#i don't see it often but when i do i do wonder

[redwyverndht]

ok. to all those people saying "the people are fine, I don't like the CCP": do you actually know anything about the Communist Party of China? Anything at all?

Do you know about their policies under Deng Xiaoping, the balancing act of "liberalization", how if affects more than one billion people every day, and how those people interact with their government?

Do you know about the practice of Democratic Life Meetings (民主生活會), how officials, from the lowest local offices, to the highest of ministers, are meant to debate and rid the Party of inefficiency through open debate? Do you know how some see it as a mostly ceremonial task with no real impact in policy, and how it's seen as a revival of Maoist thought and policy?

Do you know how all Chinese companies, per art. 5 of the PRC Constitution, have Party offices and committees as part of their company structure, which often host? Have you ever wondered how that changes employee relationships, HR practices, how that could affect culture?

I can't find any English-language information with a neutral view of everyday Chinese culture. Nearly every single website in English talking about committees in enterprises are Forbes, The Guardian, US intelligence agencies. This makes sense, I looked it up in English.

But have you ever seen where your perception of the Communist Party comes from? It's not from everyday Chinese people. Do you hate the CCP, or do you hate the idea of it the American government and its allies of the neoliberal order have planted into your mind? Why do you always mention Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Tian'anmen Square, Mao's Great Leap Forward?

That is like having everyone only mention the United States in terms of Jim Crow, chattel slavery, imperialism in the support of both fascist dictators and inefficient and unequal neoliberal regimes in Latin America, the killing of millions of people in the Middle East... I could go on for a while, but if you're American you probably know all that.

But is that your entire life?

I am NOT saying governments shouldn't be criticized. But you can't imagine what it is like when those criticisms are the ONLY thing your country is reduced to. If you're American, everyone is forced to know about you. Everyone has to care about your elections, know what a "Republican" is, because you are the hegemon of the planet. For now.

Americans will never encounter that reduction and xenophobia regarding their own country's legacy, because, inevitably someone will go "what about everything else?" Your movies, your inventions, your art, your music, your lives. Everyone will remember them, whether they want to or not. This does not negate oppression inside the United States, nor the actions of its government.

You should criticize that.

But the average citizen outside the American imperial core will not have that same grace. They will have their entire country, their identity, reduced to those things. To Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Tian'anmen Square, Mao's Great Leap Forward. To the Cartel, drug smuggling, crime rates, insecurity. To religious extremism, to poverty, to the eternal victim of violence.

To you "criticism" of their country's government.

Have you ever considered that the internal politics of other countries is those countries citizens' business? How you should shut the fuck up about governments you don't know, about oppression you don't face? Maybe you should focus that energy ranting about the CCP into actually making a difference in your own country?

How about you shut up when you don't know what you're talking about?

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: Now that he finally has you alone in his office, Sunday decides to further his goals of dominion. wc: 2.3k - this is nsfw! cw for dubcon! sexual fantasy, piv penetration, office sex, desk sex, softdom!sunday, huge massive misogynistic hypocrite sunday a/n: The guillemets «» are used to indicate Sunday's Harmony powers this time!

part 6 (nsfw) / part 7 (nsfw)

---

You've broken out your old typeboard to compensate for having to sit in an office all day. Most people don't bother with typeboards anymore. Not when phones can record speech or pull up a keyboard on the screen, and not when typeboards are so.. noisy. The flurry of smooth metal buttons clacking like cold rain on a tin roof is a sound that makes the younger Oak Family interns anxious, but you enjoy the sound. When you can't hear the clicking of your shoes against the floor as you walk around, the sound of the typeboard is a decent enough substitute. 

Sunday has been watching you from his desk, reading over grievances relating to The Family's congregation. He couldn't care less about the complaints of some of these corrupt, selfish reprobates. Not when watching you cross your legs and stare harder into the screen of your typeboard is more entertaining. 

He wonders to himself: Do you even notice the way his eyes linger? How his watchful gaze sticks to you like dew on a fresh blade of grass? How the slightest smile forms at the corners of his lips from the way your trousers are just short enough to show a sliver of ankle, soft and bared? 

Should you have no reason or means to protest, Sunday would sit in front of you and remove your shoe himself, gloved hands starting at your short sock, ascending to cradle your ankle, then disappearing up and underneath the leg of your pants to stroke your calf, fingers running calmly over your flesh as the outline of his hands stretches the fabric of your trousers. He smiles as he ponders if that, too, is something you would never even consider from him. 

Sunday leans back in his chair, his legs spread slightly open. There’s no reason for him to be ashamed of anything, he surmises to himself. His handling of you has been modest, after all, compared to the filth of Penacony. He’s seen what avaricious, lustful men do when they feel they can exercise their will, and he hasn’t done anything of the sort. None of those men enact their will for the sake of responsibility. 

Sunday gets up from his chair, which only draws his attention to how tight his pants have become. Still, he’s sure you won’t notice when he asks you: “Dear, I’ve been looking for something Madam Ellis sent me, but I’m afraid it got itself lost in my desk. While I fetch myself some water, can you look for me?” As you get up to do so, Sunday goes to fill a small paper cup of water from the dispenser near the door. He takes a single sip, glances to see if you’re watching him, and quickly disposes of it, locking the door to his office and gripping the handle. 

« Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, may your hands seal this entrance and isolate this space, so not a sound may pass through. »

You bend at the hips to search through the drawers of Sunday’s desk. It’s a learned habit: Even with how long your pencil skirts often are, crouching while wearing one has always felt way too risky, especially for the secretary of a Family Head. Whether this was Sunday’s intention or not when he put them in the dress code, you suppose you can never be sure. 

There’s this dull throbbing you feel as you scan over every paper and file, felt in tandem with your heartbeat, that settles itself in your core. Even as you try to take your mind off of those odd moments with Sunday, the knowledge you gained from them is something you can’t shake, tucked snugly within your body with no plans of extricating itself. It’s… not exactly lust, you reason, but more so an anticipation or a dread. You can feel the anxiety pool between your thighs as your eyes scan blankly over words you’re no longer reading; Whatever you want to tell yourself the feeling is, it’s potent and it clouds your mind.

By the time Sunday is back and pinning you against his desk, you've forgotten why he told you to look through it entirely. —In all fairness, it was meant to be a trap.

"I don't think I thank you enough, [Y/N].” His voice is soft and gentle as he keeps one hand resting on your hip, the other snaking around to find the button of your pants. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you in my life, dear. I’m a much more fragile man than I present myself to be.” His eyes lock on the door at the end of the room. It would be entirely irresponsible to have left the door unlocked or even open, and Sunday wouldn’t dare take such a risk when a man like him had too much at stake. Still, his nostrils flare as he pictures what it would be like to fuck you in front of an audience. That Avgin scum especially. Perhaps the gambler deserved a demonstration of Sunday’s claim over you, both to send a message and to humble him. Damned wretch. 

You can feel his clothed cock poking against your backside even better now that Sunday has let your pants fall to your ankles. You stay put, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you switch between looking at the desk you’re pressed up against and the door in front of you. It would only be sensible to at least raise your concerns (even if making a scene was something you couldn’t bring yourself to do), but… that sense of anticipation building inside of you wants to be sated, even for a little bit. Even if your conscience disagrees.

Two of Sunday’s fingers breach you, and you flinch as they begin to move, stroking you from the inside. Just like before, Sunday lets out a groan, albeit softer and more controlled. You can’t see his face, but his eyes are now focused on where his knuckle ends and you begin, fluid dripping into his palm. Sunday is moved by the sight of it—by its beauty, and by the equal beauty of your mewling noises as he continues to finger you. As he moves closer to you, hips flush against his hand flush against your cunt, Sunday lets his other hand explore your bare legs, gloved fingers running over the soft flesh of your thigh.

“You don’t need to keep quiet, my love,” he reassures you, quickening the pace of his fingers. “I promise you, nobody can hear us right now. It’s just us.” Sunday takes a breath, and as he grazes your g-spot you nearly gasp with him. “I don’t ever mean to frighten you, you know. Sometimes, we simply have to be more forward when it comes to what is ours and what isn’t, yes?” Your brows furrow. What the fuck is he talking about? It would probably be easier to process his words if he hadn’t just slipped a third finger into your cunt, though, so all you can respond with to voice your confusion is a low moan.

“More than anything, I want you to be willing,” Sunday continues, maybe for no better reason than to hear the sound of his own voice over your cries of pleasure. “I want you to want this as much as I do, as often as I do. Only then can I be truly happy with myself. Do you understand that, my love?” You nod out of instinct, and Sunday takes it as his cue to finally free his erection. After cleaning the juices from his hand off on it, Sunday removes your panties, steadies your hips with his hand, and then penetrates.

Another mess of unintelligible noises leave your mouth from the feeling of him inside you. You’re too far gone to have reservations, so all you do is push your hips back into the feeling and grip the ledge of the desk. Your hair must be a mess by now, your face flushed and tear-pricked, your clothes wrinkled and wholly unpresentable—After all this work to get to the top through work alone, you should probably feel like this is an insult. Still, Sunday begins to thrust, and you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“[Y/N]! Mmh, Aeon— You’re divine,” Sunday gasps, his grip on your hips only tightening. “Oh, was this worth every minute of waiting! I’ve been so patient, darling, so incredibly patient.” As Sunday finds his pace, his hands begin to wander, the smooth cotton on his gloves running up and down your naked thighs and hips, gently kneading your flesh. In the safety of the closed-off room, he lets himself moan freely, gasping and crying out every time he feels himself bottom out inside you. Sunday flexes his abdominals to keep himself standing lest he falls over on top of you and loses himself in his own pleasure, the muscles in his stomach quivering and twisting. You’re sure that if you could see it, the sight wouldn’t be awful—Sunday has always been a very attractive man. Maybe his gaze softening into a semi-pained expression of ecstasy would enhance his beauty, if he didn’t have a pattern of fucking you from angles where you couldn’t see it.

Sunday reasons to himself that this instance is merely a fluke—An instance of your union (and of his rightful assumption of responsibility) that shall be the exception and not the norm. It’s the sin of haste that has him fucking you like a common whore, your cyprine rolling down your thighs and reaching your knees as his hips rhythmically collide with your ass. Regardless, it’s a sin that does not define him, and one he will not let define him: Any further instance will take the proper course and order, no doubt occurring in his room, on his bed, in the appropriate romantic fashion. 

Still, he finds he's getting close—In no doubt due to how perfect you are, how wonderful you feel around him. So, his thinking shifts: Who could blame him? Who could find this worth scorn? As you continue to suck him in further, further, greedily, he surmises that perhaps this act is no transgression. It is only the just thing to do, to give you what you so clearly and desperately need.

You hear Sunday ask you something, or maybe warn you, but you're too far gone to understand his words. The way his hands continue to run up and down your slick-soaked thighs has you paralyzed, and if you had any room to think between his thrusts your first thought would be to worry about whether the puddle of drool you've left on his desk has leaked onto any of his papers. You just let out another moan in response, another weak and mumbled "Sunday", and his own response is to start fucking you harder, effectively shutting out any chance of processing it. 

You can only make out bits of what he starts to whimper and mewl as his nails dig into your hips: "union", "perfect", "meant to be". A string of noises sounding awfully close to "I love you", too, amidst babblings sounding like your name. Sunday leans over, and you can feel his stomach press up against your back, his fingers prying your legs further apart. 

"The power you have over me is unthinkable, [Y/N]," he whispers in your ear. "You alone dominate every thought, every waking moment of mine." Sunday whimpers some more, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as it drowns out the squelching noises. "Please, you must understand. I need you as much as you need me. Nothing else can take precedence."

"Mmh, Aeons," you cry out, not really in response to his words more than in response to the way he's drilling into you. "Sunday, I'm-"

"Yes, yes I know," he coos back. "Don't hold back, please. You deserve this."

Sunday is barely able to even snake a hand down to attend to your clit before he feels you clench hard around him, your head thumping against the desk as the high of your orgasm overwhelms you. His hips start to move erratically, attempting to help you ride out that high, but soon it proves even too much for him to last through. Of course, you had given him permission to not 'pull out', so what issue could there be?

A wave of fatigue falls over you as reality sets back in, like a cold sobering splash of water to quell the summer heat. Your hair is a mess, you don't have anything on hand to fix your makeup, and your pants and underwear are likely ruined. As you shift in place, you can feel strewn papers underneath your stomach, all of them likely crumpled. You're not sure how much time was spent doing this that you could've spent working on sending emails or looking over reports. 

The anticipation has been satiated, and all that remains is an awful sense of dread.

