#i did this without fact checking but I’ve seen everything so many times that I’m 95% certain i didn’t give any details wrong

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

Alfie Lewis Mini Character Analysis

Alfie had so much growth as a character without losing sight of who he is, but what I want to talk about are the three moments across all three of the seasons where Alfie is put in the most danger (at least what he perceives to be the most danger). Interestingly enough, each of these are where the core of his character growth comes out. They are the following:

Into the cellar

Into the fear tunnel

Into the chimney

1. Into the Cellar:

When Sibuna sends Alfie into the cellar in S1, it’s so the club can retrieve a new sample of Elixir. He literally draws the short straw. He’s not super thrilled about going down there, but he knows he has to do it if he wants the rest of the club to take him seriously. Granted, he doesn’t go alone (Fabian goes with him), but it’s the symbolic gesture of putting himself on the line for the good of the group. This adventure doesn’t go super well for his mental health, and he has a traumatic episode that results in Fabian not getting the sample so he can comfort Alfie; however, it jogs his memory enough that he can provide important information to Sibuna about when he was stuck down there the first time.

While the actual outcome of this mission isn’t particularly fruitful, this first Sibuna mission Alfie embarks on sows the seeds of his willingness to put aside his discomfort and fear for his friends. Up until this point, we don’t really get this from him, and it sets up all the good things we learn about Alfie from this point onward. However, it’s not a super consequential scene in the grand scheme of the story.

2. Into the Fear Tunnel

This time, Alfie does not draw the short straw. Amber does, and despite the fact that they have broken up, she still expects Alfie to take her place because that’s what a good boyfriend would do. And despite his displeasure, he does it. Regardless of whether or not you ship Amfie, this moment is incredibly significant to Alfie’s character (and Amber’s, but I’m not talking about her rn).

This moment shows that he is willing to not just put himself in danger for the sake of optics, but because he wants his friends to be safe. Alfie doesn’t go into the tunnel just because it’s Amber asking him to, because it’s clear he would do this for any of the others— despite arguably having the most potent phobias for the fear tunnel to exploit and, therefore, the most to lose. Alfie taking one for the team here is incredibly telling of not only his courage but also the deep devotion he has toward those he cares about.

3. Into the Chimney

There are a couple of scenes in the back half of Season 3 that are prime examples of Alfie’s heart and courage (him taking on Sinner!Fabian, for instance), but none are as pivotal as the chimney scene. In both the cellar and the fear tunnel, Alfie is unable to complete the mission due to his traumas coming back to haunt him. It’s not that he doesn’t try or want to succeed, but it’s literally that he is unable to do to it because of a mental block. So when Alfie asserts that he— and he alone— must scale the inside of the Gatehouse chimney to retrieve his artifact hidden at the top, he (as well as Eddie, KT, and we at the audience) knows there is a good chance he could fail. In fact, Alfie fully acknowledges that he is “afraid of everything” but that he has to be the one to do this because it’s his artifact and his “ancestors put their faith” in him.

Theoretically, any of them could have climbed that chimney to fetch it. There was no mystical rule that barred those who weren’t Descendants from finding the artifacts, but it wasn’t about capability— to Alfie, it was all about responsibility and his sense of duty. Despite the claim he makes that that sense of duty is to his ancestors, what he’s actually saying is that his duty is to Sibuna, which to him is synonymous with friendship and (found) family. And it’s for that reason why, when he’s caught, he rejects Eddie and KT’s (shoddy) attempt to help him and simply says “Sibuna!”

For a character who often comes across as overly goofy and careless, Alfie has an insanely strong sense of self-preservation. He is always the most reluctant of his friends/clubmates to take risks that put his life on the line… unless he knows that taking the risk means other people will be safer for it. He is incredibly brave and selfless, and in conclusion, Alfie is the best male character on House of Anubis.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch 28

I’ve got so many ideas for different fics but need to stay committed to this one as well. Laika is going to have to be brave in this chapter.. time to see her in action!

I had tossed and turned all night, finding it impossible to rest while the rest of my Alphas were gone. Johnny hardly slept either.

When Johnny eventually gives up on sleeping, he moves to the kitchen table and starts tinkering with the radio. I can hear distant cracking and static before a familiar growling sound comes through. I flinch and rush over.

“Johnny! Was that-”

“Aye, lass. I think it was John.. give me two secs. Let me find that station again..”

Johnny finds the frequency and John’s rough voice crackles through. My heart leaps in relief.

“-ny?”

“John??” I gasp

“Love? Is that you..?”

“Alpha! Are you ok.. Kyle.. Simon?”

“We are fine. We thought you and Johnny were dead. Kyle is keeping Simon calm. He wants to kill everything and anything right now. Are you both ok..?”

Tears start welling in my eyes, and I sag in my chair from the relief of hearing the sound of my Alpha’s voice, and the fact that Simon and Kyle were still in one piece.

I zone back into the conversation when Johnny replies.

“-Laika’s shoulder again, she’s not ideal, Cap.. and I’ve got a few marks here and there. She could also be concussed. She didn’t respond for a good couple of minutes after the blast. Managed to get her up and out though.”

“-‘m not concussed. And my shoulder is fine!” I argue, lying.

“Omega..” John warns.

“We need a plan, Alpha. Tell us what to do..” Johnny says.

“Are you near anything? Where did you head when you ran?” John asks.

“I saw a school.. and a church” I reply, remembering what we had seen while we were fleeing.

“Go to the church at 2100, be discreet. We will meet you there. Come armed. Over”

John’s voice goes silent. The radio keeps crackling until Johnny turns it off.

Johnny turns to me and we just look at each other for a couple of minutes.

“What time is it?” I ask, already getting antsy.

“It’s still an hour and a half until we need to make a move” he replies, leaning into my shoulder and taking a long, hard inhale of breath.

“Do you think Simon is ok?” I whisper.

“You know what he is like.. he is probably blaming himself for this somehow… needs his ‘mega to calm him down”.

“I’m not anyone’s omega yet..” I remind him.

“Enough of that, lass. Yer ours” he growls, nipping my neck, playfully, but enough to leave a small, temporary mark.

“Johnny!” I gasp, hand flying up to soothe the bite.

“Jus’ reserving my spot, lass”

I playfully bare my teeth at him.

*time skip*

We had set off towards the meeting point about thirty minutes ago. We were both stiff and limping, something we didn’t really take into account before leaving, not realising quite how sore and damaged our bodies are from the ambush.

“You okay, omega?” Johnny keeps checking in on me every few minutes.

“Yep” I reply, every time, keeping discussion to a minimum, fearful that if my brain takes over, I might yelp or whine at any particularly painful steps or movements.

Johnny can clearly tell that I am not comfortable but he allows me to march on without mentioning it, thankfully.

The church comes into view. Johnny and I stop and watch the area from a distance for a few minutes. One car pulls up and parks, nobody getting out.

“You think that’s them..?” Johnny asks.

“No.. it’s weird that no one’s gotten out though. You don’t think our radio got intercepted..?” I think aloud.

“That’s probably why Cap told us to come armed and discreet, lass”

“I’m not ready for another firefight” I whine, dramatically.

Johnny chuckles dryly. “C’mon, lass. One last push and then we are back with our pack.”

“What if -” I start before Johnny interrupts me. “Nah, shut it. None of that shit. We’ve got this. Aye?”

“Aye, alpha” I say in a small voice.

“That’s my girl”

We step out from behind the building we’d been watching from, and casually walk, hand in hand towards the church.

John told us to be discreet, so what better way than to try and just look like a normal couple waking home? This had to work…

We almost reach the parked car, hoping the pack were sitting waiting for us inside.

The passenger door opens and a man steps out, dressed in casual clothes. I squeeze Johnnys hand.

“It’s not them” I grit out in a sad whisper.

“Just be ready” Johnny warns.

The guy in casual clothing walks round to the back of the car and opens the back door. Just then, a whistling noise comes from the right hand side of the church and the man drops.

“Sniper! Hit from the east, Johnny we need to run!” I shout, pulling Johnny behind a garden fence.

We crouch and I check my rifle is loaded before testing it against my shoulder. It hurts like a bitch but there isn’t really any other option.

“Laika, stay back, I’ll clear a route, then you follow..” Johnny orders.

“NO!” I shout. “You’re not risking yourself Johnny. We stay together.. please?” I soften slightly after my initial anger.

“We have no other choice, omega. Listen to your alpha!”

I sit back slightly, shocked. This is the first time Johnny, or any of the 141 pack had ever pulled rank on me like this..

I gulp and nod, slowly. Johnny looks at me with a strange expression on his face. Maybe he regrets doing that.. maybe he realises how useless I am. A thorn in his side…

He surges forward and just as he steps from beyond the fence line, another bullet flies past and hits the parked cars windshield.

I try to get sight of the sniper’s post. I glance between Johnny’s progress and the rough area the sniper must be.

Johnny beckons me forward then. And I run, as fast as my sore body will allow me to.

“Johnny, listen to me” I pant, meeting back with him in our new position.

“The sniper. I think it’s Simon.. he hasn’t aimed at us once. He is hitting threats. I recognise his pattern. Please trust me on this..” I beg.

“Lass, Simon is in no state to be on snipe duty.. You heard Cap yourself...”

“But - but please, Johnny..”

I don’t understand why, all of a sudden, Johnny is disregarding anything I say. It hurts. It makes me feel like shit. Johnny I’d never like this…

Just then, another bullet hits the brick work a few feet above our heads, spraying dust and debris over where we are crouched. A missed shot at us. Or… it IS Simon trying to tell us that it’s him..

“Johnny. A sniper wouldn’t miss like that. Come on!! Just trust me. Please…”

“I don’t think I can risk it..” he growls. He is clearly at odds with himself. His alpha is fighting to keep his omega safe. That’s when you realise why he is acting the way that he is. He is trying to protect me.

“Alpha..” I whisper, getting close to him.

“It’s Simon in that building. I know it is. We will be even safer reunited. Please trust me. Trust your omega..?” I try, putting emphasis on the word ‘your’.

He pinches his eyes closed tightly, and heaves a deep breathe before nodding once.

“Fine, ‘mega. But if it goes to shit, I’m not up to protecting us both. We are both hurt..”

I gulp, standing, and grab his hand, pulling him directly towards the building I believe the bullets to be raining from.

True to my prediction, if I swayed too far to the right, a ‘stray’ bullet would hit the ground and straighten my course in the correct direction.

“He’s guiding us, bonnie” Johnny laughs, squeezing my hand as we get closer to our target.

We reach the door and Johnny opens it with his gun raised, just in case. We climb the steps upwards, towards the roof.

My stomach drops. I can’t smell Simon.

“Lass.. I hope you’re right about this..” Johnny grumbles.

I feel it before I have chance to process what has happened. I’ve been grabbed and lifted off of my feet. I thrash and scream.

“JESUS CHRIST PUT HER DOWN YOU FUCKIN’ IDIOT” I hear Johnny yelling.

I squeeze my eyes, trying to blink away the fright. I recognise these arms… I turn and see John.

“John?” I cry, as he gently lowers me back to the ground.

“Omega, thought we’d lost you.. well done Johnny for getting you both back in one piece”

“It wasnae me, Cap. It was all her. She somehow knew it was Si up there”

I jump into Johns arms and cling to him as if my life depended on it. I shove my nose deep into his scent glands and inhale. John rubs my back soothingly. “Kyle and Simon..?” I whimper into his ear.

“They’re upstairs, love. We need to get out of here though. We can catch up in the car..” he says as he turns and walks down stairs, through a kitchen and into a garage. They’d parked their jeep in the internal garage so that it was hidden.. smart.

Johnny jumps in the front passenger seat and John takes the wheel.

He speaks through his comms on his shoulder “wheels up in 30 seconds. Special delivery in the back seat. Be gentle with her, boys.. Simon.. I mean you…” he warns.

I can hear footsteps thundering down the stairs with the clanging and jingling of metal work. Simon and Kyle appear from the kitchen and they throw their weapons in the back of the car before practically leaping in to greet me. I giggle and cry into Kyle’s chest and he kisses all over my face. “Missed you sweet girl. Missed you so much.”

He then climbs up front and climbs all over Johnny, happy to be reunited with his other alpha counterpart.

Simon glares at me through his mask, making me feel nervous. I slink away before he reaches for me. He moves some of my hair from my shoulder and leans towards me, pulling me so that I’m straddling his lap. He shoves his nose into my neck and breaths me in as if I’m his oxygen to breathe.

“Omega” he growls lowly.

“Al-alpha..” I whimper.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, looking into my eyes for any sign of deceit.

“Not badly..” I answer, semi truthfully.

“Johnny” he barks.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nah, LT. Few scratches but nothing bad” Johnny shouts past Kyle in the front seat.

