#idk what his name is but jesus

[taintedcigs]

does anyone remember this movie?? like no one i know has watched it but it was my favorite as a child i had the cd and everything and the cast is so insane now LMAO😭😭

[skrunksthatwunk]

actually i'm still thinking about the moral orel finale.

he has a cross on his wall. do you know how much i think about that bc it's a lot.

a lot of stories ((auto)biographical or fictional) centering escape from abusive/fundamentalist christianity result in the lead characters leaving behind christianity entirely. and that makes complete sense! people often grow disillusioned with the associated systems and beliefs, and when it was something used to hurt them or something so inseparable from their abuse that they can't engage with it without hurting, it makes total sense that they would disengage entirely. and sometimes they just figure out that they don't really believe in god/a christian god/etc. a healthy deconstruction process can sometimes look like becoming an atheist or converting to another religion. it's all case by case. (note: i'm sure this happens with other religions as well, i'm just most familiar with christian versions of this phenomenon).

but in orel's case, his faith was one of the few things that actually brought him comfort and joy. he loved god, y'know? genuinely. and he felt loved by god and supported by him when he had no one else. and the abuses he faced were in how the people in his life twisted religion to control others, to run away from themselves, to shield them from others, etc. and often, orel's conflicts with how they acted out christianity come as a direct result of his purer understanding of god/jesus/whatever ("aren't we supposed to be like this/do that?" met with an adult's excuse for their own behavior or the fastest way they could think of to get orel to leave them alone (i.e. orel saying i thought we weren't supposed to lie? and clay saying uhhh it doesn't count if you're lying to yourself)). the little guy played catch with god instead of his dad, like.. his faith was real, and his love was real. and i think it's a good choice to have orel maintain something that was so important to him and such a grounding, comforting force in the midst of. All That Stuff Moralton Was Up To/Put Him Through. being all about jesus was not the problem, in orel's case.

and i know i'm mostly assuming that orel ended up in a healthier, less rigid version of christianity, but i feel like that's something that was hinted at a lot through the series, that that's the direction he'd go. when he meditates during the prayer bee and accepts stephanie's different way to communicate, incorporating elements of buddhism into his faith; when he has his I AM A CHURCH breakdown (removing himself from the institution and realizing he can be like,, the center of his own faith? taking a more individualistic approach? but Truly Going Through It at the same time), his acceptance (...sometimes) of those who are different from him and condemned by the adults of moralton (stephanie (lesbian icon stephanie my beloved), christina (who's like. just a slightly different form of fundie protestant from him), dr chosenberg (the jewish doctor from otherton in holy visage)). his track record on this isn't perfect, but it gets better as orel starts maturing and picking up on what an absolute shitfest moralton is. it's all ways of questioning the things he's been taught, and it makes sense that it would lead to a bigger questioning as he puts those pieces together more. anyway i think part of his growth is weeding out all the lost commandments of his upbringing and focusing on what faith means to him, and what he thinks it should mean. how he wants to see the world and how he wants to treat people and what he thinks is okay and right, and looking to religion for guidance in that, not as like. a way to justify hurting those he's afraid or resentful of, as his role models did.

he's coming to his own conclusions rather than obediently, unquestioningly taking in what others say. but he's still listening to pick out the parts that make sense to him. (edit/note: and it's his compassion and his faith that are the primary motivations for this questioning and revisal process, both of individual cases and, eventually, the final boss that is christianity.) it makes perfect sense as the conclusion to his character arc and it fits the overall approach of the show far better. it's good is what i'm saying.

and i think it's important to show that kind of ending, because that's a pretty common and equally valid result of deconstruction. and i think it cements the show's treatment of christianity as something that's often (and maybe even easily) exploited, but not something inherently bad. something that can be very positive, even. guys he even has a dog he's not afraid of loving anymore. he's not afraid of loving anyone more than jesus and i don't think it's because he loves this dog less than bartholomew (though he was probably far more desperate for healthy affection and companionship when he was younger). i think it's because he figures god would want him to love that dog. he's choosing to believe that god would want him to love and to be happy and to be kind. he's not afraid of loving in the wrong way do you know how cool that is he's taking back control he's taking back something he loves from his abusers im so normal

[atomicradiogirl]

i understand fleabag

[suoulfillem]

what’s crazy to me is i remember nothing about the last season of house besides the last episode where house fakes his death to avoid going to prison so he can be with wilson in the few months he has left to live before dying of cancer and they travel off into the sunset on motorbikes together. peak romance

[moderndaypandora]

