#honestly i don't know what else to say here

[sage-nebula]

I've been suicidal many times in my life, and while I could talk about those experiences, given what this post is about, I'd rather talk about something else.

My boss at my previous job was not just my boss. He was my friend, my mentor. I'd met him as a student employee; I still remember the day I went in for my interview, and I asked to speak with "Mr [name]," and the other student employee who answered the door made a face and said, "Hey, Mr [Name], this girl is here to see you" when he let me in because my boss never wanted us to be so formal with him. We were on a first-name basis with him, always. I was nineteen, and super nervous interviewing for my first job that wasn't retail or food service, but he cracked jokes and made me feel welcome. He treated all of us like that.

He was just a really good man. He always stood up for us, every time the university tried to do something that would make our lives harder or less safe. I made a Facebook status once about how I was harassed by a gas station employee near the university, and he commented telling me he'd bring his bat if I needed it. When one of the supervisors ended up overstepping boundaries in a big way with us student employees, he worked overtime to make sure that we would all be safe. When I got promoted to a supervisor position after graduation, and took it upon myself to oversea the yearly Secret Santa tradition for the students (meaning I didn't participate because otherwise I would know who my Secret Santa was), he decided he wasn't letting me go without a present and got me one anyway, despite my insistence that it wasn't necessary.

Unfortunately, he had his own demons to fight. He was going through difficult stuff in his personal life. He told me a lot about it; I was a confidant for him, and at one point he told me I was the only person he could speak to about any of it. More unfortunately still, as much as I wanted to be there for him, I was also struggling to keep my own mental health on track. It was around this time that I was looking into starting antidepressants / anti-anxiety medication for the first time because of how much I was struggling, and I was really focused on getting all of that sorted so that I could stop being tempted by the trains I heard pass by my home every night. Because of this, I didn't check in on him regularly. And so, when his boss called me one morning before my shift was supposed to start and told me that he had taken his own life, I was consumed by more than just shock and grief; I was crushed by guilt.

You see, I blamed myself. Largely because he had told me I was the only one who could confide in, I couldn't help but think that if I had checked in on him more regularly, if I had been there, this wouldn't have happened. I could have prevented it. I could have saved him. He wouldn't have taken his own life, and it wouldn't have been one of his young daughters who found him like that. Not only had I lost a friend of nine years, but I felt like I failed him.

I know now that isn't the case. There were many factors involved, not the least of which being it turns out I wasn't the only one he confided in after all. But it took me a long time to reach that point—a long time until I could honestly say that I didn't feel like it was my fault.

In the midst of depression and suicidal ideation, it can be incredibly hard to see the importance that you have in other people's lives—the place that you have there, that no one else can fill. I know this intimately, because it is something that I struggle with regularly. But even if you can't see it, you have to hold in the forefront of your mind that the importance is there. The impact will be felt. Not only do people care about you, but those closest to you will hold the weight of responsibility for your life on their shoulders for a long time. If nothing else, you don't want that for the people you care about, do you? You don't want to do that to them, do you?

You are not the only one harmed by your suicide. In fact, you're the one who will feel the impact the least. Death doesn't hurt the deceased; it only wounds the living. That's why we have funerals: it's for the sake of those left behind. But no amount of funerals or celebrations of life can assuage the pain left by a suicide. It doesn't help. Notes don't either.

If you're in a place where you're ideating, reconsider. Reach out to someone close to you. Tell them where you are, mentally, and have them come be with you. Believe me when I say that they would much rather sit awake with you all night, than wake up the next morning to a message that you're gone.

Give us the chance to be there for you. It's all we ask.

periodic reminder that your death by your own hand will wreak more havoc on the lives of those you know than you are ever capable of imagining and if you need a sign not to kill yourself this is it. people care more than you know & i am one of them

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

[m-ilkiee]

I think the problem with most 18-21 year olds on this site is that everyone wants to be contrarian to be relevant, but they don't know how to constructively criticize the media they engage with while also appreciating the work that is already out here because they've never put in the work in writing a piece of article.

To put it simply; you have a whole lot to say about what people write and how you may find even the mildest of things repulsive, yet you've never ever in your life written and/or published anything and you lack the skills to critically engage with any written work. This goes beyond fanfiction.

How many of you actually read books in your free time? How many of you journal or attempt to write something? How many of you think for yourselves?

Perhaps, the reason that I rarely complain about how people write their characters is because I read so wide as a child and no matter how vastly different a character is from me, I learned the skill of viewing from the lens of the character. It takes a great amount of intelligence to try and see things from a character's persepective and to view that character as a tool to drive the story forward, rather than my own perspective and honestly it makes it more enjoyable. I didn't gain it naturally, I was taught by my literary teachers and people older than me who also read a lot.

Lastly, I've read so much that I know when to stop reading something I don't enjoy and go for things I do. It's clear it's a lesson everyone else needs to learn instead of complaining about a hobby writers do here for free.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3])

Lilia is bickering with Jen in episode 7. she turns around and SEES ALICE, WHO WAS KILLED IN EPISODE 5

alice, don't try to save agatha! but she's whisked ever further back to episode 2 before she can finish the sentence. imagine having the power of communicating with the past but it's never enough to warn them. seeing the dead and talking to them, knowing what's going to come next. and you wonder why she chose exile and solitude.

meanwhile agatha has collected her wits long enough to decide what her short term strategy with rio is gonna be: keep her distracted, isolate her from the others, keep her away from billy. see how she takes a moment to focus and get into character? she knows rio is about to follow her like a moth to a flame

just going on a trip with my best gal pals and a random teen boy, nothing to see here!!!! and agatha knows that rio knows that she's lying. hello, rio is PERFECTLY aware that there's no Road out there capable of magicking her into a glam rock sex den. but maybe, just maybe, agatha can keep her focused on something else. honestly it would be such a waste to not put all that combined cleavage to good use!

there she was, having a chat with sharon down in the dirt, and you guys went and dragged her up. like perfect morons. I love how she brought the flower along and it ends up working really well with the outfit

oh, rio knows. she knows everything.

and agatha SHOOTS UP and GETS TOO CLOSE and FLIRTS. oh my god this bitch. just like she did in episode 1, except now she's more collected and ever more deliberate. flirting is her best weapon of mass distraction against rio. because look, rio might know all her tricks but she's only (very marginally) human! who can blame her if she lets herself be seduced a little bit, just a little bit! for old times' sake! in rio's defense her wife is very hot and she misses her very much, your honor

rio is like, bitch I got you allllll figure out but also lemme gently caress your thigh. to enhance your acting performance. what's a little supportive yes, and between exes

she's sooo hamming it up. compare her face here with the genuine yearning at the end of the episode

oh this is hilarious. the others hear rio's flirting over the PA and panic, but no, girls, enthusing about murder is legit how they talk dirty!! (lol at lilia being like, right in front of my salad???)

"gasp!!!! that's my coVEN you're talking abOUT!!!! I'm not that kiND OF wiTCH anYMOWRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the ham! the ham! she might just bring the whole deli cart over at this point

and rio with her lil delighted laugh again. she doesn't get mad for one second, she didn't expect anything else. oh agatha, you silly goose, you're so damaged and so cute

let's recap what this fucker achieved with her latest performance, because it's always fascinating to study what's going on in agatha's ferociously scheming brain. she 1) distracted rio from billy. or at least tried to. 2) hinted at Rio's true nature to the others - who knows, maybe she can manipulate them into allying against her later on? 3) pretended to flirt but also flirted a lil bit forreal because there was a lot of skin showing and the flesh is weak etc etc 4) backpedaled alllllllll the way out when things got too intimate because she's too scared and resentful to get close to rio again. playing with fire as usual. or, as the kids say today, fucking around, about to find out

alice's trial has the best aesthetic fr fr. the 70s font!

