#how many times can I say the word 'probably' in one post

[cherrygirlfriend]

pairing: frat!rafe x tutor!reader synopsis: reader attends a frat party where the theme is to dress up as your type warnings: fluff! wc: 1.3k i got this idea from the wonderful @rafeyscurtainbangs and it had me dead because it's so funny and i can picture him wearing that… i also tried out a new kinda formatting for funsies ^_^ also i'm surprised i’ve never posted for frat!rafe? anyway first fic for 2025!

you'd never really been much into parties, your best friend constantly trying to get you to go to some of the various parties the social butterfly had gotten invited to, but you simply held up the book you were in the middle of and let out a soft hum as a way to say that you had your own plans. after some more pleading, lexi always gave up trying to convince you to come and left you in your own devices, returning in the early hours of the morning, trying to be as quiet as possible yet waking you up every time.

but this time, all the girl had to do was mention the frat party she was going to that night when you let out a sigh and told her you'd come with her. maybe there was a second reason you wanted to go, other than to just please your friend.

"we're having a party this friday."

you chuckled, turning your gaze from the book in front of you to the boy next to you, "you're in a fraternity, rafe. i'm pretty sure that happens every friday without exception."

your words caused the boy to roll his eyes, yet the small grin you'd grown to like still remained on his lips as he repositioned his backwards cap, "yeah, but it's a themed party. you should come."

"why?" you furrowed your brows in suspicion and confusion as to why he'd want you to attend, "what's the theme?"

"you're supposed to dress up as your type."

"and what are you going as? some kind of variation of jennifer from jennifer's body? or regina from mean girls?" you let out a small snort.

"guess you'll have to come if you wanna find out." the boy poked your forearm with the rubber end of his pencil, licking his lips, "i wanna see what kind of guys you are into. i bet it's some thrifty hipster dudes or some broody bad boys that secretly get hard for poetry and emily dickinson and shit."

you felt your cheeks warm from the memory as you placed the backwards cap on your head. you looked in the mirror, clad in loose jeans that hung low on your hips so it'd show off the calvin klein logo on your underwear, and a sweatshirt adorning the logo of your university. the outfit you wore looked just like something rafe would wear during one of your tutoring sessions. hell, he probably had.

lexi looked at you with raised brows, the muscular girl who usually wore dark, baggy clothes looked strange in the blue sundress she'd borrowed from you, her biceps basically protruding from the short sleeves, the girl's short black hair pulled up into a tiny attempt at a ponytail, wearing some simple makeup that you'd helped her apply.

"you're going as a frat guy? to a frat party?" she snorted, taking in your ensemble, "damn, you date so little that i had no idea that's the type of guy you were into."

you rolled your eyes, throwing her the handbag that she'd asked you if she could borrow, "and you're going as...?"

"a straight girl." lexi said, her usual shit-eating grin taking over her lips.

"in that case, you could've just worn like, a grey hoodie, those flared leggings, and a pair of white nike air force ones. most straight girls here do. i think you've failed at your assignment."

"shut up."

you were surprised by how many people actually dressed up according to the theme, especially over the number of frat boys wearing different types of skirts and dresses, some of them even sporting poorly done makeup looks on their faces.

having gotten separated from lexi almost the moment you arrived to the party, you were now leaning against the living room wall, hiding a part of your face behind a red solo cup half-full of some sort of concoction you'd found as you looked around. you'd always been better at standing aside, observing what everyone else was doing, rather than trying to join in.

you lifted the cup to your mouth and drank some of the nasty liquid, nearly spitting it out when you spot rafe chatting to his friends, just about managing to swallow it before you keel in laughter.

he stood confidently in a grey cardigan strewn over a white button-up that was so small on him it actually turned into a crop top, showing off the lower part of his abs, a faint happy trail as well as a defined v-line leading to a short black pleated skirt, his calves covered by black socks that ended just below his knees.

it seemed that your amusement had caught rafe's attention, as the moment you'd finally managed to straighten yourself up, the boy was strutting over to you, his hands on his hips in a way that almost caused you to go into another laughing fit.

"what's so funny?" rafe asked with lifted brows as he reached you, looking over your outfit with a pleased look on his face before gesturing to his own, "you don't think i look hot?"

"oh, definitely. the hottest." you snorted, bringing the drink to your lips and taking a small sip before pursing your lips in thought, "so, what's your type? britney spears?"

the boy's brows furrowed at that, "huh?"

"you look just like her in one of her music videos." you explained, your lips falling open in shock as his eyebrows continued to remain furrowed, "you don't know 'baby one more time'?"

"i haven't seen it." rafe shrugged, "what, you can't recognize who i'm trying to dress as?"

"i can't say i do. who?"

"i'm dressed as you."

you knew that if you were able to see yourself, your eyes would comically widen the moment the words left rafe's lips; and as you looked at him up and down, you realized, that his outfit was something you'd usually wear; just more lewd. "you're... dressed as me?"

"yeah. and clearly you're dressed as me."

"based- based on what?" you laughed incredulously, feeling your cheeks light up, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking just so you'd be able to hide a part of your face from the boy.

"well," rafe snatched the cap on your head, placing it on his instead, making his entire ensemble look even goofier, as he took hold of the front of your sweatshirt. "i'm pretty sure i've worn this exact same outfit."

"that doesn't mean anything… plenty of guys wear this." you mumbled from behind your cup, only to have rafe grab it from your hands, your eyes widening as you watched him finish it in one swallow, scrunching up the cup and throwing it on the floor somewhere.

cupping your chin with his finger and lifting it up so you were looking up at him, rafe brought his face closer to yours, his ice-blue eyes looking into yours in a way that made you feel like you were naked as his lips twisted into a knowing grin, "it doesn't?"

"n-"

before you could finish denying it, rafe's lips were pressed against yours; your eyes still wide open when his free hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

slowly, you felt yourself melt into the kiss, your eyes automatically closing as your lips moved against his. your hands were pressed against his chest, slowly moving down to feel his defined abs over the sheer button-up.

you could feel rafe's grin against your lips before he even pulled away, looking down at you with a knowing look on his face, the boy licking his lips causing you to bite down on your lower lip, your head spinning from just kissing him.

"so, that didn't mean anything, huh?"

[yoonia]

— Dia’s tumblr wrapped 2024 

I know it’s super late for me to share this, but just as many would say, it’s better late than never. Thank you so much for the lovely people who tagged me to do this: @beomcoups, @shadowkoo, @kingofbodyrolls ♡

2024 started off smoothly…until it didn’t. The final quarter of the year has always been a hard time for me and it wasn’t that much different this year. As you can probably notice that I’ve been mostly absent ever since the end of October and I deeply apologise for that. I also regret not planning things properly and for not keeping up with my goals this year but that only means that I'll be dragging my WIP list towards the next year.

Thank you so much for everyone who has been there for me this year, and those of you who have stuck by me despite my inconsistencies. I really appreciate your presence on my blog, whether it’s through your likes and kudos, your reblogs, your comments and replies on my contents, and the kind words you sent me through my ask box. You guys have made it worthwhile for me to be here even after all these years, and I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. Here’s to mark the end of our wild journey through 2024 and enter the new year of 2025. 