Got tagged by @notallsandmen for a WIP paragraph game, and I’m incredibly flattered, considering ... this doesn’t feel on the level of fic, this is fun little sketches of dialogue at most. But this is what I had, so here’s more of the mortal dreamling silliness (previous bits: modern day mortal dreamling and newlyweds with ravens)

How Hob asked Johanna to be his witness for his wedding:

He texted her asking if she was free that afternoon, because he needed her for something.  Historically "something" has meant anything from "taste-testing 3 different scone recipe variations to figure out the best one" to "hustling drunk pricks at darts". Likewise, Hob has done her favors ranging from picking up tampons to providing an alibi. In theory there is a ledger of favors owed, but in reality there will never be a balancing of books (because they're best friends, even if Johanna is too prickly to admit it and Hob is too smart to).

Johanna texted back "yeah, what's up?", and practically broke a land speed record pressing "Call" when she got the response.

Johanna: what the fuck kind of text exchange is confirming I'm around and then sending "getting married today, hello, witness!" and a selfie of you and some goth twink?

Hob: it felt pretty self-explanatory

Johanna: last I'd checked, you weren't even seeing anybody!

Hob: things change?

Johanna: I got dinner with you 5 weeks ago, you bastard, and you were single then.

Hob: ... things change fast?

Johanna: how the fuck did you even meet him?

Hob: I was running back from class during that awful rainstorm last month, and he was just outside my tube station.

Johanna: Hob.

Hob: His umbrella'd broken and he was soaking wet, and he looked absolutely miserable, poor darling.

Johanna: ...

Hob: So I offered him towels and dry clothes, since my flat was just up the road. And by the time the rain stopped I knew I wanted to marry him, and he said yes.

Johanna: what lunatic just follows strange men home?

Hob: he was pretty suspicious until I gave him my phone so he could text my address to his sister.

Johanna: and she was somehow fine with it, like 'yeah, go on'?


Hob:

Hob: he got a bit distracted by my phone background and never actually texted her.

Johanna: the fuck

Hob: you know Julian of Norwich is gorgeous

Johanna: your cat is a lesser demon escaped from hell. I'm going to exorcise your cat someday

Hob: Jules is a sweetheart. She doesn't even hunt birds!

Johanna: That thing won't kill any of the bloody birds in your neighborhood because she's saving all her energy to someday murder me and you know it.

Hob: ... undeserved paranoia about my extremely photogenic cat aside --

Johanna: WELL-deserved!

Hob: --will you be my witness?

Johanna: Left it a bit late, if you're asking me today. Did everybody else say no?

Hob: Didn't ask anybody else. Been planning to ask you since Dream said yes, but I figured if I gave you too much notice you'd flee the country.

Johanna: [tearing up, because even if you're an independent badass, it's nice to hear you're somebody's person] you're fucking right I would.

(Johanna's custom ringtone on Hob's phone is from Sweeney Todd, the final verse in Johanna where you can hear the body drop ("Wake up, Johanna, another bright red day"), because Hob and Johanna are black-hearted bastards/absolutely in cahoots with each other and think it’s funny. Hob's ringtone is Being Alive from Company ("Somebody need me too much...").  Sondheim all the way, motherfuckers)

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

on knowing another

(longpost i’m so sorry guys it came to me in the shower)

There’s a vague undercurrent of a theme in the Penumbra Podcast about knowing another person. It’s subtle, but it pops up every so often. It’s shown in the way we get to know the characters, especially as we get an insight into their minds in season 3, but it’s also shown in their relationships with each other, and that’s what I want to explore a little bit more.

Peter Nureyev, as we get to know him.

In season 1, Nureyev waltzes into Juno’s life

"JUNO: out of nowhere on a beam of goddamn starlight"

in Juno’s own words, and we all see him as some incredible, untouchable, unbelievably sexy master thief who’s interested in Juno for some unknowable reason (maybe that’s the Juno kinnie speaking idk). We think he’s cool, we think he’s funny, we think he’s dangerous and we think we love him but really, we’re just interested in him. We don’t actually know him yet.

And then, we have Angel of Brahma. We see his past, from his own perspective. And that’s not how knowing another is supposed to happen, you’re not supposed to be thrust into it headfirst, but that’s what we get with Nureyev, and so one second we don’t know him, and the next, we know him better than anyone else, because we’ve seen that he isn’t perfect. Not because he was wrong to kill Mag, that’s a whole different debate, but because he was put in a difficult situation in which there was no right choice. It is impossible for any person to be perfect, and so it was impossible for us and for Juno to truly know Nureyev until we knew what made him flawed.