I'm not 100% sure bcs it goes by so quickly but I think rio is dancing to the cursed music???

not the turntable!! that shit's vintage!!!!!!!

*brian de palma zoom*

*dramatic pause*

WE'VE BEEN CURSED (I love you patti lupone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

INJECT THIS AESTHETIC DIRECTLY INTO MY VEINS. also alice is red, billy and agatha are blue with purple undertones. the colors in this trial seem very deliberate

"she's a tourist." "she's a PSYCHO." look she never gets to just hang out and do fun things anymore, let her be!!

rio and lilia having a little staring contest as she plays with the knife. doing their own cute archnemeses thing

agatha shaking her head at billy and going shhh when he says 'maybe this curse isn't so bad.' like KID will you stop speaking HORRORS into existence?!?

alice standing with her back straight for the first time since like, ever? or since her mom died? did everyone in the family have their own personal demon or did it switch after killing the previous person? or wait, wait, was the curse only like, a metaphor until billy accidentally turned it into a disgusting 1970s animatronic harpy??

I'm convinced rio could see the demon from the beginning. look at her face here, she's the only one who sees both lilia burning and what's causing it

poor lilia must be thinking, burning witches? soooo original and not traumatic at all (lol at patti being a pro at screaming and writhing in pain on the floor. PROFESSIONAL ACTING)

no no no that's the reaping knife careful careful careful careful

alice's spell: expelle hoc malum, expel this evil. (rio when agatha tries it on her later: WHO ARE YOU CALLING EVIL)

lol. lmao, even. (just don't think about how jen has grown seLFISH TO SURVIVE AFTER HAVING TO LIVE POWERLESS AND DEFENSELESS FOR A CENTURY AND HOW SHE BECOMES MORE AND MORE GENEROUS AS SHE SPENDS TIME WITH ALICE AND LILIA)

oh noes my character just had a beast's giant talons perched on her shoulders i should flash the twins real quick so you can see it better

everyone else: EXTREME PANICKING

rio: stops reading her magazine to glance at the disgusting invisible harpy flapping around the room. goes back to the magazine.

and with this I'm off to my extreme friday night (tea and blankie and a book). ciao!

[granny-griffin]

1. There are a lot of people who think they're the only one who would speak up. Imagine what would happen if everyone who thought they were the only one... Spoke. But even if you do think you're alone... Why is antiracism not worth standing alone for?

I mean I think it is, and I’ve done it (or tried to). But I do tend to second guess my interpretation of a situation a lot more if I haven’t seen anybody else say something—maybe people sometimes aren’t sure if what they’re looking at is racist or not, and then decide not to do anything with that uncertainty because it would require thought.

2. There is a difference between feeding the trolls and speaking up when something wrong is happening. Do you feel people are more comfortable assuming the former so that they don't have to interact via the latter?

I think people are taught that the latter only exists in real life, and that if you try to do it in fandom you’re just yucking someone’s yum. People who do the second one generally receive the same kind of pushback as people who do the first one (even though they don’t deserve it).

3. Why do we think that bigotry will go away if it goes unaddressed? Is that how you also feel about bigotry that you experience via your other identities?

Because trolls go away when you don’t pay attention to them. But like you already said in question #2, those situations aren’t the same. People are drawing a false equivalence between the two. And as far as bigotry I experience in fandom—I think I just assume that it will be there and not go away no matter what, and I’m pleasantly surprised when that’s not the case. But that’s not really the point of this.

4. Why should we entertain and prioritize the annoyance of bigots? Why do you not deserve to be here and have a safe, comfortable space any more than they do?

I want to annoy bigots XD I love the excuse. Honestly not sure why more people don’t feel this way on tumblr, the website that’s all about being as annoying as you please.

At the same time, I want the annoyance to come because I’m giving them a message they don’t want to hear, not because I’m also being a jerk about it. Maybe it’s weird, but I care about bigots because they’re people, and their bigotry hurts them too, and I want them to listen to me long enough that they hear what I have to say and change what they’re doing. But even that isn’t a reason to try to keep from offending them—coddling somebody in their bigotry isn’t kind either.

I do think that people often don’t want to offend bigots who are good at creating fanworks, because they look up to them as a creative and/or don’t want to drive their skill away from the fandom. Yeah—the better you are at fanworks, the more you can get away with.

The second question is hitting me really strangely—yes, I think everybody deserves to have a comfortable space, and I want to defend that for others. I don’t know if I care to defend it for myself.

5. What do we plan on doing when Black fans lose their patience due to disillusionment? Are we okay with the outcome of that, of choosing... Well, being racist but safe? (Be honest with yourself!) Would we rather Black fans just accept that it's easier to assume everyone is antiblack, the same way it's easier not to speak up against it as a social norm? If we want to show that there is still a welcome for Black fans, that we are safe, why don't we act to show that?

I mean I plan to listen to them, even if I don’t like the way they’re presenting their frustrations—if somebody’s mad at me for something that I really did (or sat by and failed to stop) then it’s so not my job to critique their attitude.

I don’t think I’m okay with the outcome—that’s why I’ve spoke out in the past—but the parenthetical is psyching me out. Maybe I do ignore things out of fear! I’ll have to keep introspecting.

I don’t want Black fans to assume everyone is against them, and I don’t think other people want that either—but I think fixing the situation requires people to be proactive. I think a lot of people think that just not being antiblack is enough, and then don’t think about it any harder. And so nothing happens, because instead of looking to do something right, people are only trying not to do something wrong.

6. If everyone only hangs around people who aren't antiblack, why is the space still so overwhelmingly antiblack? Have you considered that you cannot adequately judge from within?

YES 100%!! I don’t think we can accurately judge from within! This is one of my biggest struggles—it goes back to my answer to #1. I want to speak out against racism, but even though I’m trying to educate myself so that I can spot it, sometimes I’m really not sure. And calling somebody racist feels like a really big accusation—if it lands publicly in the right way it could get somebody blocked by all their friends. I wouldn’t want to do it to mistakenly. So I’ve been trying to watch and see when Black people call out racism so that I can amplify/support what they’re already saying.

But maybe we need also to have a less all or nothing approach? If we aren’t sure if someone is being racist, we could start a more private conversation to tell them about our concerns, and see if their response sheds any light on the situation. Sometimes I ask people leading questions about their thought process when making something instead of just telling them to quit being racist.

Inevitably, no matter what I do, I worry that I’m not using the right level of forcefulness. But I guess sitting here and angsting about the appropriateness of my approach is still better than doing nothing.

7. No one really answered my "what is the boundary" question at all. What I should have asked is, are you willing to recognize that you have a willing tolerance for antiblackness? That there is a certain amount that you are okay with allowing before thinking it's worth speaking up?

Yes, and I think it’s tied to my struggle to judge situations. There’s a certain threshold of racism under which I can’t identify it with enough accuracy to feel comfortable making a callout. But again—maybe “public callout” and “do nothing” are not the only two possible responses.

Okay so after sitting on the responses from yesterday's question, I have some follow up questions to what seemed to be some consistent... Themes in the answers.

Like yesterday, I am asking with intent to listen (and maybe ask more questions) so I will not be arguing- at best, you'll get a "hm" to acknowledge i saw what you said.

My follow up questions:

1. There are a lot of people who think they're the only one who would speak up. Imagine what would happen if everyone who thought they were the only one... Spoke. But even if you do think you're alone... Why is antiracism not worth standing alone for?

2. There is a difference between feeding the trolls and speaking up when something wrong is happening. Do you feel people are more comfortable assuming the former so that they don't have to interact via the latter?

3. Why do we think that bigotry will go away if it goes unaddressed? Is that how you also feel about bigotry that you experience via your other identities?

4. Why should we entertain and prioritize the annoyance of bigots? Why do you not deserve to be here and have a safe, comfortable space any more than they do?

