#is cowardice to its core

[sir-adamus]

the old Sharlayan position of moral cowardice, i see

[weggebobble]

try as they might, and they will try, they will never successfully franchise-ify dune. there's twenty four books. there's six books. four of them are good. the four good ones are good because every plotline is attached to three separate subplots all intertwined in a delicate braid. if you remove any plotline the whole thing collapses. every character has a mirror and a counterpart and a narrative foil. dune family trees look like the back of a tapestry. the final line of the first book is about how being a concubine is good actually. dune adaptations are not supposed to be marvel movie posters filled with actors you recognise, every character should be played by some unknown little freak. the longer the series goes on the more it becomes about politics and economics. about 40% of each book is internal monologue. at its core it's space wizards versus bdsm warriors on cocaine planet and trying to deny that is rank cowardice.

[comicaurora]

I'm sorry that the terfs made their way onto your blog but it does feel good to see you support trans people. Thank you for that

Always.

I think, charitably, that the discourse going down on that post is an extrapolation and over-focus on one element of the point I was making: that for me, determining with certainty that I was cis was a rather fraught process. I was presented with many alternatives, but underlying their imposition on me was the oddly regressive idea that the things I liked, the principles I valued, the parts of myself I was proud of were not permitted of women. My whole life I got smacked with the background radiation that I couldn't like being strong because women aren't allowed to be stronger than men. I couldn't like being loud and boistrous because women aren't allowed to take up space. I couldn't be a math geek because women aren't smart. It was all deeply regressive misogyny from day one, but I started getting hit with it slathered in a fresh coat of paint - all those assumptions still held to be true, but now there was the out that I could do all those things if I just wasn't a woman.

Concluding that the underlying bioessentialist premise was wrong was very important. Absolutely none of those statements were true, and were only ever maintained by cultural saturation, goalpost-readjustment when they were actively disproven, and the occasional bout of lying with statistics to pretend they weren't just Shit All The Way Down. The core premise that certain things were only permitted of or possible for men was bullshit, and I didn't need to surrender the gender I liked best in order to play in the spaces I wanted to. I could simply exist the way I was already existing. I didn't need anything else.

The misinterpretation is the assumption that this being true of me means this is everybody's relationship with gender. I turned out to be cis, so for me, feeling that holding onto my assigned gender wasn't allowed was distressing - just another invocation of the same bioessentialist bullshit I'd been dealing with since the preschool playground. This is because misgendering is fundamentally denying that a person has the right to express themself the way they want. When aimed at me, it says I'm not performing traditional femininity well enough to deserve my pronouns. The same disrespect is the root of misgendering when aimed at trans people. "Perform your gender to my satisfaction or I will confiscate it."

The problem is, bioessentialism is 100% ingrained into the terf playbook, which is why, for instance, all their shitty talking points about trans athletes eventually boil down to "no woman can ever defeat a man in any contest because we are simply naturally weak and stupid and there is nothing we can do about it" and quite frankly nothing disgusts me more than the defeatist acceptance of the very lie that feminism is dedicated to overcoming. Instead of accepting that the paradigm of bioessentialism is a false dichotomy right from the jump, they embrace and weaponize it against the people whose existence proves the dichotomy is a lie. If gender essentialism is fundamentally false, then it is nobody's fucking business what anybody does with their gender. If the lines don't exist, nobody needs to enforce them. And yet there the terfs go, hunting down people whose lives are none of their business and trying to argue that they represent some great and terrible evil, some downfall of society made flesh, something that makes it totally correct and normal for them to spend so much time thinking about strangers' genitalia. They want this to be a noble crusade so badly they won't even examine what flag they're flying.

I love and support the trans people in my life and will always, always stand on the side of your right to exist, but alongside that, terf rhetoric especially disgusts and infuriates me because it is, at its heart, utter cowardice. The world told them they were weak and stupid and inferior and they fucking believed it. And now they think Fighting The Good Fight For Women means turning around and using the same paradigmatic weapon that hurt them to hurt the people whose existence outside the binary proves the weapon is a lie. They're the same shithead schoolyard bullies who made me believe my entire existence was foundationally wrong for years of my life and I will never, ever side with them or the shitty, cowardly rhetoric that contributed to the loneliest years of my life.