Diamond Hijikata

Let’s travel back in time a bit, to when Juno was with Diamond. We see Diamond Hijikata from Juno’s point of view, we know her the way Juno knew her, and it is impossible for us to know her any other way, because we only ever see her through Juno’s eyes. Juno thought Diamond was flawless. I might be projecting a little here, because I thought Diamond was flawless. Every time I listen to Embrace of Ice, I fall in love with the version of Diamond Hijikata in Juno’s head. Sometimes, she says things that don’t quite fit with that version, and I brush it off, because Diamond Hijikata is impeccable, perfect, and so even if she sounds a little condescending at times, even if she sounds like she sees Juno as a toy to play with, as a way to piss of her mother, I don’t believe it. I choose to trust her instead. Because I think I know her.

And then, we get the scene in the third part of Embrace of Ice.

“JUNO: I thought I knew who you were. DIAMOND: You do, doll. Nothing's changed. You've just... learned more.”

But everything’s changed. Diamond isn’t who I thought she was, who Juno thought she was. Her name was Diamond Hijikata, sure. She went to college. She had friends, mostly troublemakers. She liked protests, and standing up for things, and pissing off her mother. She didn’t like flaunting how privileged she was. And that paints a certain picture, doesn’t it? Of a girl who stands up for what she believes in, who uses her own privilege to help those who don’t have any, who refuses to let corrupt authority keep her down; and it’s hard not to fall in love with someone like that. But that’s not who Diamond Hijikata was.

Diamond Hijikata was bored and rebellious. Captain H says so, at the very start of Embrace of Ice.

“HIJIKATA: Doesn't believe a word of what she says when she gets like that. JUNO: I don't think so. When she gets on a tear, she's so…”

Juno doesn’t agree with her. Juno thinks Diamond thinks like he does, that she believes in what she fights for. But when those fights threaten her own life, her own privilege, she backs down, and we are struck with the ugly truth that Diamond doesn’t believe in what she fights for. She doesn’t actually want to help those who are disadvantaged. I’m not even sure she sees Juno as an equal. And the sad fact is, I don’t know who Diamond is anymore. Neither does Juno. And I don’t even know who to be mad at anymore. Diamond hasn’t broken my heart, because the Diamond I was in love with never existed anywhere except in my head. If I had to bet, I’d say Juno feels the same way. And so he doesn’t love Diamond anymore, he never did, but he doesn’t hate her either, because:

“JUNO: The older I get, the harder it is to blame someone for being the most honest version of themselves, no matter how ugly the truth is. I'll take it over a pretty lie every time.”

The thing is, Diamond isn’t a bad person. And you can hear that in her little monologue in Embrace of Ice part 3.

“DIAMOND: Because I’m not a bad person. I'm not.”

She’s right, in a sense. She didn’t really do anything wrong. She wasn’t in on her mother’s plans, she wasn’t trying to thwart Juno at every turn. All she knew was where the ballroom was. She even has a cute little story to go with it. It’s so human, so understandable. But it’s human in a way none of us expected of Diamond Hijikata, because she is not the version of her we have in our heads. If we really knew her, we wouldn’t have been surprised at her actions. So Diamond didn’t betray us, not really. She didn’t intentionally decieve Juno or intend to cause him harm. She just wasn’t who Juno thought she was. And that’s why her actions seems so surprising, why it feels like a betrayal: because we don’t know her. That’s why the thought of her hurts so much: because how are you supposed to mourn losing the person you loved if they never even existed in the first place?

(god, fuck, this whole essay began because I couldn’t stop thinking about Diamond Hijikata, she hurts me so much I can’t even decide how to feel about her. send help.)

Peter Nureyev again

We see inside Nureyev’s mind in season 3, and everyone jokes about how much of a mess he is, but the fact is we love him anyway. And we don’t love him despite it, we love him because of it, because loving another is knowing another and seeing their flaws and saying “I understand”. This ties into what Juno says to Vespa before the wedding:

“JUNO: …everyone thinks they know you, right? They make up a version of you in their heads, and if you don’t play the part right they start asking questions. Sometimes with words. VESPA: Sometimes with a look. I know. JUNO: Yeah. “What’s wrong,” “are you okay,” “you seem angry”... all that. But... I don’t know. One day I wasn’t playing the role the best and I could tell he just didn’t mind. Or... he’d already stretched the role out until it actually fit me. And I realized I’d already done the same thing for him.”

Juno knows Nureyev now. So far, he’s seen Nureyev switch between personas, seen Nureyev when he isn’t playing anyone, been inside his head, lived with him for a year and talked with him extensively about their relationship (I don’t remember any quotes for this one, but I’m pretty sure they mention it in season 3 at some point. Might be Shadows on the Ship?). He knows Nureyev, well enough that the version in his head fits Nureyev perfectly, and so Juno can be certain that the man he loves really is Peter Nureyev, and not a version of him, because he knows Peter Nureyev.