5. What do we plan on doing when Black fans lose their patience due to disillusionment? Are we okay with the outcome of that, of choosing... Well, being racist but safe? (Be honest with yourself!) Would we rather Black fans just accept that it's easier to assume everyone is antiblack, the same way it's easier not to speak up against it as a social norm? If we want to show that there is still a welcome for Black fans, that we are safe, why don't we act to show that?

6. If everyone only hangs around people who aren't antiblack, why is the space still so overwhelmingly antiblack? Have you considered that you cannot adequately judge from within?

7. No one really answered my "what is the boundary" question at all. What I should have asked is, are you willing to recognize that you have a willing tolerance for antiblackness? That there is a certain amount that you are okay with allowing before thinking it's worth speaking up?

*I also want to note that I'm not directing this to Black fans. I know that the context changes when you have to fight. I'm asking the people who have the privilege of fighting antiblackness while not having the identity. I.e. some marginal power in the area.

[ssentimentals]

Hey, I love your work so much 🫶🏻

Idk if anyone has requested this before, but if they didn't, I was wondering if you could write Mingyu with Suggestive prompt 21? Maybe with a plus sized!reader if that's okay 🥹🖤

But if you don't feel comfortable writing for plus sized!reader it's fine, I'd read anything with Mingyu and this prompt honestly 😔✊🏻🖤

baby, i am very comfortable writing for plus sized!reader, thank you very much for requesting it and being so sweet about it! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'you could be wearing a trash bag and i'd still want you.'

shopping is a fun thing to do, but you have to be in a certain mood for it to go well. most of the times it's such a hassle to figure out correct size and good fit with casual clothes, but when it comes to something fancier this hassle turns into a full-blown struggle. you cringe at your reflection in the mirror - the size of the dress is correct, but the fit is just wrong. the fabric clings to your figure in all of the wrong places, shows off what you'd like to hide and makes you appear way bigger than you actually are. which is a pity, because this dress is so pretty and color looks amazing on you, but the way your love handles and tummy gets accentuated here is not flattering at all. it almost makes you want to cry, to be honest - you love your body and you want to look beautiful, how can finding a nice dress be this hard? it's an important event for mingyu and he already chose a suit for it that looks dashing on him; as his plus one you can't look anything less than perfect.

'how it's going, babe?' mingyu calls out loud enough for you to hear from the changing rooms. 'can i come in?'

'no!' you rush out, quickly composing yourself.

you hear sound of footsteps coming closer and suddenly mingyu is right here behind the curtain: 'but i wanna see,' he whines cutely. 'i wanna see how that dress looks on you. i bet it's so pretty.'

you shake your head, upset. 'it is not, gyu.'

'no?' he questions, surprised. 'but i thought it'd be perfect on you. is it on you now? can i look?' his hand tugs at the curtain insistently.

you know mingyu is not going to back out, so you sigh and move the curtain, letting him see what you see in that awful reflection. for few moments mingyu is silent but then his hands are on your hips and he plasters his front to your back: 'babe. shit. looking so good.'

you blink at these words, meeting his gaze in the mirror. one of you definitely has a bad eyesight, because mingyu looks at you like you are a goddess and you want to never see yourself in this dress again. 'it's awful,' you says, looking at him confused. 'look at the rolls. and at my tummy. my god.'

mingyu frowns, his hands skim from your hips to your tummy and then go lower to brush your thighs in a very not-pg way. 'i see curves and i see beauty. what do you see?'

you can tell that is not lying but still - 'it's not that sexy, gyu.'

mingyu chuckles, leaning in to press few kisses on your hair. 'you could be wearing a trash bag and i'd still want you, babe. you're always sexy to me. if you don't like this dress then fine, no worries, we can look for something else. but you are sexy. very much so.'

you melt, letting him pepper your face with kisses. someone clears their throat and you push mingyu away, giggling at his dramatic pout and how he tries to hold on to your hips. 'more kisses when you're out?' he asks, puppy eyes on full display.

'more kisses when i'm out,' you promise, smiling.

shopping can be such a hassle and unnecessary struggle, but at least you got mingyu with you.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[electricea]

on being 30.

my birthday is this weekend and i don't really know how much free time i'll have to spend on here, so i did want to poke on here and at least say something - thank you for another year together, whether we've just met or have known each other for ages, i genuinely appreciate being able to spend another year on this website with so many great folks, sincerely - i appreciate every dm, every image, it doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated.

i've sort of touched on before on how 2024 has been a sort of a slump for a year for me - i've always sort of battled with self doubt and self loathing and just for some reason this year, it seems to just keep coming back and i hate that i actually doubt and question myself - if there's still a place for me here and when i get in my own head like this i really isolate myself and try to just deal with it in private because i don't like being a downer so if you have noticed me not exactly being the most responsive or talkative lately, that’s why - i’m not angry with anyone, i’m not trying to be cold with anyone - going back into my shell is just what I do and how I cope, it always has been, i don't even like writing this. and to make this clear, this is a me problem - not an anyone else problem, period - this isn't a vague or to point fingers, the issue is with me.

i think what sort of prompted this was seeing a lot of people open up about their own feelings and insecurities and I get the sense that 2024 hasn’t exactly been a great year for a lot of people either and my mindset has always been so long as it's not being passive aggressive or directing the blame at others, i honestly think it's good to have an outlet to just say how you're feeling once in a while - how else will people know what you're struggling with? of course what they choose to divulge is up to them and no one has to divulge if they don't want to, we're all just here for rp and for fun but i think sort of seeing others also struggling with having a crappy year and seeming to be in similar slumps was what really prompted me to write this. i hope it's just down to 2024 being a cursed year or something, lol.

like i said, i do genuinely appreciate all of you - i think more than anything else, more than rp or writing, the people are what keeps me coming back to tumblr - getting to write with and meet so many different writers from across the world (and possibly even talk with some of them and hang out with them??) is honestly a privilege and honour and even if i may not respond right away, please just know i appreciate every interaction, every message, every person. thank you all for being a part of my tumblr experience for another year and for already getting this birthday off to a lovely start. take care of yourselves.

[shion-ah]

Death of me

Cillian Murphy as Thomas Fucking Shelby

"Do you honestly think I could ever forget?"

Hayley Atwell as Katherine Redwine

"Christ...just tell him or I will."

Annabelle Wallis as Grace Burgess

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

Joe Cole as John Shelby

"You'll always be a Shelby never get that."

Paul Anderson as Arthur Shelby

"Don't worry luv, we got you. Who do I gotta kill?"

Sophie Rundle as Ada Shelby

"You've always been there for me, of course I'll be here for you."

Helen McCrory as Polly Grey

"Us women are smarter. Now chin up, we have a job to do."

Chapter One

The air of Small Heath seemed to have a way of sticking to your skin or clothing. It left you feeling almost sticky and sweaty from the grim that would collect no matter how careful you chose to be. The people had grown used to such things and one could never be too precious about their clothing. Children seemed to run wild with their dogs and friends, men in the factories returning home covered in soot and the women trying to keep their homes cleaned to the best of their ability. Katherine Redwine had been brought up on Watery Lane and in her young mind, she believed that this was always going to be the case. “Kat, are you listening?” The annoyed voice of Ada rang through her ears pulling her attention away from the window. “Yes, of course. You were saying?” Katherine gave her friend a smile and lifted her cup of tea to her lips. It was rare that the two girls got moments like this and she didn’t mean to waste her time lost in the clouds. Ada watched Katherine with a sad smile of her own. Since the war Katherine hadn’t been the same, which she supposed was the common saying amongst the rest of the world. “I was saying that I think it is time that we get you back out there. You are a beautiful girl and I know anyone would be lucky to have you.” Ada leaned forward in her chair and crossed her ankles. “He wouldn’t want you to live like this. Pat-” “I’m alright I promise, I am just not ready. There’s still too much to do right now.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Since the men had come back home it had been a hard adjustment for her. First her brother had been killed and the man she had loved for most of her life had simply turned his back and had barely spoken a full sentence to her. And now that same man seemed to have found more trouble as if he had been fishing for it. Katherine shook her head placing the cup down back on the table giving the young Shelby woman’s hand a small squeeze. “But in the meantime I look forward to hearing all about how sweet and kind Freddie is.” At the mention of Freddie Thorne, Ada's cheeks began to flush, the usual reaction when the man was pulled into the conversation or whenever Ada told her friend of the latest escapades the two had gotten into. Katherine watched as Ada continued to talk about how much she loved Freddie and the latest times they had to meet up in secret, the forbidden romance felt like a dream she had had once. She had been so young when she first met him but those blue eyes of Thomas Shelby would forever haunt her. She was sure she would die with the image of his eyes, his smile permanently imprinted into her thoughts. She had been so angry with him, the sting of her slap across his face still stung her hand when she thought about it for too long. Of course when she had heard of what he found she wanted to try to knock some sense into him. 