Sunday plants a kiss on the shell of your ear and finally pulls himself out of you, even more cum and cyprine rolling down your legs. You're too exhausted to shut them to try and stop it. Sunday, too, is exhausted, given the fact that you feel him bend over to rest on top of you, his stomach once again flush with your back. 

"What excellent judgement I had in choosing you," he sighs dreamily. "You fit me like a glove—Quite literally, I've found." Sunday chuckles, and you feel his hands worm around your sides to wrap around you. "Thank you, [Y/N]. Geniunely."

The moment is interrupted by a phone call. Sunday gets off of you to pick it up, almost immediately discounting you. 

"Sister?" he asks, phone pressed up against his ear as he starts to redress himself. He fumbles through redoing his belt with one hand as he adds "No, I'm not busy at all. -Uhm, mind the noise, we're trying to rearrange my office. No, no, you're not bothering me at all, dear sister..."

Your head falls to meet the edge of the desk again. It will be at least half an hour before you get the motivation to move and look at yourself again.

---

a/n: someone teach this fuckass kfc bucket the concept of aftercare tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d @ruruize @herrscherofprocrastination @ikevampharem @hirwishin @jill7848 @breadlmao @belovedoftheanemoarchon @moongirl-1 @qualitysaladfarmstatesman @cupcake54492

[five-one-two-station]

@halfalive-chaos - Context

Oh BOY do I have some big giant feelings about this!

The short answer is yes, I think people/The Audience has forgotten this - but I also don't think it's entirely their fault.

Part of the reason I was really impressed by how Arcane used and executed the scene, and why I keep going on about it, is that this whole subject is kind of an ongoing concern of mine.

I very sincerely think that the documented decline of, not just sex, but horniness, in media has narrowed the spectrum of contexts we're used to seeing sex and sexuality happen in our storytelling, in ways that are doing us harm.

Because mainstream media has started shying away from engaging with sex to the degree that it has, sex is now almost invariably depicted in extremes - either "Aren't we edgy big boys now?" stuff like The Boys, or miserably sad traumatic drama grist - or else not at all.

And because "regular" tv has been scared off showing sex, it's vanishingly rare to see characters who are in love have sex, or to be sexual as an expression of that, certainly without some negative element to it.

That means we're almost never asked to think of it in terms of sincere, meaningful character communication, or as a storytelling mechanism, or ever presented with it in the context of a positive wider relationship.

I think the hazard of this is obvious - if our media and storytelling doesn't engage with healthy sex in that wider context, or use it purposefully, then we're conceding the whole conversation around it to porn, to novelty edgelordism, and grimdark miseryfests. Those things will define all our language and imagery around it, and the only time we'll ever see it will be upsetting, harmful or ugly. When it is easier to stumble across a scene of rape than it is to see a consenting woman orgasm, it's little wonder people can become reflexively suspicious of any sexuality at all.

But even when it's not so extreme as that, more often than not it's depicted as a casual fling instead, divorced from a bigger picture, or a distraction, an alternative to a grander and truer romantic interest. There's nothing at all wrong with sex for pleasure, don't misunderstand me, but it's odd that our media landscape has engineered a situation where depictions of sex in the context of a bigger love story almost never happen. It would seem then that we can have one or the other - sex or romance - but never at once.

And we're diminishing it with all of this. We're saying this incredibly important, intense, uniquely vulnerable and intimate feature of the human experience doesn't matter enough to talk about. We're saying that sex and love don't have any functional overlap. Even at best, we're pretending that sex isn't important in relationships, or increasingly, that the only good sex is... well... sexless. Sterile. Permissable and virtuous only when it's so "clean" and so perfect in circumstance that it becomes an unattainably impossible kind of ceremony.

The venue must be perfect. The characters must be not only unimpeachable, but historically and permanently so, and exactly as faultless as each other - they must be exactly the same social status, age, background, emotional state and situation. There can be no power imbalance or even a risked perception of one. No chequered history to leave behind, no overcome adversities, nothing that had to be learned. No transgressions to have been worked through, and comprehensively put to rest now.

Indeed, the moment must be so sublimely judged that it's unlikely to ever actually arise in a drama to start with; the characters must be in such a stable situation that there's no actual storytelling to be done here to warrant the scene occurring in the first place.

Which is convenient, because in this framework, the only unproblematic sex is the sex nobody can possibly have anyway. Because nobody can have "perfect" sex. That's not how it works - the fundamental nature of intimacy is taking each other for what you actually are, in all of the reality involved. If it can't be messy, it's not true.

All of this comes with extra points and splinters too when it comes to the matter of lesbian sex in particular, and the complicated history of how we've been either exploited for disposable male titilation, or else rendered chastely invisible by well intended feminists of all persuasions. We were already being presented with a sex or romance dichotomy, and never mind if either one worked.

It's a dysfunctional either/or. Asexuals & friends notwithstanding, physical intimacy is an incredibly important feature of the lives we spend together, and the bodies we live our lives in. And as much as we'd like to think we're all too cool and aloof for it, for most of us lust is impossible to entirely detach from sentiment, when it comes to the real people we form bonds with.

People falling in love want to fuck each other. People who are in love want to fuck each other. People fall in love in the process of fucking each other. It's not some abstract thing that happens in isolation to our feelings for each other.

I don't think it's good for us to perform such weird acrobatics to pretend none of this is true, whatever the reason for doing so; but that is effectively what modern media does.

And I think we're all poorer for it. We're poorer for missing out on the most private, intimately human kinds of moments in our stories that live in the space where love and lust can intersect. Because that's the only place those moments happen.

[charmac]

Somehow I never really realized that Andrew Friedman and Charlie Day only have a 5 year age difference between them (I assumed it was closer to 10 years), and I realized I've kinda always assumed Uncle Jack was a grown adult when he moved in with the Kellys, when Charlie was a kid (perhaps incorrectly?)

Is Uncle Jack supposed to be canonically significantly older than Andrew Friedman is? Or is he actually cast to his age and supposed to be in his early thirties in Season 1? (I don't think there's an actual answer here, they don't age him in the script or discuss it in the TASP episode.)

But I'm wondering: do you guys automatically assume Uncle Jack is significantly older than Charlie? Or am I alone in just, like, ignoring the actor's actual age and defaulting him to, more or less, looking as he did in Season 1 when Charlie was a kid?

We don't really know the circumstances of Jack originally moving in with Bonnie and Charlie, but now realising their age difference, Jack actually being fairly young when he moved in with them almost, upsettingly, makes more sense than him being a grown adult at the time:

Bonnie taking in her much younger, teen brother (in some absence of her parents being able to care for him, or even paying her to take care of him instead) and sticking him in her son's room would logically make way more sense than if he were a grown man at the time. In many ways, she would see these acts as good deeds: becoming a caretaker to her brother and giving her son a pseudo-brother (who seemed to be happy to love and protect him), which would almost explain why she cannot accept (or even fathom) that this instead resulted in inflicting extreme trauma on her son.

Similarly, the closer age difference between Jack and Charlie would account more for Bonnie being able to turn a blind eye/take Uncle Jack's side when it comes to the "wrestling" comments. If Jack was a grown adult, it's hard not to not raise an eyebrow at, but you would almost expect that a teenage boy would be rowdy with his nephew, and that they would playfight, if not actual fight, quite often while sharing a small space. Conceivably, Bonnie really wouldn't have stopped to question the relationship between Jack and Charlie at the time if he was her displaced teen brother, as opposed to her strange adult brother.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore is a little full of himself

Like, I read Tales of Beedle the Bard, and I was struck by how Dumbledore comments on his own cleverness and knowledge in his notes incredibly often:

This prejudice eventually died out in the face of overwhelming evidence that some of the world’s most brilliant wizards(3) were, to use the common phrase, “Muggle-lovers”. [...] 3 Such as myself.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot”)

I think I may say, without vanity, that both my Fountain and my Hill performed the parts allotted to them with simple goodwill. Alas, that the same could not be said of the rest of the cast.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune”)

Even I, Albus Dumbledore, would find it easiest to refuse the Invisibility Cloak; which only goes to show that, clever as I am, I remain just as big a fool as anyone else.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

The guy can hardly talk about anything without talking about how smart and wise and brilliant he is. Like, no humility whatsoever.

In the books, everyone keeps singing his praises like Dumbledore can do no wrong and the only one who keeps saying Dumbledore can be wrong is Harry. And even then, in Harry's limbo vision of King's Cross, which I don't think is really Dumbledore, it's telling Harry envisions him saying something like this:

“And you knew this? You knew — all along?” “I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good,” said Dumbledore happily

(DH, Ch35)

Dumbledore doesn't speak to Harry all that often throughout the series, with book 6 being the one he interacts with him the most. And we see that even in conversations with people, Dumbledore loves to hear how wise and great he is. When he says "I might be mistaken" it's with the tone of "I'm right and everyone else is wrong". Which is usually the case often enough, yes (though not always), but he does it a lot, and I found it interesting how often he uses this phrasing and how smug he seems about it:

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers — “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” (GOF)

“I may be wrong,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, “but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn’t that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?” he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle. (OotP)

“Payment?” said Harry. “You’ve got to give the door something?” “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Blood, if I am not much mistaken.” (HBP)

Dumbledore uses this phrasing when he knows what he is saying is correct. He is saying it not because he thinks he might actually be wrong. When he actually thinks he is wrong, he makes excuses and tries to reason why the decision he made was actually reasonable at the time:

“Harry, I owe you an explanation,” said Dumbledore. “An explanation of an old man’s mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten lately...”

(OotP)

He is incapable of saying: "I was wrong, it happens, let's move on," it has to come with reasoning or an excuse. He blames it on his age, not that he made a wrong judgment call. This isn't humbleness.

Dumbledore is a character who wants to be humble but just isn't. he considers modesty a virtue. Hell, humility is practically his favorite trait Harry possess:

Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him. “So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then?

(HBP) - Slughorn mentions how Dumbledore appreciates modesty.

The third brother in the story (“the humblest and also the wisest”) is the only one who understands that, having narrowly escaped Death once, the best he can hope for is to postpone their next meeting for as long as possible.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

He appreciates being humble and modest and sees it as being wise. He derides Tom for thinking of himself as "special" or "clever" even when it's true (and when he does the same). He loves Harry's modesty, which is really low self-esteem, not modesty. Harry's low self-worth is like the ultimate humbleness in Dumbledore's eyes because he doesn't see it for what it is and he was never humble in his life, so he doesn't really know where the balance between confidence and arrogance is or the line between modesty and low self-worth. I think he honestly doesn't know because he is exceptionally arrogant.

Dumbledore created this image of ineffability around him and it's clear Harry is one of the only people (besides Dumbledore and Aberforth) who knows Dumbledore can make a mistake and he keeps reminding Hermione, Lupin, and literally everyone else of that fact:

“People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore’s judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus.” “But Dumbledore can make mistakes,” argued Harry. “He says it himself. And you” — he looked Lupin straight in the eye — “do you honestly like Snape?”

(HBP)

This is all another case of Dumbledore being incapable of practicing what he preaches. He values modesty, but he doesn't seem to be capable of it.

Now, I'm not saying he isn't clever or special, he is. But he is the type of really smart person who looks down on anyone they don't see as intelligent as them. He doesn't see most people as equal to him.

Dumbledore doesn't see most of the Order or Aberforth as his equals. He never did. Elphias Doge kisses his ass, but Dumbledore clearly doesn't share the same level of respect for him. Or for most people, really.

“Elphias Doge mentioned her to us,” said Harry, trying to spare Hermione. “That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. [...] “Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and talented as he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in.

(DH)

Dumbledore doesn't trust the majority of the Order with anything because he doesn't think they'd be capable of handling it because they're not him. He literally tells them nothing until he has to, keeping them busy guarding a prophecy he knows can't be stolen by a run-of-the-mill Death Eater. He only tells Harry about the Horcruxes because he has no choice but to tell him. Same with Snape — Dumbledore trusts him out of necessity.

Snape and Grindelwald are the only people we see Dumbledore show respect towards their abilities, wisdom, and magic in some capacity.

Like, he calls Sirius clever, but he talks about him as foolish in the same breath. He calls McGonagall wise, but he clearly doesn't think she's wise enough to be told anything or trusted with anything. And while he does speak highly of Harry's courage and humility and though Harry is insanely powerful and with the right training could beat Dumbledore, Dumbledore keeps putting him down when it comes to magical abilities/intelligence compared to himself:

“I’m not upset.” “Harry, you were never a good Occlumens — ”

(HBP) - even though Harry can and does get really good at it once he does it his way.