Slip Jackson

Little shift in perspective now, let’s stop focusing on Juno for a second. Slip Jackson, Nureyev’s ex, the guy who’s been driving the plot of the story for the past year or so despite being in a coma. He’s Nureyev’s first love, and he and Nureyev spend a lot of time toying with the idea of knowing each other. They knew each other when they were kids, about 10 years old, and they meet again 6 or 7 years later by chance. A lot has changed in that time — it might not seem like a lot to an adult, but kids develop rapidly, and don’t stop until about 25, so  they’ve both really changed since they saw each other last, and they’ll continue to change. They’re young, and still learning who they are (god, it feels so weird to write that when I’m not much older, but anyways).

And so when Nureyev learns that Slip still does drugs, he’s a little horrified, because he doesn’t understand how Slip could be willing to take that risk. Slip clearly hasn’t developed or matured in the way Nureyev thought he would, and the two of them realise that they don’t really know each other all that well. Slip asks if he’d like to try drugs, and Nureyev refuses, and that’s that for a while. But then they live together for a while, and Slip offers Nureyev a way off Brahma, and he tells him about his dream, about the drug he wants to make. And Nureyev, who’s just figured out that he has the biggest crush on this man, decides he wants to know him a little better.

“NUREYEV: I... would like to try one, I think. Is your offer still open? SLIP: I don't... that's really nice of you, but I don't want you to think you have to try it just to, um, make me feel better, so-- NUREYEV: It isn't to make you feel better. It's to know you, Slip. And I think I'm finding I'd like to know you quite well.”

(Alexa, what’s the most romantic way to tell your boyfriend you want to do drugs with him?)

Then they run away to Saraswati together, and Slip goes on all these secret outings which Nureyev can’t follow him on for a while. Nureyev is forced to trust Slip, to place his life in his hands, but they’re still getting to know each other, and unlike with Juno and Diamond, Nureyev is aware that the version of Slip in his head might not match up with the real Slip. So, he gets paranoid, and the entire mess with the poker game and the executives happens.

But after it, they have a talk. A good one. This is one of the things I love about Slip: he makes Nureyev talk about his feelings, and he’s really good at putting things into perspective. You see it in the latest episode, too, with how they talk about Mag. It’s not perfect, but it seems incredibly mature for someone his age (though, again, not sure how much authority I have on the age aspect of this).

“SLIP: A person can't just tell you who they are cuz we're all too complicated for that. I wouldn't know where to start, and even if I tried, I'd miss most of everything and maybe you'd think I was hiding those things from you, but it wouldn't be true. Too much of me is invisible to me because I'm around it all the time, every day. You can try to see the world from someone else's point of view, but at the end of the day... we're all just ourselves. We're stuck there. But just because I can't say it doesn't mean you can't know it. All I can do is be honest, minute to minute, day by day. I'm sorry I'm not the person you apparently thought I was -- but to be fair, I never said I was that person to begin with. Only you did. So... how about we make each other a promise? NUREYEV: A promise? Promise what? SLIP: A promise to be honest with each other. If we're honest, each of us can give the other the best shot at knowing us, you know? You can decide who Slip Jackson is, and... well. If he's worth your time.”

THIS. This is basically the point of this whole essay (it’s so much longer than I intended I’m so sorry). I start chewing on my own bone marrow every time I listen to this, because he’s so right.

Knowing someone isn’t knowing big things, like their name, or face, or random fun facts about their life. Those are things you pick up along the way. Knowing someone else isn’t knowing what their favourite colour is, it’s them telling you what their favourite colour is and you realising that it makes sense they would like that colour, that it fits in with the image of them in your head. Knowing someone isn’t knowing all their layers, their past, their future, though all those things are important in their own way. Knowing someone is understanding the essence of them, the soul underneath all those layers, the sense of self, of who they are which philosophers have been trying to define for centuries, which Peter Nureyev has been trying to erase from himself for decades.

Slip and Nureyev loved each other because they loved everything they knew about each other, and wanted to know more. Slip’s loss hits Nureyev like a bulldozer because he never really gets to know who Slip is — the chance is taken away from him, and Nureyev is convinced it’s all his fault. He’s determined to bring Slip back so he can finally know who Slip is, even though he’s trying to erase himself so there’s nothing left of himself to love back.

Peter Nureyev forever

And then, season 5. Yowzers.