And now she had a sinking feeling in her gut that felt like it was growing larger and larger each time she tried to swallow. Leave it to the most clever man she knew to bring down the eye of the government, the IRA, and god knows who else by finding and taking those guns. 

Thomas fucking Shelby. 

Those words rang in her mind when her man had told her, they rang when she confronted Charlie Strong and Curly. And once she had left Ada making her way down the street and heard of his stunt with the Chinese in a show to gather more bets. Any time she had tried to tell Thomas that he was getting into things he had no business doing, he would tell her that it “wasn’t women’s business” and would drop it at that, leaving Katherine to stare at him in a mix of frustration and continued heartache. 

Katherine began to make her way to the Garrison pub for her usual one drink with Harry giving a small nod and smile to the people she passed and in return would gain her own “Mrs. Shelby” greeting. She had grown numb to the nickname and had given up on correcting those that continued to use it and she decided to see it as a type of shield. No one fucked with the Peaky Blinders and the Shelby name went a long way in Small Heath. If Thomas had taught her anything it was to appear as calm and unbothered as possible when inside you just want to shoot something, or rather someone.

“Welcome in my lady, your usual?” Harry said, placing a glass down on the bar once Katherine had entered. She made her way to the middle of the bar and took her usual seat. “Yes please, Harry.” Katherine gave the older man a kind smile and glanced about the pub. The usual bar flies were about four glasses in and only acknowledged her with a simple nod or not at all. “How have you been Harry? Haven’t been given any trouble have you?”

“None, miss. Mostly the occasional drunkard fight but it ends well enough.” Harry placed the Irish whiskey down for the Redwine and leaned on the bar top. “You look as if you need a good drink and a good sleep.” Katherine huffed a laughed at her friend’s words and shrugged taking a sip from the amber liquid. “Don’t I always look this way?” She teased tilting her head. She had always enjoyed Harry’s company; he was kind in his own way and cared for the Garrison like it should have been. This was home and he had taken care of her when she had gotten so drunk she hadn’t been able to stand and he made sure that she would never reach that low again. He had made Katherine promise to not lose herself in her grief or heartbreak. He had been the father figure that she needed after Patrick had been killed. 

“Kat, don’t bullshit me.” Harry shook his head. Katherine spun her glass slightly, his gentle but stern tone was comforting in a sense. It was the same tone he had when he found her in the private room that Thomas always used. She had broken down and cried in Harry’s arms and was more whiskey than person and she was sure her breath could have caused an explosion if she lit a match. Earlier that day they had held a service for Patrick and it had really hit her that he was gone, her big brother, her protector was nowhere to be found. Just like her Tommy, sweet happy Tommy who was able to light up a room with his smile and whose laugh was contagious seemed to have died the same night. Harry had listened as she cried and mourned the lives lost and dreams that were crushed but once she was done he picked her up and helped her upstairs and cleaned her up and put her to bed. He had banned anyone giving her any kind of alcohol in the Garrison until she was able to function. He would be damned if the sweet girl turned into one of the men he served. “I’m fine Harry, I promise.” Katherine was touched as he watched her but before he could comment the doors to the Garrison were pushed open as the one man who she couldn’t stand walked through in the most attention way he could have. 

Fucking Thomas. 

(It will get better I promise but let me know what you think!)

[burningcheese-merchant]

What does Spice and Jack like to do together?

It's unbearably hot here and I hate working. One more ask, for realsies this time, because fuck everything else

"What do Kratos Burning Spice and Atreus Pepper Jack like to do together?" Sorry, I wanted to do that lol

Spice travels back and forth between the Golden Cheese Kingdom and the Spice Ridge by himself a lot (for work, basically), and he brings Jack with him whenever he can (after Paneer was born, he started either taking them both or alternating between them each time so they get an equal amounts of trips with him). He actually likes when his son joins him to do stuff, even if it's "boring" king/leader duties (which Jack does not find boring, he actually is legitimately interested in things like that and likes that his dad takes him to his "work")

They go on hunting trips often, too. Spice got him in on that early - as soon as he could walk in a straight line without tripping lol. Paneer doesn't like hunting (she actually really loves animals and doesn't want to hurt any ever), so it remained purely a father/son activity. They'll go out for a while - a few hours usually, or even a few days if Spice wants to go somewhere far for a challenge - and hunt game together. They lock onto/track something and work out a plan of attack, so to speak. They both have very different ways of doing/approaching things, both on a hunt and in general (it's those clashing personalities again), so they try to meet halfway and think of something that works for them both. They actually work quite well together and make a good team. (As Jack ages, Spice grants him a little more control/authority of their hunts, to see how he handles taking charge of something like that. Jack does well, for the most part. It makes Spice really proud.)

Jack likes to tell Spice about things he learns (he likes telling both his parents, really). Jack is very smart and even more curious, so he tends to pick a thing or two up every day, even if just a bit of obscure trivia - and he likes to share it with his dad, because he actually likes hearing what Spice has to say about stuff. He'll show him books, he'll bring Spice with him to the library when he can so they can read books together (I honestly think Spice is a smart guy, or at least I headcanon him as such. He was the Herald of History; it's canon that he used to enjoy having deep, open-minded discussions with others, particularly about history, so I think that lends itself to Spice being reasonably intelligent, even wise to some degree). When he was little, he'd just walk up to Spice with a book in hand and climb into his lap, then either ask him to read it to him or ask to read it together. (While Spice no longer fully possesses the patience he once had to entertain people's thoughts and attempts at conversation (he regained a decent amount, but a few millennia being violently antisocial kinda damages your people skills lol)... he has all the patience in the world for his son, so he's happy to indulge him.) Somewhere underneath this behavior is Jack's inherent need/want to get closer to his father, because (as I've mentioned in another post) they're so different from each other otherwise and he doesn't want that little gap between them to exist. They don't always understand each other very well and Jack doesn't like that. And there's still that little nagging insecurity in his heart that Spice is disappointed in who he is and he's not "worthy" of being his son, so it sometimes leads to him trying too hard to "prove" himself to Spice in one way or another. He knows his dad is smart, and he knows his dad will at least indulge him when he wants to tell him stuff, so that's the avenue Jack most often takes. "Look, Father, I know lots of things like you do. I know/want to know history like you do. I'm like you, see? Am I doing a good job?" Some sort of thought process like that. It's sad and unnecessary, but Jack doesn't really understand that for a long time (that "not knowing how to communicate with each other" thing doesn't help)

They also like to spar. Spice always made the biggest effort and took on the biggest role in training the kids in combat, and that reflects in him having one-on-one fights/sparring sessions with them both often. It's one of the ways he likes/tries to bond with them the most; he never loses his taste for battle even as a better man, and he wants to share that excitement with his children. He fights them for practical reasons and also just for fun. Jack views sparring more as a way to let off steam than to have fun (not that he doesn't have fun, though), so he doesn't necessarily always dig this every single time (because he's not upset about something all the time, you know?), but he rarely turns Spice down when he challenges him, so.