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.”

(HBP)

I find this tendency of Dumbledore to be really interesting. He underestimates people constantly and thinks too highly of himself. and he is very honest about it to people's faces. He keeps talking about how Voldemort’s defenses on his Horcruxes are shit, and how Voldemort is foolish when the curse Voldemort left on the ring is literally killing him at that very moment:

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.” These words did nothing to raise Harry’s morale; perhaps Dumbledore knew it, for he added, “Voldemort’s mistake, Harry, Voldemort’s mistake ... Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth. ... Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water.”

(HBP)

Dumbledore thinking himself so clever, more clever than Voldemort, is what killed him. His arrogant insistence that he's the smartest man in the room killed him. He is undermining Voldemort for mistakes similar to the ones he makes regularly when interacting with Harry. And he's aware of that. He knows he's a hypocrite:

When I discovered it, after all those years, buried in the abandoned home of the Gaunts—the Hallow I had craved most of all, though in my youth I had wanted it for very different reasons—I lost my head, Harry. I quite forgot that it was now a Horcrux, that the ring was sure to carry a curse. I picked it up, and I put it on, and for a second I imagined that I was about to see Ariana, and my mother, and my father, and to tell them how very, very sorry I was . . . “I was such a fool, Harry. After all those years I had learned nothing. I was unworthy to unite the Deadly Hallows. I had proved it time and again, and here was the final proof.”

(DH) - Dumbledore's portrait

I think Dumbledore's self-awareness is why he wants to like Harry as much as he does. While I don't think Dumbledore knows Harry as well as he thinks he does, what Dumbledore does see is enough for him to imagine Harry in his head as this perfect, virtuous martyr that he wished all his life to portray himself as. He idealizes who he imagines Harry is without fully respecting Harry as his own person with his own abilities.

I just find it interesting that for a character who speaks so highly of humility, he doesn't seem to possess it, and that it ends up being the death of him.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Let The Rain Fall | Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Reader | Short Series - Part 2 of 4 - 1.9k

Bucky gets a welcome surprise and you finally meet Captain America. But when things don't go quite how you expect, you start regretting your decisions.

Warnings: reader is very obviously uncomfortable, some mention of workplace bullying from other agents and the preamble to reader having a meltdown.

A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read Part 1, I've been so ovewhelmed by the really personal responses and support, thank you! I also love how much the fabric softener scent has been brought up! This is definitely me and is an Easter Egg I've left in other fics too, so if you do check out any of my other stories keep your eye out!

<- Part 1

Masterlist | Let the Rain Fall Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The last thing Bucky expected when he pushed the door to the hanger open was to see you sat on the benches with the other recruits. He noted there was a foot of space between youand the agents beside you, their voices loud and echoing. You were wearing the suit he’d brought you, you seemed comfortable enough apart from the zipper, which you were pulling up and down in time to the hum of the fan above your head.  

He was pleased you’d come, but something like guilt twisted inside of him at the look on your face. You looked genuinely pained, agonised, and he wondered, not for the first time that week, whether there was something you hadn’t told him.  

“Good to see you all.” He said, eyes scanning the room but consciously not settling on anyone as he walked past.  It was too tempting to let his gaze linger on you.

A chorus of ‘good morning, Sergeant Barnes’’ followed him as he entered the jet and took his place in the cockpit.  

The day was as uneventful as Bucky had described, a short ride on the jet and then an hour hovering over some empty base while the other recruits worked with Steve.

Each time the comm crackled you had a rush of panic that you’d be expected to join them on the ground, an opportunity you’d shook your head at and then allowed Steve to move on very quickly to the agent beside you. 

You gripped the seat harder, your jaw clenched. Closing your eyes you took a deep, steady, breath trying to imagine your happy place, a safe place, inside a tent, under a blanket and... 

“Are you okay, agent?” Bucky’s low voice echoed through your imaginary tent, breaking your peace. The dark utility of the plane came rushing back. 

“I’m not going down there.”  You said decisively, adrenaline coursing through you, preparing to argue. You could feel it, making your leg shake in anticipation of defending yourself.

“Okay.”  Bucky shrugged a shoulder.

“I’m serious I’m - wait, did you say okay?” You opened your eyes to find Bucky sat in the empty seat next to you, the jet clear of anyone else. His long legs were splayed open as he let his weight rest against the netting behind you.  

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just came to make sure you’re alright.”  

The lead weight of dread that had been settling in your gut vanished and, weightless, you smiled, “better now.”  Adrenaline still flooding your body you tried to hold back tears of relief.

“Is there anything you did want to see? Steve said you oversee mission debriefs? Maybe you’d like to watch the mission from the cockpit with me?” Bucky stood then, holding his hand out to you briefly before tucking both hands into his pocket awkwardly.  

“I’d like that, thank you.”  

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever had such a nice time waiting in the jet. He was often resigned to babysitting the Avengers’ jet, car, boat, horrid little safe house, whenever there was actual teaching to be done. He didn’t mind so much, it gave him the space to read his books, listen to some music or catch up on all the history he’d either missed or inadvertently been a part of. 

But today you were there too, and your presence brought him a sense of calm that had truly surprised him. 

“Make yourself at home.” He insisted, gesturing to the spare seat. 

“Thanks.” You sat carefully.

“I mean it, make yourself comfortable, we’ll be here for a while. You want a drink?” Cautiously you tucked your legs up, crossing them on the seat. Your boots were clean, immaculate even, worn only through the compound and into the hanger this morning, but you were careful to keep them as far off the seat as you could anyway. 

Bucky poured coffee from a large flask tucked into the side of his seat and topped it off with a generous helping of milk. 

“That’s just how I like it.”

He smiled, wide and pleased, “I asked around, wanted to make sure you enjoy your first mission.” 

That flutter appeared in your chest again, the surprising desire to stay close to him that had first made itself known when he'd squeezed himself in to your tiny office.

“Not really a mission if I don’t do anything,” you blew steam from the top of your enamel cup and took a sip, cupping your hands around the warm metal. 

“Well, that's all I’m doing and I’m an ‘Avenger’.” Bucky laughed making his voice deeper as he said Avenger before reaching his arm out to clink your mugs together. “Cheers to the easiest job on the roster.” 

You fell into an easy silence, Bucky read his book for a while until you couldn’t hold it in anymore and told him you’d read it a few weeks before. Before you knew it two hours had melted away and you were curled up comfortably in Steve’s seat, giving Bucky a run down of your favourite books so far that year. He watched you, the wide grin softening into an indulgent smile while you blossomed before his eyes. 

Some of the other agents had been whispering about you, while you boarded the jet, that you were odd, childish, over the top and impossible to be around. But he enjoyed the exuberant way you described each plot, the glimmer of excitement in your eyes when he agreed with you and the blunt dry way you told deadpan jokes before breaking into peals of laughter. 

Silently he prayed that you’d come with him again, just to spend time with him even if you didn’t want to be in the field.  

You surprised Bucky by coming on the next recon as well, even agreeing to accompany him to collect Steve and some other agents from a secondary base. Silently, you followed him into the cockpit and set your bag down next to him, tac suit immaculate apart from one addition, a small toy turtle on a keyring that dangled from the zipper.

“I got you a present,” you said once the jet was at altitude and Bucky had flicked a considerable number of important looking buttons and levers. Steve and the others had parachuted in this time, your stomach had turned just watching them.

Bucky turned to look at you, the clear blue of the sky reflected in his eyes. 

“Really? You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, but I saw them in the gift shop in New York and, well, I like mine so-” trailing off you rummaged in your bag, pulling out a paper gift bag sealed with tape. 

Bucky took the little parcel from you and carefully opened it, removing the fluffy socks, striped like his arm, that were tucked up inside and staring at them.  

“Oh god that was stupid, I’m so sorry.” Your heart beat wildly, sweat forming on your brow.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, a way to keep you focused while you saw your doctor in New York. The city didn’t seem so busy when you were focused on your task, and Bucky had been so kind he deserved a present. But this was a stupid present, stupid, stupid present. You ground your teeth and squeezed your hand together, allowing your nails to bite into your palm. 

Before you could take them back, Bucky unrolled them and held them up, a huge grin growing on his face. “They’re socks! They make socks of me.” He laughed, rubbing his thumb against the soft fluffy fabric. “And you said you like yours - you got my socks have you?” 

“I - no - I -” you stammered and Bucky looked at you properly, a flush of embarrassment appearing on his own cheeks. 

“I’m messing with you ya doll, I love them, thanks.” 

Bucky’s heart

had soared, you’d bought him a present. Something you liked too and you’d thought about him when you weren’t together. He couldn’t deny how addictive your presence had become, the mixture of calm and joy. If you brought him a present surely that meant you liked him too? 

He’d have to talk to Steve later, he seemed to know more about you and where you’d come from.

The rest of the journey went by quickly, you talked about a new show you were watching, a book you finished and how terrible most of the agent’s handwriting was when you were trying to decipher their field notes, not to mention the way they ticked boxes wrong and put things in the wrong files.

He discovered it was you who’d streamlined the paperwork, automated some of the questions and changed the paperwork so it matched across teams. He was somewhat in awe of your ability to see efficiencies as if they were tangible, organising his own Avengers issue tablet to minimise the emails he received and sorting the rest into neat little folders in his inbox, all in the last twenty minutes of the mission.

Too soon the agents themselves were piling into the back of the jet, tired but excited, chattering away. Even Steve was still in a good mood, bouncing into the cockpit, his Captain America smile plastered on but his suit unzipped enough to show his flush chest and the grime of the mission on his neck. 

“Hey Buck, let’s get - oh, hello Agent.” He came up short, as if he hadn’t seen you at all. 

“Hi, Mr Rogers, Sir, Captain?” You fumbled. 

Bucky winced, you hadn’t really met Steve yet, he should’ve introduced you both properly instead of letting you struggle. 

“Steve is fine, Agent, you stay there if you want,” the Captain America smile morphed into his real, Steve, smile, and you looked surprised. He winked and turned to leave the cockpit again.

Before Steve had even shut the cockpit door you could feel the awkward lump of confusion move from sitting in your through with your unuttered words down into the pit of your stomach. Should you have given Steve his seat back? He seemed so insistent that you stay but maybe he was being polite and there was some etiquette rule that you weren’t away of at play.

You looked out at the gathering clouds in the distance and fixed your eyes on one cloud in particular, honing in on the shades of grey that built each bump and groove. 

“Are you alright? You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to?” Bucky whispered from the seat to your right, the dark metal fingers of his hand lingered on your arm rest, so close you could feel his presence without him touching you. 

No.

No you were not alright.

It had been too long since you were in your own space, the jet was so loud and the din of the other agents so overwhelming that you thought you might be drowning in noise. You were confused about Steve’s behaviour, he was a superior, yes, but just a man and you didn’t think you needed to bow and scrape to him. But maybe you did?

“You’ve gone again, Doll. I need to know you’re okay.” His hand touched your elbow for just a second and then withdrew.

Oh, shit, you had, you were gone, everything felt weird and heavy and fuzzy, your eyes had drifted back to the clouds, body still, apart from the heaving of your chest as your breaths became more panicked. 

“I - yeah - I’m fine.” You grit your teeth into a false, pained smile and dug your nails into the arms of your chair. “I shouldn’t be here though, I should go back. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I’ll get Steve.” Before Bucky could stop you, you’d jumped up and rushed through the door leaving Bucky confused and alone in the cockpit. 

[mylovesstuffs]

Entry #02

24.01.2025 - 02:52

The fact that so many people here feel self-conscious and insecure about their smiles breaks my heart. It’s disheartening, to say the least. I know I’m here trying to comfort you all, but reading your responses makes me feel a little lighter though I know it’s cruel of me to admit. I usually don’t like to be vulnerable, not online and definitely not in public, but for your sake, and because I understand how it feels, I’ll share why I feel that way.

It’s because I’m insecure too.

To the point where COVID was a relief for me because wearing masks in public became normalized. From 2020 to 2025, I’ve been wearing a mask every single day and I'm not exaggerating.

To the point where my friends unmask me once every two months (because I don't unmask every time they want) just so they don’t forget what I look like.

To the point where I only have 12 unmasked photos of myself as a teenager.

To the point where I’ve become known as “the mask girl.”

To the point where people shame me for wearing a mask indoors and outdoors.

To the point where I’m often targeted or pressured by others to unmask myself.

To the point where my juniors have never even seen my face.