“NUREYEV: You think you know me. The nameless thief. You presume, just because I've told you my real name and let you peruse a few carefully-curated passages of my life story, that you have access to a "real" me that nobody else does. Is that right? JUNO: This isn't gonna work, Nureyev. That journal was true. I know it was. NUREYEV: (LAUGHS) How could you possibly? JUNO: Because I know you. NUREYEV: You know what I've shown you. Nothing more. JUNO: Can't help but notice you haven't said it yet. NUREYEV: I don't need to play your game. JUNO: If you don't care it'd be really easy to.  "I never want to see you again." Like that. NUREYEV: Childish! JUNO: Once you let somebody know you, Nureyev, there's no going back. They've got your number. Chances are you got theirs, too. I let you know who I am because I love you and I'm scared as hell about what that means, but at least I can admit it, goddammit!”

Nureyev is desperately pushing the idea that Juno doesn’t know him, that Nureyev’s been lying all along, that the “Peter Nureyev” Juno knew was just another persona, that Juno never really knew the real Nureyev, just like he never knew the real Diamond. Because if Juno doesn’t know Nureyev, he can’t possibly love him, and that makes it so much easier to break up with him.

But there’s just one catch here. Juno does know Nureyev. As much as Nureyev wants to pretend that all Juno saw was what he let him see, it’s not true. Juno saw right to the core of him, right to the beating heart of what makes Peter Nureyev Peter Nureyev, and he refused to look away until he knew every inch by heart, and he loved what he knew. He still does. And that’s how he knows that Nureyev needs his help now, that’s why he’s not giving up on our favourite master thief.

And that is why this:

“NUREYEV: I do not want to see you any more, Juno. JUNO: What? NUREYEV: You said it would just take those words to excise you from my life entirely, didn't you? Well, I've said them. I have no interest in seeing you any longer. None. I am done. We are finished. Do you understand me? JUNO: Yeah, I get you. So I guess I'll just... go now. NUREYEV: No! JUNO: I... what?  NUREYEV: I... that is, you…”

didn’t surprise me. Well, the first bit did. But the turnaround made complete sense. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really shitty of Nureyev to do, but he’s at a point in his life where he’s not sure he can handle Juno being in his life, but he loves him far too much to tell him to leave. Even after he breaks up with him, he immediately backtracks.

And that’s why Juno keeps implying throughout the episode that Nureyev might take him back, and why he doesn’t leave at the end despite promising he would. Because he and I both know that Nureyev doesn’t want him to.

Juno never really hides who he is, and so people either love him or hate him. I think that’s really cool of him.

Nureyev hides who he is almost constantly, from almost everyone. It’s so much easier for him to pretend he did the same with Juno, and that’s what he’s trying to do. But he didn’t, so Juno isn’t giving up on him. Juno knows Nureyev, and he loves Nureyev, and so he’s not going to rest until Nureyev is finally okay (or relatively okay, at least).

TLDR: Juno didn't know Diamond all that well, so he couldn't be with her. Nureyev decided he wanted to know Slip so that he could learn to love him, but the opportunity was taken away from him. Juno comes to know Nureyev and he loves him because of it, but Nureyev is determined to go back to being unknown in season 5 so he can distance himself from Juno and pretend they're not in love. Knowing someone and loving them are linked, blah blah blah.

idk man I don’t have a conclusion these are just thoughts. Loving someone is inherently tied to knowing them, ig. Anyways who’s excited for Nureyev to have a mental breakdown???!!

[absolutelyzoned]

fuckass Guy. (KILLJOY OC RAAAHHHH)

og image + random shit under cut ‼️

im not doing a background fuck backgrounds

puttin more stuff in tags cause its more fun to ramble there 💯❗❗

[tenderloviingcare]

dolori su dolori

7:30 A.M.

Morning breaks as gray as ever, like countless Alaska mornings before, and Leonardo lays on his stomach in bed, sheet and quilt around his waist, as he sighs about another day—another year—being alive. Cloe, the tortoiseshell of his trio of long-haired siblings, notices he's awake and begins making biscuits on his rear end. Her claws piercing through two covers, his pajama bottoms, and his boxers is more than enough reminder to give her a mani-pedi soon.

He lays there a while longer, as always finding it difficult to muster up the energy to move. It isn't as though he's regular tired, no; it's the exhaustion that sits as deep as the marrow in his very bones, the type that makes his entire existence feel heavy, the type that makes him wish he could wither and dissolve and be swept away by the wind.

He's never outright contemplated suicide. It's simply been smoldering inside of him from an age entirely too young: he shouldn't exist, and he sure as hell doesn't want to. The will to live has been running on fumes, so to speak, for longer than he can remember.