OVERALL FIC STATS 2024

Number of fics posted: 4 (four) one-shots, 2 (two) ongoing series, 3 (three) ficlets

Number of fics revamped: 2 (two) completed fics, 2 (two) ongoing series

Number of words written: 448,057 words (dang, no wonder I felt so burned out lol)

Number of fics in progress: 32 (oh, boy…) 

FIRST FIC OF 2024

❥ A Christmas Fix 01 & 02 —  posted Jan 31st & Feb 1st | 1,926 & 1,226 notes

My thoughts: This was…quite a journey. It’s been a while since I wrote a rom-com story and I was pleased to have been given the chance to write this idea through a collab. The final outcome wasn’t too disappointing either, since I enjoyed writing it and reading it afterwards. I’m glad everyone loved this story as well.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

❥ The Stand-In (Revamped version) — posted Aug 13th | 4,267 notes

My thoughts: Okay, yeah…I cheated a little. But to be fair, this fic did get a lot of notes this year before and after the revamping process. I loved this story so much that I felt like it deserved a major makeover and I’m glad I managed to do it this year.

LONGEST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Bedroom Hymns — series, ongoing, last updated Sept 9th | 50k++ words | I’m too lazy to open each chapter to count the notes I’m so sorry lol

My thoughts: I know…I know, I need to update this one again. I had to take a break from this series because this fic literally became my main focus this year that a lot of my WIPs kept getting pushed back just so I could finish more of this. I had to stop at some point to finally set free my WIPs. I have to admit that I also lost my motivation to write this due to the lack of notes and responses that I got with each update no matter how much time I spent working on it (tacky, I know…but it is what it is). I still love and enjoy writing this, so more chapters are coming. I can see this fic becoming my main focus again in 2025 until I’m done with it.

LAST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea — posted Oct 24th | 712 notes

My thoughts: Holy hell…this fic. Who would’ve thought that I’d be revisiting siren!Taehyung this year after…3 years?? Thank you, whoever it was that sent this during my birthday event. I never expected to write a full fic for this to continue the original story and to answer a lot of your questions, but I’m glad I did! 

Honorable mention: 

❥ Our Imperfections — posted Oct 30th | 92 notes

My thoughts: This was the last thing I actually released before I dipped into the void but I couldn’t count this as a fic as this was considered a ficlet or, in a more common term, a drabble.

PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024

❥ Blooming Wallflowers — posted Sept 25th | 927 notes

My thoughts: I had one of those rare moments where I found myself enjoying the writing process of a story so much that things simply kept flowing until it became a full story. This one went twice the size planned (and commissioned) but I have no regrets. At all.

Honorable mention: 

❥ Maps (revamped version) — series, completed, posted Sept 6th, 7th, & 11th | 1,4k++ notes (again, I’m too lazy to open each chapter lol)

My thoughts: I initially planned to release something else for DPR Ian’s birthday this year. But then I started revamping the graphics for his old fics instead and decided to revamp the whole series while I had the chance. This one has always been my fave work that I wrote for Christian, so diving back into this to do a makeover and give it a major upgrade felt absolutely fulfilling. 

2024 SPECIAL EVENT

❥ 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: yoonia’s 2024 birthday bash

My thoughts: Once again, I can’t thank you guys enough for joining this small event of mine. I promise that I’ll have another event in 2025 so please stay tuned! (see you in March!) 

Fave reads of 2024

I have to admit that I haven’t been doing a lot of fic reading this year. But I’m happy that I got to dive back into reading some fanfics during my birthday event and found some lovely gems that I truly enjoyed

The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo

Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan

The Athlete by @beomcoups

A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien

Dandelion by @shina913

The Wood by @sailoryooons

Minted by @kithtaehyung

Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil

On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon

Top Ten Tracks of 2024

Loved — B.I

People — Agust D

Make You Mine — Black Violet

Gemini — Cheyenne 

Close To Me — Mamie, Eloy, Trippy Bass

HUH?! — Agust D feat. J-hope

Love — Lana Del Rey 

Reasons — COTIS 

Watch Me Burn — Michelle Morrone 

Die First — Nessa Barrett  

GOALS FOR 2025

Write more. Tackle more WIPs each month. 

Finally finish my old abandoned WIPs (About Time, Blood Moon Rising and the Shifters Series, Chance Encounter) 

Finish writing and officially release my original stories/novel as a web-series

Try to do better with planning and scheduling and keeping up with them

Finish revamping Carousel and release the novel version on Ream

Read more. Both published books and released fics

Focus more on my personal health, mental and physical 

Start job hunting again

I know I’m late for this, so I’m passing this over to the writers who are tagged on the list above (if you haven’t done this yet) and also tagging a few who come across my mind right now (only if you want to!): @ressjeon @lo1k-diamonds @pars-ley @minisugakoobies @inkedtae

And also tagging randomly anyone who feels inspired to create their own tumblr wrapped! 

[mooncello]

2024 in review

Alright, there's a handful of hours left in 2024. So many of you have tagged me which is lovely. Hi. So much brilliant and amazing work has been created and shared this year. As well as countless kind comments and fic recs and supportive messages and general community.

My roundup will be a little different. I'm not gonna focus on numbers or word counts. Instead, I thought I'd focus on the most unexpected and delightful surprise that happened this year: Dev and Niall.

I never dreamed that these two would show up in a Snowbaz fic (lost boys) and I'd become so enamored with them that I'd no longer want to write anyone else in the fandom. Ok, this is a slight exaggeration but only just.

So, here is my 2024 by way of Niall and Dev:

(under the cut because I can't write short things, even tumblr posts)

I started the year with the posting of lost boys. A weird, dark merging of Snowbaz and Neverland. I hope to finish this fic in 2025.

Here's how Niall showed up in lost boys (Baz POV):

I look up to see a boy. He has an absolute mess of shaggy brown hair, his eyes are kind, and there’s paint on his fingertips. “You seem to be the most sane person here,” the boy says, and lowers himself into the seat across from me in the school canteen. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Looks can be deceiving. Maybe I’m completely mad.” He laughs at this. A soft, gentle sound. “Most artists are. I’m Niall.”

And Dev:

There’s the solid thump of a hand against my shoulder and the dramatic collapse of tall, muscular limbs into the seat beside me. “My favourite nerd. How’s it going, cuz?” Dev flashes his white, perfect teeth at me before snatching my remaining bourbon biscuit. His fingernails are painted turquoise today, his dark hair is swept away from his face, and he’s wearing eyeliner. The bastard looks amazing. Despite being cousins, we never really hung out as kids. Always kept to different social circles. Which is to say Dev constantly had a roving pack of friends, and I had nobody (save for the lost boys in my dreams). But when I got outed this past spring, Dev decided to take a more active presence in my life. He even convinced me to join the football team with him. He’s charismatic and popular in his own way, and so unabashedly and loudly himself that even the nastiest bullies don’t bother him. It's been nice, having Dev in my life. Even though it means I now deal with his chaotic, abrasive personality all the goddamn time.