“Good. Thought I’d lost you both.”

Simon returns his face to the crook of my neck and starts purring.

I fall asleep in this position, lulled by the steady movement of the car.

John had his eyes in the rear mirror the entire drive home.

“I need to mark her and make her pack. Officially” he grumbles, while I sleep.

Everyone agrees immediately.

I purr, happily against Simon’s chest, blissfully unaware of what has just been agreed upon.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Reposting this for the anon who is clearly too obsessed and doesn't have a life outside of Tumblr. + Added a new statement too.

I deleted this post because I was under the impression the anon had already seen it—since they love to stalk my blog very in-depth. Luckily, I had written it on Google Docs, like I do with everything I post here, before posting it the first time. And now I’m posting it again because apparently, they didn’t get the memo and love to create fake accounts:

For the anon who’s too coward to use their real account and clearly doesn’t have a life:

I was going to ignore the first ask, but then you had the time, energy, and weird obsession to create a fake account just to send me another ask—and then a private message. So let me be clear

This is the first and last time I address this. Any further messages or asks about this will be deleted and blocked immediately. Tumblr is my safe space—stress and drama free—and I will block anyone who disturbs that for me. You really came onto my blog and did what—threatened me? You ran my writing through an unreliable AI checker and then had the audacity to message me about it? Do you really feel like it's your place to question how people write fanfiction? Why do you feel so entitled to an explanation from someone you don’t even know? To quote you: “DM me and explain why” — WHO are you? And where is this entitlement coming from?

Let me ask you this: Do you not have a life outside of Tumblr? Who takes time out of their day to check if what a stranger posted is “AI” or not? I saw another account getting the same kind of asks recently—was that you too? Are you going blog to blog checking F1 fics like a fanfic detective? If so: get a life, get a job, get a hobby, or better yet—touch grass.

And the audacity to make a fake account just to send another message? Coward behavior. I’ve blocked the first anon ask and now your little fake blog too. I’ll keep blocking every single one if you continue harassing me.

Don’t like what I post? Scroll past it. Block me. Ignore me. I truly do not care. I use Google Docs for all my fics—outline ideas, drafts, requests order. Since that seems hard to believe, here’s one example straight from my docs.

And since you clearly have free time, here are actual credible sources that prove AI checkers are not reliable and should never be used as evidence of anything:

Source

Source

Source

Source

This is especially relevant to me personally, because English is not my native language. I've studied it for over 15 years, l'm currently studying English at university, and I don't live in an English-speaking country. I didn't grow up in an English-speaking country, and I've worked hard to develop my vocabulary, grammar, and writing style. So if my writing sounds "too repetitive" or "too perfect to be written by a human" and gets flagged by some Al detector—that's not proof I used Al. It means I've worked hard to get to this level, even though my English might not always be perfect.

Source

Al that claims to create undetectable Al content or "human Al"

Or maybe you want to read more on Google Scholar:

There are so many sources to inform yourself—you just need to know how to use them.

And this is what really gets me: someone could use Al, lightly edit the output, or run it through one of those "humanize Al" generators and pass every detector with flying colors. Meanwhile, people like me get flagged and questioned for no reason.

Also, if I were actually using Al, I would've used one of those humanizing tools too—so people like you wouldn't harass me over what I post.

These days, it seems you don't even need facts—just a fake account and a superiority complex.

That's all I had to say. Goodbye, and good luck finding a personality.

April 7

A few days after I posted the above post, you went on someone’s blog — someone who had sent me an ask without using the anon option — and sent them an ask about me, as if I had committed a crime. Less than 24 hours ago, you created yet another fake account just to message me (as seen below) and tell me about one of your other accounts (also fake), despite my explicit statement that I would no longer entertain this obsessive behavior.

Let me be extremely clear: I do not owe strangers on the internet an explanation for my writing process — especially not those who appoint themselves as investigators and issue condescending ultimatums. I will not “contact you privately.” I will not “own up” to a false narrative you've built around flawed tools and obsessive pattern-tracking. You do not get to demand private confessions like you're running a tribunal.

I already said everything I had to say when I made that original post, but clearly it didn’t register, and you continue to target me. I looked at the account you mentioned in your message. To quote: “Some members of the group of us working on this project have gone through PhD programs or work in education and understand the inaccuracies and limitations of AI detection tools.”

So you're adults — or so you claim — with PhDs, yet you seem to be unemployed based on the amount of free time you have to analyze what strangers are posting on the internet. Especially posts that are over 2k words long.

Seriously, who has time to do this much? Because I highly doubt someone with an actual job and a life has this much time on their hands.

And as I said in my first post: block me if you don’t like my blog or what I post. It is really that simple.

LEAVE. ME. ALONE.

[lazerswordweilder]

Introducing my Balance Sibling au!

Anakin Skywalker, the poster-boy of the Republic, Jedi Padawan. Was the most confusing person Obi-Wan had ever met. They picked up the boy on Tatooine, and he was the most powerful force sensitive Obi-Wan had ever met, yet at such a young age he already shielded so well.

He was only 14 right now, the war had only been on for just two months, so why did the boy seem like an old, very tired, veteran who’d seen horrors beyond what Obi-Wan had dared to think of? Why didn’t he make an expression when he lost his arm, when he was shot, in his supposedly-first battle, at his first kill?

Like his force signature, Anakin heavily shielded his personality, Obi-Wan kept getting glances of who he suspected was the real boy; a man staring at a Coruscant sunset with a tear trailing down his check, looking at his mother with an expression of pain and grief, when he gave battle tactics and ordered around men like it was a second nature.

He had strange opinions on people, he was so very very careful to be kind and gentle to the younglings, he had a strange circle of friends (that seemed closer to allies) he’d chosen himself, he didn’t care what the council thought, and he never seemed to be able to trust or open up to Obi-Wan, there was clearly a barrier Obi-Wan couldn’t see.

Obi-Wan had also heard what his mother said about him, how the father was the force itself, how he was only half human, half mortal. And how it had showed, especially when he was young on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan knew Anakin had a holocron that he kept a diary in, he’d considered it too invasive to try and open it though (and try seemed the most important word there). But it was his duty to figure out what had happened to Anakin, and how to help him. So as he watched yet another sunset, tracing stars with awe filled eyes, Obi-Wan walked up to him.

“You were very good today. You saved many of the troopers with your knowledge.” I said

“Mhm.” Anakin replied, not turning to face me, I sighed

“We need to talk.” I started, sitting down

“The council asked something?” Anakin asked, something close to dry humor in his voice

“No, I decided this can’t go on any longer.”

“What can’t.” Anakin asked, eyes turning to watch me for the first time, the sunset made them look like they were lit on fire

“Whatever happened- is happening to you. You won’t let anyone in, I’m fairly certain there’s things you’re hiding from even your mother.”

“I think hiding things from parents is normal behaviour Obi-Wan.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t want to push, but I’m going to. I need to know the part of you that you’re hiding, there must be a reason you don’t let anyone in, you never stop shielding. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Anakin said, I would’ve laughed at that, but he said it like it was a well known fact not just what he thought

“Then explain it to me, if I don’t believe you what’s the worst that could happen? That I could do?” I explained

“You could think I was crazy and put me in a psych ward, you could hand me in to the council, you could do something stupid and get everyone killed.” Anakin listed without a pause

“It is truly that shocking?” I teased, Anakin didn’t smile

“You could not believe me, and keep pushing for a truth I’ve already given you.” he added

“Well what could go right if you let me in?” I asked, Anakin tilted his head a little, like he was giving it thought, but he answered quickly enough that I knew he must’ve thought about it at least a little.

“You could save everyone if I couldn’t for whatever reason, you could make it easier for me, I could not be lonely, you could forgive me, we could be a duo.” a silent again hung in the air, I didn’t know why.

“See? Don’t the benefits weigh over the risks? I’m not stupid enough to think that you couldn’t break out of any psych ward we put you in.” I said, it was both a tease and the truth

“It would make everything harder for me if I wasn’t in this position, I’m not sure I could do it while on the run from the Jedi and Senate.” he thought about it for a second again, before his face hardened “I’d have to do it anyways.”

“I promise I won’t put you in a psych ward, Anakin.” A pause, a long pause, I was scared to move, was it possible he’d really tell me after just one conversation? Had it been this easy the whole time?

“Do you believe in time travel Kenobi?”

6 - Masterpost

[erisenyo]

@bisexuallsokka I had another idea I couldn't let go of for this one lol

For this prompt game! (And also this one!)

“And that,” Sokka finishes, aware of just how flimsy it all is, how few options they truly have left, “That’s the plan.”

Zuko stares a moment, face grave and dirt smudged and serious before he exhales a slow breath, nodding, a grim kind of understanding settling over him.

“Risky,” Toph grunts, restlessly tossing a pebble back and forth. “Just waiting for them to surround us?”

It is, but given their options, given that they’re down to three, given that they’re facing so many more than that…Sokka takes a deep breath. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Zuko says, immediate.

“Getting us this far?” Toph waves generally around what might be the little hovel they’ve gone to ground in, or maybe just this point in the fight. “You earned it.”

“Alright then,” Sokka says, forcing himself to exhale normally like it isn’t a relief to hear. “Then this is the plan.”

“Alright then,” Toph nods after a moment, squaring her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

“Are you ready?” Zuko asks, pitching his voice low as Sokka starts getting the last of their supplies ready.

Sokka watches his hands moving through the weapons check, distantly impressed by their steadiness. “You already know how this will end, Zuko.”

“I know,” Zuko agrees quietly after a beat. leaving unspoken the fact that they all do. That all they’re doing refusing to go down without a fight.  

“We’re not going to make it out of this one,” Sokka whispers, closing his eyes as he lets the reality of that sweep through him.

“I know,” Zuko says again, taking a breath. “And if this is the last battle—” he touches Sokka’s hand, stilling it against their supplies. “—it has been the honor of my life,” he says steadily, “Fighting it at your side.”

“Zuko,” Sokka chokes, unprepared for the sudden rush of emotion through his battle calm, fumbling for Zuko’s hand.

“I couldn’t ask for anything more than this,” Zuko continues, squeezing back.

“I should be able to do better,” Sokka whispers, wincing at the admission. “I would be able to get us out of this. It shouldn’t just be about trying to buy time, we could have beaten them, I know it, I just—"

“Hey, hey,” Zuko interrupts, shifting to catch Sokka’s eyes. “You did the best you could,” he says, firm and serious, a welt beginning to purple into a bruise against his temple and fuck, Sokka can suddenly feel every bit of soreness of his body, every aching muscle. “We all did. You can’t think your way out of everything.”

“This, though—”

“No one could have seen this coming,” Zuko cuts in again, firm. “No one, okay?”

“We knew going into this Azula was going to be a wild card—”

“And we overprepared for her,” Zuko shrugs, brutal and blunt in his practicality. “And we can’t undo it now. But,” he adds, voice gentling, eyes searching Sokka’s face. “We can still remember what we’re here for, right?”

Sokka huffs, almost a laugh. “It’s not like I could forget, I’ve been planning it for months.”

“And it’s worth it,” Zuko says, firm, eyes cutting to Toph.

“It’s worth it,” Sokka agrees after a beat, exhaling hard, gathering his resolve back around himself and setting aside his own hopes and wants because today, this whole thing, it was never about him, not really.

“Together, okay?” Zuko says, lips quirking into a little smile. “We do this together.”

“In together, out together,” Sokka repeats back, their mantra.

“Exactly,” Zuko says, kissing him once, fierce and hard, leaning his forehead against Sokka’s as he pulls away. “Ready?”

“No,” Sokka says honestly. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be, for this, but Zuko laughs and kisses him again, that electric, adrenaline-high intensity of his clearly starting to take over now that he has a direction to point it in, and Toph shifts, head cocking.

“I don’t think,” she says at the unmistakable sound of a footstep crunching over the dry leaves Sokka spread behind to give them the thinnest attempt at a warning, “That they’re going to wait.”

“All together, then,” Sokka says, settling his weapon into his hands. “All the way to the end.”

“Exactly,” Zuko says, gripping his own weapon and holding Sokka’s eyes, steady and even. “Count us down?”

“Toph should do it.” Since she’s the lynchpin of it all.

Toph shifts into a crouch, dirt smudged and serious as she readies herself. “Blaze of glory, right?”

Sokka lets out a breath, anticipation beginning to flutter in his chest. “That’s the idea.”

Toph nods. “For all the melons, then,” she says, Zuko huffing out a startled little laugh that she doesn’t even pause to smirk for. “On three. One, two—”

The three of them burst from their cover before three, because they all know anyone could be listening. They hurl themselves into the afternoon light, Sokka and Zuko screaming and making themselves as big as possible as they do it, relying on the element of surprise to get a few shots off and trying to draw their time out a little longer.