The physician closes his eyes again briefly, exhaling every bit of air that's inside of his lungs. If he died in his sleep, and his cats had begun to eat him, the people to notice would just be his workplace, he's convinced of it.

And that right there is what keeps him going. His chest aches at the idea of leaving his cats behind, and making them distressed. And even though there are other pediatricians who can care for his patients, they're the other light of his life. He doesn't want them wondering where Dr. Leo went.

With waning resolve, he maneuvers to sit up, the covers falling back and exposing his arms to the cool air of his bedroom. He rubs the inked skin to warm it back up, but he can't help but to allow his fingertips to linger over the scars on his right arm, right through the name tattooed there. Cirrincione, it had said in thick cursive script, his grandmother's maiden name and the middle name he had chosen for himself upon her passing, replacing the ridiculous multi-parted middle name he'd been so graciously gifted upon his birth. Now, scars from the attack in the morgue score through the name; they've healed mostly, leaving behind pinkish scarring in his tanned skin.

Sparrow, the name means, from Sicilian cirrinciò, to go with the black and gray birds etched into his other arm. The poetic irony isn't lost on him: he is untethered and alone, free like a bird in theory, but caged by his very own sorrow.

The first order of business when he drags himself out of his warm, cozy bed is to change into his running clothes, shorts, a t-shirt, and a jacket—hardly anyone knows about the tattoos on his arms and chest, due to his typical manner of dress, and he likes to keep them his personal secret. In the kitchen, he takes his normal pills that help him produce an inkling of serotonin, with a full glass of water. Like any good, seasoned runner, he stretches fully, then fills a bottle with water and puts his shoes on. He grabs his keys but leaves his cell phone behind, locking the door before he takes off outside.

It's chilly, only in the mid-40s, but he's run in worse conditions. The goosebumps that cover his skin don't bother him, he'll soon be plenty warm. He takes off on his usual run through Delilah's Den, taking in the typical peace of an early Sunday morning. He's liked living here the past few years; it's picturesque, and safe—up until a few weeks ago, when that blasted Doppelganger head showed up on his back patio.

His pace quickens when he reminds himself of it, of being accidentally entangled in Annisa’s affairs, whatever those affairs are. He certainly wasn't supposed to get involved: he’s a footnote in everyone's lives, a nameless extra, an ineffectual side character, not important enough to be worth any trouble, someone worth forgetting in every sense. He had only fought so hard and defended himself so he could ensure Annisa’s safety. So why does he continue to be involved? By no means is he worth the trouble of tracking down, nothing remotely interesting about him, the only secrets he holds to his chest involving his parentage.

When pain surges in his jaw, he realizes he needs to unclench it. Being neglected by his birth giver from the moment of conception is surely the source of many of his problems now. Unimportant, unwanted, unloved, burdensome, unwanted, unloved!!! Years after their passing, he still feels guilt over his grandparents having to sell the deli that had been in Nonna’s family for a few generations because they had felt responsible to clean up their only living child’s actions. Because of Leonardo’s very existence, his grandparents had had to get rid of the beloved family business and move continents to somewhere they didn't even speak the language, and build life from the ground up. And later they would each die thousands of miles away from their homeland, sooner than they should have with no thanks to the excessively expensive American healthcare system.

All because Leonardo had to go and exist.

Tears sting his eyes and roll down his cheeks, but he keeps moving. For some godforsaken reason, he keeps moving.

He returns home around an hour later, cheeks red with exertion, sweat shining on his forehead. When he strips down in the bathroom, he faces away from the mirror, not wanting to hazard a look at his own body or face. When he's in the shower and the water hits his skin, the tears return, shaking his shoulders. He likes to run to force himself to feel something other than numbness or anxiety, but now he's gone and induced anger in himself—anger at himself for just being alive. His head leans back and the water from the shower head mixes with the tears on his face, and he just stands like that for entirely too long.

When the emotional numbness returns, he autopilots through washing himself, still feeling robotic when he shuts the water off and grabs his towel. The mirror is now fogged up, so he can't look at himself again, though unfortunately he falls prey to the mirror on the dresser in his bedroom.

Skin and bones, no matter how much he feeds himself—he’s always had a big appetite and eats mostly an Italian diet he cooks for himself—and dark curls of body hair splashed over him, he's never imagined anyone ever wanting to see him in this state, undressed and defenseless. He's incapable of seeing anything attractive in his own face or personality, so why would they ever want him so bare? And even then, they would probably be sorely disappointed by the sight. He's simply just some thin, tall man with too many bones jutting out. The words inked into his chest under the dark fur there are slashed similarly to the name on his right arm—per sempre e sempre nel mio cuore, written in thick cursive, but destroyed by healing scars.