But what really hit me is realizing so many of you feel insecure about your smiles. I thought I was alone in this. For me, it’s my smile too. It’s something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember. It surprises me because, to me, I’ve never seen a bad smile in my entire life. Not one. Truly. People even make fun of me for finding everyone attractive and beautiful, but I do! Everyone is unique in their own way. I genuinely think everyone is unique and beautiful. What you see in the mirror isn’t what others see. People see you differently than you see yourself, they see beauty where you might not. Yet here I am, telling you this, even though I can’t seem to believe it about myself or apply it in my life. I hate my smile. I hate it to the point that I avoid it entirely. And it hurts even more because my own father has been the one to point it out. My family knows how sensitive I am about it, and they go out of their way to avoid making me feel worse. But my father doesn’t realize this. He’s told me outright several times not to smile or laugh with my teeth showing (as if I could laugh any other way).

It broke me. To know that everyone around me understood that except him. To him, it’s not a big deal. To him, he's oblivious. Though I know he has a bit of a narcissistic personality but it's not that bad. Laughing and smiling are involuntary, natural expressions of joy or amusement—things that happen without much thought. So to tell me not to smile or laugh feels deeply unfair, even cruel, when you think about it. I’ve been made to feel self-conscious about even being happy. But at the same time, I know he isn’t intentionally trying to hurt me. He’s just oblivious to how deeply his words affect me. And that’s the tricky part, isn’t it? People often don’t realize how their comments especially about something as personal as physical appearance can linger. The logical side of me knows he doesn’t mean harm. But the emotional side of me can’t help but feel the weight of those words. It’s a reminder that even the people closest to us, the ones we expect to understand us best, can sometimes miss the mark entirely.

So yeah, I guess that’s why I felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that others feel this way too. It’s not something we can always control, but maybe it’s something we can learn to embrace. And from the bottom of my heart, I know that if SEVENTEEN ever knew about this, they’d be the first to hug us. As their fans, their friends, or someone even closer to them, they’d want us to know how special we are. How beautiful we are. They’d remind us that our smiles—the ones we hate—are the ones that light up their world. Insecurities often feel like a big deal to us, even if others might think they're trivial or wonder why we're bothered by them. But the truth is, insecurities are deeply personal and sensitive, and because of that, we should really be kind and understanding toward one another.

You’re not alone. And you are so, so much more beautiful than you think.

OT13 reacting to their s/o who loves smiles but feels insecure about showing their teeth

Request: Halooo I am the same anon that req wisdom tooth drabble!!! So can I req for svt ot13 s/o that love smile but never showed their teeth cause they're insecure with it?? I do have an open bite and I do be jealous w ppl that can smile with their normal teeth 🥲🥲 Also can I be ur ⭐️ anon??

A/N: This is dedicated to all kinds of smiles—big, small, toothy, closed, crooked, or perfectly aligned. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others, especially when society has such rigid standards for something as personal as a smile. But the truth is, the world isn’t looking for perfect smiles; it’s looking for your smile—the one that lights up the people around you, the one that reflects your joy, and the one that makes you you. Whether you’re someone who shows off their teeth confidently or someone who keeps their smiles shy, you are absolutely radiant just the way you are. I hope this reaction brings you warmth, and maybe even a little courage to embrace your smile, because SEVENTEEN and I think it’s the best one there is. Thank you for reading, and remember: your smile is a gift, not just to you but to everyone lucky enough to see it! 💛

I definitely encourage you to read everyone's part, especially Minghao's.

Seungcheol: Cheol would notice right away how you always smile with your lips closed. He’d encourage you without pushing too hard, so you’d catch him saying things like, “I love it when you smile—it’s my favorite thing about you.” And when you explain why you’re self-conscious, his protective mode kicks in. In his mind, you’re perfect exactly as you are. He’d make a habit of kissing your forehead after every smile, as if to say, Thank you for sharing this with me. Warm, comforting, and always your biggest cheerleader.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan is a tease—but in the sweetest way possible. He’d catch you hiding your teeth and tease you playfully about how even your shy smile could start a fan club. But deep down, he’d be the FIRST to remind you that nobody’s smile is ‘wrong’. He’d even come up with ridiculous scenarios like, “If anyone says anything about your teeth, I’ll report them to Smile Security.” Sure, it’s dramatic, but somehow it’s comforting. With him, you’d slowly start to see your smile through his eyes: bright, genuine, and absolutely worth showing off.

Joshua: Shua’s the ‘patient and reassuring’ type. He’d never rush you into anything but would always make it known how much he loves your smile—whether or not it shows your teeth. He’d probably sit with you one evening and casually mention how he used to be insecure about something too, just to remind you that everyone has their struggles. The way he’d look at you every time you smiled? Pure love and admiration. Slowly but surely, you’d start feeling like, Maybe my smile isn’t so bad after all.

Jun: Junhui wouldn’t even let you finish explaining your insecurity before he’d start showering you with compliments. He’d be so sweet and genuine about it too, like, “What? But your smile is so pretty! Have you seen yourself?” He’d probably find little ways to make you smile more, through goofy antics or heartfelt gestures. The best part? He’d never let you feel like you had to change—he loves your smile, whether it’s teeth-showing or not. And his genuine enthusiasm? It’s impossible not to feel a little brighter around him.

Hoshi: Hoshi would make it his personal mission to see your biggest, toothiest smile. He’s dramatic like that. He'd do the silliest things to make you laugh, like impersonating the other members or dancing in the weirdest ways (mind you he's performance team leader TT). When you finally let out a full smile, he’d stop mid-act and just stare. “Wow. That’s the one. That’s the smile that could light up a stadium.” And you’d know he’s not exaggerating (even though he’s Hoshi and exaggerates everything). It’s just how he loves—with his whole heart. I'm feeling soft :(

Wonwoo: He’d notice your insecurities but wouldn’t bring them up directly. Instead, would focus on making you comfortable and appreciated. He’d probably start complimenting you in subtle ways, like, “Your smile is really nice,” or “You look happiest when you smile.” Over time, his steady reassurance would make you feel less self-conscious. And when you finally smile without holding back, he’d just give you that soft, proud look, as if to say, See? I knew it was beautiful.

Woozi: Woozi would be a mix of logical and sweet about it. He’d listen to your reasons and then quietly debunk every single one of them, like, “Who said teeth have to be perfect to make a smile beautiful? That’s nonsense.” He’d focus more on how your smile makes him feel—happy, loved, and lucky to know you. And if you ever caught him sneaking a photo of you smiling? Just know it’s because he wants to remember how happy you looked in that moment.

Dokyeom: Oh boy, Seokmin would be all over this. He lives for smiles, especially yours. He’d probably start a whole campaign to make you feel better about it, complete with compliments, funny jokes, and random bursts of Look at that gorgeous smile! energy. You’d have no choice but to smile around him because he’s just that infectious. And when you finally let out a toothy grin, he’d gasp like, “I KNEW IT! YOU HAVE THE BEST SMILE IN THE WORLD!” Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Mingyu: Kim Mingyu, the man he is, would be the type to go above and beyond to make you feel good about your smile. He’d start by complimenting you constantly and taking candid photos where you look natural and happy. Then, he’d show them to you like, “Look at this—your smile could cure my bad days.” He’d probably even bring it up to the members like, “Isn’t her smile the best thing ever?” And when you roll your eyes at him, he’d just grin and say, “See? Even your eyeroll smile is perfect.” AHHGHTCGTCGCFFCCT

Minghao: Hao would be supportive and no-nonsense. He’d listen to your insecurities, acknowledge your feelings, and then remind you that nobody’s perfect. “Imperfections make us human,” he’d say, and it would somehow hit deeper than you expected. He’d probably encourage you to focus on how your smile feels rather than how it looks, and over time, his grounded perspective would help you see your smile in a whole new light. With him (with others too), you’d start to appreciate the beauty in being uniquely you.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would be the loudest advocate for your smile. “Are you kidding me!” He’d probably start hyping you up every time you smiled, to the point where it becomes impossible not to feel confident about it. And if anyone dared to say something negative about your teeth? Oh, he’d drag them to filth, no hesitation I'm telling you. With Seungkwan in your corner, you’d never have to doubt your smile again.

Vernon: He would be ridiculously sweet. He’d casually drop comments like, “Your smile’s cool,” and then act like it’s no big deal—when really, he’s melting inside every time he sees it. He’d never pressure you to show your teeth but would secretly be over the moon whenever you did. And the way he’d look at you in those moments? Pure adoration. Honestly, he’d make you feel like the coolest person in the world, open bite or not.

Dino: Chan would be all about boosting your confidence. He’d give you a pep talk about how unique smiles are the best smiles and how yours is his favorite thing about you. He’d hype you up so much that you’d almost feel like a celebrity. And when you finally smiled without holding back, he’d act like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. “That’s it! That’s the smile that could rules my heart!” That’s just how much he cares.

[ionobjectshow]

Hello granddad!! Really enjoyed the new episode by the way :D I just wanted to ask something, I dont know if you already answered this so I'm sorry for bothering you if you have D:

Do you have a particular interest in nuclear physics? I'm wondering because when I watch ION it seems to me like you must be very passionate about it as well, either that or your just very good at researching (or making stuff up this sounds legit to people who dont know anything about physics, like me! /j), but it sounds like you know a considerable amount! Maybe it just seems like that to me because I don't understand physics at all :P

I really love cracklin!! So much!!! I've felt like I was too naive and childish for most of my life, I felt weak, pathetic, i cried nearly every day and my feelings of self hatred were only solidified by the people around me. And even though I act MUCH differently now and am in fact quite crude (I am much like a bird squawking outside your window that refuses to shut up!!!) and say uncomfortable things, I'm still regarded as naive and dumb sometimes! The thing Sylvia and cracklin have going on feels very similar to MANY friendships I've had with girls my age. I liked school very much and liked to work, so it made them angry that I managed to be "so stupid and so smart at the same time" (quoted directly from something a girl said to me when I was in middle school). I feel very seen.

I also want to ask if you have a particular interest in object shows, or if you just happened to choose to make your show an object show by coincidence? Object shows are my special interest and I LOVE how your show goes against (almost) everything standard for an object show. Your show is absolutely unique and there's nothing like it out there! I'm sure you will inspire many young creators to make their object shows more serious and complex, deviating from just the typical competition show. In my eyes something is qualified as an object show when there are objects (or non human characters) and the creator considers it an object show, so I love how versatile the title can be! Your designs communicate a lot about the characters and that's SO uncommon!!!! I love it!!!!! You inspire ME!!!! The art is also BEAUTIFUL, really abnormal to see in object shows, most of the time very little detail is put into it, but your backgrounds feel so ALIVE

Have a good day! :]

☢️ As soon as I saw this secret message, the words flashed through my mind: “this letter is very autistic, perhaps it was created by an autistic person.” ☢️ I love long opinions with lots of details and sincere emotions, thank you for this text, I was very happy reading it!

☢️ Yes, you guessed it - nuclear physics (especially everything related to the operation of Nuclear Power Plants) has been my special autistic interest for about 5 years now. I love everything about it. In fact, I am absolutely bad at the exact sciences, but the dance of nuclear energies fascinates me and takes my breath away! I order manuals on nuclear reactors for myself and read them with great pleasure, waving my hands. I often go to a coffee shop to read there by the window with a cup of coffee ^^

☢️ I created ION during the most terrible period of my life, and this project was the only thing that held me while anxious depression was rapidly developing and consuming me into some bottomless black abyss. So I put my whole soul, all of myself and what I love into ION, I made this project my mirror. ☢️ It is very important for me to see how this story touches the hearts of other people, I scream with delight if some neurodivergent people recognize themselves in Cracklin! This is extremely important to me.

☢️ Object shows are not my special interest, but I was very surprised and intrigued by this genre of web animation. At first, I did not like the concept of an object show and I could not understand why people were watching it … and then something switched inside me and I really wanted to create my own experimental Object show. To create it entirely myself. To make an author's project that will become a part of me. I didn't even hope that ION would be liked by anyone else, I posted 1 episode with the thought that I was doing it only for myself. And now I am happy as a rainbow in the sky, reading so many kind comments and support! Thank you very much

[peonyneko]

To Know You Pt.2 | OldestSon!Nanami x YoungestDaughter!Reader

Notes: Once again, this fanfic is very self-indulgent, so many of you may not be able to relate to it... I don't know how often I will post, I just like writing about it. Requests are open?? But to be veryy honest, I'm not sure if I have for request, but I'm open to discussions through the inbox/request box. Send me any anon messages~

I'll clean up any mistakes soon!