Sokka shrieks as loud as he can and provides as much cover fire as possible, zigging and zagging and screaming louder as he watches Zuko go down, struck in the back, the sharp burst of a paintball hitting his own back a few moments later as Toph mows through their collective ammo—

“I AM THE MELON LORD!”

--at anything in front of her.

“YOU’LL NEVER DEFEAT ME!”

“For the Melon Lord,” Sokka calls weakly back, gasping through the sting of it—fuck, but these protective jumpsuits are a joke—before rolling toward Zuko. “Think we beat Jet’s time?”

“Watch it, Melon Lord,” Zuko huffs, ducking down as a wayward scatter of shots spatter in front of him before scooting back toward Sokka, both of them huddling down to watch as Toph mows down Katara and Aang, spinning so unpredictably that Suki has to actually work to line up her shot—Suki laughing so hard she has to work even harder—just as they planned it.

“Well fuck,” Zuko says, glancing down at his watch and tilting his wrist so Sokka can see the timer ticking up as Toph finally goes down.

“IT’S MY BIRTHDAY AND I WILL HAVE MY VENGEANCE!”

“Shit,” Sokka echoes, grabbing Zuko’s wrist to double-check the counter and grinning up at him. “I think we did it.”

"NEXT ROUND IS OURS FUCKERS!"

“I think,” Zuko says, a slow, wild-edged grin growing over his face, “That we got close enough that we can say it, either way.”

[louisisalarrie]

I must say that best was panic in between hairballs after louis' mexico concert. I know it maybe wasnt 70k people on the end (32k is still massive in my opinion) but how they were stressed that louis can have this big audition ( it was really near to harrys numbers, and they live in their own fantasy that harry is something better than others) , they spreaded lies about people going random around and whatever they could think right from their ass. Even if all these people on videos were AI it worth it....and dont take me wrong im very proud of harry and his succes, it is only about this type of his "fans"

hehehe I love watching them scramble. it’s the same when we get some solid larry proof, it is so very funny.

but yes, I don’t think he’s very proud of the way his fans treat people. There are a lot of them that are great, don’t get me wrong, one of my best friends (who also works in the industry) is a MAJOR harrie. like… followed him around AU & NZ to go to all of his shows etc. (respectfully like not camping out his hotel just going to the shows), and she’s also an anti. but she does not say a single disrespectful thing about Louis and has seen all harry, louis, and niall’s solo shows. she’s a stan, but has really stayed away from the toxicity. it’s possible to be a fucking beautiful and lovely human while also being a solo harrie, but fuck, so many people are so far from it.

and twitter is a major factor for that. back in the day, whatever we wrote on twitter, we risked the boys seeing it, so even when things got heated, we kept in mind they could reply to us at any time and call us out if necessary. hence why all the chaos was on tumblr.

but the boys did in fact see so much and respond to so much - we used twitter to tweet at them more than each other. but now, it’s a vacuum hellscape and FULL of bots, folks who shouldn’t be allowed in any fandom, and politics. it’s icky. and that change, obviously came with the way Twitter started being used for marketing purposes only, and an influx of solos when 1d went on hiatus. instead of waiting for the boys to jump online and start a twitcam, or fighting the beliebers, all we get now is promo, or a half hearted q&a which is usually just to push a stunt, and our for you pages just don’t align with what we want to see. Everything is an argument.

But my point is that, while they probably do take a solid amount of time off Twitter because it is such a hellscape, they would check, and be told by their pr coordinators, as to what’s going on. harry would see his fandom fucking creating hurt and chaos and divide, and his response has been ‘treat people with kindness’, which is as diplomatic as he can be without causing more chaos. But those fans just… ignore that. And half the time they don’t even treat HIM with kindness, is the most embarrassing fandom I’ve ever seen.

Every fan in the 1d days had their fave boy, and it was NOTHING like this. I didn’t yell at someone who loved zayn because I loved niall, we were just all there together, fucking supporting these terrible, terrible dancers as a team. sorry but fandoms just don’t have the same community vibe they used to. The only consistently loving and supportive and sweet people I’ve seen throughout all these years are larries (I’m sure there are a couple instigators, but overall).

anyway sorry I really ended up floating away here but yes, they have a severe superiority complex that goes hand in hand with their insecurities.

[wriothesleysgf]

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘. — erwin smith.

“everyone i’ve cared about has either died or left me. except you.”

about: erwin will always do his best to ease your worries.

notes: implied character death, established relationship, angst. | angst prompts [reqs : open!]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 when you started dating erwin that his first priority would always be his allegiance to the people of the walls. he had always been chivalrous - hell, that was one of his many qualities that had you falling head over heels for the man.

the two of you had met as trainee scouts. he’d gone on to take command, whereas you turned down higher ranks as you enjoyed being in as many fights as you could — something about the rush that came from slaying titans made you feel more fulfilled, perhaps it was because you could see your direct impact on others in the countless lives that you’ve saved over your career.

erwin had supported you consistently, and you him. he was the only person that you felt always had your own happiness as a priority. the two of you even reminded each other that you were fighting for a better future, for each other and any future family, each time one of you departed on a mission. you had always managed to find your ways back to one another.

before the mission to reseal the walls, you found yourself with a terrible feeling that you couldn’t shake. something was definitely off, but you couldn’t tell what it was. part of you didn’t want to tell erwin, yet he had always been so incredibly wise that you knew you had to. so, with the excuse of bringing a hot mug of coffee to his office late one evening, three days before the scheduled attack, you confided in him.

“my love,” he spoke, his deep, calming voice already chipping away at the fears you felt. “perhaps looking over the plans will help,” he motioned to the maps on his desk.

erwin spent the next forty minutes going over tactics and actions. when he finished, he asked you for your opinions. as a result of your own military experience, you were able to offer a couple of notes here and there. the man took everything on board and made a couple of quick scribbles. sure, these plans have already been triple checked by various high ranking officers, yet everybody bears a different perspective and erwin truly did value yours.

“how are you feeling now?”

“a little better…” your voice was uncharacteristically small. it was a more vulnerable side that you only really showed around erwin. “i think i’m just scared.”

“darling, a little fear is what keeps us alive. if you weren’t scared, i’d be more concerned,” he smiles, a weak attempt at trying to lighten your mood, even marginally.

when you stay silent, erwin gets up to his feet. without saying a word, he leads you closer to the window. it’s already dark out, and you can see the constellations gleaming down from above. it reminds you of those sleepless nights during training and early scout days, either when sleep would evade one of you and you’d both spend some time watching the sky, or occasions where the two of you would be put on watch together whilst outside of the walls. erwin’s father had taught him about the stars, and he was ever so grateful for the way that your eyes shone brighter than any celestial body he’d ever seen when he relayed odd facts that he remembered.

“i’ve had something for a while,” erwin begins a little speech. it’s much different from those he delivered in front of his soldiers; it possessed copious feeling, and felt much less rehearsed. “i’ve never found the right time to ask you…”

and the rest was history. what was supposed to be an engagement ring became the ring you wore when the two of you wed. neither of you were into the idea of something big and fancy, so you posed the idea of simply eloping. all you needed were two witnesses and an officiant - surely there would be one somewhere. the next afternoon, whilst most of the military were training or sorting supplies, you both snuck off.

levi had always been a trusted confidant to erwin, so of course he was called upon to come with you. you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or not that hange just so happened to burst into the room when erwin was explaining your situation to him… thus how you received your second attendant. they’d always been close to you, as you’d often be intrigued in some of their less conventional experiments, so you were happy.

both you and erwin wrote a few vows for one another. his focused around how he would always protect you with every fibre of his being, no matter what.

“everything i do is for you. more than once i've daydreamed of a titan-less world where you and i are happy and safe enough to start a little family. maybe it’s cliche, but i’d be content living the most boring, normal life if i got to spend it by your side."

when it was your turn, you were already tearing up. the terrible feeling in your stomach was forgotten, instead replaced with the butterflies that had appeared the first time that erwin had kissed you.

“i just… i adore you, so much. i don’t know what i did in a past life to deserve you, but it makes everything i’ve endured worth it. you know, everyone i’ve cared about has either died or left me. except you.”

after the short ceremony, the two of you continued about your day. levi managed to cover when somebody asked for the commander’s whereabouts, offering you a nod. nobody dare questioned him, so they got on with their day.

it wasn’t until later that week that those words truly came back to you.

after what felt like days of fighting titans endlessly, you were running on fumes by the time that you regrouped with other scouts. your battalion had been forced to split up in the chaos, you didn’t know what happened to any of them. yet, all you desired now was to see erwin, your husband.

the dreaded feeling. there it was.

the very second that you saw levi in the distance, the horrible knot in your stomach returned. it was more intense than prior, forcing you to use the last of your energy to prevent your knees from buckling. the captain was very clearly trying to maintain his staple stoicism yet you could sense the guilt seeping through the facade. he didn’t say anything until he was stood in front of you. he gave a few orders to others around him, then turned to you. having known him for as long as you did, you could read him better than most. part of you knew the dreadful answer before you asked the question.

“levi… where’s erwin?”

[skylarmoon71]

Winchester - (Supernatural / Smallville Crossover AU) - Chapter 2

Settling into Smallville was easier than you thought.

For one, being new made you basically invisible. You weren’t exactly a local, so you had sort of free range. Not many people paid much attention. 

You could conduct your research without being questioned by a group of curious friends or adults. While you had gotten acquainted with Clark’s friends, they never really asked when you would disappear to the library for hours. They probably just assumed you were a bookworm.

Chloe seemed overall excited that someone was as interested in the weird as she was.

That’s why you’re currently seated at the back of the library, adding another news clipping to your little journal.

The presence of someone momentarily distracts you. When you lift your head, the first thing you spot is the length of plaid.

“Hey Clark, what’s up?”

Your eyes are back in your book.

“I haven’t seen you for a few days. I just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m fine, just busy.”

“That’s good.”

You thought that’s all he wanted, but he was still standing there a bit awkwardly. 

You pause.

“Umm, did you need something else?”

If you’re being honest he’s been acting weird for the last few weeks. Since you discovered his secret. Now it feels like you understand.

“Clark, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Maybe he just needs reassurance. He finally looks a bit more calm, taking a seat right next to you.

“That’s not what I was really worried about.”

Now you’re a bit puzzled.

“This doesn’t scare you?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“The fact that I’m you know..” He looks around, then leans over.

“An alien.”

You’re about to laugh, but he seems serious.

“Clark, I literally told you I hunt monsters. I know angels and I’m pretty sure this town is filled with supernaturally powered people. I think  a harmless alien that runs around actually helping people are the least of my problems."

Despite his previous unease, he leans back in his chair with a smile.

You sort of understand his hesitance. None of his friends are aware of this. His powers, the meteor shower, his spaceship. They’re all in the dark, so some part of him must assume that if they ever knew, they wouldn’t be able to accept him.

Accept that secret.

You supposed it was never a worry for you. You’ve never stayed in a place long enough to wonder what other people thought about you or your life. You have no attachments, not like Clark. So there’s no fear of losing that. You always thought that the only thing you needed was your brothers and your few hunter and angel friends. Clark has an entire life here. A lot to lose, to fear.

Closing your book, you turn to him slowly.

It might be time to come clean about your own fears, maybe it might give him at least a peace of mind.

“Do you know why I love books so much?”

He looks intrigued, shaking his head, ready for an explanation.

“A few years ago I learned that I have grace, much like an angel. I’m human but my body can accommodate something beyond my understanding. Some really bad people realized this and they tried to take me, make me into a weapon so my brothers did everything to stop it. For weeks, months, they went through every possible piece of text known to man.”

You turn over your palm, staring at the small tattoo.

Clark’s eyes drift to your wrist that has a small book with an S and an D marked inside of the small page design.

“I wanted to help, I wanted to feel useful, so I started doing the same. I did a deep dive and eventually we found a spell to make me invisible to the threat. Because of them I can live freely without fear. At that moment I guess I realized it. Knowledge is power. I’ve lost count of how many times that a spell, or some lore has saved our lives. I guess in some crazy way I clung unto that. In this life I know there isn’t anything my brothers won’t do for me, the same way your parents have probably always protected you.”

The look of recognition flashes in his eyes and you smile.

“Being different isn’t easy. There will always be a weight that comes with that, not just for us, but the people that we love. At the end of the day, all we can do is help make that weight more bearable. Reading, understanding what’s out there, that’s what I can do. Helping people, that’s the part that you play. There’s always going to be something to worry about, but it doesn’t have to be what drives us. We can all make a difference in our own way. Just have faith that it’ll work out.”

Maybe he understands, because he looks a bit more at ease.