And this is more when Jack is little than any other time, but - Spice likes to pick him up and carry him around places. Jack will sit or perch on his shoulders and they'll walk around together. Just a father/son stroll, just because. Jack likes it because it makes him feel tall (Spice is like 6'5" minimum in my headcanon lol). Spice knows it makes him feel tall, so he helps his son pretend he's tall for a little while lol. They do this a lot less after Jack gets past toddler age; Jack thinks it's a little embarrassing to get piggyback rides when he's older... He just sticks to walking by Spice's side like a "mature" person then. But... Sometimes he misses clinging to his dad and feeling tall, so he'll just go ahead and fly up and perch on his shoulders like he used to. And Spice just lets him do it, whenever he wants, without any issue, because he likes being seen and admired as this larger-than-life figure (figuratively and literally) by his kids

[samsalami66]

Cinnamon Warmth

I simply HAD to write a little continuation of @unpredictable-probabilities' wonderful fic Where It Goes, so definitely read her fic before you read this one or else this will make little sense!

Read either here or on AO3!

To be completely honest, Morpheus was a bit nervous now that he was standing in front of the Gadling family home, his one hand resting in the crook of Hob’s elbow. Agreeing to Christmas brunch with Hob's parents had been easy as they had laid in the bed of the hotel, relishing each other's presence and warmth in their own little bubble, away from the rest of the world. But standing in front of the other man’s childhood home as his unexpected plus one for Christmas was a bit more spontaneous than his usual endeavours, and so the nervousness perhaps should have been expected. 

Hob on the other hand seemed totally unbothered that he would be introducing a man he met the day before to his parents, even with what had happened to him last Christmas. Morpheus strived for such a level of self-assuredness and optimism. If he were lucky his family would only disown him for such a decision. Or behead him, if he were less lucky. 

“Promise they don't bite,” Hob murmured to his right, and Morpheus snorted in response. 

“I wouldn't be too sure of that. Their son certainly didn't seem disinclined if prompted, and he must have learned it from someone.” 

“That would be Marleen's influence right there, I tend to keep my teeth to myself.” A male voice suddenly answered from the doorway, amused to no end. Morpheus whipped around with a deep blush rising on his face to the man now standing in the doorway to Hob's home. Leave it to him to make a bloody fool of himself first thing. 

Mr. Gadling was a very soft man, with smile lines around his mouth and crows’ feet around his eyes, which sparkled with the same sort of mischief Morpheus had already witnessed on Hob's face. There was also the same sort of resolve to make him feel safe and welcomed, and Morpheus deflated a bit at that slowly familiar look on his face. 

“Apologies, Mr. Gadling,” he said quickly and held out a hand to Hob's father, determined to overcome his social faux-pas as quickly as possible. “I'm Morpheus, Hob's… friend. At least for now.” 

The man barked a laugh at that and ignored his hand in favour of giving Morpheus a full-bodied hug. “I do like a man that knows what he wants! Call me Frank. No need to be all formal with family, eh?” 

Morpheus was released with a clap to his back and the most stunned expression he had ever worn in his life. He was given a moment to collect himself as Mr. Gadling moved to hug his son with the same enthusiasm he had bestowed upon Morpheus. The comparison made something ache in his chest, but in the best way he could imagine. 

“Now come in, boys, it's freezing! Marleen will want to meet the new face, so prepare for all the usual motherly fussing.” Mr. Gadling winked at him then, and Morpheus had exactly zero seconds to prepare before he was being pulled into the next pair of arms at the same time as Hob. 

“Oh, Robert, you didn't say you would be bringing such a gorgeous young man along!” The woman now embracing them both had a smile that rivalled the sun and brown eyes the same shade as Hob's. She smelled faintly of garlic and bacon and herbs, which caused Morpheus' stomach to growl with interest. The croissant perhaps hadn't quite been enough to fully ease his hunger this morning. “And he's hungry too! Well thank goodness I just finished preparations for brunch.” 

Mrs. Gadling shooed them into the dining room before Morpheus even had the chance to introduce himself and then headed off back towards the kitchen to continue her preparations. All that Morpheus could now do was blink, but somehow it didn't help with his orientation. Beside him Hob chuckled, then slowly led them to the table so they could sit down. 

“Perhaps I should have mentioned that they're very handsy.” 

Honestly, Morpheus wasn't sure if that would have helped. Nothing could have prepared him for this welcome. 

“It's alright…” Morpheus frowned as he realised that it really was alright. Usually he hated physical contact. But somehow, this wasn't too bad. Some part of him was even hoping to experience it again. The Gadlings were… warm. Their touch felt soothing instead of irritating. Perhaps it was a quality the whole family shared. “They're nice.” 

“They try their best,” Hob agreed and Morpheus nodded in response. 

Pans and pots clattered in the kitchen and some colourful but delighted curses accompanied most sounds. Morpheus was itching with the need to make himself useful. 

“Shouldn't we help your mother with preparations?”

“Not if we want to keep our heads, no. She takes great pride in preparing Christmas brunch by herself, we get to do the washing up later, if we're lucky.” Hob’s voice was fond as he talked about his mother, about this joke that must be reoccurring every year. 

“Marleen is a very independent woman,” Mr. Gadling agreed with a smile from the doorway, and Morpheus got the feeling that popping in on conversations like this was simply his thing. 

“She certainly seems like one, Sir.” Morpheus cringed a bit at his politeness, but no offer of first names could erase a lifetime of addressing even one's own father as ‘sir’. 

“Polite boy you are, hm?” He chuckled and sat down opposite them, then rested his chin on one of his hands to look at them. “How did you guys meet?” 

Morpheus opened his mouth to answer, when Mrs. Gadling suddenly flicked her husband against the temple with a disapproving click of her tongue. 

“At least wait until we're eating before you grill them. Here, be quiet.” She instructed and shoved a steaming pastry into Mr. Gadling's mouth, who only shrugged and munched away happily on the very fluffy looking cinnamon roll. 

Mrs. Gadling then places the rest of the tray and several other types of pastries on the table, quickly followed by a spread of hearty cheeses and meats and bread, as well as a pot of tea. It was simple, but the heat radiating off the pastries and breads spoke of a very early morning spent in the kitchen and hours upon hours of preparation work. Morpheus felt slightly unworthy of being on the receiving end of such a meal, made with care and love and at the sacrifice of time and energy. 

His own parents did not cook or bake or put any effort of their own whatsoever into Christmas dinners. They hired private chefs that made incredible eight course meals which only tasted of the craft but never of love. 

When Morpheus bit into a warm cinnamon roll dripping with sugary goodness and topped with an ungodly amount of frosting he tasted nothing but the love Mrs. Gadling held for her family. And possibly enough sugar to give him cavities overnight. He dove in again immediately after the first bite. 

Mrs. Gadling looked pleased at his enthusiasm as she cut off a piece of fresh bread for herself and buttered it generously. 

“So, now, how did you meet your lovely new friend, Robert?”

Hob chuckled at the curiosity in her voice and quickly swallowed his mouthful of cream cheese puff pastry. 

“Fell asleep on him on the train yesterday.” Two pairs of eyebrows were raised at that and Morpheus felt a blush dust his cheeks again. “And Morpheus very gallantly saved me from face-planting when the train suddenly broke down.”

Mr. Gadling made a face that said Yep, sounds like my son and Morpheus wasn't sure what it said about Hob that such a situation apparently was very like him. 

“And you just decided to tag along for Christmas brunch, darling?”

It took Morpheus an embarrassingly long time to realise she was addressing him with ‘darling’. Considering she didn't ask his name, he probably shouldn't be so surprised. 