Around this time, I was also drafting my COBB tripping over stars, a celebrity AU with skateboarder Simon and model/influencer Baz Pitch. (I have no idea if I'll finish this one. I want to; we'll see.) Niall and Dev showed up again in very different roles. This time Niall was a competent asf talent manager, and Dev his in-the-background supportive partner. I love this Niall so much. He's so feisty.

There's the clicking of smart brogues across the wood floor, and Niall appears in my line of vision, his gold-brown eyes blazing at something behind me ... As both my talent manager and personal friend, Niall is a goddamn force. And people think I’m the ruthless one. (Maybe on the runway. No, definitely on the runway. But everywhere else it's Niall Niall Niall.) “Sweetie, what’s the problem?” I ask Niall. I’m still slouched in the ancient chair, my arse so numb I’ll need an extra-long bath tonight, and I feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on. “I’m fixing it,” Niall returns crisply, and I swear his eyebrow quirk is now superior to mine. The traitor. His breath is minty which means he’s been chewing wintergreen Altoids nonstop. Which means he’s either very stressed or trying very hard not to smoke. Probably both.

And here's a fun lil something from the unpublished, unfinished chapter 3:

“Shit. Fuck.” Niall’s fingers are flying across his phone. “Okay, okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Dev’s going to take you home. Wash up. Stay off your phone. Do not post a single goddamn thing. Do not engage with any post, any comment. Do not answer phone calls or emails. I’m going to stay here and get more information.” There’s the muffled clacking of dress loafers on porcelain tile, and my head snaps up to see Dev running down the long hallway towards us. He takes one look at me, and his eyes light up in a kind of horrified-transfixed combination. “Hell’s teeth, Basil. You look like the first murder victim in a horror movie.” He smirks. “Or a really sloppy vampire.” “Can you not,” I growl. My skin starts to burn and itch. I need to get this foul shit off me now. “Take him home.” Niall tosses his car keys to Dev without looking up from his phone. I can hear the soft rumble of guests in the grand foyer through the wall. Niall suddenly glances up, skin pinched between his eyebrows. “No, wait, pap will show up there. Take him to mine. Discreetly.” “You got it, babe,” Dev drawls. Niall returns his attention to his phone, and says in a tight voice, “Dev, darling, this is serious.” Dev rolls his eyes. “I know.” Then he loops his fingers around my non-splattered arm. “C’mon Nosferatu, we can sneak out the rear exit.”

I got majorly blocked on both of these fics during the spring. I had no clue where to take either. I blew up my original outlines because they didn't feel right. Like ... I was way more interested in how Niall and Dev met in the celebrity AU and began daydreaming their story more than Simon and Baz. 🤔

Around this time I saw a carry on prompt on tumblr for a Dev and Niall fic in which they play matchmaker to Simon and Baz. And the seed was planted for more than a footnote.

more than a footnote started as a lark. It was supposed to be six chapters, 12k max, silly, fluffy, ridiculous, not serious. A palate cleanser if you will, until I got clarity on my other two wips. HA. This fic has captured my entire heart, and it is my absolute favorite thing I've ever written. Niall and Dev get to be center stage, and it's been such fun to flesh these characters out.

From Niall's POV:

Dev has always been comfortable in his body. He’s open and confident in a way that makes my chest ache. I wish I were more like that, but I’m sinew and bone whereas Dev is polish and muscle. Half the time I feel like something the cat drags in, and Dev, well … Dev’s the cat.

And:

The truth is: Dev is stunningly beautiful. He’s got one of those faces you want to stare at. Dark, liquid eyes and sharp angles. Expressive mouth. Then you add his piercings and eyeliner and nail polish and … overall Dev-ness and— Like, yeah, I get his appeal. But his looks are only a sliver of who he is. People don’t actually know him, and I kinda hate how much everyone talks about his abs and his cock, and not about him as, you know, an actual person. Because he’s really cool, with wicked intuition and an absolutely mad sense of humour. Underneath all his swagger, he’s deeply good.

And from Dev's POV:

What was I supposed to say anyway? That I’m looking at him, always? That I want him? I’ve had months to think about it, and my list just keeps growing longer. Of what I wish I had the balls to say that night. You should never spell your irises blue because your big brown eyes are enough to make me commit forbidden magic, if you asked. Your hair keeps getting darker each year. So the ginger kid I met at the Crucible now has brown hair threaded with copper, and when the sunlight catches it, I kinda want time to stop because it’s one of the prettiest fucking things I’ve ever seen. Your smile could power the sun. It sure as fuck controls my breathing. You’re real and honest without even trying. And you have the weirdest sense of humour. You make me laugh. You always have. You’re my favourite person. Ever.

Yeah. I love these guys.

And can I just say that DeNiall stans are the best? So many of you have left the most amazing comments on mtaf, and I've enjoyed chatting with you as each chapter's gone up. @rimeswithpurple made gorgeous fanart from chapter 3 and the cutest, most colorful DeNiall friendship bracelet I wear all the time. And @monbons MADE DEV AND NIALL DOLLS. Which I still can't get over. Just last night I saw my snowflake exchange gift from @iamamythologicalcreature who illustrated fanart from chapter 1. I am speechless; it is so very beautiful.

And finally, to get ridiculously sentimental on main: I've loved this fic more than I thought possible, in large part, because I got to know @valeffelees through the writing of it. Words are gonna fail me, dude, so I'm just gonna say that your friendship is one of the best things from this year. HOW'S THAT FOR PUBLIC AFFECTION. Are we puking yet?

a few stray thoughts:

while I love collabs and fests (I had a lot of fun collaborating with @iamamythologicalcreature on lost boys and @shemakesmeforget on tripping over stars), I've definitely (unfortunately) learned that time-constrained fests are not my friends. I want to participate in them, but my brain is very unpredictable and I end up stressed and worried about disappointing people, like my collaborators and mods. As I write this, I'm painfully aware of how very late my exchange gift is gonna be. But I've given my recipient a heads up and I swear the wait will be worth it. 🩵

I feel like I'm a slow writer. Perhaps speed is subjective. I do know that I have so many ideas bursting at the seams of my brain, and I often wonder what my creative output would be like if I didn't have my mental health shit to contend with. I spent entire weeks frozen this year, deep in my cave, unable to touch my writing projects. For someone for whom creativity is essential in feeling fully human, it sucks to have that part of myself unreachable. Urgency is a construct of capitalism so I'm trying to resist that wretched sense that I'm losing time, falling behind, etc, while I still have so much that only exists in my mind, desperate to be shared w others. Fics, original novels, screenplays, on and on. A filmmaker friend of mine gave me the advice: Don't plot it out. Trust the process. And nature reminds me all the time to allow things the time they need. You can't force it. Fuck, it's easier to say all that than actually let it settle into my bones. But I'm trying.