And then, his face. He's never been fond of his features: the strong, bumpy nose; the wide lips permanently set into a scowl he doesn't want; dark, thick brows that give him an intimidating glare; and permanent bags under his serious, russet-colored eyes. He always looks like he's angry, and he hates it. And now his cheek is decorated with scars that match the ones on his arm and chest. He's taken care of the scars there, paranoid about lasting marks that will further mar his appearance and make him seem even scarier to patients.

He tears himself away from his reflection before he can waste entirely too much time staring it down, and instead busies himself with getting dressed. Comfortable jeans and a double-layered henley work well enough for the day; pushing his thick, dark hair off his forehead in a more relaxed form of his daily hairstyle, he goes to have breakfast: a cup of espresso, made from his expensive machine, and a Nutella-filled cornetto he'd made the day before.

Having Gino, the classic tabby and only boy of his sibling trio of cats, curled up in his lap, against his stomach, while Leo has his breakfast makes a tiny part of him begin again to feel like life is worth living.

In the grand scheme of things, it's just another Sunday; so the physician goes to do his grocery shopping. The store is blessedly empty this time of the week so he's able to move around with minimal intrusions. He's spotted by a young patient—who's with his mother, of course—who's shocked to see his doctor somewhere besides the hospital; and Leo exchanges smiles and quick greetings; but he's happy to not get tied up in a conversation, especially with as fragile as he's feeling today.

Once he returns to his safe, cozy home and puts away his shopping, he curls up in bed with a book, as he is wont to do on weekends. It's a smutty romance novel that he's been looking forward to; and his cheeks are hot as he devours the pages eagerly, getting himself wrapped up in the story. Someone as anxious and unattractive and simply boring as him having never even kissed anyone at the ripe age of thirty-six, much less had a torrid romantic affair or been to bed with anyone—at this point, he doesn't expect it to happen. Oh, he certainly wishes it would! How he craves to be chosen, to be loved, to be desired in every which way, how he aches to be kissed until he's out of breath, to be made love to with his hot, sweaty skin stuck to another's! 

But whatever God had forsaken him, who he'd forsaken right back, did not make Leonardo to be loved. He was the object of no one’s affections or desires, and hardly the target of even platonic care.

The book isn't very long, and he finishes it in the afternoon, a blush still heating the back of his neck from the lush, sensual details of the romantic and bedroom affairs of the two men on the pages. He scrubs his face with his dry hands, bringing himself back to earth, and to his quiet bedroom. It's about time he started working on dinner; so he wanders into the kitchen, still in a smutty literature haze, and stands quietly in the center as he tries to remember what he wanted to make.

Right. He gathers several things, first: a package of smoked salmon, a package of salami slices, a container of marinated mozzarella balls, some pickled peppers, a jar of marinated mushrooms, a hunk of goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, and a jar of olives. The assembly on a plate would probably seem expert to anyone unfamiliar, but his portioning is haphazard and driven by the heart; but with his antipasti gathered, he snacks on that while he works on the actual dinner. The entire time he cooks, Gino rests upon his shoulders, watching intently and digging his claws in to stay upright.

He doesn't eat meals with several courses all the time—it isn't very time-efficient—but it feels like a good day to indulge. So the course after antipasto is pasta; and the fruit of his labor is pasta ca nunnata: spaghetti, olive oil, garlic, parsley, white wine (the only type of alcohol that enters his door is cooking wine), black pepper, and sardines. Cooking is one of the things he's passionate about, especially when it comes to recreating the cuisine of his forefathers. He's pretty damn good at it, if he says so himself, for someone who's only spent a couple of weeks in Italy his entire life despite being a citizen by birthright.

After the pasta is the main dish: pollo alla cacciatora, braised chicken thighs in a rich tomato sauce, with onion and carrots and celery and olives and fresh cherry tomatoes and fennel and capers and white wine and plenty of garlic. It's hearty and filling and it feels so satisfying on an evening with a growing chill. And God, how he wishes he could share it with somebody besides the three cats watching him.