“Er, yeah. Yes, sorry. I didn't have any other plans for the day and as Hob offered… I hoped his family would be as lovely to spend time with as he himself is. And I haven't been disappointed.” 

“Oh what a charmer!” Mrs. Gadling laughed in delight and nodded her approval. “I'm glad we didn't scare you away yet, sweetheart. But I gather if you survived a full day with Robert, you'll survive a meal with us.” 

“It is no hardship,” answered Morpheus quickly, then turned slightly more red than he had already been. “Neither spending time with Hob nor with you. I feel very welcomed, although you barely know me.” 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Gadling smiled indulgently at his words and Hob, too, seemed touched by them. 

“You're going to be good for our boy.” Mr. Gadling stated then and Mrs. Gadling hummed her agreement. “So, what do you do, son? Music or art?” 

[callsign-dexter]

Worlds Collide Part 1

Summary: Buck and you make your getaway from your parents and go exploring the world.

Pairings: Evan Buckley x Twin!Sister!Reader, Maddie Buckley x Sister!Reader, OC!Alejandro 'Alex' Miguel Diaz x Buckley!Reader (eventually)

Warnings: fluff, angst, underage drinking, bad parents

Masterlist

Worlds Collide

A/N: I feel like this is really short but I don't want to put too many things in the beginning. Anyways here is the beginning of Worlds Collide

Being a Buckley child was hard enough but being Evan Buckley's twin sister was even harder. You were never treated with respect and never got the attention like your older sister, Maddie Buckley. You were never allowed to make friends so you and Buck stuck together since he was in a similar situation. To be honest your parents never wanted you; they only wanted Buck to be a ‘spare parts’ donor to your older brother Daniel who had passed away. You were a surprise sure they took care of you but it wasn't with love. The only constant in your life was Buck and Maddie.

Maddie was a godsend when it came to you and Buck. When you both got hurt, she was the one taking care of you. She was the one to actually raise the two of you when your parents weren't around or not taking care of you when you weren't hurt. Getting hurt was the only time your parents paid attention to you and your brother. When your time of the month came around, she helped you through everything and which products you needed and what was best. When it came time for both of you to shave, she was there helping.

Buck was your partner in crime, best friend for life, and knight in shining armor. When nobody else would listen, he was there lending an ear and when you were upset, he was lending a shoulder to cry on. Every step he would take you would happily take with him and he didn't mind not in the least bit. You two were basically the same person. You two knew what each other was thinking and knew when something was wrong with each other. It could be all due to being twins or just understanding each other. Buck had a lot of girlfriends and some you liked and some you didn't. If they had anything bad to say about you, they were gone the next day. That's how close you two were. 

People often ask what you want to do with your life. You really didn't have an answer because honestly you didn't know. You never really thought about settling down because of how you were raised and nobody wanted you so you stuck to yourself and Buck. Honestly you just wanted out of the house away from your parents. So, when Buck said that he was leaving and asked you to go with him you jumped at the chance. You could remember clear as day when he asked. You both had just graduated high school and had gone to a party that night since your parents weren't going to do anything for you and they didn't care. The party was in full swing and the both of you decided to get away after it became too much. So, you grabbed drinks, even if you were underage, and headed to the roof of the house. Both of you laid down looking up at the stars. “Do you ever think of getting out here?” Buck asked after a few minutes of silence, both had been a little tipsy.

“All the time.” You said taking a drink.

“Let's go.” He said and you set up to look at him.

“What?” You asked

“Let's get out of here. Let's leave this place. Our parents don't appreciate us. We don't need to take that shit any longer.” He said looking into your eyes that matched his.

“Ok.” You said and he smiled.

“Yea?” He asked

“Yes, I'm tired of being held back. I wanna escape.” You said as he pulled you into his side. “Us against the world.” You added.

“Exactly. Us against the world.” He said. “I love you sis.” He said kissing the side of your head.

“I love you too, bro.” You replied snuggling into your brother. Both had fallen asleep and didn't wake up until the sun began to rise. The both of you were rushing to get out of the house and disappear before anyone noticed. Once you were home the both of you had to sneak your way into the house because the both of you had snuck out. The both of you had asked Maddie to leave too with you 1 night after graduation and she was on board but quickly backed out of it because of her abusive boyfriend Doug but she encouraged you both to go and gave you the Jeep keys. You remember that day too. 

It was a late night 1 day after graduation your parents had gone out leaving Maddie to stay with you, although you both didn't need a babysitter. You 3 were sitting on the couch watching some stupid movie when you and Buck looked at each other and had a whole conversation with your eyes. You both nodded and so you spoke up “Maddie?” You asked and she turned to look at you.

“What's up?” She asked 

“We're leaving.” You said and she was confused.

“What do you mean?” She asked 

“Evan and I are leaving. We're getting out.” You said and she looked over to him

“Is this true?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yea it is.” He said 

“Come with us.” You said 

“Y/N/N…” She said 

“Leave your abusive boyfriend and come with us.” You said

“He's not abusive. He just loses his temper sometimes.” Maddie said, defending him.

“Mads…. Don't bullshit me. I know what he does. I can see even when you try to hide. He's breaking you and I hate it.” You said and Buck nodded in agreement.

“Please come with us.” He pleaded it was silent while she debated it.

“Ok.” She said after a minute of silence.

“Really?” You asked

“Really.” She said

“Great! We'll leave tomorrow morning!” Buck exclaimed glad that he was going to have both sisters with him. 

The next morning, however, she didn't go with the two of you. She hurriedly was pushing you both out the door and giving you the keys to her Jeep, that would become Buck's. “Mads…” You said with pain in your eyes.

“I know. I know. I just can't. I really want to but I can't. I love you both so much.” She said with tears in her eyes as you hugged her unshed tears burning your eyes as you nodded. “Now go before you get stuck here.” She said as she released you and hugged Buck. Buck got into the driver's side after she hugged him and you in the passenger side and the both of you were taking off. You knew that would be the last time seeing her for a while of course you would still be I'm contact with each other but you would probably never see her face to face. Later you would find out that she married him.

“Where to?” Buck asked 

“Anywhere.” You said and he nodded and started driving. Your adventures just began.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@twistersmaverick

@callsign-revenge

[spirk-trek]

Hey so, it's me. The debbie-downer vaguing you in the spirk tag. I didn't mention you directly because my post wasn't directed at you, although it was made in response to checking some of your posts because I do have Unification in my filtered list (content and tag), so those fanworks? Behind a button, so my choice to look is all my own. (I didn't send the anon, though. That was someone else, sorry to say.) It sucks that that's how tumblr's system works but yay content filtering! Tumblr didn't always have that.

I didn't make that post to start drama, and I'm not the sort to get my kicks by being a contrarian for opposition's sake (like. I'm a Shatner fan. In a lot of online Star Trek spaces, I might as well say I hate K/S or Leonard Nimoy or kick puppies in my spare time, you know?), but I did make it in anger and for that I apologize. I should have waited longer on it to phrase things better or simply have deleted it from my drafts after typing it out. (But it's out there now and I'll live with it.)

I do understand where the joy of connecting the past to the present comes from (as a lot of your posts do with connecting old and new fanworks together), and that a lot of people are celebrating the Unification short as a culmination of 50+ years of K/S despite their initial separation according to the initial story, but for me (personally! I want to stress that. It's just me and my own opinion here), I keep seeing it as a valuing of what a company is finally offering fans rather than the celebration of fans who saw where K/S's story ended at the time, rejected that ending that was offered by the corporation, and made their own ending for K/S, without looking towards any official channels as a guide for their visions. That's what my post was about, where my anger was from, those questions--what becomes lost in fandom if we accept canon from the corporation that holds the copyright? What does it say if we look towards that same canon as being above what fandom has already envisioned? In a fandom as old as Star Trek's, one that laid so much groundwork that we take for granted, to overlook that worries me.