A spot of brightness: All of you. This community. As others have already mentioned in their roundups, truly the best part of the past year has been the relationships. I cannot list everyone but you know who you are. I didn't know I could be known and cared for in this way. I've been writing on my own for a very long time, and it feels deliriously good to write in community. To have friends and betas and cheerleaders, and to be these in return. Like, what the fuck. I'm never gonna write in isolation again.

Ngl I'm heading into the new year with large amounts of trepidation. It's gonna get even scarier than it already is for several vulnerable populations here in the US, including my trans community. But I also have a rooted focus and clarity. I'm gonna keep writing queer love stories. I'm going to nurture queer and trans community in my town. I'm gonna keep hanging out with all of you. Y'all make the world better and brighter, more honest and brilliant. Love ya. 🩵

thank you for the tags: @run-for-chamo-miles, @drowninginships, @artsyunderstudy, @emeryhall, @monbons

@rimeswithpurple, @ileadacharmedlife, @alexalexinii, @best--dress, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@imagineacoolusername, @skeedelvee

tagging: @valeffelees @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @youarenevertooold @shrekgogurt

@hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @cutestkilla @iamamythologicalcreature,

@bookish-bogwitch @thewholelemon @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @larkral @messofthejess

[softness-and-shattering]

If I may respond, because I think its important to address trauma. I think as a collective as Jews we need to address our collective and generational trauma. Im learning how to do that individually which is the only way I know how to make a start.

There is a difference between fear and danger. Fear is a warning that there may be danger. Fear has obviously kept us alive as our ancestors, with an additional huge amount of luck or providence, got the hell out of dodge before it was too late, probably many many times over the millenia which is why we are here at all.

And it is normal human pattern-seeking behaviour to see awfulness and death wishes from people who identify a certain way, and become afraid of everyone similar to them. When its nazis, and the hate and violence are inherently part of the ideology, theres nothing to be done except take precautions and stay away. Someone should try rescue them from the lies and misery they've bought into, but as the target of their hate thats emphatically not our job.

When it comes to pride flags and BLM and id definitely like to believe watermelons, Jew hatred *shouldnt* be a central part of the identity. And I think thats where we have to take a look at fear as a coping mechanism, and evaluate how useful it is. Because it isnt the same as danger. At this point maybe lets say its an orange-to-red flag. Its not inherently danger but its something to watch out for.

And its not an obligation, to interact with people. If you need to shut down and stay in small safe circles then do that.

Its just that you say that you dont like how distrustful youve become. Ive been there and I hate it too. Two things, I guess. One is that connecting to people, trusting anyone, is inherently risky. Theres a level of intimacy and vulnerability involved even if youre just joking around with someone. For me, I dont want to become a hateful mistrustful shell of myself. What that means for me is extending some trust and knowing I could ger hurt by it. Thats just being human. But its also having other support and other coping mechanisms in place so that if I am hurt, I know how to dress the wound, I know how to unwind and recover. A lot of that is DBT self-soothing skills, its having places I can vent and be myself without worrying about the worst version of someone twisting my words might be, where I know everyone present is either on the same page as me, or shares a level of understanding of complexity that even if I say something that sounds unkind or awful I will be kindly told "hey what the fuck we need to talk about this" in a way thats constructive and thoughtful with room for learning, instead of being publically dogpiled and cancelled for eternity over a mistake or a misconception or even unexamined bigotry because we all have it and its a process to unlearn for everyone. And we need to publically be better about that but I digress.

The second thing is differentiating fear and danger. This isnt mandatory but if youre up for it I think its a healthy skill to learn in general. In tumblr terms, investigate a little. You come across someone with a pride flag in bio, look at their top posts, skim their blog, maybe throw a couple terms into the search. Then look at what comes up. Is it straight up vitriol and antisemitism, block em. Is it something that makes you defensive, pause, take a few breaths, look again. Is it actually in tone or in words calling for or excusing violence, is it black-and-white villain and victim no nuance? Probably also block. Is it passionately upset about violence without any calls for revenge or retaliatory violence? That person might be safe. Its ok if your first reaction is fear, just let yourself have a second or third reaction and srr where it goes.

The last point I have is about levels of trust, and levels of safety, and levels of vulnerability. Because youre not determining if you can give someone your home address, and youre probably not determining if theyre safe to meet in person. So its not a full on black or white safe or not safe thing. Its more like, am I safe to have this interaction? Are we talkimg about how cute our pet cats are? Probably a safe conversation to have with most people. Are we talking about the ethics of war and the existence of nation-states, thats way dicier. I talk quite a lot on here, and there are always things I choose not to share, conversations I choose not to have, posts I writr and discard, for any number of reasons. Im getting better at seeing things I disagree with and recognise when Im super unlikely to change the persons mind, and just not engaging even if it makes me really angry. Sometimes its not worth it, sometimes its too close to home and even if it might be a productive discussion, im not in a place to be having that discussion rn. Some things just arent anyones business. Some I know will be misunderstood so I dont bother.

I think in general, with basically everything, is that it takes courage to be who we want to be. Its easier to say everyone who says x or believes x or identifies as x is dangerous and I hate all of them. Black and white thinking is always easier, and because youre listening to your fear it feels safer, until you look up and youre bitter and hateful and lonely. Fear is a warning signal but it flags false positivites, and it sometimes flags danger as more extreme than it is. Like any gut feeling, always pay attention, and also use your brain to evaluate how correct it is. And then make decisions based on your evaluation.

Because its not good or fun or helpful to be afraid of vast swathes of people. And people can hurt us, thats part of the human package and very much part of being Jewish. You gotta be careful, and brave, and vulnerable imo. And have a strong support system + soothing activities you can fall back on when you do get hurt. And be selective of who you trust with how much, so when the hurt comes itll hopefully be minimal. We cant avoid pain entirely, only learn how to minimise it and look after it.

Good luck! Its not easy out there. Be safe, be brave. ❤

one of the things I hate most about all this is how distrustful it’s made me. if I see a pride flag or BLM or a watermelon in someone’s bio, I immediately wonder if they want to kill us. if they deny rape. if they cheer massacres. I don’t see those things and think of tolerance or acceptance anymore. they just make me afraid. that’s what this movement has done. and I hate not trusting people, being scared of people, but what else can I be when they’ve shown us how much they’d like to see us dead?

.

[bluekidchaos]

Holding you again

here's to hoping i write a bit more this year!!

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, post-second wizarding war, severus snape lives, mostly suggestive smut, fluffy smut, some angst

Words: 1,3k

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

I had accepted my death from the very beginning -knowing it was inevitable- and I had made my peace with it, mostly. Many regrets haunt me but the biggest one is leaving her behind with my timely demise. Those regrets hit me as that damned snake lunged at me, as I gave Potter my tears, as I could feel my life slip from me. One final thought before I disappear, forgive me.

-

My lungs are on fire, no, I think I'm drowning? Maybe it's both. My whole body aches, my ears are ringing and I can't see, it's too bright or.. maybe too dark? Is this what hell feels like? It must be, eternal agony.

There's shouting around me, movement, it sounds like her, but it can't be. I'm dead. It's just a last cruel joke from the universe.