Word count: 6k+

Genre: Angst(?), Fluff, A touch/sprinkle of suggestive content (not really), NO SMUT YET

Warnings: Grammar mistakes (I'll fix it), vomit, not good eating habits, cursing, and arranged marriage things(?)

Extra info:

Nanami's Friends: Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Utahime, etc

Nanami's Juniors: Mainly Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, does include Maki, Yuta, and Toge.

Nanami is hinted to be in his mid/late 30s and reader is hinted to be in her twenties.

---

OldestSon!Nanami who woke up from the smell of something good. Looking at the clock, to realize it’s past 11 AM, but quick to also realize his father gave him a week off. One, to get to know you better. Two, to plan your honeymoon for later on.

He notices you weren’t in bed, so after freshening up he follows the delicious scent. He watches as you look through the cabinets, very quietly, familiarizing yourself with what's there. You sigh in relief when you see maple syrup in the cabinet.

He found it… odd, to be honest. He usually was the one cooking for others, especially his younger siblings. He banned his brother, at that time in his early twenties, from entering the kitchen after he had burnt milk… Milk! (Though he is now much better at cooking.)

So to have you cook something was… fresh, but normal for an adult nonetheless. He wondered if you cooked for yourself often.

“Good morning. It smells nice,” he says, his voice rough and deep. You turn around with a spatula in your hand and next to you what seemed to be strawberry pancakes on a plate.

You nod, “Good morning… Yeah, thought I’d make something before you go to work.”

It clicks that he never told you. Shit. 

“My dad actually gave me the week off. I apologize for the confusion. I should’ve told you during our date,” he says, nearing you and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“That’s okay. We barely had the time,” you say, turning back to your pancakes and putting the last one on the plate. Another plate with scrambled eggs.

“Do you have work?” he asks and you shake your head. 

“I’m off for a week too. My boss found out I was getting married out-of-nowhere,” you shrugged, the words leaving your mouth so casually.

“You didn’t tell them?” he continues, bringing out plates and utensils to place on the table.

You shake your head, “Not that I didn’t. I told them, but they didn’t expect it so soon.”

OldestSon!Nanami hums, being in a similar position himself. Everyone’s jaw dropped when they found out, from Gojo’s loud mouth, not himself. He didn’t even tell Gojo! His mom did. She adored that blue-eyed lunatic. 

You fetch the water jug filling up the water cups. You both sit on opposite ends, a little far from each other. It gnawed at his chest, so he asked.

“Why did you want to get married?” The silence lingers for a while, and he could tell you, too, are looking for words to not hurt him.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t judge your reasons. I’m sure I’m no better,” he reassures.

You licks your lips. “For my family, I guess. My mom really wants to see me get married. She’s quite old and has health problems, so I agreed.”

Nanami noticed you held your guard up, keeping a distance between the two of you. Something you’re not telling him, but he doesn’t press.

“Do you regret it?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Not if you don’t,” you whispered before taking a bite of your pancakes. His gaze lingered on you. Not if he doesn’t? 

“You’re my wife. I won’t regret the wife I chose. Yes, we don’t know each other, but I don’t want you to feel suffocated, so please do tell me anything and everything.” 

You look back at him with sparkling eyes and then you change the topic.

He took a bite of the pancakes and eggs and was surprised. He could hug you for how fluffy and delicious they are. It didn’t even take a second to know it was better than any he made.

“What do you want to do today?” you ask. 

He hums, “I have a few places in mind, where we can go, but where do you want to go?”

“Oh, what did you have in mind?” you ask and he tells you the locations after another big bite of the pancakes. His mind can’t get over how you made the pancakes this fluffy and good.

“We can go there,” you say and his ears perk up.

“Where exactly?” he asks for specifics.

“The, um, restaurant, the Salt one,” you tried to repeat what he’d said early, only to fail.

“Ah, Saltspringlis?” he clarifies, telling you that he’ll take you tonight for dinner.

OldestSon!Nanami who notices you skipping lunch and asks you about what you wanted, only for you to say you’ll eat later, stalling on it. Hours go by and he noticed you were busy unpacking your things. He helped you, in hopes that you’d take a break and go eat, but you just continue unpacking, so he asked.

“Well, I had breakfast with you and I don’t want to be full for dinner,” you say, not paying mind to the utterly confused look on his face. Huh? 

“I also forgot,” you mumble, folding another shirt into the drawer. He felt compelled to scold you, the way he used to scold his siblings for taking way too long to go eat. But he doesn’t.

“You should eat a snack,” he suggests, folding your pants and putting it in the drawer of pants. He leaves the room, bringing back an apple, then somewhat “orders” you to sit down and eat while he unpacks for you.

OldestSon!Nanami who neatly organized your clothes the way he noticed you organizing them. Who casually reaches inside the duffle bag beside the nightstand, only for you to tighten the opening, stops his hand from moving. Your eyes were panicked and with the apple in between your lips. He stops and there are a few seconds of silence between you two.

“Um, I have underwear in this,” you explain.

OldestSon!Nanami removes his hand from the bag, the feeling on lace and silk catching his attention as he does. Your face was red and he isn’t dumb. He knows that these were perhaps lingerie packed for activities, maybe by someone else. But he’s also not crass or rude. He acts like he doesn’t know what's inside, nor does he sexualize it. 

OldestSon!Nanami who takes you to Saltspringlis, a seafood restaurant, but also invites some of his friends and company juniors. Gojo and Geto come with Yuji and Megumi, while Shoko arrives with Nobara and Maki. He was glad to know you got along with them, even if they did most of the talking, you still looked pleased but…

OldestSon!Nanami who wonders why you don’t touch your food, you just pick at it. You pick at the scallops and shrimp risotto. In the hour that passed, everyone had finished their plate except you. And soon it was time to leave. 

He wasn’t angry, no, no, no! He was curious and maybe a little disappointed. 

Your marriage was arranged. He didn’t dislike you, no it was the opposite. He liked you, platonically. But he noticed you barely ate your dinner.

He grew up being told to appreciate food and finish his plate. “Others aren’t as fortunate as we are, Kento,” his mother would say. His parents didn’t force him to finish his food if he really couldn’t. But he grew up learning it’s proper and respectful to finish what you got for yourself or what was served.

His younger siblings were told the same about finishing meals, but less tied to the rule. They weren’t kept on the table until they finished like he and another one of his siblings were. And as Nanami sees from your habits, you were probably given that leniency too.

You bit into the shrimp, eating maybe a quarter of the meal before never touching it again. And soon it was time to leave. He noticed others' questions if you were hungry. “You didn’t even eat much,” Yuji, who was around your age, exclaimed. You simply told everyone you’re full. Nanami told you to get it packed to-go and you nodded, doing just that. 

OldestSon!Nanami who fought with OnlyChild!Gojo to pay the bill for everyone. In the end, Gojo beat him by a millisecond to tap it on the card reader.

OldestSon!Nanami who was a little surprised when your stomach growled in the silent car ride. He looked over to you for a second, suggesting, “Finish the food at the house.” You only nod, not saying much.

OldestSon!Nanami who was just a tiny bit irked when he saw the to-go box still in the fridge the next morning. So, once you told him with an avoidant gaze that you didn’t want it, he ate it himself.

OldestSon!Nanami and you went through the motions of your break, one week passing by fairly quickly. You both ate together for almost every meal. ‘Almost’ because you had a tendency to avoid meals and lean towards snacking. Though, at least you’d have breakfast and dinner. Two days into the break, he helped you settle in, encouraging you to decor the place however you’d want. He didn’t mind. He wanted you to feel like you belonged.

So there you were, day three of seven days of break, at a home goods store, gawking the prices as you tried to find the cheapest ones. Why are they so expensive?! Nanami, too, was looking but he looked rather unfazed. 

You found one of the shelves to be beautiful, so beautiful you wanted it. But that feeling quickly sizzled out once the price of $1,500 revealed itself on the tag. You carried on with a tight smile, not looking back. You looked everywhere, and no matter what, nothing was under $500. Even a nightstand. A nightstand!

OldestSon!Nanami who sees you silent sigh to yourself as you walk back to the same place you started off. He asks you if this store was not to your taste, but you simply shake your head, quietly telling him it’s over your budget. 

Perplexed, he leans down, “I’m well-over capable to pay it.”

OldestSon!Nanami watches you explain that you aren’t going to let him pay for it! If you like it and want it, you’ll buy it. He is just there looking back, absolutely astonished. Though, he hid it well behind his stoic face and clenched jaw. Who told you you’d be paying for these things?

“I respect that you want to pay for it, but you’re not going to. Moreso, I won’t let you. If you like something, I’ll get it. It’s for the house,” he replies, beginning to walk towards someone.

Before you can even attempt to convince him not to, he tells an employee to buy two items, giving the item number, as well. You watch him not hesitate the slightest. Even on the drive home, he doesn’t say much about what he bought, so you assumed he got what he liked. 

OldestSon!Nanami who tells you to come down the next day, because a delivery came in. You look at him in utter disbelief as the same beautiful shelf stood in front of you. He watches as your expression goes from confusion to shock to admiration and then to…

“Wait, I- Did you buy it because of me?” your brows furrowed as your voice got small. You had a sort of guilt in your voice, almost as if you didn’t want him to get it.

So he panics. “No! No… I got it because I really liked it,” he lied, “Why? Did you?”

Your face calms and you sigh in relief, “Yeah… Can I help you build it?”

OldestSon!Nanami and you who spend day 4 of your break building and moving things around the house. He notices you bump into things here and there, so he just… moves them out of the way when you shuffle around. He quietly reorganizes the pantry, so you don’t risk breaking your hip when you climb the countertop.

What? He caught you easily climbing it on your knees, as if you do that often when he’s not looking. It made you avoid his gaze for hours, with an embarrassed laugh, mumbling, “Sorry. I’ll clean it.”

YoungestDaughter!Reader who still notices him reorganizing the pantry because she’s always aware of Nanami. Who enjoys building the shelf with Nanami, her brows furrows in focus and eyes fixed on the screws. She organizes her book, usually by title and genre, but quietly places Nanami’s favorites to his eye level (knowing from his family and friends). 

YoungestDaughter!Reader who places a cup of water on the kitchen counter, knowing Nanami will just drink it. He’s done that before. What? She’s just making sure he’s hydrated. Who softly asks Nanami if he has any photos he wants to put up there.

He does. 

OldestSon!Nanami who opens up his album of high school memories and recent pictures with his juniors. All of them. Who stupidly skips past the wedding pictures, not noticing YoungestDaughter!Reader’s eyes wait in foolish anticipation.  

YoungestDaughter!Reader who is quick to move on from the slight disappointment. After all, this relationship had no feelings, it’s arranged. She smiles at the memories, but it dawns on her that she doesn’t know him… At All. Certainly not anything close to what his juniors even know. So she asks about his high school and college, hoping for any response even if it’s not a deep one.

“It was fun,” Nanami whispered, brushing his thumb over two faces. A girl and a guy. 

Silence. Horrible, awkward silence.

“Uh, what year was that?” you ask from behind him. He doesn’t talk and so you let it go. You hated this feeling, the sticky, horrible feeling of begging for him to respond or talk. 

After all, you grew up knowing to swallow your feelings and just let people be, especially if they didn’t want you. You grew up being the listener. When no one asked or responded, you wouldn’t speak either. You hated this sticky, unbearable feeling or being the only one wanting to talk.

You look through your own set of pictures, ones of your friends and family, some that you already printed to frame. You and Nanami decorated the shelf, but sadly it looked as if two roommates had done it, not a married couple. 

You keep your thoughts to yourself. You knew what to expect coming in. No matter how much his mother told this would be love, the moment you knew Nanami seemed to have… settled, you knew this is just that, a settlement. 

But you stupidly already started to enjoy his presence.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who has countless sketches of Nanami in her sketchbook, all of them in her forbidden, never-open-in-front-of-others sketchbook. All of them are drawn in the month you’ve known him.  Some doodles, others a bit more detailed. 

OldestSon!Nanami, who saw the sketch book lying around, picks it up out of curiosity, but never opens it. He respects your privacy. 

OldestSon!Nanami and you spend day 5 in the park with a beautiful garden. He noticed your eyes sparkle at the flowers, taking yet another picture as you walked around. He sends it to his mom, who replies with a dozen pink, yellow, and orange hearts for you, calling you, “So cute.” You come back to him, with a couple small flowers in your hand, dropping it into his palm without touching him, “I didn’t want to rip them off, but I found some instead.”

OldestSon!Nanami who blushes as you turn your back and continue walking as if you didn’t just give him the cutest small flowers of yellow and blue daisies.