Figure out who you are and do it on purpose. Find the real source of the misery in your life and try fighting that instead of the other crabs in the bucket. Trans rights.

[hrrtshape]

　　　　　　　　　　　3 nights in the in-between

hi. i shifted to my waiting room and obviously everything was devastatingly adorable. so here’s the lowdown before my soul bursts out of my collarbones from trying to contain the serotonin . .

　　shift length : 3 days but like… biblical. i was alba on day one. alba on day two. and then alba again on day three. except in this essay alba is a state of metaphysical blondeness and not a roman martyr. i was soft-lit. i was god’s favourite jpeg. i woke up like i’d been cured of every disease i didn’t know i had. i woke up honey-glazed and airbrushed. i woke up as if lana del rey herself had kissed my eyelids and whispered, "no thoughts, just frosted roses."　

　　place : the cinderella manor and no like. this is not an architectural joke. this place is disneycore™. not tasteful-italian-villa pinterest-core. it’s birds and rococo staircases that creak when you giggle too loud. it’s baroque-but-make-it-fairytale. like if sofia coppola directed a sleepover. you blink and suddenly your reality is being scored by harp strings and pink icing.　

　　　　　　　okay so ,

there’s a private cinema hidden behind a copy of the divine comedy. push it like a girlboss opening a portal to hell and BAM!! letterboxd-core viewing experience unlocked. i watched actual movies (auteur realness) AND got to view curated top-ten-most-deranged moments with coryo. it was like a highlight reel of my delusions. i was giggling like an orphan seeing snow for the first time.

kitchen stocked with marie-antoinette-adjacent snacks. like petit fours. sugar-dusted things that don’t exist in the waking world. i had a raspberry macaron. it knew too much. it was watching me.

lucifer was there btw. the lucifer. devil of hell. morning star. slay incarnate. jk the cat. he’s a literal infernal entity but he cuddles like a plushie possessed by the spirit of a golden retriever. we watched a noir movie together and he fell asleep on my shoulder. duality of cat etc etc.

my wardrobe was pinterest-core to the point of hallucination. like it was curated by an algorithm that knows my blood type. little bows. embroidered stuff. silk things. pretty dresses. i dressed like i was haunting an opera house.

my bedside table knew me biblically. it had whatever i needed before i even wanted it. a book. a journal. rosé. a phone. a lip balm.

i also had a telescope. like. capital-T telescope. i could see the stars. constellations were making a groupchat just for me. i saw venus doing a twirl.

back garden = eternal picnic. gingham blankets. dewy grass. someone always playing the cello in the distance. i ate strawberries and i was being filmed in soft focus. not really, at least i hope not.

also… scripted tiktok edits of my dr selves. narcissism... yes. therapeutic.... also yes. i was literally watching someone edit ME in final cut pro to hozier songs. i saw my fame dr on a red carpet and got secondhand butterflies.

there’s a lake. didn’t go in. was too pretty. too sacred. it glistened like the inside of a pearl. i stood there for ages like a protagonist mid-season arc. it changed me.

coraline door moment!!!!!!! it exists. it's small. gold-trimmed. do i know where it leads? no. did i script that? also no. is it ominously glowing sometimes? slay

i did script a small town nearby. never entered. cowardice won that battle. but its little cobbled streets were visible through the manor windows and they looked like plotlines waiting to happen. maybe next time.

have i mentioned the massive teddy bear. like. he’s just sitting there. coryo-sized. plushie of the void. i’ve sobbed into him twice and he took it like a champ. emotionally supportive king.

the AIR. smelled like… warm vanilla. roses. post-cry clarity. a scent that makes you feel forgiven. girl i don’t even know what the molecules were doing but they were in sync.