Satisfied with dinner, he washes most of the dishes by hand and puts away the leftovers in the refrigerator, intending on having leftovers for lunch tomorrow at work. With little else to do for the evening, he curls up on the couch with a blanket and turns the TV on, content to binge whatever old movies are playing. To his utter delight, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner is on, starring Sidney Poitier, one of his favorite actors—and an absolute heartthrob in Leonardo's eyes. Maria Pia, the dilute calico and seemingly the leader of her siblings, happily takes a nap in his lap; and he strokes her long fur as he watches the film he's seen countless times, and then the movie after that. When she decides to get up, he unwraps himself from his blanket and returns to the kitchen to feed the cats their nightly wet food; and then finally cuts himself a slice of the cake he'd spent half the previous day making: torta setteveli, seven layers of chocolate and hazelnut goodness. He returns to his movie marathon with his cake and a glass of milk while the cats have their own dinner. He's deemed not to check his email or social media, hoping his birth giver isn't begging him for money yet again, the only reason why she ever attempts to contact him.

Around 9:00, he turns off the TV and leaves only a singular lamp in the living room on. He cleans up the plate he'd used for his slice of cake, then takes a pill that will help him sleep. He's rigid with his structure and routine, never allowing himself to fall out of it, and always retires to bed somewhat early.

After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he changes into his pajamas, the usual combination of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, then crawls into bed and turns his bedroom TV on, halfway watching a nature documentary as he settles in for the night. It's a boring life, a boring existence—he's boring. Inconsequential. Harmless. Pointless.

When he turns off the TV and the lights and rolls over in bed, tears sting his eyes again, clouding the dark room. Even with a cat at the foot of the bed, he's cold and lonely, and wishing he had someone to calm the shaking of his bony shoulders, someone to rub his back as he's wracked with quiet tears. Thirty-six years, and he feels like more of a waste than ever.

[na-orbite-solnechno]

the booy

[hauntingblue]

Can't believe I spent so much time thinking kiku and kinemon were dead... they really got me there...

[dumbassacademia]

why was that the auto fill and why are there no good answers to that question

[m-feys]

that art of L deathnote got me thinking about death note and like......... im not even against l/light as a ship conceptually its just like i cant stand the way fandom does it.

like. theyre a lierally judas and jesus paralells theyre toxic. you have to be an L understander to get why he is obsessed with light and its not because he has this cute gay crush on him. and i REALLY dont get the people who like woobify light and make it so ‘kira’ is like a possession like???? thats not the point of any of this why are you even using these characters for this? it confuses me

but anyway i can support L/light ONLY if its done in a very specific way, thats very toxic and almost one-sided (or maybe unbalanced is a better word) not because Lights not interested (hes so like misogynist gay we all know this) in L but because he can NEVER understand L the way L understands him and thats all L wants is to be seen and to be on that level with someone. and thats the tragedy of their friendship is that L sees this person he can contend with and he can meet on his level but the same cannot be said for light. 

but anyway ive never seen anyone who ships l/light do it that way specifically so ill continue to be a hater.

[todayisafridaynight]

So, Ichiban’s mom isn’t Janel Monae (as in she’s not black)? If so saaaaaaaaad and missed missed missed opportunity.

if we're real with ourselves there wasn't ever really a chance ichi's mom would be anything but japanese- im more surprised at the fact she's alive lol

[britneyshakespeare]

funny thing happened when i was subbing fourth grade technology today. a boy raised his hand when i introduced myself as miss (last name) and said "there used to be someone who looked JUST like you who worked at after care a few years ago."

"that was me >:)"

and he was like... honestly *____*-facing

[madasacrow]

I will one day make proper posts for all these, maybe, but for now:

Lucky Moth's civilian name is Petra Parker. Arachne's is Wren Stacy.

Moth & Arachne have a 3rd friend who turns into a villain. He gets redeemed/reformed tho and lives with Ozzie & Neil.

Neil is now a sort of Fae. His backstory remains the same, just add the fact that he was kidnapped or something idk I'll have to look at it again.

I have recently rewatched S1 of this show (wtf does d//c put in their shows that make them so damn good/addicting), and thus I'm fixating HARD on Benji (aka this baby). I just. I really like him, okay?! But in MaaC Benji is Bryce William adopted son & Agent Owl's sidekick, Sparrow. Since he's my main focus a lot is going on with him rn but I just wanted to make note of it.

I really want to add a reporter character, bc I feel like they're a staple of the superhero genre. Like. You can't have a story without one. I'm thinking two: an older, more experienced one & an intern. They're kind of a duo kind of not. Most villains in Prism Pulse choose their own aliases, but some are named by the news/media, aka those two journalists.

I ALSO wanna add a speedster. Again, I feel like its a common superhero type. We already have a 🦇man rip off, why not make one off of this dude? Or his sidekick. Just...speedsters.

Kind of adding onto the point above, but now I ship Benji with the Canon Speedster Sidekick. So. They're a couple in MaaC. They have a daughter, no civilian name yet but her alias is TimeWarp. She's also a hero yeha.

[novococain]

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