OldestSon!Nanami who brings home salmon the next day and you cook it. He notices you eat only part of it and wait for him to finish before claiming that you're full. He lets it go, not saying anything about it.

The rest of the day you two are within each other's vicinity, but doing different things. You sketching something in your sketchbook and he's reading.

OldestSon!Nanami begins to dose off as he's reading, his book slipping from him a sliver. Despite being high alert with others, he can't help but feel a little at peace with... you.

You place your sketchbook aside, taking the blanket off yourself and putting it on Nanami instead. You take the book from his sleeping state and hesitantly tuck him into the blanket.

Nanami wakes up right when you put the blanket on him and he can't help but feel weird fluttering in his stomach. A few seconds of silent stares that happen between you two. You to him. Him to you.

"Um," you break the silence, "You should sleep... in the bedroom. You'll hurt your neck."

Nanami who hums, knowing that if he spoke, it'll be a stutter of words. He notices how you look so "caught in the act" when you did nothing wrong. He gives you a smile, clearing his throat as he stands up.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

You look back at your materials splayed out on the living room table and couch. Looking back at him, you shrug your shoulders.

"I'm not tired, but I can... keep you company after I clean up."

OldestSon!Nanami who waits 20 minutes, too giddy to sleep because you said you'd keep him company. Usually, you two went to sleep at different times. You were always staying up later than him.

OldestSon!Nanami who whispers goodnight as you settle into the bed, reading a book in your hand and small light on the book. He told you that you can keep the lights or lamp on, but you refused. You use a tiny book light

OldestSon!Nanami and you spend the night of your last day of break together at yet another expensive seafood restaurant. Nanami had asked you where you wanted to go, but you let him decide, telling him you didn’t know the place well.

You’d ordered a salmon dish with a side of asparagus. The price wasn’t the issue. He didn’t mean to get a little… irked. You took twenty minutes to order, but he didn’t mind. And by the time he’d eaten his food, you barely made a dent in yours.

He waited and waited, the conversation between you two was longer than the length you took to eat. The conversation was nothing out of the ordinary, just about both of your jobs and going back to the usual work routine. All that stuff. 

Your food long went cold and you were lingering, not touching it.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, curiously.

“Oh, no nothing. Why?” You ask, tilting your head.

“You’re not eating and your food is cold,” he points out. You look down at your plate and curl up. He should’ve stopped.

“It’s not good to waste food,” he adds, wiping his hands on the cloth.

“Yeah, um, I’m just full,” you quietly say, your neck heating up from his gaze. The same one that you got when you were younger. From many, many people.

You’d grown up similar to Nanami, but instead of being let off the hook your family yelled at you to eat and finish food. Admittedly, you avoided food because you were easily full, you’d prefer to have small portions. It didn’t help that your parents were on the poorer side. They’d guilt you about the money they spent on food.

And as Nanami said those words, you relive those memories.

“You’re all skin and bones! Why are you not eating?!”

“Fish is good for you, why are you being so picky?”

“She never eats. It’s such a hassle. What did I do wrong?.”

“I tried so many times to make her eat fish, she never does.”

“You should be happy. Lots of people can’t even eat fish.”

So, to avoid giving Nanami the wrong impression, despite heavily disliking seafood, you forced yourself to at least finish half, until you just couldn’t anymore. This month alone, you've eat more fish than you have in a lifetime.

The salmon left a bad taste in your mouth and you felt like throwing up. You would’ve had it not been for the asparagus you finished.

“Are you done?” Nanami asks, again. You nod your head with flushed cheeks, squeezing your hands in your lap. Sorry. 

He sighs and finishes paying. He barely says a word to you as you both go to the car. The food swirls in your stomach, the taste of the seafood still in your mouth palette. You didn’t get the chance to wash the gag-worthy taste away with water.

“Thank y-“

“If you didn’t want to eat out, you could’ve told me,” he bluntly said, gripping the steering wheel. He drove without looking at you, just a little bit irked. Okay, not just a little. Irked. He’s annoyed.

Gojo buys you food that you didn’t eat, then you don’t eat this time either. You never seemed to finish it, but then you eat something else much later on, ignoring the food container from the restaurant. Did you want fresh food? He’d get it. He just wanted you to be honest if you didn’t want to eat it anymore now that it’s old. Or that you didn’t want to eat with him and his friends in the first place.

“I’m not trying to force you to do anything. We’re married even though it was arranged, but I’m not here to force you,” he adds, and your stomach sinks further.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble as he drives in silence, paying you no mind. A few minutes go by. Your guilt grew more and you could physically feel his irritation.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to go eat,” you add, playing with your hands. I’m sorry. 

“Then?” He raises a brow, eyes in the road.

Your throat felt hot and your stomach swirls as the car hit a pothole. You didn’t want to admit it. You didn't want to admit that you didn’t like fish. You didn’t like seafood. Few exceptions, but fish was definitely not one. You tried to like it, but nothing ever got you to.

“I felt full,” you mumble and he is quick to click his tongue.

“Then you could’ve ordered something you wouldn’t waste. That simple,” he adds. 

He didn’t know why he got worked up. You weren’t a kid. He normally doesn’t care about habits. But you didn’t even have a full meal since breakfast. Yes, he noticed. How are you NOT hungry?

Growl! You bit your lip as your stomach made noises. Nanami sighed as he, too, heard it. You clearly were if your stomach was still growling.

“You don’t have to lie. I won’t blame you if you feel weird about going out with me. As I said, this marriage was done quickly and we’re not in love. ”

“No, I just… couldn’t finish it. I knew I probably would like it. I wanted to try, but… It didn’t taste good,” you mumble at the end. As Nanami drives, the sight of swift cars and alternating lights makes your stomach flip like hurricane swirls.

“But you got it anyway. You should’ve ordered something you could finish.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out, your hand reaching up to cover your nose and mouth.

“No need to apologize to me. Just… it’s not good to waste food,” he said, voice flat and stern.

You felt shame rise up to your cheek as the food began to rise up your throat. You’d tried to swallow the sickly throat-wrenching feeling, but it was getting more and more unbearable. More and more the food climbed up your stomach and throat.

“Stop- Stop the car,” you quickly express, opening your seatbelt. And he does, pulling over immediately..

You stumble out of the car, and spill your guts out. Every bit of fish and asparagus you ate now spilled out on the ground. Nanami curses, his stomach sinking to the floor as you heave and bend over. He leaves the car to rub your back, his eyes brimmed with worry.

Fish usually made you queasy, especially if it smelled fishy. So you avoided it, but seeing Nanami always eat it so deliciously made you want to match his preference too. He got you water and you profusely apologized. He shakes his head, worried to no end. He checks your temperature and finds nothing. He’s there with you crouched down until your stomach calms, your arms settling beside you.

“What's wrong?”

“I’m sorry… I don’t like seafood.” And it clicks for him. Your face dropped when you looked through the menu, which had nothing but fish and scallops.

Fuck, he thought. He loves seafood, so did his entire family. It seemed like your family also enjoyed it, so he assumed you liked it too. But not once did he ever see you reach for any seafood dishes. Ever. 

He’d grown up eating anything, he wasn’t picky, moreso he wasn’t allowed to be. He didn’t care as long as it wasn’t sardines. You must’ve forced yourself to eat even half of the salmon. He carries you to the car, clicking in your seatbelt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he admits, “I should’ve told you it was seafood. It’s my fault, not yours.”

“Still it was expensive and you paid, so I can pay you back for wasting it,” your voice was so small and quiet. As if you expected him to be mad about it. As if you expect him to yell at you.

His heart aches, and he shakes his head, “No, no. What? That doesn’t matter. The price doesn’t matter. I’m your husband, it’s only a given.”

He help you get back into the car, making sure you were no long queasy. OldestSon!Nanami who has a small stash of medicine in a box of his car. He gives you a bottle of water and some nausea relief. Driving a little slower to avoid making your vision hazy and stomach churn again. Right when heard your stomach rumble, he was quick to stop at a random late night bakery.

“Do you like sweets?” He asks and you nod, only to panic when he starts to leave the car.

“No, you don’t have to! You’re wasting money,”

His brows furrow, “What? Nonsense, you threw up. And you’re hungry”

“I’ll buy it myself. Seriously.”

“No, sit here. What do you like?”

“I’m not telling you,” you insist.

“Then I’ll just get one of every flavor.”

You scoff at his ‘promise,’ “No you won’t.”

“You think?” he smirks, cocking his head to the side.

“You won’t,” you dryly chuckle, crossing your arms. You were too weak from the nausea to get up as he shut the car door, assuming he was joking. Surely, he’d just get a croissant.

He didn’t, in fact, just get a croissant. Keeping his word, Nanami comes back with a box full of pastries. Your eyes widen at the sheer amount in your lap.

“I- I can’t finish this!”

“I’ll help. Anything left over I’ll give it to friends. Please, I don’t want you fainting.”

He noticed you hesitate to grab the fancy one, the tiramisu croissant, so before you go for the plain butter croissant instead, he speaks.

“Go for it. I bought it for you,” he softly encourages. With a sheepish smile you take it, biting into the croissant.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Nanami says, regretting his lecturing.

“You’re not a kid and you’re free to eat however much and whatever you want. I don’t mean to control you. I have no idea what got over me to act like that. I’m sorry.”

You nod your head, “That’s alright. I know you said it from a good place. I, uh, need to get better at letting you know about these things too.” 

That night, nothing big changed, but Nanami was sure of one thing: He never wants to see you sad and uneasy.

He couldn’t help that your tears made his heart ache. Maybe it was similar to the way he can’t see his juniors hurt? He just knew he didn’t want to see you unhappy. Maybe you were becoming a friend? He doesn’t know.

OldestSon!Nanami and you who still sleep with your backs faced away from each other, but closer. The distance would completely disappear if one of you flipped over. 

OldestSon!Nanami checks on you when waking up at the crack of dawn, he touches your forehead. And then realizes….

Realizes he hasn’t even hugged you, let alone held your hand. The farthest you’ve both gone was this… Him touching your forehead. And right then, he wanted to bang his head on the wall.

But maybe it was for the best? What if you don’t like him? What if you want a divorce soon? What if you liked someone else? Why would she like you? Someone so fucking old-

You groan in your sleep, moving around and facing him. His breath gets caught in his throat as the palm of his hand is now pressed between the bed and your cheek. Your hair strand cover part of your face, and fuck you looked so cute. 

An ache sew itself into Nanami's heart. He felt as though he'd ruined your life. Your love life. He wonders if you given no choice. Because why would you agree to marry him? You could've chosen anyone... But you chose him...

OldestSon!Nanami who went to sleep like that, not daring to move his hand from your cheek. So when you wake up, you wake up confused as to why you accidentally practically pinned Nanami to the edge of the bed (it was only his arm under you).

YoungestDaughter!Reader who wakes up a little excited because she gets to make him a lunchbox for the first time. She really wanted him to try one of her recipes that she made herself. She hesitates, thinking of cooking something common, but listening to her heart, she makes him something she came up with.

OldestSon!Nanami who smiles at the lunch you made him for before he headed to work. He gives you a small smile, thanking you. You smile back, shrugging and playing with the hem of your shirt, as if it was too embarrassing for him to notice it. 

OldestSon!Nanami who also drives you to your office place, making sure you went inside the office before driving to his own.

OldestSon!Nanami who got many compliments and congratulations for his marriage. He even got a couple of sad eyes from some singles. He didn’t know why. Were they sad he got married before them? (No, they were sad it wasn’t them who he got married to. Both those employees flirted with him before, but he never took the hint. Gojo and Geto knew, but they never told him.)

OldestSon!Nanami who didn’t touch the lunch you made for him, forgetting about it when Gojo practically dragged him to eat out because, “Suguru is too busy to eat with me.” 

Not only that, he didn’t even get the time to catch his breath because of how busy it got with him back in the office. When he took a shower after work, you noticed the lunchbox was heavy, opening it to only find it full and untouched. 

YoungestDaughter!Reader’s heart fell to the floor seeing the food not even halfway done. She contemplated asking him, but when he came to the kitchen with a laptop in his hand and a stoic face, her questions answered themselves. Maybe he didn’t get the time.

That day you both did not speak much with each other. Both of you had different jobs and after the week long break, there was much to catch up on for both of you

So the very next day, you make him lunch again. A different recipe with salmon and rice. You even tasted it to make sure it was good, even if you’d prefer it with chicken instead. 

Your routine of waking up together and leaving together continued for a second time. You were dropped off first and then he went about his way.