“You’re right, thank you (Y/N).”

You grin.

“Anytime, now can you grab those books over on that shelf. It’s pretty high and I saw something about mermaids, I can’t wait to see what that’s about.”

Clark laughs as you point at the shelf.

He can already tell that your company will be an exciting little adventure. 

[dearweirdme]

Ok so

I sent you an ask & talked about (amongst other things) my feeling that Tk have split up.

It was with some amusement & a fair bit of eye rolling that I read the comments.

First off. Sorry to disappoint some of you, but I am not, never have been & never will be a jikooker.

I think you need to understand that IF Tk split up, it will not make jikook real.

I am also not a ‘Tae bias Tkker that blames Jungkook for everything’ & if the person that said that thinks Jungkook has a say in how Tae is treated by the company & the fake lil7, they need to check themselves.

I sometimes wonder if I’m the only Taekooker that’s ever had more than 1 relationship as the concept of people breaking up seems to be unknown to many?

To answer 1 comment - I specifically said the Jungkook IS NOT a selfish dick - perhaps work on reading comprehension hmm?

While (with due respect as she seems polite from the conversations I’ve seen you have with her) I’d rather not have mrs monaghan agreeing with me, she is actually right about a couple of things -

It appears than ppl in the comments have not watched the lives Jungkook did (I think 3?) that were pretty much all about Jimin - watching videos of him, talking about him & yes, praising him. They were in fact quite jarring as they were such a departure from his usual lives.

And yes, they did spend time together in & around NY - there was plenty of sightings, talk & a couple of photos about it at the time. No doubt some of it was specifically for content as there were cameras & they were wearing mics - we will probably see that soon in Jimin’s documentary.

If it was Taekook, we’d be very happy about all this, just as we have been with seeing them at the premiere, the selca & at Yoongi’s concert.

Why this Jimin centric content is coming from Jungkook, I couldn’t say - especially as I’ve already stated that I’m not a jikooker.

Perhaps as one commenter said, it has to do with image for military service, although I don’t know how the Jikooking fits in.

I can only assume that some of the people commenting are not in gc’s or have moots that talk about what’s happening, so they’re actually not aware of things. Which doesn’t mean they haven’t happened, only that they don’t know about it. We talk about jikookers watching actual content - that goes for Taekookers too - staying in your bubble is like being in an echo chamber- you’re only going to hear & see what you want.

However. Your answer to me (thank you for taking the time, I appreciate the conversation) made sense - I agree that Tae & Jk are very close & they love each other a lot & your point that if they’re only friends, why wouldn’t Jungkook post for Tae, is a good one.

It doesn’t explain why he doesn’t post for Tae or like his tiktoks etc, but I’m aware that we’ll never know - unless we get lucky in the distant future & maybe one of them will write a book & spill a few secrets!

They both seem to be happy - it’s been a joy to watch Tae for the last few weeks (despite the sabotage & lack of support from so called ot7 😑) & he’s achieved a lot. As I’ve already said, I have no doubt that Jungkook will be extremely successful & we know he too will work very hard - I’m happy that it’s unlikely he will face the challenges Tae has & we can hopefully enjoy this time without the anxiety.

I honestly hope I’m dead wrong & that they’re still together- but if they aren’t, so be it, they aren’t fairytale characters & I would always only want them to be happy (together preferably 😬)

Sorry for the long commentary- your patience is commendable 😂

To some of the commenters - don’t assume everyone is a jikooker just because they have a different view or opinion to you - if you talk to enough people with an open mind, you’ll find that there’s a lot of different perspectives out there, it’s just that there’s very few places they can be discussed without instant raising of hackles & hate.

Thanks 😊

Hi again anon!

You are not the only one thinking this way, there’s quite a few doubting Tkkrs at the moment. Which is in all honesty fine. People do break up at times it’s usually for the best even, since breakups are most of the time because something doesn’t work.

There’s a lot of comparing Tkk’s interactions with those of Jkk. The reason for that is obvious ofcourse, but it also creates an either/or situation. To me it’s clear that Jimin and Jk are just friends, so it feels like an odd comparison. I don’t expect friends and partners to act the same. I think Jk’s interactions with Jimin on social media is exemplary of him missing Jimin.. them not spending as much time together as they are used to. That also fit with what we’ve seen in the firat part of the year… Jkkrs themselves were doubting if those two were seeing each other still. I think that is just what it was. I think Jk is a very ‘act in the moment’ guy. I don’t think he planned those lives to be about Jimin up front, I think he was prompted by things (seeing Jm online on weverse, seeing him in his comments, fans asking about him) and he just acted on that because he loves him and felt a sudden surge of fondness. I don’t think those instances were signs of anything more. Ofcourse it were great moments though.. but it doesn’t have anything to do with Jk’s relationship with Tae.

When comparing the two ships’s interactions.. somehow it’s not looked at in terms of private vs public. Because when we look at private interactions.. the scale tips over quite a lot to the other side. We know Tae and Jk have met often. Tae still talks about Jk freely and happily. There’s no reserve, no sadness there.. so that is why I think all is well. Tae’s behavior and comments are quite often being disregarded as ‘yeah, that’s just Tae’.. as if his doings don’t actually count. But he is one part of Tkk so ofcourse what he does and says counts.

I know we’ve not had much the last two months or so.. but the last two months have also been the ones where both Tae and Jk have been the busiest. Both of them are flying all over the world constantly, they have all sorts of projects going.. so that is what makes this time different I think… aside from that I feel Tae and Jk have been pretty consistent.

And yeah… I get a lit of jkkrs on here.. also some pretending to be Tkkrs.. so that’s why people probably saw you as one as well 😬.

[milkyplier]

It got too long and heartfelt in the reblog, so I decided it deserved its own post XD

BOOM. MY OLD ART FROM LIKE 2018/19???

This is my bestie's Harry Potter OC that I drew for her! I actually had some similar drawings of both our OCs, but they're not in my possession right now XD and maybe they'll never be! But it's cool to see how very far I'll e come since then.here's some of my more recent art, just so you can see them side by side XD

For me, personally, seeing them side by side makes me giddy. They're so different, it's hard to link them together, hard to look at them and think the same person drew them. But I did. And as someone who grew up with another fabulous artist (@/rustic-space-fiddle), | was always impatient, always discouraged to look at my own art and see everything it was missing. I wanted to draw like Rusty, but I was so very unskilled. I was very eager to reach the day when I could match her skill, when I could look at my art and see in it everything that I saw in hers.

And today, I can honestly, confidently, gratefully say that I have arrived.

Obviously, if you go check out Rusty’s art, you’ll see I am by no means as good as her. But I learned awhile ago that I’ll never be, no one will—not only am I biased that she’s the best artist in the world (because she is), but Rusty draws the way only Rusty can, and the way only she will. Others may draw similarly, others may copy her, but art is like a fingerprint. Each style and piece is unique to the person who drew it. Therefore, it’s unfair for me to compare myself to Rusty when I could never possess her fingerprint in the first place. But that doesn’t change the fact that I used to compare myself to her so harshly—and the fact that to a younger me, I have achieved exactly what I wanted.

2018 was not the year I started drawing. Was it perhaps the year of my first exploration into the digital realm? Yes, but before then, I was drawing horses. I love horses, and I loved them so much they were all I ever drew. My walls were adorned with dozens of drawings of horses. I’ve since fallen out of the habit of drawing horses so regularly, but all those drawings are what started me drawing. I learned to hold a pencil and put it to paper drawing horses, and then from there, I just started drawing everything else. I only recently started drawing in seriousness, in the grand scheme of things. A year or two ago. And then I was drawing people most of the time, and the occasional dog or cat. And there were many bumps along the way—my discouragement at my own ability, as well as my inability to draw digitally, as I was quickly coming to love. The iPad I used at the time simply didn’t support Procreate after awhile, so I was using my sister’s iPad.

There are also the artists which inspired me. Obviously, rustic-space-fiddle was—and still is—my number one support and inspiration, she was my goal. But then I got instagram and I saw people’s different styles, and while I don’t know where exactly the inspiration from them comes from, it’s certainly there, perhaps in the courage with which I now draw. The second biggest inspiration in my life has been, without a doubt, Jojo. Her art style, which I adore, is something I have tried to imbue in mine—I’ve been told before that it can be seen, but I’m unsure of that. Still, even if I do not draw in her style, I think I draw in her energy. In the way that I draw Legend, that style, that goal, that love for him and her art, I think it’s there every time I draw Legend, and even in the other things that I draw too. She may never know, but she is perhaps the only other artist in the world I have ever really hoped to be like.

Anyways. I guess what I am simply trying to say is I’m happy. I’m proud. I’m content with my art, in a way I once hoped I would achieve, and while I know I have many things to learn, I approach them without that lost hopelessness I used to feel, but with passion, curiosity, and the determination to grow better.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. You didn’t really have any reason to read this—even if we have talked, even if we are mutuals, I’m still a stranger whose ramblings about her art hold almost no weight at all. But you did anyways, because you were curious, because you cared, because it was interesting, moving, inspiring. Whatever it was, thank you :)

I’ve come a very long way. And I’ll go a very long way more. I hope you’ll be here to see it all!

[jdgo51]

The Path to Healing Starts with Confronting Hidden Problems

Today's inspiration comes from:

Get Past Your Past

by Jason VanRuler

Editor’s note: It can feel like brokenness is the title of our stories. Or the ending. But, with God, we can face what we’ve been through, work through it, and truly have abundant life in Him (John 10:10). Enjoy this piece from Get Past Your Past by Jason VanRuler.

"Something I learned early on about remodeling a home is you have to fix even the stuff other people can’t see.

This fact became evident when I was faced with a gross basement wall in a house we were remodeling. The wall looked quite dirty. Normally a perfectionist, this time I reckoned that the best thing to do would be to slap some paint on it and call it good. So that’s what I did. The dirty wall was now “clean.”

This method worked. For a while. The basement was dark, so I just assumed the paint had covered the rough spot and everything was fine. Until the day I walked by the wall and saw that the spot I’d painted over had come through the paint and was as ugly as ever.

What?! I painted over that spot! The problem was that the dirty spot was not just dirty. It was moldy and mildewy. Without my having cleaned the spot first, the paint couldn’t solve the problem. It just covered it up for a while.

Multiplying Problems

A lot of us go through life like this. We see a dirty spot and figure that if we just throw some paint on it or avoid that area of the house, things will be fine. When this doesn’t work, we now have two problems: the original problem and this new problem created by our avoidance.

What I learned from the moldy-wall experience is that you have to solve the problem the first time. Throwing some paint on our issues doesn’t help in the long run. And that’s good, because the problem is important and worthy of our attention.

When I examine my life, I realize how much time I’ve spent afraid and running away from my issues. I think that sometimes when I check out, I’m probably not checking out so much as running away from a scary situation or an unwanted feeling.

While I’m running from fear, I typically find myself lost and alone the way I had felt as a child. It might be oversimplifying things, but I think that at the heart of this fear is a faith issue.

I want to show that inner child that he is protected and that I am an adult now.

I want to change my relationship with fear. I don’t want to keep running away from or slapping a coat of paint over my problems and calling it good.

But maybe it isn’t bad to be afraid.

When I think about it, checking out and running away feels a lot like the night someone tried to break into our house.

After trauma, healthiness requires healing.

A Childhood Trauma

When I was a young kid before my parents’ divorce, we lived in a ranch-style house in a decent area of town. In those first years of my life, I felt safe and protected. Until that one night.

I woke up to yelling and screaming and the sounds of my father running down to the basement. My mother was yelling that someone was trying to break in through a window. Having no concept of what was happening, I felt confused and terrified.

My father eventually came up from the basement brandishing a baseball bat and ran outside to chase the would-be intruder through the neighborhood until he got away.

After that night, my life changed in many ways, but I never slept the same again. I’d wake up terrified, having to check the doors and windows even when I lived on the sixteenth floor of an apartment building.

What’s funny is that I never even saw the person who was trying to break into our house. Nothing happened to me. My father saved the day by chasing him away. Nonetheless, fear followed me. I remained terrified.

I now know that this response is called trauma, but before I learned that concept, I just thought I had lost my mind. It was like being afraid of a ghost that I had never seen. It bothered me for years.

So many of us have experiences that are similar to or worse than this. Something happens that changes us, but instead of seeking healing, we seek comfort, which often isolates us. Every time I checked a window or door at night, it made me feel better only in that moment. It didn’t address my underlying fear or offer any type of healing.

After trauma, healthiness requires healing. Otherwise we go through our lives spending tremendous amounts of thought and energy trying to protect ourselves, even when it’s unnecessary.

Maybe you check a lot of doors and windows in your life because of a legitimate wound, but is that helping you? Or do you need to go back and heal instead? Most of the time healing is what needs to happen.