-

A muffled voice tears through my senses. "Sev? I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, I just wanted to say.. I miss you, please come back to me." A cruel joke indeed.

Severus wakes up with a yell, the searing pain jolting him upwards making him almost double over in the bed. Frantically looking around him for any sign that he's in danger. The lights are blinding him but he can faintly make out that he's in a hospital.

A healer runs into the room, a young woman he recognizes having taught a couple of years prior. She says something to him but the ringing in his ears is too loud.

Severus is on edge. While he's sure he's at St. Mungos, he doesn't know whether Voldemort is dead or if he's actually safe.

His senses are working overtime now. Severus is holding one hand towards the ceiling trying to shield his eyes from the harsh light. The ringing is slowly starting to cease and some words are getting through to him.

"Professor? ... Can you - me?" The woman notices his aversion to the light and dims it a bit.

Severus tries to speak back but only gargled noises come out and he finally acknowledges the pain in his throat. Feeling like someone tore it out and put it all back wrong.

"Don't try to speak, you're still healing. Here, you must be thirsty." She hands him a glass with a straw in it. The first sip feels like heaven, if he were alone he'd probably let out an audible moan at how good it felt.

Another healer comes in shortly after, a man this time, that Severus knows from when he has supplied the hospital with potions. He explains everything to Severus, Voldemort was defeated by Potter, and they won the war. He was in critical condition when they brought him here and he's been in a coma for six months.

Severus's thoughts start spiraling, it's been half a year. Where are you? Are you okay, alive?

The older healer tells him to rest but Severus can't stop thinking about you, and he also just woke up from a coma, how much more rest does he really need?

Whether he wanted to or not Severus did end up falling asleep again and when he woke you're sitting by his side, reading a book. He doesn't wanna disturb you at first, just takes some time to take you in. Your hair is tucked behind your ears, lower lip trapped between teeth while you focus on the words in the book.

It takes a couple of minutes before you look up from your book and notice his eyes on you but when you do you almost throw your book aside and jump at him. Landing perhaps a bit too roughly over him you embrace him in a tight hug, sobbing in relief.

"You really are awake! Oh merlin, I thought.. I-" Another sob broke through you and Severus held on tighter, he wanted to say something, to comfort you. Tell you it was okay now, but nothing came out.

-

Severus spent another six months in St. Mungos before they let him go home. During this time you were by his side every day. He regained his speaking abilities, his voice was still hoarse and would probably continue to be but at least he could talk again. The pain had mostly subsided into a dull background feeling.

The moment he stepped foot into their home he felt himself relax properly for the first time in a year. Fatigue hitting him pretty hard too, he wanted nothing more than to just go to bed and hold you.

You broke the silence first, "I think we could both use a nice hot bath right about now, hm?"

He only nodded at your proposal, a bath didn't sound too bad, he could still relax and he did need to wash off probably.

While the bathwater ran you helped each other undress, planting soft kisses over the exposed skin, gentle touches over faded scars.

Eventually moving into the bathroom you add some oils and bubbles to the water before stepping into it. Severus joins shortly after and once he's made himself comfortable you lean back against his strong chest.

His arms move to encircle you, holding you tightly like he's scared you'll disappear at any second. You let the silence envelop you, no words were needed.

Severus could feel his need for you rising with every second he had you in his arms, never wanting to let you go again. He started trailing kisses along your neck.

You moaned slightly in response and let your head fall back against his shoulder to give him more access. Feeling his arms untangle themself a little, one trailed up to cup your chest and the other slowly made its way down between your thighs.

The hand on your breasts groping you and rolling your nipples between his fingers while his other hand starts making slow and deliberate circles around your clit.

You whine into his ear and your legs fall open as much as the little tub lets them. A hand of your own reaches above you to tangle into his hair and guide his head to plant kisses on his face.

While his fingers are working you into a frenzy he captures your lips with a passionate and intense kiss, all the words you didn't say to each other before transferred through the kiss. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip to ask for entry.

You open your mouth to him, letting his tongue and taste overwhelm your senses, your tongue coming to meet his in a lazy battle for dominance that he eventually won.

Severus could feel you tense above him and his fingers sped up. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, neither of you caring to drag out the moment much. It was pure desperation and need, longing for each other.

He had broken your kiss to catch his breath but his forehead was still connected to yours, not daring to break too much contact with you. "Let go my darling, I love you so much.."

Your orgasm washed over you softly, Severus's fingers slowing down a bit to not overstimulate you but keeping the movement up to extend your pleasure.

Only when he felt you relax in his arms again did he stop. He was back to kissing you, less hurried this time, just full of emotions and softness.

You pulled back a little to look at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes you just smiled at him.

Severus wiped away a stray tear before kissing you on the cheek and smiling back at you, seemingly understanding you. He kissed your face and head a few more times before letting you sink down more into the warmth of the tub and his embrace.

You stayed in the tub long after the water turned cold just holding on to each other. 

[galaxy-fleur]

Going to ramble about RE2R Ada again because she is just so genuinely fascinating to me. It's so very interesting that Ada goes back on her initial decision to have Leon help her out and tells him to get out one last time, when he finds her injured in the sewers.

She does this after going all in on her lie, mind you. Their relationship is legitimately so fun to pick apart, and the way Ada keeps bouncing back and forth between taking advantage of Leon's drive to help and urging him to prioritize himself is interesting to think about.

So many talk of their interactions in RE2R as solely Ada maliciously manipulating him, when in text it's... honestly not at all like that? At least not as surface-level.

Up until their encounter with Kendo, she constantly tells him to get out and refuses to engage with him. It is only when he basically offers himself to her on a silver platter does she makes the choice to actually use him to her advantage. Which does not make any of her future lies or actions okay in any way, obviously, but it is interesting how she never once pushes him into following her up until that very moment.

She's dismissive and irritated with him if anything, no signs of purposefully manipulating in sight. She doesn't have to save his life, either. And yet, she does. Two times in a row, in fact.

Even after going all in and using Leon's determination to save the city against him as the conclusion to the Kendo scene, she constantly reminds Leon: 'Are you up for this? It's not late to turn back.' It's interesting to me how she keeps empathizing it over and over to him, almost annoyingly so. That's not necessarily her manipulating him with pure malicious intent, is it?

And then there's the sewers scene. The dialogue is so fascinating here, because it honestly feels like the most genuine Ada has been through the entirety of the game. She tells him to get out. One last time. She doesn't even have a good justification for doing that, besides a weak: 'you don't understand. The situation's worse than I thought.' It honestly feels like her jumping to the first excuse she can think of, because what does that even mean exactly? Compared to how measured and convincing she sounded before every time Leon questioned her, it's a massive difference, to say the least.

But Leon comes through again. Showing genuine kindness and determination to stick by her no matter what. In other words, she's in too deep now. Not like she can just spill the beans right then and there and tell him that, no, she actually never intended to save anyone at all. So, she can only go through with the lie.