OldestSon!Nanami whose second day back was hectic, more so than the first. He didn't even get a break, let alone the chance to touch his lunchbox.

YoungestDaughter!Reader’s heart, once again, shattered seeing the lunch full. The note she left inside of “Hope today is good! Take deep breaths^^” discarded all the way at the bottom. Crunched up and discarded.

OldestSon!Nanami and you spent the day in different work rooms. You in yours. Him in his. You slept in the same bed. Close, but once again faced away. Backs towards one another. 

OldestSon!Nanami didn’t say anything when he noticed you didn’t make lunch the next day, thinking you were tired, so he made it himself. You saw him do so, as you grabbed a yogurt and canned coffee. In silence, he dropped you off and went about his way to work. This continued for the week, before he asked. He asked right when you returned from work, surprisingly returning later than usual. Much later. Perhaps two hours late.

“Why did you stop making lunch?” He notices you freeze, trying to gather your thoughts. You had just gotten out of the shower, freshly wet hair and in your baggy mix-matched pajamas.

“Not that you must. You don’t. I’m a grown man. I can make it myself. I was just… I was merely curious,” he adds, hoping to put off the pressure of answering.

“Oh,” you begin, playing with the hem of your sleeve, “I thought you didn’t like it. I didn’t want to force you to eat something you didn’t like.”

“Why’d you think that?” he tilts his head, completely lost.

“You told me one time that you went out to eat and brought back a full container, so I assumed you didn’t want to eat it. But, I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry.” 

“No!” he says, stepping closer to you,“I should’ve clarified. Gojo forcefully took me out to eat. I also… completely forgot you packed me something. So it’s my fault, not yours.”

You look up at him, nodding, a hint of sadness in your eyes “So, you don’t mind eating what I make?”

He frowns, shaking his head and leaning down to you, “Why would I? Is anything wrong?”

You shake your head, as if you wanted to avoid talking about it. Before you can leave, he gently pulls your arm, leaning in close. He tilts his head to connect your face with his, a slight worry in his eyes.

“Hey, talk to me,” he whispers, “I don’t want you silently trapping your thoughts.”

You stall a bit more, before sheepishly chuckling. Shrugging as you answer, “No big deal, really. It’s a small thing that I guess I took too far. You don’t need to worry.” 

You attempt to leave, again, but he doesn’t let you. Stopping you in your tracks with his arm out with stern look, the same one he’d give his younger siblings with his brow raised so they spill whatever secret they had. You, being the youngest in your family, also know that look very well.

“Just… I- Whenever I made food for my family when I was younger, it was alway untouched,” you whisper, your eyes looking down at the floor instead of up at him. His heart aches as the words reach his ears.

You dryly laugh, “It is not even that serious, but I guess it still hurt. I remember making them breakfast one time and no one ate it. Yeah, I was a teenager and maybe it didn’t look good, but… I hoped at least one person would have some.” 

You looked so small, curling into yourself as you seem to be overthinking the memory. 

Your words getting quieter and quieter as you spoke, “It also seemed like they didn’t think I could make good food? I don’t know. It’s not even that serious, really. My older sisters were better at making traditional food anyway. Even when I got better, I always worried no one would like it, so I just wouldn’t make it.” 

He swallows the ball in his throat, feeling his heart crumble. That explains the hesitant stare you’d give him as he ate your food. Whenever you make something, you’d add a small ‘It’s probably not good.’

He noticed, but just assumed you were learning to cook, not that you were embarrassed of your skill. Hell, you were better at many dishes than him. He’d have your food over anything his family made.

He lets out a guilty sigh and hesitantly reaches for your hand, “You’re a good cook, so please try not to demean yourself. I understand this hesitance of yours, but I would never, ever leave your food to rot. I’ll eat everything and anything you make.”

OldestSon!Nanami who silent vows to always eat the lunch you pack him. And as always your cooking was nice. YoungestDaughter!Reader who encourages him to at least decide the menu, so she does not make him something he dislikes. Who tell Nanami that he’s never obligated to eat everything, just as much as he wants.

OldestSon!Nanami and you who have yet to go on a honeymoon or big trip because your works have you two so, so busy. 

A month and a half has passed and the only time you really spend is either sleeping in the same bed or drinking a late warm beverage together. Only on weekends do you ever really spend time, time that you two spent on talking and slowly getting to know each other. Though, Nanami noticed you still tend to avoid getting too deep about things. He wasn't much better with talking about his past either, so he understands.

OldestSon!Nanami, who during one of the weekends, takes you to yet another hang out with his friends and juniors. It was a small get-together a Gojo’s. Everyone, except for those driving, was a tad bit (or really) drunk. Nanami avoided drinking and you did not drink either. You were allergic.

OldestSon!Nanami who kept you in eye distance even when he knew everyone. Who felt so fucking jealous when Gojo and Geto leaned into your space to hear you over the music and loud juniors. Who pretended to “fix” your sleeve, his hand grazing the wedding ring to clean it. Nanami, who makes quick glaring eye contact with Gojo and Geto, before stepping away from you.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who isn’t dumb about what just happened. She can assume what just occurred, but she still has her big doubts. The little touch of her ring, in front of two other good-looking men (who are Nanami’s friends), left her a little speechless, but she brushes it off. Because what if it was just that simple a brush of her rings and no thought to it? 

OldestSon!Nanami who would get you everything and anything you need, even when you always refused to want anything. Never asking. Never relying. Always being okay with anything. Who notices that you always getting something on the cheaper side.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who grew to be on her own and not rely on others. Who has a hard time letting others do anything for her. Who feels overwhelmed every time Nanami takes her out because she really cannot get used to him paying for things. Her solution? Anything cheap. 

OldestSon!Nanami and YoungestDaughter!Reader who try to unknowingly dance around the other, trying to adjust to what the other feels comfortable with. OldestSon!Nanami and YoungestDaughter!Reader who have been sleeping facing each other for a month and a half. You take a glimpse of him before closing your eyes.. And Nanami taking one last look at your peaceful, sleeping face before succumbing to sleep.

----

Credits for the characters to Gege Akutami, but this plot and these versions of the character are of my own (maybe OOC sometimes), so please refrain from plagiarizing.

I am currently NOT posting this elsewhere, so if there are works of thse anywhere else, let me know!

Thank you for reading!

[spacenoirdetective]

Being gay, I used to think the rainbow flag was this wonderful symbol of togetherness, a symbol of tolerance meant to bring gays and straights and bis together. Maybe it's because I grew up being despised just on the suspicion I might be gay. I was bullied to the point of near suicide and all I wanted was to be left alone. When I got to college and I saw people wearing rainbow flags, my response was one of shock. I couldn't believe that anyone could view gays with anything other than hatred or disdain.

I really cannot tell you how horrified I am by how the LGBTQ movement morphed into a bullying, authoritarian cult. It honestly broke my heart before it made me just plain fucking angry over the sheer hypocrisy and willful blindness not to mention self victimhood of the community in general. Generation Z and Millennials have absolutely no real idea what it's like to grow up in a world where gays were truly invisible or lived in true fear for their lives. The 90s brought gays into a new light and the media exposure they were finally allowed gave me so much hope that gay would somehow just become another thing that was no big deal.

Of course, my hopes turned to horror when I watched the trans community take over and usurp everything that gays had built to create goodwill and togetherness. The younger militant gays who don't have any idea what they're fighting for...they just want to be angry and enraged and spiteful even though the people they're targeting often don't give a fuck anymore and really don't harbor any hate. They invent reasons to be angry even though a gay person from anytime before the 1990s would fucking kill for a chance to live in Trump's America.

It's the refusal to see reality for what it is. The modern LGBTQ movement has completely overthrown the old guard. Only the militants remained after marriage equality was achieved. Much like the mentacide against black America, the brainwashing against the gay community has been an onslaught of false information designed to break the human mind. The modern movement doesn't fight hate. It creates hate. It fosters hate and breeds suspicion and paranoia.

And it's vicious. It believes in revenge. It believes in reputation destruction. There's nothing loving about punishing people who fall outside the boundaries of what you consider to be acceptable beliefs, acceptable speech, acceptable humor, etc.

It makes me sad and I want nothing to do with this movement while it's trying to sterilize children, expose toddlers to hypersexualized drag shows and pride parades, embrace pure communism and belligerently attack those who defy it. Communist ideals will do this. It's happened before that those who have been on the bottom of society get power, they are given some kind of favor in exchange for supporting a revolution and suddenly go wild with that power as they seek to destroy their perceived enemies.

Fuck your narcissistic shit movement and every worthy ideal that it has abandoned.

President Trump has banned LGBTQ pride flags at government buildings.

[docholligay]

"Well... first of all, I'm not discouraged. I'm sad sometimes about things that I see happening around me in Washington or on the news. I did not come here to tell you everything's going to be fine. I'm not here to tell you that. Everything's not going to be fine. You know, everything's never been fine.

And if you think through our lifetimes or through history, things that are most compelling, most inspiring, most choice-worthy are the differences that have been made in the most difficult circumstances, or the confrontation of the most ugly problem.

I doubt any of you was inspired to be interested in public service because you read about some relatively easy problem where everyone agreed what to do and then they did it and everything was fine, right? We choose to do these things because we know first of all it matters who gets involved, and it matters what the outcome is. And that's hard, and it's always been hard. I don't know if this is inspiring, maybe it's a little bit comforting is that to the extent that we do figure these things out in our lifetime, the most difficult and painful things we were involved with will be romanticized by future generations looking for inspiration.

You know, I grew up envying my parents a little bit for living in the 60's, which from the calm and sometimes even politically boring times of the late 90's and early 2000's seemed just cooler. And my parents would say things to me like 'That was a terrible period! It was terrifying. People were getting assassinated and my friends were getting sent off to war. And it all looks cool now because you listen to the arts that flourished in response to the horrors our generation were being subjected to.'

But the way we navigated that, often the hard way, inspires us because of how tough it was on the way in. And I think that's kind of what makes all of this work worth doing, which is why I'm not discouraged, and why I'm not checking out and why I'm not giving up.

How can we give up? We don't have the right to give up. Like, think about the stuff that other people didn't give up in the face of. And then think about how things change. And yes, sometimes things change for the worse. And sometimes things don't change in time. But sometimes things change faster than you ever thought they would. As recently as when I was sitting in the seat of a student at an institution not that different from the Ford school, watching politicians come and give speeches, wondering if I'd ever be among them, I knew that I probably wouldn't because I was categorically disqualified from holding office, where I came from, because I was gay. And then I wasn't. [laughter]

I was gay! I wasn't disqualified! Things change but that didn't just happen because I waited around long enough. It happened because other people put their careers on the line and their futures on the line and made it change in less than one political lifetime. So that I get to be here, as a cabinet official, offering the world according to Pete, to a room full of students weighing what our complicated future is going to be. So how dare I give up, right? And all of us have our own reasons for being in this, and all of us have our own reasons for feeling the temptations of being discouraged. But if you're not out there doing this work, someone else will be.

As you can imagine that has a particularly specific implication for those of us who are literally seeing the people who will be doing the jobs we've been doing. But that's true whether the job so to speak is a job job, or the job of an activist or the job of a researcher.

Somebody's going to be doing this, and you, your kids, and your kid's kids, will be living with the implications of the choices they made. Wouldn't you rather it be you?"

Pete Buttigieg, after being asked for inspiration by a student at the Ford School for Public Policy

[cheerleaderman]

Yuya’s Answers for the No Yan Sim AU by @quartztwst

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

I live with my Mama , 2 older cousins Yolonda and Desmond and lastly my cat Grim Reaper but we call him Grim!

DO NOT harm Yuya’s cat they will come after you and they will find out who did it ( John Wick )

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

Quartz feels like a blushing anime character. Does she have something for Azul and Idia???

Why does she keep taking pictures of Idia? I need to stay close to him since he gets weirded out

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Azul ? He’s okay we met when I picked up Idia from club. I think He’s been trying to be my friend should I go for it?

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

Rizy ( @rizdoodls ) Rizy’s my best friend! Even though she’s popular she always makes time for me! I love her lots! ( Rizy wants Yuya dead for being too close to Idia)

Yuuki ( @theolivetree123 ): Yuuki! I really don’t mean scare them. I do cherish them as a friend though not that talkative.

Idia Shroud : Idia is one of my best friends! We met at a cat cafe a little after I transferred here last year. He was awkward at first but he started becoming more talkative after finding out I like similar things. That toothy grin of his when he wins! Like it’s his personal mission to provoke me!. ( Idia does see Yuya as a close friend and often info dumps on her)

Jovie ( @jovieinramshackle ): Jovie is strange but she doesn’t seem scary to me. One time Azul asked me to hang out and she asked me about it. Since I don’t really know him I asked if she could come with me or be in the area. The atmosphere got lighter after that.