the manor isn’t like… photogenic. it’s animated. i live in a disney animated original movie but with higher stakes and better set design. the floorboards squeak narratively.

library includes painting zone. one night i stayed up tracing brushstrokes and the moonlight was literally bending to make me look artsy. it was like painting inside a poem. cried a little. obviously.

now. mirror. the mirror. i looked into it and saw every version of blonde me. honey blonde. platinum. 90s supermodel blonde. messy juliette lewis blonde. soul left my body and came back.....i need to bleach my hair.

my teapot brews based on my subconscious. i woke up to vanilla-rose-lavender earl grey with tiny sugar cubes that giggled when i stirred them. it’s fine. it’s normal. it’s called being built different.

also. trunk of film cameras. every one records me in a different genre. my tuesday was shot like a wes anderson girlhood docu-comedy. thursday had horror lighting. friday was soft focus teen romcom with slow fades. i am my own filmography.

anyway. it was perfect. 3-day slay. i’m in mourning now. but i’m also planning my next arrival. maybe next time i’ll open the coraline door. maybe i’ll dive into the lake. maybe coryo will show up and ruin my life in a cute way. who knows.

ok love you bye.

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

Rewatching KNY and seeing Zenitsu again is almost giving me whiplash, because he went from being one of my least favorite characters to one of my most beloved in a flash. It sucks that his defining moments are so frequently interrupted or otherwise disturbed by his obsession with finding a wife, and that it kept me from analyzing him the way I should’ve been doing at the start. Because, at his core, Zenitsu is a lesson on weakness — on learning to live and adapt when you can’t immediately overcome it.

This is evident from his very first appearance, where he’s shown mumbling about his inevitable death and his fear of demons after surviving final selection as one of the five senses (the hearing to Kanao’s sight, Tanjiro’s smell, Inosuke’s touch, and Genya’s taste.) It continues on in his actual introduction in the Tsuzumi Mansion Arc, where he spends the majority of his time crying or in various other states of terror. The two exceptions to this are when he falls asleep for the first time and when he defends Nezuko’s box from Inosuke.

The former is part of a larger discussion on his sleepwalking habit and its impact as a coping mechanism, so I’ll be talking about the latter;

Zenitsu outright says that he has a habit of trusting the wrong people, and that being able to hear their sounds hasn’t done him any good in remedying that. He’s known Tanjiro for maybe a handful of hours at this point, but he throws himself on Nezuko’s box anyway. Not because he likes her (not yet) but because she matters to someone he wants to believe in. For someone who clearly hates being in pain, that says volumes about who he actually is as a person. He might be a coward, but he’s also loyal and self sacrificing.

He earnestly follows behind the people he cares about even when it might get him into trouble. The fact that he’s a demon slayer at all is evidence of that — a testament to his love for Jigoro for believing in him and continuing to believe in him even when he seemed hopeless or tried to run away. There was nothing keeping him attached to the demon slayer corps after his gramps wasn’t there to drag him to the final selection or his missions (and we know from Aoi that he could definitely retire early) but he stays.

He runs and cowers and cries and he keeps moving forward, because his gramps gave him the courage to try again and again after failure;

This, I believe, is the reason behind his sleepwalking habit. It’s a response to his desire to change and grow as a person, manifesting in an unconscious state where he forces himself to shed his terror and pain so that he can actually work at his full potential. It doesn’t just apply to his body either, given that (as the series goes on) his sleepwalking also allows him to access his natural analytical abilities where his panic might have blinded him. He couldn’t get rid of the weakness that hindered him, so he adapted to it;

And then — when he learned what became of Kaigaku and that their shared mentor had given his life in repentance — he finally overcame his cowardice altogether and stopped sleeping;

He beat Kaigaku entirely awake, and he fought Muzan the same way. Being with Jigoro and Tanjiro and Nezuko and Inosuke and everyone else didn’t rid him of his fear, but it did teach him to adapt to and then overcome it. To push it aside to achieve his goals, protecting the people he cares about as more than the human shield he was when he held onto Nezuko’s box and desperately hoped that his body could withstand Inosuke’s abuse. More than that, they also taught him to be more comfortable in his own skin.