I suppose the biggest issue here is it's too similar, like a reflection in a mirror: on one side, Unification stands as the canonization of what the fandom has envisioned all along. It culminates. On the other, Unification appears as a bone tossed to finally appease fans who have seen K/S from the start and it feels too little, too late. Ironically enough, the short has seemingly managed to divide people, but it's too early to tell how lasting such a division could be.

Hopefully I've cleared the air by this. Unification clearly is not my cup of tea and I'm honestly not trying to ruin anyone's fun (most of my posts have gone untagged for a reason but I forget tumblr still parses for post content to index. Yikes. That post was tagged, though, because it was a snap decision made in anger and I wanted my thoughts to be seen). One could argue the short wasn't even made for me as I've long wondered if I will watch Generations because I've read the summary and didn't like it. But that's the joy of fandom and transformative works. We can look at the story and pick our favorite parts and rewrite the ones we don't like. If we didn't do that, fandom wouldn't exist, or it would but it wouldn't be as much fun.

Sorry for the essay in your inbox and for causing any confusion and hurt. I hope you've had a great day 💛

i'm not going to lie, it does hurt a little. i wasn't going to answer this publicly but i don't have the time today to have a private convo and i don't want you to think i deleted it or ignored it, so here we are.

i don't think unification made spirk any more canon than tmp did. i don't think the short was made with k/s in mind at all, even as a bone to toss starving shippers. star trek at large was never intended as a love story between them, but people have always seen it anyway. 

i'm conflicted about the use of nimoy's likeness too. despite that, i think that they did it as respectfully as they could have and involved the right people. it was a goodbye, not using him for a cheap cameo or advertising purposes (yes i know it was an "ad" like everything is, but it's not like spock holds up a coke at the end). you can disagree with me, and i understand your point of view. that's why i said i understood where that anon was coming from. 

what i see is william shatner and others taking a story that ended in a way that was disrespectful to both characters, one of which he himself has been playing for the majority of his life, and trying to fix that. it doesn't mean there's no corporate greed involved. both can be true. at least they posted it on youtube, they didn't premiere it or put it behind a paywall. it was just eight minutes, and less than a quarter of that had nimoy's face in it. my favorite part of the whole thing was seeing tos kirk meet his future selves. i love that even though they both die out of their times, they find each other in the end. 

i don't want to be an activist or defend or endorse anything, i just... 

those zines i tagged were 1) a poem by della van hise that was so accurate to the short that others were already reblogging it (i posted it weeks ago). i found it super interesting that she wrote a poem about them meeting again in death before tmp/wok even came out, let alone this short. 2) i was gushing about unification in the tags. 3) another poem about being side by side, which again, i found incredibly relevant. the other one i posted was because it went well with the others visually. it has nothing to do with unification other than the fact that spock is laying down. 

this has just made me sad tbh. i'm not angry and i love your analysis/fan work so much, so :( idk, i don't want anything i post to be divisive or disrespectful. i wasn't even worried about that before. i just really needed a win and maybe i clung to that a little too hard :/

[dropthedemiurge]

Hi again!

I'm just here to spread a fun fact:

the break up in LFLS is so much sadder in the novel -

A few hours/days before (When grandma's in the hospital and the mission for choosing between Yeowoon and Grandma appear) Myungha and Yeowoon go peach picking -

Myungha starts his convo where he talks about not knowing HOW to love someone, Yeowoon interprets this as a break up and tells Myungha to stop talking - and Myungha manages to explain himself as Yeowoon sheds a few tears -

Myungha says he will never break up with Yeowoon, (then they almost get caught by security and flee)

After he makes his choice (saving both), his time ticks down to 36 days. He feels dizzy, and Yeowoon catches him. Yeowoon helps him, taking him inside his house and laying him down in a blanket.

After a small while - when the dizziness subsides - Yeowoon feeds Myungha some porridge and asks him what that was all about, but Myungha says nothing.

Myungha begs Yeowoon not to hate him.

Then, seeing his days so low, Myungha knows he has to break up with him that night.

Myungha takes Yeowoon in the train to were he used to live at 29 - they roam the streets, talk about life, eat special food (something that Yeowoon's Grandma used to make Yeowoon eat on rainy days), and sit by the river at night.

Yeowoon is SO excited because he thinks Myungha is finally opening up to him the way he's always wanted — he doesn't even consider this the start of a breakup.

THEY EVEN EAT ICE CREAM BY THE RIVER -

its one of those icecreams with two lolly sticks - they break the icecream in two. Myungha gets the smaller piece, but Yeowoon gives him his bigger peice.

Myungha tries so hard to tell Yeowoon the truth about this being a game, about his missions, and everything else — but he physically cannot because the game-world won't let him.

he then HAS to break up,

at first Yeowoon doesnt believe it, but then he gets angry and kisses Myungha to stop him.

Myungha pushes him away rather harsh, telling him to stop - Yeowoon starts crying, he then gets on his knees with tears, literally begging, saying he'd do anything to get back together - he'll fix himself to what Myungha wants.

Yeowoon grabs on so tight to Myungha's hand, holding it against his cheek with tears dribbling down.

Yeowoon says he loves Myungha and constantly apologises for how he's acting, now and in the past, promising to do better, he just wants to be with Myungha.

Myungha pulls his arm away - it starts to rain again,

his days increase from 36 days to 100 days

===========================================

I find this version so much sadder (and better tbh) because Yeowoon is so excited the whole time, he's giggling and blushing. honestly just soo happy that Myungha was sharing a part of him - this was something Yeowoon had been asking for time and time again.

But the whole thing has sad undertone as Myungha reitteres in his inner dialogue how this would be their last date, their last meal ect.

And unlike the Kdrama where Yeowoon could maybe guess, in this version, it was totally outta nowhere for him,

the way Yeowoon's cute smile drops in the novel in disbelief is the most gut wrenching thing ever.

also the line where Yeowoon says "I know you don't like me the way I do" makes a lot more sense in the context of the novel, where its clear that Myungha is clearly holding himself back from fully investing in the relationship and is honestly more distracted and tense. (he doesnt say how he feels, he doesn't want to kiss Yeowoon, ect)

i wish the drama was longer to add these moments :(

===========================================

Once more, sorry for spamming again and thanks for reading :D

i just needed to share

Stay Safe <3

You are so right IT IS VERY SAD :((

I think the English translation on novel website actually had some of these break up chapters? I definitely remember the illegal peach picking and the underlying sadness ugh Т__Т

And I also wish Kdrama was a bit longer so we could sit with them and make breakup more smooth and logical... but also I still think they worked the novel into it very well. Like, there's that short scene that's absolutely gut-wrenching for me - when they are on a rooftop and Yeowoon is excited, saying 'let's go pick chestnuts in autumn!' and Myungha pauses - what a heavy pause - and only says 'don't forget to take care of yourself' because of immediate doom of the Game. It's different plot-wise but the similar dreadful feeling is there.Т___Т

But also yes, the LFLS novel has so many sad and sweet extra scenes! I wish all of them were adapted in Kdrama version! (and the extension from 36 days to 100 days would make sense, I found Kdrama game mechanics a bit wobbly at the end with that breakup/time with Myungha return/different timeline etc, but probably yes, novel gives it more sense and they had to change it to align with their script)

Thank you for sharing delicious parts from the novel :D I'll share the spinoff in Korean with you as soon as I save the copy!

[magiclwritings]

Cesare felt the air around him still and chill in the same stroke. His eyes narrowed on Quin and all the alcohol he'd drank felt as though it evaporated through every pore on his body. In that moment he couldn't understand the man's tone but he felt the rigidiness just the same. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. Had Beau confused him for a few moments? Yes. But nothing more had come of that. And once the prince found out who he was and what he was doing, it wasn't difficult to deduce the rest. But clearly Quintus wasn't ready or willing to do that yet and he'd have to explain in a way that didn't seem as though he were trying to defend the other to him. Wasn't he just the one being made to be made?

