels like a life spent unseen. people with this placement often grow up feeling like they’re destined to exist in someone else’s shadow, never really finding their place in the world. they learn to hide their light, terrified of showing who they really are, afraid that if they did, they’d be rejected or forgotten anyway. every attempt to be noticed feels like it falls flat, and so they retreat, choosing to be invisible rather than risk the pain of invisibility. this placement creates a quiet ache, a life spent watching others live fully, wondering if they’ll ever be allowed to step out of the shadows. ★

★ moon in the 12th house is like a heart locked away, buried so deep that even they can’t reach it sometimes. people with this placement feel emotions so vast, so all-consuming, but they have no safe space to share them. they may spend their lives aching for comfort, for someone to understand, yet feeling that they’ll be crushed under the weight of their own emotions. they cry alone, in silence, their pain invisible to the world. this placement often makes them feel like they’re drowning in emotions they can never express, longing for a release that never seems to come. ★

★ mercury in the 12th house often leaves people feeling voiceless. there’s so much they want to say, so much they want to express, but words feel just out of reach. every attempt to share their thoughts feels like fumbling in the dark, tripping over silence and misunderstanding. they’re plagued by doubts, haunted by thoughts they can’t escape but can’t articulate. this placement leaves them feeling isolated, watching conversations from the outside, yearning to connect but forever feeling unheard, as though their mind is trapped behind glass. ★

★ venus in the 12th house knows what it’s like to love in silence, to ache for a connection that must stay hidden. people with this placement often fall in love with people they can’t have, or they love quietly, without hope of reciprocation. they know the pain of unspoken words, of yearning for someone who barely knows they exist. they give and give, always hoping, always waiting, but they’re often left in the cold, their love unseen and unacknowledged. this placement teaches them the loneliness of love, the ache of wanting someone they can never fully reach. ★

★ mars in the 12th house feels like a fire that’s forever dampened, a spark that’s always smothered before it can catch. they may spend their lives feeling frustrated, knowing they have so much passion, so much drive, but never finding the courage to bring it to life. every step they take feels tentative, as though they’re afraid of their own power, terrified of the anger that simmers just beneath the surface. they often feel like they’re fighting a silent battle, wrestling with an enemy they can’t see, their own strength a distant, unreachable dream. ★

★ jupiter in the 12th house is the quiet ache of lost potential, the sense that they’re destined for something more, something grand, yet they’re always held back by invisible chains. they may feel cursed with bad luck, as though every opportunity slips through their fingers just as they’re about to grasp it. they yearn for meaning, for purpose, but are often left feeling empty, their dreams just out of reach. this placement fills them with an aching loneliness, a silent grief for the life they feel they should be living but can never quite attain. ★

★ saturn in the 12th house is a lifetime of bearing burdens no one else can see, a quiet, relentless weight that presses down on them. they live with a sense of responsibility they can’t shake, often feeling as though they’re atoning for sins they don’t even remember committing. every moment is shadowed by guilt or regret, a haunting feeling that they’re never good enough, never strong enough. they’re alone in their suffering, burdened by fears that no one else can understand, and they may spend their lives trapped in self-imposed isolation, afraid to let anyone see the depth of their pain. ★

★ uranus in the 12th house is the constant, gnawing feeling of being misunderstood, of being a stranger in a world that will never truly accept them. they often feel like an outsider, always on the fringe, watching life pass by in a blur of rules and routines that suffocate them. they yearn for freedom, for a life that feels authentic, yet every attempt to break free leaves them feeling more isolated, more lost. they’re haunted by a restlessness that won’t go away, a desire to belong yet knowing they’ll never fit in. ★

★ neptune in the 12th house is a soul that’s always slipping away, a life lived in the shadows of dreams and illusions. people with this placement often feel like they’re drowning in a sea of emotions and fantasies, unable to grasp onto anything solid. reality feels harsh, unforgiving, and so they retreat into their own world, drifting through life in a haze. they ache for connection, for clarity, yet they’re haunted by an endless fog, a sense of loneliness that’s too deep to articulate. this placement brings an endless yearning for something just out of reach, a longing for escape that’s never fully satisfied. ★