Yuu Shi ( @boopshoops ) : Stay away from my Mom. We were talking about crushes and when I asked she said my Mom! Why do so many people have a crush on my Mama! ( know that Yuu Shi is a fellow person who has items if Yuu Shi turns a blind eye to Yuya, Yuya will take a blind eye to Yuu Shi

Shuu ( @oya-oya-okay ): ShuShu!!!! She’s so sweet! though I don’t pay that much attention when she talks about Azul. Oh! I found this orange octopus charm I was going to give her!

Jamil Viper : Jamil is my cousin! Don’t be fooled about our banter we do care for each other as family( Yuya hangs out with him twice a week) they are also found cooking re-enacting Hell’s Kitchen with each other

Yuubeni ( @bunniehunn ): I don’t really interact with her but she seems nice if not clueless

Evelyn ( @h0neybane) : I usually see her in the library and share pictures of cats with her! We don’t really interact outside of that..I wonder if she likes me ( Yuya has given Evelyn cat themed items)

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Yuya is 18 in their 3rd year

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Yuya wants to study culinary and Figure out her feelings for Idia

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Yuya will defend and will most likely prove their innocence. Depends on how high Yuya is suspicious of Quartz or Friend level if they find out it’s Quartz they’re going to bring her down fueled by anger.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Yuya also has stuff in their pockets including skirt pockets so wouldn’t report but it will raise Yuya’s alarm bells

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Yuya’s all over the place honestly

Library, classroom or less crowded places with Idia

Walking around with Jamil

spending time with friends

Yuya eats lunch with whoever they feel like and it changes constantly

10. How are your OC's grades?

Average ( Yuya is smart but putting in effort depends on their mood but isn’t failing)

[camsons]

I think an interesting thing that I've started doing less and less is asserting myself as a lesbian. When I was younger I would often make excuses to talk about sexuality just so that I could assert that I am a lesbian. It was a factor of like, people see you as a woman if you say you're a lesbian. I didn't really pass back then and so this was a way for me to control how others viewed and perceived my gender. Now I don't really do this. Not only is it kinda weird to insert your sexuality into every conversation, but I pass ok enough that I don't really need to do it anymore. Now it honestly feels kinda weird to call myself a lesbian, since I pretty exclusively only date trans women. Obviously trans women are women and they can be lesbians and they're wonderful and beautiful lesbians, but explaining that to cis people is difficult. I kind of wish that like, I could go to a party and chat and hookup with a cis woman. And when it gets to the point where we do have sex, I don't have to explain that I'm trans. I kind of just want to exist in a society where some women just have bodies like mine. And it isn't something that needs to be explained, it's just accepted. Idk this is probably stupid. I understand that we will likely never in our lifetimes see something like this happen, but it's still nice to imagine ig.

Thank you for reading my dumb thoughts. Have a great day, I love you.

t4t will save us all.

[singeds-subject]

ohhh finally someone put it into coherent words. i've been trying to find a way to verbalize all of these issues, and then some. it's just been insanely hard to find my words for it haha.

genuinely when jinx called sevika an ogre i was absolutely slackjawed. what an insane thing to include?? did NOBODY think for, like, a second or two before leaving that in???

there are some other smaller things i picked up on as well while thinking about all this stuff...

one, the way almost every disabled character is an antagonistic force at some point. most of our zaunite cast, salo, viktor, they all act antagonistically.

two, the way they frame sex work is... kinda weird? like... almost every shot we see of sex work happening in arcane, it's shown to be a fairly uncomfortable environment in one way or another. i mean, we don't ever see a protagonist engage with it either. there's that scene with caitlyn in the brothel, but she's just talking to that woman, they're not even doing anything. we namely see babette trying to hit on claggor, and lest acting as a spy during sessions with salo. speaking of lest...

three, gee i wonder why they cast a trans woman as the deceptive sex worker that we see spying on people and being a drug expert. i'm sure that doesn't fit any negative stereotypes. and i'm sure there's a good reason why we didn't get any other transfeminine characters besides this one. no biases here, no sir.

four, the way ambessa is handled feels a little gross to me too? especially compared to the other, much lighter skinned antagonist we got in arcane. silco largely does not conduct his violence himself, while ambessa often leads the charge for it, and actively advocates for it. they both are violent people, but the contrast in the way it's framed for them just feels weird. that's not to even mention that bath scene with jayce and ambessa... it feels so strange to me that they made the black woman so openly dismissive of a smaller, lighter skinned man's boundaries! that feels weird! i am very much white so i could be blowing this one way out of the water trying to find something to get angry at, but i can't get it out of my head.

i think what really put the final nail in the coffin for me was seeing that ekko had like, 700 words of dialogue in either season, while jinx had thousands in either. vi had like 5,000 in season 1, which dropped to around a fifth of that in season 2. take this part with a grain of salt, i could very well be talking out of my ass.

Now that arcane is over im seriously starting to doubt its “inclusion”

Mel being the disposable black girlfriend

Sky existing solely for the development of a white man (viktor)

Ekko and sevika both dedicating their lives to the betterment of zaun and getting absolutely 0 recognition and instead being favored for the white girl that didn’t even want the position (jinx)

Ekko having no personal development outside of jinx (white girl) and his only real purpose in arcane being to save the day and never being mentioned again

Silco being an antisemitic stereotype

Sevika being called an ogre by a white girl?????

Now that I’m actually looking at this shit, it kinda sucks. And when you consider the fact that the whole p/z conflict was thrown out the fucking window with the “both sides are bad” p.o.v + the fact that the whole reason the p/z conflict exists in the first place is because of ship angst, it feels like they never cared about any of it. The inclusion, the commentary, the mindfulness, it was all fake. Like damn. They really dont give a shit and never did. Its all just racism in pretty packaging :/

[funnier-as-a-system]

hello there. i am going to remain off of anon for the sake of getting the notification that this was answered.

i am questioning whether or not i am a system. i don’t experience many of the things that my one plural friend(friends?) has asked me if i experience, but i’m not sure if that can actually help me since it’s just one system’s experiences.

i am asking for help in figuring this out. i don’t think i have DID, but i’ve heard that there are other kinds of systems. i have also heard that endogenic systems are harmful to the plural community…? i’m not 100% sure why that would be though.

some of my experiences include: scratches, cuts, bruises, etc that i cannot explain; feeling like i wasn’t at a place that i was supposedly at for a majority of the day (e.g school or work); feeling like i have no memories of my own life, so bad that i can’t remember basic things such as if i took my daily meds or not (even if it was only a few minutes ago); hearing random voices in my head that don’t sound like my own; and so much more that i won’t name here.

i feel like it’s not me being a system, but i honestly have no idea. if you could help me out, that’d be much appreciated. thanks for reading this, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night :)

I'll address your primary concern in a moment, but first I want to clear something up: endogenic systems are not harmful to the plural community. "Endogenic" just means that a system was not formed due to trauma, nothing more. Exclusionists claim that endogenic systems are "harmful", "fake", or "impossible", but there is nothing substantial behind these claims; not only do endogenic systems have a basis in many cultural, spiritual, and religious practices, but many scientists who study plurality, dissociation, and/or dissociative disorders affirm or are open to the existence of endogenic systems. The majority of endogenic systems are kind, well-meaning people like anyone else, and are not out to trick others or spread misinformation (which is another common accusation against endogenic systems). They're just systems whose plurality does not originate from trauma, living their lives and sharing their stories. You're right to be suspicious of that claim you heard, because it's just needless exclusionism that most often arises from hurt people lashing out at a perceived "enemy" to feel some semblance of control, power, or justice in their life. It's a shame, really. I've met so many kind and friendly endogenic systems here on Tumblr and other places, and the plural community has always been an inclusive community!

Onto the rest of your ask.

I'm not sure what questions your friend asked, but based on your experiences, DID doesn't sound too unlikely – especially with how you describe your memory issues. However, I may have to refer you to seeing a psychiatrist or other professional about this. Even if it's not DID, these things sound like they're causing you problems that would be best handled by a professional that knows you personally. DID can be difficult to identify from the individual's perspective, which may explain why you don't feel you have DID, but I am not able to diagnose you – it's just that the things you say remind me of what I and other people with DID experience. I'd recommend seeing someone who specializes in dissociative (and possibly psychotic) disorders to see what can be done to help with the everyday issues and memory problems you're experiencing, or to at least get some answers. Bring a list of these things with you and let them know you're here to get some answers; you can tell them, "Someone I talked to said this sounded like DID, but told me I should see someone to check." ("this" being the list of events/experiences you share with them). Professionals can be hit-or-miss when it comes to these things, but in this case I think that might be the best course of action.

In the meantime, there are plenty of different kinds of systems you can learn about by looking around the community, or specific subcommunities. There's created systems, adaptive systems, spontaneous systems; multiple systems, median systems; polyconscious systems, monoconscious systems; dæmonism or tulpamancy practitioners; there are lots of different terms that people have coined to make sense of their plurality and find people like them. There's essays, articles, blog posts, zines, books, visual artworks, videos, and more. There's forums, Discord servers, Tumblr communities, Reddit subreddits, YouTube channels, Twitch channels, and more. Really, if I went on listing examples, we'd be here forever! The variety of the plural community is one of the things I love about it. Look around for what you like or what interests you, don't feel pressured to relate to or perfectly understand everything, and feel free to lurk if you don't feel like putting yourself out there.

You're right, it can be difficult to figure things out based on one system's experiences. I, too, am just one system, so I encourage you to explore at your own pace and seek a professional opinion when you're ready (and if you think it's necessary). I hope you have a wonderful day/night, too!

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Castlevania - Alucard x Listener SFW Comforting Alucard After A Nightmare

[M4A] [Set soon after the finale of Castlevania Season 4 (there are no Nocturne spoilers here)] [Established romantic relationship] [Reverse nightmare comfort] [TW mentions of death, murder, very brief mention of Alucard's sexual assault that happens in season 3, death of parents and grieving]

Didn't realise season 2 of Nocturne was releasing so soon and I wasn't sure if I'd get around to watching it, saw one picture of Olrox, and whoops watched the entire season in one evening. This audio was requested before season 2 came out and was scheduled for later but I brought it forwards since hopefully there will be some want for Alucard right now. I got too inot this one and how much I need Vlad and Lisa to have told Adrian that they're still alive that while pretending to cry in this audio I actually started crying oops. It's a shame the Castlevania shows aren't more popular. I always see such a lack of fanworks compared to other shows like Arcane. I know there is more horror and violence in Castlevania than Arcane, but Castlevania and Nocturne are such wonderful shows, well-written, beautifully animated, and nice representation on top of all of that.

A non-spoilery thing that got me with season 2 is how often Mizrak was allowed to cry, not just a little welling of tears in his eyes, this big stereotypically macho masculine man was allowed to just sob over and over, in front of other men, and he was never shamed for it, never embarrassed by doing it. And that shouldn't be so groundbreaking to me in 2024, but sadly I think there still isn't enough of male characters being allowed to show intense emotions that aren't anger. I've also loved in the Castlevania shows how gay/queer relationships are normalised. Striga and Morana, Alucard being bisexual, Olrox and Mizrak... there's never any homophobia thrown at them by other characters. Mizrak might have internalise-homophobia, but his inner conflict seems to more be because Olrox is a vampire not that he's a man. And I don't care whether that's historically accurate, I personally like seeing historical and fantasy settings where they just decide homophobia/transphobia don't exist. I don't think that's erasure, I think it can be an enjoyable fantasy for queer people to enjoy a period drama where queer people can exist in the open with the understanding that this is a fantasy piece and not a historical documentary. I don't know, maybe that's just me who loves historical settings who would love to see and read stories about gay and trans characters being able to be out in the 1800s and what that would look like, what a 1700s binder could have looked like, what 1920s advertisements for shaving razors aimed at trans fems could have looked like, things like that. I don't know, maybe that's just me, I just think it's fun to think about. Sorry that this ramble ended up in an audio description.

Anyway I'm glad I got an Alucard request, I love him very much. And I love his Nocturne design. I've seen some complain about it but they frankly sound like borderline transphobia when they're complaining that he 'looks to feminine'. I think he looks beautiful, and it's definitely giving the same aesthetics as Ayami Kojima's original illustrations and concept for Castlevania where frankly most of the men she draws look more androgynous than typically 'masculine'.

.

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]