I’m not going to say that Zenitsu can’t be an annoying character — I can’t stand his behavior toward women and rather disliked him for the longest time — but he’s much more interesting than his initial impression would have you believe. He’s loyal, protective, self sacrificing, insecure, and surprisingly taciturn when he wants to be. The fact that he sleepwalks for every battle before the final arc and his resolution with Kaigaku really hammers his character themes home, and I find that he’s genuinely interesting to think about!

[lepoppeta]

i wrote this while i was feeling kind of scathing and now that im feeling less-so i thought i would make an addendum, because its already been reblogged a few times.

"disappointing" is subjective -- i think a fair few people were very let down by millies character because she basically embodies whatever the story needs for her to be in order to bolster the male characters (blitz and moxxie). if she needs to be a feral badass, she will be. if she needs to be a comforting wife and friend, shes got you covered. she doesnt really have any consistent personality traits outside of a love for violence, but iirc thats only ever been used as a necessity, and the one time it felt like it was actually being turned into a core part of her character (sinsmas) it was treated as a pregnancy mood swing and thus temporary.

millie isnt an inherently flawed character -- there isnt really anything she has that consistently grates against the story if its heading in a certain direction (unlike blitzs wildly fluctuating self esteem and fear of commitment, or moxxies pretentiousness and occasional cowardice). she is purely playing support alongside loona. i think the only time shes ever actively upset about her role in the story is in "unhappy campers" when she gets angry that moxxie takes her support for granted and doesnt offer her much in return.

i think a lot of people were under the assumption that both millie AND loona were going to be a main characters when the pilot aired, and that characters like stolas were going to embody supporting roles, but then the creators priorities drastically changed in favour of melodrama as opposed to the original intention of the show being a workplace comedy and stolas became a main character. that being said, based on what the pilot shows and the benefit of hindsight... i dont think millie or loona were ever intended to be main characters, even without stolas being there.

THATS where "disappointment" comes from.

[astrosouldivinity]

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑬𝒚𝒆: ⁺⋆🧿⋆⁺ (𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚃𝚠𝚘)

Practice Discernment: 👁️

Trust your intuition to identify the source of energy around you. Visualize yourself skillfully maneuvering away from the negative energy, much like a clever fox evading a trap. Stay adaptable and flexible; they can’t control what they cannot access.

Transmute Negative Energy: 🦋

When others project negativity, they are still sending you their energy. Use this to your advantage by transmuting their negative energy into something beneficial for yourself. For example, any negativity directed your way can be repurposed towards your own abundance.

Mantra: "I release all negativity sent my way; only positive energy flows to me."

Visualize: “I am surrounded by a shield of light; negativity cannot touch me."

Embody a Karmic Mirror: 🪞

Reflect back to others their true selves at their core. Their disdain for you often stems from their own self-loathing. Consider the concept of Dorian Gray’s painting; you become a portrait that reveals their darker aspects.

• Exercise caution with this tactic, as it can provoke the worst in people, so be prepared for backlash. Some individuals will retaliate by attempting to silence you, while others express their hatred openly, or do so more covertly. Identify the type of person you’re dealing with and respond accordingly. Fortunately, some may choose to distance themselves out of cowardice, which can work to your advantage.

Example 1: If you choose to call them out, they may avoid facing their own shadow and simply choose to avoid you. Problem solved. People who dislike facing the truth or who are non-confrontational will most likely react this way.

Example 2: They may react with anger and could initiate a smear campaign aimed at damaging your reputation. If they can’t control you, they will try to control how others perceive you, or they will attempt to undermine you in any way possible. There are many different ways people can harm you, which I will talk more about in the future.

-How to Deal with a Smear Campaign: Ignore it and allow it to run its course. If they can’t trigger you they have no control over you.