"I don't think it's difficult to understand that someone in his line of work." He paused, staring pointedly at the other for a moment before he continued. "Don't always receive the best treatment. And knowing the man that was pulling his strings." Which was partly a lie. Cesare didn't know their uncle well. Or, as well as he'd thought he had. In all the years he'd ventured to the castle in Vivec alone and in his father's tow, he'd never had Richard treat him poorly. The odd comment here and there, with more frequency as he'd grown closer to Quin, but never would he have guessed he was a power hungry man, hell bent on dethroning his own nephews at any cost. "I didn't think it was such a jump to assume that some of what has happened with you may also have happened with him." His brow raised and he sighed out, not ready to admit the next part. "Because you do look similiar enough that I imagine whatever he he wanted to say or do to you he often took out on Beau instead when the opportunity didn't present itself with you."

The prince stretched himself out on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. There it is. The soft, fuzzy feeling of the meade found him again and he breathed out slowly. "You've never told me the extent of what happened with ... Richard." He started, crossing his ankles over each other and his hands folded over and laid against his lap. It was hard to hear that name in his own voice. Until that moment he was fairly certain they'd never uttered his name between themselves. But the threat was very real and not using his name made it feel like he was bigger than they, and that simply could never be in Cesare's opinion. "Beau wasn't kind when he said it." He started, his fingers itching to dig into anything to make this less painful to speak about, less painful to watch Quintus' face when he'd finally gotten it out. "But I started putting it together. The way you don't like to be touched and how you're constantly on top of everything and everyone." He gave a slight shake of his head because honestly this did nothing but show just how strong this man on the bed was to him. And should be to everyone. "He only confirmed the missing piece that I'd been guessing at."

Cesare's tongue swiped along his lips to keep them from drying out completely. "Please don't take my kindness towards him as anything but that." He swallowed hard and fought himself on what he was about to say next but he thought better than to hide it. "When I first came upon Beau in what were suppose to be your quarters I couldn't be sure it was you. The room was too dark." The contents of his stomach churned and he felt odd enough to shift his weight. "He shared a kiss or two but nothing more than that." His cheeks instantly flared to the bright redness of coals and he found himself wanting to sink completely into the mattress. "I realized he wasn't you and threatened him within an inch of his life to get me to you and when that didn't work." He sighed and shrugged again. "I just tried to treat him like a person." He paused, seeing the snide comment coming quick but he cut Quin off before it could be made. "He wants to live. Free. Just like you and I. Just like everyone else. I couldn't imagine the sort of life one leads pretending to be someone else. Never having anything that is truly your own." Cesare gave a slight shake of his head and breathed out through his nose. "I just didn't want to be the sort of person that sees someone in a bad position regardless of their own involvement and not do anything to help. I've never been that way and I won't start now." He was firm on that whether Quin liked it or not. He could only hope his honesty didn't cost him everything else in the process.

Beau didn’t deserve anything, especially from Quintus, and as he rolled over to tell Cesare just that, he stopped being cold in his movements. 

He survived not great things too. 

Quin’s body went cold at the words, eyes narrowing as he read them for what they were. It could mean that Cesare knew, but he was many things, and a great actor was not one of them. He believed if Cesare knew about his past with his uncle, he would not be able to contain himself. His future husband would go through all of the stages of grief knowing that any kind of physical harm had come to Quintus, especially at such a young age. He could have simply meant all of the other horrors his uncle had committed, but that was banking on the idea that Cesare hadn’t made the connection regarding what Beau was to Quin’s uncle. 

It was challenging to decide if he wanted to press it when he couldn’t determine precisely what Cesare knew. If he did know, Quin would have to live with the stain of his uncle tainting their relationship, potentially ruining their future wedding plans. If he didn’t realize, Quin would be serving the truth to him on a silver platter. 

He sat up as Cesare came over with the tray. He only ate what was handed to him because he didn’t want Cesare to comment on his lack of appetite. Quin ate slowly, chewing meticulously, but everything tasted like ash, and with every bite, he had to force himself to swallow. It was like chewing nails. He listened to Cesare’s words, looking up from the dried fruit in his hands to study his expression. If there was ever a time Quintus wished he could read minds, it was this moment. 

He wanted to share Cesare’s excitement about having both Avenicci brothers under the same roof and look forward to experiencing Adros with Cesare, but Quin was that kind of man. He couldn’t let things go; he couldn’t ignore the possibility that Cesare may know and wasn’t admitting it. 

“What did you mean,” He said slowly, carefully. He ripped the piece of fruit in his hand to shreds, flicking the bits of skin off on the tray. “Earlier.’ Quintus glanced up at Cesare, gaze scanning over his face. “When you said ‘He survived not great things too’?” Quin raised a brow, waving his hand flippantly. “He was playing a role for my uncle. Pretending to be me, he agreed to go to trial disguised as me to plead guilty. While I was locked in my room and drugged constantly,  he had the run of the castle and could come and go as he pleased.  Anything he wanted was given to him as long as he played by my uncle’s rules, which he did so eagerly. So I suppose I’m just confused about what horrors he faced that you have been made aware of. He’s faced enough to warrant you saving and smuggling him out of the country. So please, do share."

[bitter-syscourse]

Like, I'm a black woman and holy shit have I not seen a worse take than yours about race and fucking alter names 😬😬😬

i’d like to assume that because you’re black (hopefully not in a white system??) that you’d understand, but unfortunately, i learned that not everyone is as understanding as a heavy majority of people.

if you’re okay with people appropriating your culture, whatever. that’s not my business and it never will be. but you need to understand that not everyone feels that same way, and a vast majority of people are against this.

i am not going to go out and name my child a stereotypical black name when i myself am not black. THAT is culture appropriation, THAT is racism.

also, holy shit, this blog hasn’t been used properly in forever. we’ve been stepping away from syscourse due to health reasons. i also don’t know how this is even considered syscourse rn, not unless you’re attempting to call me racist for having an opinion that a majority of other POC agree on.

[ssaalexblake]

it’s also baffling to me that tumblr, home of the ‘why are white men Still being cast as the doctor’ for So many years now (For you know, like over a decade.) is somehow not appalled that they hired a white dude to be the next Doctor because look okay it’s okay if it’s This white man. 

I mean, I do not consent to acknowledge that they’ve shoved him in there under any circumstance, but my Only need for the casting of the next person was that it was Not a white man, otherwise i didn’t care who it was, so when they “announced” Gatwa I was satisfied (i am hesitant to say they announced it bc it was more like a tiny footnote than an announcement, oh the disrespect) and it took a whole seven days (it was literally seven days. Yes i counted. it was easy since it was only seven days) it was ‘actually sorry no it’s this white dude we’ve already had before did we forget to mention that???’ and it’s steadily gotten worse and worse. 

That This site of all places is not up in arms about both the situation and how it specifically played out is depressing, but also massively and darkly hilarious.  

Especially since i Also remember nobody on this site thought casting Whittaker was good enough but literally going backward to a previous white man is?? This is not even a metaphor about diversity getting worse, they literally looked backwards. 

But, yeah,  tenn/ant with the ‘what the future looks like’ headline is uh... Good???? Not super worrying and ominous? 

I feel like i’ve been dumped in some weird parallel universe by reactions to all of this on here like??? the whole way this was done was appalling, the situation is appalling, but i guess the bbc/disney should get a rousing round of applause for accurately judging that nobody would care about their poor actions if the specific white guy they cast was popular enough that next to nobody would care. 

( and to the ‘it’s an anniversary ep’ thing, they legit could have just set a couple of eps in the past. i don’t mean they travel to the past. i mean just say ‘hey this ep is set during s4!’ and nobody would care. this show does weirder stuff than this every second episode. and it would still be bad, but how they did it is so much Worse.)