The good news is that our heavenly Father can handle the protection part if we let Him."

Excerpted with permission from Get Past Your Past: How Facing Your Broken Places Leads to True Connection by Jason VanRuler, copyright Jason VanRuler.

[t4tdanvis]

very sorry if this is a dumb question but may I ask why you’re pro-endo? As a gender accelerationist I’m 100% for mspecs but endo systems are one thing I’ve heard of that really confuses me

i have no idea what gender accelerationist means 😭 /lh

but anyways, we used to be really pro-endo, and then we became really anti-endo (for like... a couple weeks? a month? cant remember exactly lol), and then now were once again pro-endo. this means weve seen all the different sides of the argument (even ones from communities we... really wished we hadnt ever been a part of - iykyk)

and yknow what? at the end of the day, it really doesnt matter. the only time ive ever had a mental health professional use endo systems/"fakers" as an argument against us having DID was from a mental health professional that said i was "too young" to know... basically anything about myself (including but not limited to being autistc, intersex, depressed, and having PTSD). that same mental health professional also said that i couldnt have DID bc i "remembered my trauma too well", so... given that no pro-endo mental health professional has ever acted that way, its a bit telling about the ideology as a whole, yknow?

anti-endo culture centers around fakeclaiming, hypermedicalization of absolutely everything, and being a Super Special Community Of Unique Special People that no one could ever understand or be a part of without checking off an entire list of boxes (and if u dont fit every single one of those boxes, ur a faker and ur harming the community and ur basically as bad as a literal fascist). i would know because ive been in several anti-endo servers, and i used to have anti-endo friends. sure, theyll deny this to hell and back, but when u actually go deeper into their communities, the nice and kind and accepting people are a very rare exception

i personally think that u dont know better than someone else about whats going on in their head. u have literally no way to tell if someone is faking or not, and fakeclaiming only hurts people who arent actually faking (an actual faker knows theyre faking, and will continue to do so regardless of how many times u tell them that theyre faking)

u just have to ask urself "is this person actually causing any harm?". u being made uncomfortable or upset by their very existence is not harm. some random 14 year old on the internet saying theyre a system without trauma is actually not hurting anyone. it is not misinformation or harm to just. have a different worldview, yknow? there are far bigger problems in the world than a pretty small online community. someone identifying as endogenic does not make them as bad as a Literal Nazi

not to mention there are so many things we dont know about when it comes to the human brain. systems have been barely studied at all. acting like its just Impossible for anything to exist outside of a very strict definition of systemhood is just. stupid. bc how do u know?? did u do literally any studies on it?? no u didnt bc barely anyone has!! and in fact professionals state that non-traumagenic plurality DOES exist - people just like to ignore that part in the dsm-v (or claim that it means something entirely different, which it doesnt, its pretty clear lmao)

tl;dr: u can do what u want forever idc 👍

[feathernotes]

Alright friends, I’ve had some people ask already about the current webcomic sphere, specifically how Webtoons treats its creators, so I’m going to give you a small run down of what really has upset not only me, but the many webcomickers in and outside of what WT has been doing. Before we dive in though, I want to make it clear that this is NOT a post to shit on ANYONE who uses WT. Webtoons works because it knows we need to eat and pay bills- it works because we want our efforts to be seen. People who use the platform are not the problem here, it’s how it’s changed reader (and our own) expectations over these last 6 years into something damaging to folks who just want to survive and thrive. With that, let’s get into some details. Over the past 6-7 years, we’ve seen a pretty big shift in the webcomic sphere, I’ve already talked about how I feel about that shift here with many other folks responding to feeling the same.. So, what exactly happened? Well, webcomics have always been an indie medium for anyone and everyone to try their hand at. You could improve over years, strip comics of any sort took off, you could have large epics of thousands of pages and potentially grab some cool following, flash style comics thrived (yes, i am finally mentioning homestuck, this is for you guys) and it was all done with whatever skill set or level you were at the time. Expectations weren’t what i would call ‘low’ but open to the idea that a good story could come from anywhere. When did that exactly change? Webcomics had an interesting relationship with being ‘profitable’ in certain circles, project wonderful was a great way to earn some rev, and webrings shared works to new readers daily. It was a time to explore, have fun, be messy, and with little expectation to boot. But then everything changed when the fire nation- when webcomics we’re seen as more than just comics on the web. The fall of smackjeeves probably marks one of the largest shifts in webcomic spheres to where we are now, and with that, the rise of platforms who want your comics FAST and Professional as possible (emphasis on fast). We’re going to talk about the elephant in the room now. Over these last years, it was a promising premise to have apps where you could upload comics to thousands (now millions) of readers to check out. It was an answer to what many folks had wanted for so long: Access to potential readers, access to potential ad rev, a chance to strike it big and have your work truly recognised! It sounds incredibly awesome to younger creators especially who’s first forray into webcomics was this. It can’t... really be that bad.. can it? Spoilers, it was, and still is.

Following the classic tokyopop model  of taking advantage of newcomers to the comic scene, Webtoons creates similar, if not more intense demands from these creators to get any success on their business model. Infamous accounts of creators drained, overworked , and underpaid- all on top of scraping for any sort of help from WT itself as far as promotion, editorial, and assistants go. In fact, there are many articles that talk about this treatment and more to come, as originals and canvas creators on WT open up about their treatment over these last few years. It’s not good. The worst part about all of this, is that WT knows. It knows about how hard and taxing these demands are, and that their expectations they’ve instilled onto their userbase will only want more and higher quality- but at what cost? Said in this article, “webtoons are low-cost to produce- one person can make them with a tablet and stylus”, while the artists are struggling on all accounts to keep up with this demand, is a picture perfect example of how disposable creators are at the end of the day. I cannot write about the mistreatments without mentioning the passing of Jang Sung-rak, the creator of Solo Leveling due to being treated as such. Or about the tremendous efforts of Original Creators trying to find some kind of middle ground to meet in this open letter of harsh mistreatment (and the bravery of the many who came forward too).  The unfair contracts that continue to reap benefits while you are left behind. The extreme lack of any support for its own creators... And unfortunately so much more. I’m not the end all be all with this, and I certainly cannot cover everyones experiences on the matter either. I simply want creators to be treated better, on any sort of platform that promises a future. And it’s not just a webtoon problem either. This doesn’t stop at webcomics. At the end of the day, and the end of this very long winded response- I want you to know how much it means to support creators- illustrators, animators, writers, youtubers, musicians- all of us.

How do we change this? Well.. a little support goes a long way. If we didn’t have to use these predatory platforms to pay the bills, if we could create without having to do the ‘promotion dance’, if we had that stability to just be indulgent with our own creative outlets- well, i’m sure that would be a very different story. But for now, and with everything you’ve learned from above to see how hard folks work to get that story to you (and mostly free to read), try to support them in any way you can. Boost their work- sing praises to your friends to check it out, maybe get some merch or donate if that suits you more. Click off site if the work is hosted on their own, share your fan works, send some asks. At the end of the day, your support is what will help change how creators are treated. Your voice matters when creators talk about the struggles to create and survive. We’ve got a long way to go, but take this as an opportunity to tell your fave creator how much their works means to them- they’re gonna need it!

★Also, support smaller comic hosting places if you want to post your webcomic too. Comic Fury has been my go to for reccomendations, and comic rocket and the webcomic library are neat places to find webcomics. Webcomic collctive Spider Forest has been helping the community since 2004.★

I'm going to have to talk about Webtoons(company) at one point, and its... impact on the webcomic sphere too. Trying to find the most eloquent way to say that these companies aren't your friends, and that I am seeing more and more creators getting chewed up and spit out when these places are done with them. I'm legit worried for how The Content Creator model is going to hurt so many more people, who have been led to believe that this is the only way to get their work out there.

[feeder86]

Making Monsters: Part 1: The Feeder Within

“Oh, Jimmy, you should have seen him!” Edith marvelled, recounting her date from the night before. “He had this beautiful, fat, chubby ass on him, squeezed into pants which were far too small, so his love handles bulged out perfectly! He’s got this cute double chin and his belly is the stout, round kind, with just the hint of moobs starting to sprout above! I was in heaven!”

Jimmy laughed. Just like him, Edith had an unashamedly strange taste in boys; but, she never failed to amuse. “What was his appetite like at dinner? Did he pass that test too?” Jimmy asked, knowing full well that this was always something that Edith looked out for in a man. 

“Not bad,” Edith nodded, sounding unconvinced. “But he was probably just holding back a little because it was a first date. I’m sure that I can tease the little piggy out of him in time!”

It was hard not to roll his eyes, but Jimmy resisted. Edith was nothing short of wicked. Despite being such a pretty girl, she never failed to find the fatter, out-of-shape boys hotter than any others. Her last boyfriend had gained a full ten pounds in the short eight weeks that they were together during the first semester. She wanted a man that she could pamper, overfeed and ultimately watch ballooning into the five hundred pound pig of her dreams. “So, do you think he might be the one?” Jimmy asked curiously.

“Hmm, possibly,” Edith pondered. There’s also this second year guy I’ve got my eye on too though. “His belly is a little more developed. I saw him eating this doughnut in the park last week and… Oh my..!”

Jimmy raised his hand to stop her, not wanting all of the gory details about how horny she became. Edith had absolutely no shame. She was the type of girl who had watched too many romantic comedies, with women and gay best friends who knew everything about each other. She’d spilled every dark secret to him, without thinking twice. That was how Jimmy had some to learn of their mutual attraction to those guys who were nicely bellied up. He glanced over at the desktop picture on Edith’s laptop, spying the image of a huge, easily five hundred pound fat guy. He was incredibly wide and unreasonably fat, with blubber spilling over from his love handles and a lard-filled butt that didn’t look like it had ever seen the inside of a gym. “Who’s that?” Jimmy pointed, laughing.

“Just a picture I found online,” Edith replied, gazing longingly at the image. “Isn’t he just dreamy?”

Jimmy tried to imagine how much food the guy must have eaten to grow that fat. He looked at the huge doughy ass on him and tried to imagine fucking a guy like that. Was that something he would enjoy? “I guess he’s all right,” she finally conceded with a devilish twinkle in her eye. “I’ve never really checked out guys that big before, but… Yeah, he’s pretty cute!” he stated, gazing at the large, blubbery gut that looked almost too much for admirers like himself or Edith to handle. But maybe that was why the thought of him was so damn thrilling! “Have you found any more guys like that?” he asked, scooting up a little closer to Edith’s whirring computer; excited to see what other delights the kinky girl had found during her many internet searches.

Back in Jimmy’s dorm, it was a lot livelier. The place was packed full of loud, extraverted guys who liked their drink and fun times. Jimmy was sure that most people would have hated it, certainly his mother did as she dropped him off one weekend and saw a team of overexcited guys playing a rowdy game of football through the corridors, dressed in just their underwear. However, Jimmy found that he suited the lifestyle perfectly. There was no chance to be lonely here, with someone always around to drink with, or smoke a joint. Plus, some of the guys were incredibly hot to look at. 

As a gay guy, Jimmy hadn’t really expected to be so accepted by everyone, but no one seemed to care in the slightest about his sexuality – even the ultra-macho guys on the football team. In fact, unlike in high school, those types of guys were the most fun to hang out with. Plus, whenever they got really drunk, their shirts were always certain to come off; displaying those impressive, beautiful bodies.

Jimmy had a smart mouth and an intolerance for bullshit. He knew what it was like to be squared up to and needing to fend for himself. But, in college, people seemed to love him for his outspoken ways. They revelled in his blunt, honest and witty analyses of situations. Everyone knew him in the building and… it was actually hard to comprehend this, but, for the first time in his life, he was actually one of the popular crowd.

“Hey, Jimmy! Go long!” cried a deep, masculine voice, as a tall, handsome guy suddenly appeared in the corridor. He held a football in his enormous hand and was preparing to launch it at full speed at him. 

Jimmy dropped his cell phone and notepad straight away, knowing he only had milliseconds to react in time. Tommy’s throws were always the most powerful, and when it launched towards him, he had to be ready. His hands swept up, forming the diamond shape the guys had taught him, and he threw himself back to brace for its impact. In his controlled fall, he flew back into the kitchen door as the ball finally connected with him. He hadn’t realised that Paul and a crowd of other guys were inside, waiting to tackle him. Then he launched himself those extra few feet, pushing his comparatively weak body as fast as it would go, swivelling and diving past them all and landing flat on his face; until she reached across the untidy, makeshift line that had been marked, amateurishly across the kitchen floor. Touchdown!

Jimmy heard a roar of cheers and delight all around him. Heavy guys fell down upon him and then picked him up off the floor. He was ambushed by excited, noisy hugs. His short hair was ruffled and thrown completely out of style. 