★ pluto in the 12th house is like carrying a dark, unspoken weight, a lifetime haunted by shadows and fears they can’t explain. they often feel as though they’re hiding something from themselves, as though there’s a darkness lurking within that they’re terrified to confront. they may carry unresolved trauma, past-life memories, or a deep sense of dread that follows them like a shadow. this placement can leave them feeling haunted, trapped in a cycle of self-destruction and rebirth, unable to break free from the patterns that control them. the only way out is through, but the journey feels endless, the darkness too overwhelming. ★

★ chiron in the 12th house is a wound that refuses to heal, a pain that feels eternal. people with this placement often feel cursed with a suffering they can’t explain, as though they’re carrying the pain of generations past. they may feel like they’re destined to suffer in silence, to bear a burden no one else can understand. every step forward feels like it’s met with resistance, every attempt to heal only brings them closer to the depths of their own pain. this placement is a lifetime of learning to make peace with suffering, to find strength in vulnerability, even when the world feels like it’s crumbling around them. ★

[goodluckclove]

If you ever have a chance to view a Rothko in person I highly encourage you to. It's really something. There's a sort of soothing quality given by the scope and form of his paintings that I only get otherwise by like being near a big redwood or by a lake.

It doesn't really feel like a painting someone made. It just feels like a thing that already existed and you're lucky to be alone with.

Even his duo-chromatic works look so much more detailed in person. You can see the brush strokes sometimes. It's amazing.

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1969

Acrylic on paper

© Kate Rothko Prizel and Christopher Rothko / ARS

[resident-idiot-simp]

Idea of mine. Laura just existing at the x mansion but never being forthcoming with her powers. Like they know she is some kind of feral with heightened senses at the least but not really anything else.

No one has any Idea of who she actually is exact for Colossus, Ellie, and Yukio. No one can read her mind either because of the mental blocks She's put up because of her time in the void with Cassandra.

All to say there is not a clue she is Logan's daughter/clone and she isn't giving that away any time soon. She occasionally brings up her Papá and Dad but never says much about them because she's just a private person.

And because it's the mansion no one really brings anything up because they're not sure what's traumatic or not.

Something eventually goes wrong one day and it just cuts to Laura who looks so tired™ as she unchieves her claws. Everyone is out course freaking the FUCK out over it because WOLVERINE?!

Once all is said and done she just continues on like nothing happened but everyone is demanding answers. She just shrugs and admits 'Yeah I'm X23' and that means nothing to a lot of people. However the few in the know look each other because they knew Logan was Weapon X

[kibblbread]

AK!Jason doesn’t really like anything.. but he really likes spending time with you.

There isn’t much joy in his life, and when he does experience it, it’s pretty hard to tell. Very hard in fact. When Jason is his absolute happiest it’s truly rare that he’s fully conscious or not coming down from a state of extreme distress and panic.

More recent anecdotes of him happily existing involve him waking up or falling asleep alongside you, preventing a loved one from being fatally hurt, or brutalizing soneone that hurts you. Pretty scary, but these aren’t things he wants to acknowledge in the slightest or ever make known to you. External validation is necessary for him to truly feel good at this point in his life, which is something you’re privy to— just not the extent obviously.

When JT is hardly awake or really beginning to fall into what’ll be a comfortable dreamless sleep, he feels safe and secure enough to relax properly. He’s being held, allowed to be perceivably weak in a way that he deems acceptable. He can bury himself deep into the warmth and softness of your body to be protected from the nipping cold of Gotham.

It’s such a special time for him, a sacred moment that he cherishes.

You are his one precious piece of bliss.

Jason doesn’t acknowledge your gentle scalp rubs and lip balm coated kisses outside of a slight tightening of his grasp on your t-shirt. Greedily and lazily claiming his lover and her kind gestures of affection.

This is the most common and most easily detectable example of happiness from Jason. It’s somewhat complex without any explanation but still worth noting to an observant s/o of JT. I think that Jason himself though wouldn’t identify this experience (or lack of) is actually happening beyond him being happy to snuggle every once in a while. Being able to be excited to be touched instead of anxious or irrationally annoyed, it doesn’t occur to himself how often he’s in a nasty mood.