It's honestly very bittersweet, because, at this point, she's way in over her head, and probably fully realizes that. Leon was nothing but an annoying and naive rookie cop to her before, but now she sees him as he is. A genuinely good person that doesn't deserve to be involved in any of this, or to be taken advantage of. Especially so after him literally taking a bullet for her earlier.

It honestly contrasts the aforementioned Kendo scene pretty neatly, too. Back then, Ada probably just viewed his compassion and drive to help as foolishness, hence her deciding to make use of that in the moment. But in the sewers, she seems genuinely moved by those same exact qualities of his. It's so interesting how her perception of him flips like that. All by Leon being himself. Which, in hindsight, is actually very sad. Because from Leon's perspective, those same qualities he showed her are what made hum fail to save anyone in the end.

Out of everything Ada does, her biggest point of genuine manipulation with malicious intent happens in the cable car. Before and after that, she either dismisses Leon outright, or tries to stir him away from the situation instead. I'd love to pick apart the whole cable car sequence in itself one day because it's deserving of its own post, so I won't go Amy further into it here.

It's honestly a bit upsetting how little nuance their relationship in RE2R is often given. It is largely viewed as 'Ada manipulating and using stupid Leon' game. When it's honestly so much more nuanced than that. And I think this complexity feeds right into Leon's petty grudge against her in RE4R. He wouldn't be nearly as petty with her if it was all just a cold ploy from her. That's what makes it so very hurtful and frustrating to him in the first place. Ada giving major mixed signals. And she continues that same trend in RE4R. Helping him and seemingly showing more care than necessary, but simultaneously refusing to be open and truthful and sometimes straight up taking advantage of him without him knowing.

Remake-verse Ada continuesly struggles with picking a side and sticking to it, something her OG self doesn't display nearly as much, and that's an aspect of her character I very much appreciate.

These two are so very complicated, and I love it.

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

@sunnfish okay Take Two!!! hello sunny sunnfish you wonderful sea creature! I was your secret santa for the @ssmygiftexchange! so sorry for the delay on this, my scheduled post was taken by the tumblr void and I wasn't home with my laptop to remake this post haha.

Your prompt was shirashiro college roommates au and prev pres, hanzawa, and tashiro hang out!! hope i was able to do this justice, this is officially the longest oneshot ive posted :)

Now with an Ao3 version, i would recommend reading there because Tumblr messed up some of my formatting and I can't fix it right now ^_^

Summary:

Tashiro and Shirahama are college roommates. It's a relatively peaceful life.

A non-linear story written for the sasamiya & hirakagi winter gift exchange!

As it turns out, moving in with a guy that you’ve known for almost half your life is pretty unremarkable.

Maybe it has something to do with being too familiar with each other. There have been too many sleepovers for the sound of snores to phase him, too many gym classes for the sight of skin to fluster him, too much time for anything to feel awkward between them. And yet…

And yet.

Packing your whole life into boxes is pretty hard, as it turns out. Looking around his room now it seems hard to imagine how it’ll feel to see the whole place emptied out. Cleared of every reminder of himself.

Tashiro tries not to think about it so hard as he turns back towards the closet. He’s never felt the need to go through everything he had stuffed in there until now, remnants of the past mixing with comforts of the present.

He reaches out to grab one of the hangers, pulling it free. His ping-pong jacket, he thinks despairingly, is slowly becoming small on him. His name spelled across the back in white lettering brings him back to when he first noticed. The growth spurts he’s been having refuse to slow even for a moment, and though he likes that some days, it mainly makes him face annoying things like this.

If he leaves the jacket, it will probably be packed up and put away somewhere to be forgotten. He can picture it now, sitting in a box stuffed away as it slowly fades from his memory. It makes him feel sort of heavy. But, if he takes it with him, he’s not sure it would be much better in the long run. Just holding it in his hands reminds him of how much time has passed. Of how fast it will keep passing.

He stands there, gears turning haphazardly in his mind, as he tries to breathe it all in.

Then, a knock.

His eyes dart to his doorway in surprise– knowing none of his family was home right now– only to remember that he’d invited the others to help him out.

Shirahama stands in front of him, knuckles resting against the already ajar door. His slightly bored face and tellingly awkward posture show that he hadn’t expected to be the first to arrive.

“Is your doorbell broken?” He asks as his socked feet pad their way into the room. “I tried using it, for once, but from that look I guess you didn’t hear.”

Tashiro finds himself a little amused by this, as he knows for a fact Shirahama has his own key. Perks of coming over to play games most weekends out of the year. He remembers them making jokes about going into each other's fridges while no one was home when they traded keys.

“Nah, guess I was just distracted,” He says with a casual shrug, placing the jacket back in the closet.

Shirahama gives him a questioning look. “I thought you were moving out, not back in.” His friend jokes as he passes Tashiro, grabbing a couple of shirts from the closet alongside the jacket.

He feels his eyebrow twitch in a way that reminds him a little of Hanzawa; and what a scary thought that is.

“I’m feeling indecisive.” He says, his mouth twisting to match how the word makes him feel. All twisted up and confused.

Shirahama turns to the side to face him, having stacked more clothes into his arms that look to be on the verge of falling to the floor. “About what? If you should take your whole house with you?”

That jacket. If I should re-dye my hair. Growing up. You. The future.

“What if we paint all the walls yellow?” He says instead of the hundreds of things his racing mind pushes forward.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Shirahama responds resolutely, his eyes showing no room for argument. Not that Tashiro will let that stop him.

“Or maybe green? Something bright.” He continues on, stepping away from his thoughts to grab the jacket out of the teetering pile and place it to the side. “Actually, scratch that, blue would be great too.”

Shirahama gives him a withering look that has no effect on his enthusiasm. Now that he’s thinking about it, the fact that he isn’t going to make these kinds of decisions on his own anymore is pretty fun. He’ll have a roommate, a friend to work through his troubles with. The thought makes him feel lighter.

“Hey, d’you still want this?” Shirahama asks some time later, long after Kuresawa and Miyano have come and gone. Tashiro looks up from the stack of boxes he’d just finished labeling.

“Oh, yeah I almost forgot!” He says as he takes his jacket, tying it around his waist for safekeeping. He really hopes he didn’t overestimate how much closet space he has.

It’s only a few hours after the final box has been unloaded and the moving van is hauled off when Tashiro makes a chilling discovery.

“Dude, we have no food.” He says, eyes staring at the bleak emptiness of their new fridge.

“Yup,” Shirahama responds as he walks up beside him, handing Tashiro a scrunchie in a sort of placating manner.

Tashiro’s shoulders droop with the weight of his exhaustion. Moving was one of the most tiring things he’s ever done, and coming from him that’s saying something.

Turning away from the depressing artificial fridge lighting, Tashiro turns toward the kitchen counter behind him and grabs his keys. As wrecked as he might feel, the growls of his stomach refuse to be ignored. “I’ll go buy something quick,” He says.