“That was awesome!” cried Tommy approvingly, before turning with the ball that had just been passed back to him and kicking it down the long corridor, without a care for where it landed. In a sudden rush, it was quickly followed by all the guys who had surrounded Jimmy. Like dogs after a stick, Jimmy felt the rush of wind as they dispersed just as suddenly as they had seemed to envelope him. The kitchen door swung closed and, but for the noisy cries and howls of the boys, getting further and further away, he was alone once more. He smiled to himself, dusted his clothes off, and tried to recall where the hell he had put his cell phone.

It was late one Friday night. Most of the others had disappeared to bed, leaving Jimmy with Tommy and Paul, sharing a bong in Paul’s bedroom. They’d talked about all sorts of shit all evening, and had become so high that they’d forgotten that they’d even sent out for pizza. That was, until Jimmy’s phone rang from the delivery guy waiting downstairs. Then, in the time it had taken Jimmy to collect the food, Paul had fallen asleep, slumped on the floor, leaving only Tommy still conscious.

“Wake him up!” Jimmy laughed. “We’ve got three pizzas to finish here!”

“Nah, fuck him!” Tommy laughed boyishly. “I’ll eat his pizza!” Then, snatching two of the boxes from Jimmy, he proceeded to stack three of the pizza slices on top of each other, sinking his teeth into them all simultaneously.

Jimmy didn’t especially mind that Paul was going to be out of action. Of the pair of them, Tommy was far more handsome and fun to be around; especially when he was half naked, like this. He looked like he had been genetically engineered for football, with his huge, towering frame and broad shoulders. He had hands the size of dinner plates and a voice deeper than anyone one else in the building. Still, Jimmy was taken aback by the sight of the guy’s gluttony. Tommy was so high, he probably didn’t even realise how ridiculous he looked. Being part of the college football team, the guy had a toned six-pack and ruggedly built shoulders and arms; yet, here he was, stuffing his face like a pig and chewing like some sort of cement mixer.

“I have a friend who would love you,” Jimmy laughed, thinking of Edith. “She adores guys with a good appetite!”

Tommy smirked. “I love my food!” he nodded.

“My friend likes fat guys though,” Jimmy shrugged, realising that Tommy’s athletic body probably would interest her in the way that he admired it.

Chewing a little faster, Tommy nodded enthusiastically. His mind didn’t seem capable of holding onto the thread of a conversation for long.  “Wouldn’t you love to know what it feels like to be really fucking fat?” he asked. “Like, not just chubby, but proper, huge-bellied, waddling fat boy sort of thing?”

“Not really,” Jimmy chuckled, adding this conversation to the list of mindless things they had chatted about that evening.

“I have,” Tommy confessed. “I’ve thought about it a lot, growing up. I even used to jerk myself off to the idea in the past.” He grinned, eyes rolling around in his head, seeming to comprehend on some level just how stupid he sounded. “Fuck! That was some powerful shit!” he laughed, silently blaming the bong for his runaway mouth. Nevertheless, he made a good effort on the pizzas, almost demolishing the second one entirely, until he too succumbed to the inevitable drowsiness, and fell fast asleep.

“There’s a guy in my dorm…” Jimmy began the next time he popped over to see Edith, entering her room in a frenzy of excitement. It had played on his mind all afternoon. Wouldn’t Edith and Tommy make a great couple? They were both so good looking. The football jock’s comments about gaining weight and being fat had been strange, but there was definitely something more to it. And if anyone could tease it out of him, Edith could.

“I can’t talk now,” Edith replied hastily. “Alec is coming over.”

“Alec?” Jimmy asked, trying to place the name. “This is the guy you went on a date with the other night? The one with the chubby ass?”

Edith nodded enthusiastically, then glanced over Jimmy’s shoulder and smiled. “You’re early!” she cooed.

Jimmy turned around and saw a young, stout guy walking towards them with a grin on his face. He took a step back, to allow the lovebirds to hug and fall into a kiss. Edith’s eyes were closed as she enjoyed the sensation of being smooched by a chubby boy. Jimmy watched as her hands went exploring his body as they kissed; sliding onto his sides and over his big, broad butt. Jimmy couldn’t help looking at it. The guy really did have a plump, oversized rear on him; two enormous, rounded glutes pressing up against his sweatpants and currently being caressed by Edith. The sight created a stir in Jimmy’s crotch. There was just something so sexy about a fat ass on a guy; like it was just asking to be fucked!

Eventually, Edith finally tore herself away to introduce Jimmy to him, but it was clear that he wasn’t really wanted there. “I don’t know what you want to do?” she asked Alec. “I was thinking we could order in some take-out tonight and watch a movie?”

Jimmy smirked. Of course Edith wanted to watch the fat boy feed!

“I was thinking we could go for a nice walk together,” Alec countered.

Edith pulled a face. Exercise was the last thing on her agenda that evening.

“Oh, I’ve got something for you then,” Jimmy blurted out, pulling a promotional voucher he had found in his pocket that morning; most likely from when he’d gone down to collect the pizzas last night. “Two for one on everything,” he explained, handing it over to Edith. “And a free dessert if you spend over a certain amount.”

Edith smiled at him in appreciation. “Well, that settles it then!” She turned to look at Alec. “I hope you’re feeling hungry!” she teased, poking the boy in his fat little tummy. 

Despite feeling sorry for Alec, leaving him with a secretive feeder who was setting out to overfeed him that night, Jimmy couldn’t help his arousal. He glanced at his cell phone, checking out the dating app and finding the profile of a chubby guy who had been trying to chat him up for weeks. ‘Fancy meeting up?’ he typed keenly. He definitely needed a fat butt to play with tonight. 

“Sam on the third floor is so into you!” Tommy laughed about a week later, as he handed over the bong to Jimmy for his turn. Once again, they were the only two standing after a long night of partying; sat on the floor and slouched against the kitchen cupboards.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I know,” he huffed. “I slept with him once and now he’s acting like we’re somehow destined to be together.”

Tommy laughed, seeming to appreciate Jimmy’s reluctance to settle down into a relationship. Promiscuity was a trait that they both shared and cherished.  “Well, at least you know he’s there if ever you get horny and need a good fuck!” he joked. However, Jimmy knew that there were a few girls in this building who served just that purpose for Tommy too.

Shaking his head, Jimmy took another deep breath from the bong. “Nah, man. If Sam wants me to fuck him again, he’s going to have to fatten himself up a bit. I’m more into chubs these days.”

“Chubs?” Tommy asked with genuine interest. “Like, fat guys? You’re into fat guys?”

Jimmy smirked at the level of interest Tommy was showing, and remembering the strange confession Tommy had made the last time they were high together; which was more than could probably be said for Tommy. “I love watching their fat jiggle when they’re getting fucked!” he chuckled.

“I thought gay guys were all about the twinks?” Tommy asked, laughing at the new side he was seeing from Jimmy tonight.

“No way!” Jimmy scoffed, surprised that a guy like Tommy even knew what a ‘twink’ was. Gay culture really was permeating through everything these days. He suddenly felt like Edith was speaking through him as he boldly went on. “Give me a nice, big, fat, greedy pig-boy any day of the week!”

Was that too much? Tommy raised an eyebrow, but Jimmy had never seen such a wicked and broad smile spread across the guy’s face. “So… what? If you were dating a guy like me, you’d have to…”

“Oh, I’d have to fatten you up, for sure!” he shot back without a second thought. “Don’t get me wrong. You’ve got a cute little ass on you and everything. But it’s not quite doughy enough for me to get a kick out of fucking it yet.”

Tommy’s eyes were wide as he listened carefully to each word Jimmy was saying. “So, what would you recommend then?” he asked, turning a little more to face him properly.

Jimmy turned a little more too. The moment felt strangely intimate between them; like they were both on a journey of discovery. “Pizzas, hamburgers, ice cream. Pretty much all of those things an athlete like you is told to avoid.”

“I’m not sure what coach would think of that,” Tommy laughed, as if to shake off the idea.

“Like I give a shit what your coach thinks!” Jimmy shot back with a deliberate smattering of arrogance that he had learned from Edith. But as he did so, he saw something bounce in Tommy’s crotch.

“Shit, I need to go to bed!” Tommy blasted; turning around and standing up, rubbing his tired eyes. He walked over to the door and turned his head to look back, just for a second. His crotch concealed, the guy’s lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. But, despite inhaling to speak, he shook his head again, disappearing from view.

Not even a goodnight? Jimmy thought grumpily to himself. Yet, still he smirked. Up until now, he’d resisted the urge to tell Edith about his suspicions concerning Tommy. Now, more than ever, he was quite pleased that he had this little secret all to himself…

As fun as Edith was, her infatuation with boys had made her somewhat more self-absorbed than she had been at the start of the year. Jimmy wanted to tell her all about Tommy and his suspicions. He still believed that the football jock could end up being the perfect guy for her! Just imagining what Edith could do to Tommy was keeping Jimmy awake at night with a boner that just wouldn’t quit. But now Edith’s life seemed to move far too fast. Alec had already been kicked to the curb and a new guy in his place; a fatter one, with significantly more stomach blubber on him to match his wider, chubbier butt.

“Drake is a gainer!” Edith announced excitedly, proudly hooking her arm in with her new man. “We met online.”

Jimmy played with the unfamiliar word in his head and studied the overfed boy in front of him. “Gainer? You mean… gaining weight? On purpose?”

Drake smirked and nodded in confirmation. “Edith here says she wants to help me reach my next goal of three hundred pounds.”

The words seemed to do something to Edith and she turned to him, pressing her whole body up to Drake and rubbing the sides of his fat, flabby stomach with glee. “You bet I am!” she growled, allowing her lust to shine through. “And I’m going to fatten you up like the big, fat, greedy piggy that you really are!”

With that, the pair of them fell into each other, kissing wildly. 

Despite awkwardly standing there, Jimmy couldn’t help feeling a little aroused. He’d been with a few chubs recently; some even as big as Drake. But he hadn’t had the opportunity to tease any of them like this. As guys went, Drake wasn’t exactly the most handsome and his fat was mostly placed in his stomach, sagging particularly early. His butt wasn’t much to look at, wide and chubby, but surprisingly shapeless. In contrast, his thighs were surprisingly skinny and ill-matched to his upper body. But still, the thought that he wanted to grow fatter and got off on that… It was easy to see why Edith was so into him.

A gainer? Jimmy thought to himself. Was that what Tommy had been hinting at? Was it the idea that had got him jacking off in the past, as a teenager? If so, maybe Jimmy didn’t need Edith to bring it out in him. After all, Jimmy had been the one to give him a hard on the other night. Maybe he could do it again.

Unlike last time, it seemed that Tommy had remembered everything that had happened that Friday night. He seemed quieter and more withdrawn. “You coming out tonight?” Jimmy asked, ready for his night out with the rowdy football crowd.

“Sorry, dude. I’ve got studying to do,” he replied, without even making eye contact. It was the first thing he’d said to him all week. He’d been out training, or at the gym every night of the week, and his absence had been noticed by everyone in the dorm. The football team also had a big game tomorrow that Jimmy suspected he was a little nervous about.

Suddenly, Jimmy’s cell phone buzzed, with multiple messages coming through simultaneously. His mother had been texting him all day, complaining that he wasn’t coming home for his grandma’s birthday tomorrow and Jimmy knew that it was a battle that he wasn’t going to win.

“Someone’s popular,” Tommy commented as Jimmy scanned his phone.

“Oh, it’s just some fat guys that want me to fuck them this weekend,” he lied, wanting to sound edgier than he really was.

“You’re not coming to watch the game?” Tommy asked.

“Nah, I can’t make it, sorry,” Jimmy replied, not wanting to admit that he was being summoned home. “These pigs need porking!”

Tommy laughed at Jimmy’s crudeness and seemed to relax a little bit, becoming less tense. “I thought you said that you enjoyed watching the hot football players running around the pitch?”

Jimmy nodded. If he hadn’t needed to go home tomorrow, there was no way he would have missed it. “You boys are a little too lean for my liking. Let me work my magic and fatten you guys up a bit and I promise you I’ll never miss a game!” he joked.

“In that case, pass me the whipping cream!” Tommy teased back. For a brief second, he seemed like he was back to his usual self. But then his cheeks reddened, seemingly embarrassed by what he had just said; his eyes sinking to the floor once more.

“I think you would make an awesome fat boy,” Jimmy tried, feeling his heart beating faster with adrenaline. “I’ve seen you taking down pizza when you’ve been high. You’re more of a glutton that you let on!”

Tommy’s grin spread candidly across his face. “You clearly have never bulked up to play football before then,” he laughed. “I had my coach at me to gain weight ever since I was a freshman in high school.”