Preventing a loved one from being hurt only gives a small sense of joy that’s usually overshadowed by guilt and anger. The fact that the situation happened in the first place is somehow his own fault in the mind of Jason. But there are times where you’re able to thank him immediately after the fact, those are the times he can feel ego. That pat on the back is always a major surprise to him! Any gratitude he receives in moments so stressful boost his confidence a lot. When you do that he doesn’t have to much time to think about every specific way he fucked up, instead he’s concentrated on rationalizing why you’re complimenting something that in his head could’ve been somehow avoided.

You give him a quick hug and smile up at his faceless red helmet, telling him things could’ve ended terribly if he hadn’t been there. There is a small ping of joy radiate from within his chest. The positive reinforcement of your small affirming touches and verbal encouragement give pause to the harsh self criticisms. While the ultimate core emotions attached to this moment would be some initial surprise and frustration, there will always be a lingering feeling of pride that he got to be your hero.

As for getting a lick-back for your sake, lol, he’s pretty fucked up about it. Whether it be a lowly henchman/gang member or a notorious villain, he doesn’t know when to let up— or if he wants to. Deep down Jason derives a sick sense of joy from maiming people. It’s not his fault, but it’s his responsibility to face this dark and crooked part of himself. He knows it spooks you, it spooks all his loved ones, but he can’t help it can he? He can’t help being the twisted mangled thing Joker forced him to become.

Jason just wants you to feel safe.

He almost never feels safe so this is a favor from him to you of course..

For you to feel safe around a psycho like him.

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

[la-principessa-nuova]

as a software engineer, i genuinely don't think this is even a thing that is happening, besides a little bit in a technical context but only for the word program

i think that people noticed the abbreviated "app" being used a lot by non-technical people, and got mad at it for existing and felt the need to assert their being a "real computer user" by hating the word

before the iPhone i mostly heard program, and less frequently application and less frequently than that app, but now most people call applications apps, operating systems operating systems (or OSes), scripts scripts, games games, and have never heard of anything that doesn't fall into one of those categories, but may also call software more generally software

occasionally i hear someone refer to a program i wouldn't consider an application as an application, but usually in a context like "the running application", where it's being more technical, but also like what is the line?

at what point does is a program directly useful enough to an end user or big enough in scope or whatever you want to use to separate it to become an application? Does it need a GUI, or is a CLI tool an application? Does it need complexity, or would a program that just lets you enter two numbers and adds them be an application?

my expectation is that people who weren't interested in computer programs suddenly became interested in them, in particular the applications running on their phones, and people who were talking about other kinds of programs just kept calling them what they were calling them, with just some of the people who weren't into tech but had been calling applications programs switching to calling them apps, which was just them getting more specific

this is far from definitive research, but just out of curiosity I checked on the frequency of a few of these terms in google trends, and it kind of lines up exactly with what I'd expect:

app takes off from basically nothing before 2007 to way more than program, application, or operating system, but the other ones don't really go down much

program takes a slight dip, but overall, everyone kept saying what they were saying, plus there was a huge surge in interest in apps

in response to the part "it's part of the general trend of hiding the inner workings of computers from the user, which is something i hate since it tends to promote computer illiteracy which tends to promote incompetence and dysfunction in society as a whole", i would say:

it's part of the general trend of making computing accessible to more people, which necessarily means that a higher percentage of computer users are not particularly interested in computers themselves, and therefore are only interested in the part they interact with: the application

not to enforce gender roles but a computer should NOT fucking have apps okay. if I wanted an app I'd go on my phone my laptop is for Programs. I mean this.

[ronanlynchbf]

tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY

[girlwiththegreenhat]

team fortress 2 finally getting rid of the bots after 5 years

work on the team fortress 2 comic continuing after 7+ years

half life 3 development looking more likely than ever with legitimate code, file, and voicework leaks referencing a new non-VR single-player game from valve featuring a HEV suit wearing protagonist and Xen creatures and concepts

shoutout to the valve fan that found the genie lamp. you a real one