“Ah- wait, I have an idea,” Shirahama says suddenly. Back straightening, he moves away from the fridge of doom over to a bag of housewarming gifts the others had left. It was mostly a small array of gag gifts, little plant pots shaped like ping pong balls and a lampshade shaped like a pudding cup, but in a small container alongside the rest was something else. A saving grace for the hungry:

A tub of butter.

Tashiro looks at it in confusion, asking if his friend was really that hungry.

Shirahama smirks, “With food, no container is ever as it seems.”

He opens the tub’s lid, revealing its contents. Inside is not butter, but a large frozen serving of chicken soup. Tashiro feels his jaw drop as he gasps in disbelief.

Quickly shaking himself of his shock, Tashiro grins brightly. He takes the soup and stuffs it into the microwave, but Shirahama stops him from starting the timer.

“Y’know it would taste better if you put it in a pot instead.” Shirahama says, his hand gently clasped around Tashiro’s wrist in a way that he chooses not to internalize. His fingers are a little cold.

“But it’s already cooked.”

“So? You can still warm it up in the pot. Plus it’ll make it taste closer to how it’s supposed to.” Shirahama retorts, opening the microwave and placing the tub on the counter as he goes to try and find a pot in the sea of boxes.

Tashiro stays behind as he thinks. He hadn’t ever had a reason to go so far out of his way to warm up food before. He feels himself smile a bit, the first change he’ll have to get used to in this new life.

As it turns out, keeping a relatively small apartment clean is a little difficult when you’re living on your own as two messy 18 year olds.

They tried the whole chore chart thing at first, Shirahama said he used to have one at his parent’s house and it worked fine. But, well, it’s a little different when it’s just them.

The dishes are stood in a precarious stack, plates and glasses towering in ways gravity should never allow. Tashiro faces his task with a body radiating reluctance.

He’s been busy the entire week. Classes and work keep him out of the house, and even when he is home he prefers to spend time relaxing or hanging out with Shirahama. He had forgotten about his chore, and now it’s become a problem.

Carefully reaching towards the tower, he grabs the cups first and goes for the sponge right as Shirahama walks out from his room.

He has his hair held back by a headband, because my bangs are a nightmare right now, he’d explained the other day.

He walks towards the kitchen and looks at Tashiro, who has begun to work through the dishes.

“…Need any help?” He asks as he reaches toward the kitchen cabinet, pulling out the chips he’d come for.

“Oh, no I’m good,” Tashiro responds, though the overwhelmed look in his eyes doesn’t match his words.

Hm. Shirahama puts his chips down on the counter, turning towards the sink and stepping up beside his friend. “I’ll dry and you wash, okay?” He says with a smile.

Tashiro blinks at him for a moment, lips parted in an ‘o’, before he nods and sends back a smile of his own.

They make it through everything eventually, though not without some effort and accidental water sprays. They decide afterwards to just do the dishes together, just to save them time.

There's this strange sensation that comes for him one day. The apartment is dark, the steady hum of the aircon welcoming him home, and immediately something feels amiss.

Tashiro kicks off his shoes, only to turn back around and place them carefully on the shoe rack. He always forgets that it’s something he should worry about now. Keeping his home in order was never really a big deal before, it was usually only him spending time there anyways.

Passing through the short hallway, his eyes catch on a small black and red container. He looks around suspiciously, but finds no sign of Shirahama. Crossing the creaky floorboards, he inspects the tupperware and finds a green sticky note pressed onto the lid.

Went to a mixer.

Put this in a pot and try eating real food for once

Tashiro blinks away his shock. His eyes trace over the words on the note. Again, then again.

Thump

Thump

Thump

His hands warm the plastic as he goes to hold it, and a smile breaks out across his face. He’ll have to say thanks later.

Placing his food back onto the counter, he turns to go change. He feels anticipation swirl around inside of him, and even without tasting the soup, Tashiro feels warm.

Tashiro finds out in the second month of living with his best friend that they’re maybe not the best at making their place livable.

“How have you guys been living like this?” Miyano asks, part judging and part concerned. They’re standing in the living room, which consists of a couch, a tv, and a shelf balanced on two boxes that they use as a coffee table. The tv sits on the floor with a console, video game cases stacked beside it.

It’s not like they haven’t talked about decorating. They joked about it before moving, and made plans about what they wanted to do. The plans just… didn’t end up happening.

At some point between the exhausting move-in and the rush of classes starting up, decorating didn’t feel like that urgent of a thing.

But now classes have been in session for a while, and they still haven’t bothered with it.

The click of Kuresawa’s camera bounces off the empty walls. “A total bachelor pad,” he says, sounding just to the left of impressed. “My girlfriend was wondering what it looks like when two college guys live together.”

Tashiro groans at that, knowing that another classing girlfriend ramble is on its way.

“We live just fine,” Shirahama says, and as if on cue the boxes fold into themselves, sending the shelf clattering to the floor. Right.

They decide to go furniture shopping, just to make sure that they don’t have to deal with any more Looks from Miyano or paparazzi from Kuresawa.

Tashiro suppresses a laugh, pointing towards a table with odd looking fish for legs, “We need that.” Shirahama laughs along with him, but shakes his head.

“We have a budget, we’re only getting what we absolutely need.” He reminds Tashiro. His eyes turn towards a yellow and white coffee table that is practically calling for him. He turns away.

Tashiro salutes him, and doesn’t retaliate when Shirahama gives him a playful shove in response. He turns around and walks towards a different part of the store, twisting strands of his hair between his fingers as he goes. He really needs to touch up his roots.

Spotting something on a shelf, he picks it up. It’s a decorative statue, a silver painted hare taking a nap. He smirks and turns around, walking back to Shirahama. “Hey, look, I found you…” he starts to say before trailing off, eyes focusing on Shirahama’s side profile.

His eyes look focused in the way they always do when he’s overthinking something simple. His brows are pinched and his thumb is pressed flat on the side of his lip. Tashiro breathes in the expression, and decides he can show him later.

Laughter reverberates through the restaurant, one table in particular shining with rays of excitement and teasing.

“No, but seriously, how many more piercings can you get?” Tashiro questions dramatically, standing from his seat to stretch across the table and investigate. Hanzawa only laughs behind his hands and turns his head, showing off another new hole in his ear.

“If you ask that every time you’ll keep giving yourself a headache,” says the eldest one at the table, the previous ping pong president in all his red haired glory smirks mischievously and pats Tashiro’s back.

Crossing his arms and dropping back into his seat, Tashiro tries to keep up an air of frustration. It lasts about a second before he breaks out into a smile of his own.

These little meet-ups are a lot of fun for him. It’s not every day that all three of them are in one place. Especially not with their current schedules. It’s a nice break from the busy life he’s been settling into.

He feels his heart warm as he sits with his friends, ready to bring up his latest win in his college ping pong club, when his phone vibrates. Flipping it over, he sees that Shirahama texted him.

Divorce Soon: hey r you home

I left my jacket and this place is freezing

He pauses to consider. He’s not very far from the apartment, he could run there, grab it, and drop it off pretty quickly. But… he glances up from his phone to the two in front of him. He doesn’t want to leave yet. But… looking back at his phone he sees the spam of crying emoji’s Shirahama has begun sending. 