“So, that’s why you guys always get so fat after you finish playing. You’ve been trained like pigs to pile on the pounds!”

“I think you might be right,” Tommy nodded, looking down at his own flat stomach and rubbing it gently. He went to walk into the corridor and back into his room, but suddenly turned around and returned to one of the kitchen cupboards, picking up a large box of cookies to take with him.

As Jimmy watched him go, he couldn’t get over how hard he felt. How could such a simple conversation feel so incredibly erotic?

“Drake seems a little quiet,” Jimmy commented, finally getting Edith on her own as they ordered some fast food. Drake had already headed to reserve the table, looking tired and a little spaced out.

Edith grinned. “That’s because I spent the whole afternoon stuffing him with food! Poor Piggy could hardly move by five o’clock.”

Jimmy looked over at his friend’s boyfriend, suddenly realising that the explanation made perfect sense: the lethargy, aching and quiet groaning. The poor boy was stuffed beyond reason; yet he had been dragged out for waffles with them.

“Drake said that he wanted the super deluxe waffle, didn’t he?” Edith asked deviously, grinning as she knew that Drake had only reluctantly agreed to having a small hot chocolate, and no food at all.

Drake’s eyes were wide with alarm when his dessert was brought over to him. He spluttered and found it hard to comprehend the size of the unexpected treat he was being given. “Babe, honestly,” he mumbled to Edith once the waitress had left, “I can’t eat all of this!”

Edith simply giggled and rubbed his thigh flirtatiously. “Oh, come on, honey! You know you’ll thank me for it later…”

Drake’s resolve seemed to falter as Edith’s hand slyly slid a little higher up his thigh. 

“Jimmy, you’ve got to tell her,” the guy implored. “There’s no way a man can be expected to eat all of this after everything I’ve already had today!”

Jimmy raised his eyebrows, trying to seem unimpressed by Drake’s excuses. What this guy needed was some tough love. The idea of feeding a guy, as Edith did, was becoming more and more of a turn on. And here, right now, was the perfect opportunity to dip his hand into those ever so enticing waters. “Edith has told me all about your appetite,” he stated calmly. “I hope you’re not going to let me down,” he teased. Even as he spoke, he could feel himself getting more excited.

“He’s not going to let us down,” Edith sang, picking up Drake’s spoon and handing it to him. “He’s a good little piggy!”

Jimmy’s dick was getting incredibly hard. Here he was, about to see true fattening in action. “Yeah, come on Piggy!” he echoed. “Open up; nice and wide. You’re not leaving until that plate is licked clean!”

It was with an awful lot of disappointment that Jimmy returned from the summer break to learn that Edith had broken up with Drake. He’d been looking forward to watching the guy grow and had returned with plenty of ideas to help Edith get the little pig overeating. 

“What happened?” he asked, hardly hiding his frustration at the split.

Edith hung her head in shame. “I sort of cheated on him,” she sighed. “My ex from high school put on a few pounds. It was only a little extra weight; a little thickness in his waist; hardly anything special at all. But… Well, I was drunk and horny. How was I supposed to know that Drake was coming over to surprise me?”

“Shit!” Jimmy cried, imagining the scene as it played out in her head. “How did he react?”

Edith pulled a face and let out a deep breath. “He saw us making out in the car and was definitely not happy,” she explained, clearly understating that fact. “He came storming out of my parents’ house and practically ripped the guy out of the car. He said he never wanted to see me again. That he couldn’t believe I could do something like that to him.”

Jimmy sighed, seeing that Edith was quite hurt by it all. “It does seem a little out of character for you,” he mumbled, trying not to judge Edith for her mistakes.

“I fucked up!” Edith sighed. “Drake was so upset. I felt awful. I still do! If I could take it back, I would do; in a heartbeat.”

“Now what are we going to do for entertainment?” Jimmy asked, trying to lighten the mood “I was so looking forward to watching that pig balloon this year!”

Edith nodded in sad agreement. It was not the start to the new college year that either of them had wanted.

Jimmy didn’t stay too long after that. He could tell that Edith had been somewhat diminished by the experience. Drake had been her most successful relationship yet, and now it was all gone. But, for Jimmy, he felt like something had awoken inside of him. It was all he had thought about all summer long; that need to feed a guy, as he had witnessed Edith doing. And, although the college campus was filling up with beautifully chubby-looking freshers, Jimmy’s sights were undeniably set on just one man alone. It was time to step up.

The feeder within him had been born. But could a guy like Tommy ever come to appreciate him for it?

Even before Jimmy had seen Tommy, there was an excited buzz about the guy after the summer. Jimmy had lost count of the amount of people who had come up to him to say how much muscle Tommy had packed on over the last couple of months. None of them had been exaggerating either. Tommy looked more imposing than ever, with his huge, hulking arms and impressively strong chest; not to mention his shoulders. His thighs seemed too big and muscular for any of the pants he owned and there was a satisfied smirk on the guy’s face as he walked by, having people gaze up at him in awe. 

In over a week, Jimmy hadn’t had the chance to properly catch-up with him. Tommy had been out every night, laying claim to the hottest first year students that were arriving; harvest time for most of the football team.

“So, you haven’t really said anything about all this muscle I’ve gained over the summer,” Tommy smirked, tensing his biceps and waiting. It was the first time he’d sat down in the kitchen area with Jimmy since they had been back.

“Yeah, the guns are looking good,” Jimmy nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the ridiculous grab for attention. Two minutes into their first conversation and already Tommy just wanted to be complimented on his impressive physique. “Your coach must be pleased.”

“You bet he is!” Tommy nodded, standing up and flexing even more; posing like a bodybuilder; even pulling off his t-shirt to show Jimmy the muscles on his back. Jimmy got the impression it was a routine that he had performed multiple times since he got back. “Thirty pounds of pure muscle in just three months! He says he’s never seen anything like it!”

Jimmy gave a chuckle. “I bet you’ve been gorging like an absolute pig to pack it on that fast. You must have been eating and eating; being a complete hog all summer long!”

Tommy seemed a little thrown by the comment. He stopped posing and stood, almost dejectedly, looking down at Jimmy. “No. It’s all about the weight training and gym work,” he countered.

There was a certain thrill that Jimmy felt, sensing that he had touched a nerve. It was a skill he had mastered after watching all of the dorm guys interact and wind each other up, just for their own boyish amusement. He looked more closely at Tommy’s torso, studying its changes. “It’s not quite pure muscle though, is it?” he went on. “All that overeating has added a little fat layer over your six pack. Those muscles don’t quite pop like they used to last May.”

Tommy looked down at his stomach and tensed hard, making the six pack muscles rise to the surface a little more.

“Don’t worry, man,” Jimmy commented, almost consolingly. He was finding it hard to comprehend how turned on this conversation was making him. It had been some time since he had poked the little kinks that he knew Tommy had buried within him. “No one can gain this much muscle without at least a bit of a belly coming along for the ride.”

“You think I’m getting a belly?” Tommy shot back, clearly alarmed.

Jimmy took a second before answering. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But, another month, maybe two, and I can imagine that waistline starting to suffer a lot more.”

Maybe if Tommy’s pants weren’t so distractingly tight, Jimmy might not have seen the slight bulge growing in the crotch area. Despite the look of hurt and shock on Tommy’s face, this whole thing was almost certainly turning him on too.

“Eat up, buddy!” Jimmy teased, turning back to his ceral. “I’m looking forward to seeing how this plays out!”

There were plenty of chubby first years to be enjoyed; overfed, blubbery butts and soft, padded bellies; a vast improvement on last year’s intake. But the thrill of teasing Tommy was on a whole other level of enjoyment for Jimmy. He’d bring his fattest dates up and make a point of taking them into the kitchen area to meet everyone. Tommy’s reactions always seemed the most strained. Jimmy could see the guy looking on awkwardly, seeing how he would touch up his chubby dates, stroking their wide butts playfully, or just rubbing the side of their bellies. That was always the ultimate foreplay for Jimmy, and when he finally did take those fat boys back to his room, the fireworks were always spectacular.

“Are you seeing that… um, what’s his name again?” Tommy asked a few weeks later, pretending not to remember the name of Jimmy’s date from last weekend. It was obvious that he had been waiting to ask this very question; bringing it up the moment they were finally left alone in the kitchen area.

“Jude?” Jimmy asked. “Nah, not anytime soon.”

“Oh, how come? I thought he was pretty much your perfect guy?” Tommy questioned him. 

Jimmy considered. “He’s cute, yeah. Nice, big gut and a beautifully squishy ass.” He grunted approvingly at the memory. “Enormous love handles too! You should have seen the way they bounced when I fucked him!” he swooned. “I was in heaven!”

Tommy’s face flushed a little. The more crude Jimmy was about these things, the more the guy seemed to become flustered. That was why it was so much fun. 

“So, um… what’s the problem then?” asked Tommy.

“Jude is fat because he’s always been that way. He eats a little more than most people, sure. But it’s nothing special.”

“Surely fat is fat?” Tommy countered. “What does it matter how much he eats?”

Jimmy couldn’t help but laugh at the naivety of the question. “No, no, no! It’s all about the appetite for me. If I’m dating a fat boy, I need him to be exactly that. A big, greedy pig!” he chuckled, letting the words hang there for a second, before turning his head to stare at the piles and piles of dirty pots and pans Tommy had created from his cooking earlier.

Tommy didn’t know how to respond, so he reset the situation, talking about the fit girl had been dating for the last two weeks. “She gives the best blow jobs I’ve ever had!” he finished, trying to match Jimmy’s tone from earlier; as if he wanted to make him see that he was every bit as cool and kinky as Jimmy was.

“Does she not complain though?” Jimmy asked, feeling turned on and wanting to keep the flirtatious back and forth going. “She doesn’t say anything about that little fat roll you’re getting around your middle?”

Tommy laughed at Jimmy’s rudeness. “Fuck off!” he joked. “Fucking fat roll? You cheeky bastard!” he laughed.

“Just lift up the bottom of your shirt for me,” Jimmy pressed flirtatiously.

“No way!” Tommy laughed back.

“Because you know I’m right?” Jimmy teased. “Go on! Just give me a little peek.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he quickly pulled up his shirt and flashed his middle as he sat there, slouched in the chair. It was only a second-long glance, but the sight lit up Jimmy’s face into the most devilish of grins. Tommy did indeed have a little chub sitting on his stomach. It was only slight, and vastly exaggerated by how tight the guy’s pants were; his muscular butt and larger thighs pulling the material in the opposite direction. Nonetheless, it was still one of the hottest sights he had seen in a long time. “Jeez! What a fatty!” Jimmy cheered.

“Fuck off!” Tommy laughed again, standing up to walk out and escape the teasing. 

Jimmy stood up too, delighting in the reaction he was getting. “I told you to watch the carbs!” he joked, deciding he could taunt Tommy all the way back to his room and only relent once the door was shut on him.

Tommy seemed to sense Jimmy’s plan and he turned before he even opened the kitchen door, rounding on him and catching Jimmy by surprise.

Jimmy fell back into the wall slightly and looked up at the looming hunk less than a couple of inches away from him. From this angle, Tommy seemed absolutely enormous and built; so far out of his league.

“You know, I’d never let anyone else talk to me the way you do,” Tommy stated. “I’d punch them in the face if another guy tried to goad me like you do.” His tone was not unkind, but almost conspiratorial; maybe even a little flirtatious.

For once, Jimmy was slightly lost for words. He looked into Tommy’s eyes and couldn’t stop his own gaze from sliding down to view Tommy’s full lips. Was Tommy doing the same thing? They were so close. They’d never been in this sort of position before. 

“Well, maybe I’m just special…” Jimmy mumbled.

Tommy nodded; his eyes soft and almost loving. “Maybe,” he agreed. He looked once more at Jimmy’s lips and then straightened up, catching himself. He opened the door and left the kitchen, leaving Jimmy’s heart racing faster than ever before.

It had been quite the dry spell for Edith. The one silver-lining from the break up with Drake had been the hope that there would soon be some new fat guy in her life, waiting to be fed up and fattened. Was Edith being too picky? There was no way that there wouldn’t be a long queue of fat guys wanting to take her out, surely? However, one thing was for certain: Edith had taken her breakup a lot harder than she’d let on.

“This was posted on one of Drake’s sites,” Edith declared, turning her cell phone around so that Jimmy could see.

“Shit!” Jimmy cried in awe and shock. Drake had clearly been doing nothing but eating since he’d broken up with Edith. The boy had positively ballooned with soft, doughy, jiggling fat that filled his stomach and expanded his waistline to staggering proportions. Even though Jimmy had never seen the guy without his shirt on, he knew that there was no way he’d had such a flabby chest before. His face was almost hard to recognise: great cheeks filled with fat, and a double chin that looked like it was making an invasion across the guy’s entire neck. What’s more, he looked happy; blissfully, dreamily happy.

“He’s got a new girlfriend and has started downing whipping cream every day. He looks so much different already!” she sighed, clearly wishing away her past mistakes. “You see this shirt?” she asked, clicking onto a new picture of Drake. “I bought him that, last June.”

Jimmy winced, already knowing where Edith was going with this. The shirt in question was far too short now. With a big arm resting over his new girlfriend, a good few inches of Drake’s belly fat was on show; soft and striped with angry stretch-marks. The buckle of his belt was concealed entirely, as the fat sagged, and the deep, cavernous void of the gainer’s belly button was just about in shot. 

As always, Drake was top-heavy. His skinny little thighs looked almost too weak to hold him up, and the strangeness of his shape, which Jimmy had always noticed, was now exaggerated further.

It was a hot transformation; Jimmy couldn’t deny it. But he also needed to try and make Edith feel better and resist the temptation to wallow. “There are plenty more kinky guys out there, ready and willing to be fattened up by you,” he reminded her.

Edith shook her head dejectedly. “No, I’m done with all that. I just need a nice, normal guy for a change.”

Jimmy scoffed at the idea before he realised that Edith was being serious. “Even if he only ever eats salads?” he tried joking.

Edith nodded. “Yeah. I told you. I’m done with all that kinky stuff,” she complained, looking longingly at the pictures of Drake. “It’s all more trouble than it’s worth.”

It had been so long since Jimmy had shared a bong with Tommy and Paul, but it was very much needed after the long Thanksgiving weekend. Tommy was the one who had invited them over and they were all sat, spaced out on his floor, trying to play with a pack of cards and failing miserably. The munchies had hit Tommy hard and he returned from his fourth trip to the kitchen, this time bringing an entire box of cookies and a large plate of cold, leftover pizza with him, busily munching his way through it all.

Jimmy and Paul both laughed at the display of pure greed. “Remember what coach said to us all,” Paul warned his buddy. “Fewer carbs, more cardio!”

“What’s this about?” Jimmy asked curiously, sensing he was missing something.

“Coach thinks a few of the guys are getting a bit sluggish on the field,” Paul explained for him. “Too many boxes of cookies and nights in with their girlfriends,” he whispered, giving a sideways glance at Tommy.

“Whatever!” Tommy laughed back. He paused before eating his next cookie and looked at Jimmy, whose mind was whirring with images of the slightly chunkier Tommy failing to keep up with the other guys in training. “And whatever you’re thinking, you can stop right now!” Tommy went on, pointing directly at Jimmy.

“I didn’t say anything…” Jimmy smirked.

“No… but I know what you’re like,” Tommy shot back, giving a little smile that gave away how much he enjoyed being around him. “It’s Thanksgiving,” Tommy replied to Paul. “I’m allowed to enjoy myself.”

Paul laughed and took another turn on the bong. “No, it WAS Thanksgiving; last Thursday. Now you’re just being…”

“...Greedy!” Jimmy finished for him, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

The game descended into a hilarious battle of dares, with Tommy even having to hand over one of his social media accounts for Paul to message whoever he wanted on there. Jimmy couldn’t remember what had been said, but he knew there would be some explaining for poor Tommy to do in the morning…

The two football boys had hit the bong hard and were soon slumped with their heads against the walls, blissfully asleep, still holding their cards in their hands. Jimmy chuckled at the sight, still quite high himself; his foggy brain picking up the sound of Tommy’s laptop whirring away in the background and amplifying it a thousand times. He stood up, meaning to close the top but sat heavily at the desk chair and somehow lost momentum. The system was open, unlocked and free to snoop on; so, why not have a cheeky look around?

Jimmy went to Tommy’s browser history first; chuckling at the thought of how many porn sites the guy would have visited in the last week. But as he searched through, there was absolutely nothing to see. He huffed in disappointment and looked over at Tommy, tutting at how boring the guy was.

Not to be put off, Jimmy went to Tommy’s saved documents next and filtered the files so that he could see the ones that Tommy had used most recently. One stood out immediately: a folder, simply named: ‘Dream Future’. Jimmy clicked and a box popped up on the screen demanding a password to enter the file. He huffed in frustration and sat back in the chair. But, in the corner of his eye, he saw a scrumpled up post-it note. Tommy had been forced to hand over his social media password during their dare. Might that help him here as well? Jimmy flattened it out again and began typing it in, breathless with hope.

The file opened and thumbnails of pictures began filling the screen. Jimmy’s jaw dropped to the floor. Despite everything, he had never once anticipated that Tommy would be interested in these sorts of pictures. The files had been created over many years, with most having been opened recently; one had even been viewed in the last three hours. Jimmy chose that one to open first, his hardness bursting into life as soon as the full-sized image filled the screen.

The picture was of a man, possibly in his late twenties, sitting at a table with a plate of food. He sat some distance back from the table, but not out of choice, for, in his lap, sat the most enormous gut imaginable. Even the tent-like shirt didn’t cover it completely, with a staggering amount of fat pushing against the sides and over the incredibly large-waisted pants.The guy’s arms were huge, pumped full of lard and pillow-like in appearance. Jimmy could trace the staggering amount of blubber as it went into the guy’s shoulders and creased deeply under his arms. Conventionally handsome though he might have been once, the man’s face was surrounded by fat, with a head that had been widened to an amazing proportion by the unbelievable amount of fat that framed his face and devoured his neck. The hulking, lardy legs were spread wide in the chair to allow the tremendous belly to take up the space, while the man heartily lifted a greasy looking chicken wing up to his greedy mouth. This guy wasn’t just fat, he was absolutely super-sized!

In a rush of excitement and fear of being caught, Jimmy whizzed through as many of the images as he could. Each one was a slight variation on the one that came before it: enormous, blubber-filled fat guys, usually eating or lying down lazily, with vast amounts of flesh on display. Was this what Tommy had in mind when he pictured his ‘dream’ future? 

The idea seemed almost too hot to comprehend.

Jimmy looked on, a few days later. Tommy’s girlfriend, Carrie, was tiny in comparison to him. She sat on Tommy’s lap looking like nothing more than a plaything against the strapping hunk’s enormous chest. There was no way that she knew about her man’s secret fantasies. The girl was far too image-conscious to get embroiled in anything so extreme. She wanted to dress Tommy like a doll from her childhood and show off his incredible guns whenever she got the opportunity. Carrie was there that morning, standing beside Tommy as he hobbled into the kitchen on crutches, looking very sorry for himself.

“What happened?” asked Jimmy in shock.

“Accident during football training last night,” Carrie replied for her boyfriend, who winced his way into a chair.

“I see it hasn’t hurt his appetite though,” Jimmy commented, as Tommy immediately reached across the table and stole a slice of his toast. “How long are you out for?”

“Doctor said about eight weeks,” Tommy replied after swallowing almost half of the toast in a single bite. He shook his head at Carrie who had presented him with his sugary cereal, milk, as well as a bowl to put it in. “Not that bowl,” he ordered, sending it back to her. I use the bigger bowl in the corner cupboard,” he pointed.

Jimmy watched as Tommy was granted his bigger bowl, which resembled a bucket more than it did anything else. The man filled it to the brim with his cereal and then carefully pushed it down as he tried to pour in as much of his full-fat milk as possible, without the cereal flakes spilling over the sides.

“No training for eight weeks, huh?” Jimmy chuckled. “I guess you can say goodbye to your fit boyfriend!” he nodded at Carrie. “This one eats like a pig normally, and without an outlet for all of those calories…”

Tommy smirked but carried on shovelling in his cereal regardless.

“Aw, don’t say that!” Carrie laughed, clearly dismissing the idea. “He’ll be fine.”

Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not this time. It’s the classic scenario. Football jock gets injured, gains a few pounds and then can’t get it off again. Before you know it, he’s some six hundred pound super-obese guy who couldn’t run after a football if he tried.”

Carrie chuckled, finding Jimmy’s wild exaggerations to be more humorous than cautionary. “That’s gross!” she laughed, fixing herself and Tommy a cup of coffee.

“More toast?” asked Jimmy, pushing his plate towards Tommy with a wicked grin.

Still chewing, Tommy chuckled to himself, but reached over and greedily took the two remaining slices regardless. For the first time, Jimmy had a sense that Tommy was going to enjoy a little extra indulgence over the coming weeks.

And, he wouldn’t be the only one…

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 166 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the Kolkwitzia amabilis in my garden.

MARTIN: "What happened back there? What you did to Sa–" [HE CUTS HIMSELF OFF.] [A PAUSE.] JON: "Go on. Say it." Oh no. Oh god, does Jon think that Martin thinks it was his fault that Sasha died?

HELEN: "Oh, goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, John? He’s coming to me for clear answers." Oh Helen really knows how to get under one's skin.

HELEN: (giggle) "It’s very satisfying though, isn’t it? Teasing out vague information? You see why Elias got a kick out of it." Oh fuuuck, and now she's comparing him to Elias? Jon really is straight up not having a good time..

TMA usually is super vague, but I'm actually happy we got an explanation how the smiting works. Does sound plausible, I’d say. But also, this explanation about there only being watcher and watched should have got Martin's gears to turn. They are not victims of a domain. So they have to be watchers.

MARTIN: "Sure. Okay, that’s – I mean, that’s really not that complicated, John; I don’t see why you were being so coy about it –" JON: (overlapping) "Because I’m ashamed, Martin." [SLIGHT PAUSE.] MARTIN: "Ashamed?!" JON: "Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I just – destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it, the fact that – I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a… fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please. The fact that I… enjoyed it, and… the fact that there are so many others that I want to revenge myself on!" Why does everything in TMA feel so natural!! There is so much bad and boring writing out there, every time something very logical happens it makes me super excited xD  So yap. It's super understandable that he's ashamed of all of this. Especially since we know how he actually feels about this revenging stuff. His anger says “do it!”, but his logic says “It’s not gonna do anything”..

MARTIN: "…No; No, I actually think you’re good on that front." JON: "What?" MARTIN: "Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on!" Martin, when he only remotely tastes power xD

MARTIN: "f you want to stop them and have the power to, then – then, then yeah, let’s do it, let’s go full Kill Bill!" JON: "I – I, I haven’t seen it." Laughed so hard at this xD Of course he is deflecting.

HELEN: "Oh, Martin, I am so proud of you. Can I come?" JON & MARTIN: (in unison) "No." HELEN: "So that’s a strong “maybe” then?" Asgdsdfjkdf, Helen can also be so funny! One of those characters I hate and love!

MARTIN: "Do you need anything?" [JON EXHALES.] JON: "No." Love that Martin checks in with him there. He has been a bit dismissive of Jon's feelings about this whole situation.

Yeah, that statement does nothing to me, neither terror nor excitement. As far as I understand it, it's more about the financial part of the Buried. About the pressure of the society we live in, ever trapped in bullshit jobs with only ever a glint of the prospect of escape and there is no use in fighting others like us (that second worm part) cause if we win against them, we’re stuck exactly where we were before.

"The rains fall here as they do so many places in this new world. Thick and oily drops that taste of bitter salt, torrential tears plummeting from the watching sky, thumping and squelching onto the thirsty soil in which the worms writhe painfully towards a surface that does not want them." That is a gross image!

"How do you fight, when you cannot move beyond the slowest inching crawl, without limbs or weapons or the kinetic force of violence? You do it slowly, pressing, biting, tearing gradually through each other until at the very end, one of you is still." There is a very horrifying animatic of this part of the statement, it's called "The Worms (Magnus Archives Fan Animation)”.

JON: "God, I hate the Buried." Mh, he was there once...

That phone's got to be a Nokia 3310, right? XD It is the Nokia ringtone after all!

ANNABELLE: "He’s more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? And you’re not sure what that means for you." [THE BRIEFEST OF PAUSES. MARTIN INHALES SHAKILY.] MARTIN: "I’m hanging up now." ANNABELLE: "Does he even need you at all?" That part about "you're not sure what that means for you" is actually something I could relate to. Especially in a relationship this young and under extremely high stress levels. Shared trauma and being in the same life-threatening situation can create incredibly strong bonds. Being in that same boat. But how life-threatening is it actually for them? Aside from his guilt and post trauma, Jon is very much fine in this new world. Still, not sure what Annabelle wanted to achieve with this, she does mention it to have been "clumsy", so yeah.

[THE PREVIOUSLY-HOWLING THINGS IN THE BURIED – LIKELY THE WORMS FAR BELOW – HOWL AGAIN, INSISTENTLY.] MARTIN: "I know, right?" Adflkdhfs, this episode has some great comedy!

@a-mag-a-day

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too.