“Hey guys, sorry but my roommate needs me to get him something,” he says with an awkward expression. The conversation pauses as the two process what he said. “Oh sure, you need a ride?” His absolutely genius red haired friend offers, pulling his keys out as he says it.

“Yes!” Tashiro replies as his expression lights up. He tells Shirahama he’s on the way, and they head out towards the parking lot.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Tashiro fiddles with the edge of his shirt. He tries not to move too much, looking back and forth from his hands to Shirahama. His friend has that same look in his eyes that he did back in middle school art class. Focused, determined, trying and failing to keep paint off of his face. Only this time the paint is a bright yellow dye.

They’ve been like this for a while. He hums along to the music playing from his phone. His butt feels a little numb and he has counted and recounted the tiny floor tiles at least a million times, all 173- no, 175 of them. He tries to focus his attention on anything but the gloved hands in his hair.

He carefully reaches over for his phone, switching the playlist to a random one he saw in his recommendations.

It’s not as if he couldn’t survive in silence for a little while. He usually doesn’t have anyone else to do this for him, so silence is kind of a given.

But as he taps the beat into his leg and opens his mouth, no words come out. He lets the silence linger even as Shirahama begins humming the words to a song he remembers coming out in their first year. He thinks about laying on the floor of his bedroom, phone conversations bouncing off his poster-lined walls and music blasting.

He remembers the telltale clicks and clacks from the other end of the call, the curses against ridiculous route mechanics spilling into his ears.

Tashiro feels like this is sort of like those moments, just a little bit more. His legs are longer, his hair can go into a ponytail now, and his world feels so much bigger. His eyes turn towards the boy-technically-man in front of him. His eyes look sharper and his face is more angular.

But, in a lot of ways he feels the same as he always has. The same Shirahama who cried during their graduation, and sat next to him on their first day of middle school. The same Shirahama who bullies him for counting on his fingers, but forgets what comes after 3 when he’s drunk enough. 

The same yet different Shirahama. They match in that way, at least. Both the same, but not fully.

“I… think I’m done?” Shirahama says, breaking their steady silence. Tashiro stands to go look in the mirror. He giggles at the sight of his foil-wrapped hair sticking out at odd angles.

Shirahama laughs along with him, and it really isn’t that funny, but they still stand there giggling like idiots. Tashiro pulls at the corner of his shirt again, turning around and raising it up to Shirahama’s face and wiping away some of the dye.

He drops his shirt and turns back to the mirror, looking at the two of them in the reflection. He watches the way Shirahama’s face stays frozen, and how his whole face flushes like it always has. It’s nice to see some things will never change.

[sonnet009games]

Demonology: Incubus Master Post & FAQ

AVAILABLE CHAPTERS

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

EXTRAS

Chapter 1.5 | Chapter 2.5 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4.5 | Chapter 5.5

Flea Q&A

Playlist

FAQ

Q: How many chapters is Incubus going to be?

A: Probably around 10.

Q: What's the release schedule?

A: The plan is to release each chapter no more than 1-2 months apart.

Q: When will the final chapter be released?

A: 2025 sometime at the earliest.

Q: Will Incubus be released as a complete game with all the chapters in one?

A: No, almost certainly not.

Q: Will there be a discount if I wait to buy all the chapters at once?

A: The chapters will probably be collected into a itch.io bundle and sold with a $1 discount once the final chapter is released.

Q: I don't like to read/play unfinished stories. Should I wait for the final chapter before I start?

A: I completely understand--I'm the same! However, Incubus is a long-form narrative and was never really intended to be consumed all at once--though, of course, you can! Here's how the arcs play out chapter-wise: Chapters 1-3 = first arc Chapters 4-5 = second arc Chapter 6 onward = all standalone chapters So, hopping onboard after Chapter 3, Chapter 5, and then every chapter after that should provide enough satisfaction and closure for most players.

Q: Will you be releasing Incubus on any platforms other than as a downloadable for PC/Mac?

A: There are no current plans to do this while the story is still being released. I may evaluate my options at a later date, but this is no guarantee.

[contagious-watermelon]

it's kind of like insanely isolating that literally every aspec or "ace & aro" space I've found has been in actuality, solely for aces. perhaps arospec aces or aroaces who entirely prioritize their asexuality could also find company there, but even as an aromantic person who is also asexual, they're really not intended for me. so I can only imagine how isolating it must be if you're aromantic and allosexual

[wildwolf-fandoms]

In HTF fandom, you can know who to trust and not trust just by listening/reading what they think of some of the characters

"I love Fliqpy and Flippy but the raccoon who implied to be poor and is mentally ill is the spawn of evil for stealing, killing his brother, and `making illogical choices`. Aka when he is being a piece of shit Kleptomanic like the show intended"

"Don't get me wrong I love Handy but I don't understand why he is complaining when Russell has it worse."

"I don't understand why Petunia is always overreacting. Can't she just calm down for once?"

"I don't get why these characters trust Mole/Lumpy/Flippy/Lammy when they are DANGEROUS and SHOULD BE LOCKED UP."

Thanks for proving that disabled people can't trust you 👍

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[rainingincale]

.

[dennisboobs]

i wrote another rambly dennis analysis and deleted it <3 y'all don't need that

[ponzu]

i keep buying things thru my proxy to keep in the warehouse until m ready to ship and i keep thinking Wow they probably think this is annoying asf but also im giving them money so

[coridallasmultipass]

If it's okay for me to add something related because I first saw this on Tumblr: In the mid-2010s, I heard about there being a gay Filipino deity romance (from one culture in the Philippines - there are many different cultures and beliefs) here on Tumblr. It wasn't until years later when researching Philippine deities for fun while trying to broadly connect with my culture that I found a deep dive where someone found that the Bulan and Sidapa love story originated from the same fictional blog source, and had been circulating from new sources and fan art claiming it was historical for years before the author tried to find a non-modern historical source for the rumour, creating a kind of Berenstain/Berenstein effect on the people he asked, claiming they'd heard about the love story from a forgotten source much earlier than the 2010s, but unable to give a specific name, or the source cited claimed they didn't actually know about the romance.

While I think in this instance, a shift in narrative is obviously okay when you consider it is still a living Filipino culture, and people from that clearly find identity with this modern take (which should be asked of people from the cultures directly affected by misinfo), it should also be important not to rewrite it as 'historical fact' particularly when it has a fictional modern source that someone can directly point to as the origin when they question and search down the telephone line (like the game).

(I use the word 'fictional' only in reference to the originating blog, because the blog was unable or unwilling to provide any sources that mentioned that relationship to the deep dive author. I'm not implying said gods can't be/aren't gay. I'm not from that specific Philippine culture, and I don't have enough background knowledge to make any claims of my own. There's also no like, singular religious text/'bible' that pre-Hispanic Philippine beliefs followed as a rule/that can be consulted about this - it's not like a translation debate. There's just no textual source pre-dating the blog making the claim of the romance, and historians/oral historians aren't making the claim either.)

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.