Utilize Strategies With Caution: ⚠️

Interacting with egos requires a strategic approach. This is essential when navigating the spiritual and psychological battles that accompany the influence of the evil eye. Remember that many individuals are often unaware of their own energy, so it’s important to display compassion towards them.

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 3

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝: @𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 🖤

✨ ✨🧿✨✨🧿✨✨🧿✨✨🧿✨✨🧿✨✨

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 🙏🏿

©𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍.

[blackstarlineage]

The Cowardice of White Supremacy: A Garveyite Perspective on Fear, Insecurity, and the Need for Black Self-Determination

From a Garveyite perspective, white supremacy is not an expression of strength, superiority, or confidence—but rather a manifestation of deep-seated fear, insecurity, and cowardice. It is a system designed to suppress and oppress Black people not because of their inferiority, but because of their potential to achieve true independence, power, and global influence.

Marcus Garvey understood that oppression is always rooted in fear—the fear of an empowered, self-sufficient Black race that no longer depends on its oppressors. White supremacy thrives on psychological warfare, violence, and deception, but at its core, it is a cowardly ideology that can not survive without lies, manipulation, and systemic oppression.

1. White Supremacy Is Rooted in Fear, Not Strength

White supremacists portray themselves as superior, but their actions reveal insecurity and cowardice.

Key Signs of White Supremacist Fear:

They fear an empowered Black race – Throughout history, Black leaders who promoted independence and self-sufficiency (e.g., Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, Fred Hampton) were seen as the greatest threats to white supremacy.

They use laws and policies to maintain dominance – If white supremacy were based on true superiority, it wouldn’t require systems like Jim Crow, redlining, voter suppression, and mass incarceration to keep Black people oppressed.

They rewrite history to hide the truth – The erasure of African contributions to civilization and resistance movements proves that white supremacy is afraid of an informed Black population.

Example: The Tuskegee Experiment (1932-1972) and forced sterilization programs against Black women were not signs of confidence but of desperation to weaken and control the Black population.

Garveyite Takeaway: A truly superior ideology would not need to manipulate, deceive, and use brute force to sustain itself.

2. White Supremacy Only Survives Through Cowardly Tactics

If white supremacy was built on strength, it would not rely on:

Violence Against Unarmed Black People

White supremacists have historically targeted Black women, children, and elderly people during lynchings and massacres.

Police brutality overwhelmingly targets Black men who are outnumbered and outgunned.

Example: The 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre—a thriving Black economic hub was burned to the ground, not because of Black weakness, but because of Black strength.

Economic Sabotage Against Black Progress

White supremacist systems prevent Black people from building generational wealth by redlining, denying loans, and limiting access to capital.

Black Wall Street, Marcus Garvey’s Black Star Line, and other economic initiatives were deliberately undermined.

Example: Marcus Garvey’s UNIA movement was infiltrated and sabotaged by the U.S. government because it proved that Black people could build global economic power.

Psychological Warfare

The media portrays Black men as criminals, Black women as unworthy, and Black children as threats to justify oppression.

Public school systems deliberately miseducate Black youth to prevent revolutionary thinking.

Example: The criminalization of Black leaders (Garvey, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr.) proves that white supremacy fears educated and independent Black leadership more than anything.

Garveyite Takeaway: A confident people do not need to destroy others to prove their strength. White supremacy is built on fear, and fear is the foundation of cowardice.

3. White Supremacy Is Afraid of Black Unity and Self-Determination

Marcus Garvey’s greatest lesson was that Black people do not need white approval, validation, or acceptance. Instead, we need self-reliance, economic independence, and global unity.

What White Supremacy Fears the Most:

A Unified Black Diaspora – When Black people in Africa, the Caribbean, and the Americas unite, white supremacy loses its control over resources and labour.

Economic Independence – Black-owned businesses and industries challenge white financial dominance.

A Militarily & Politically Strong Africa – An independent, self-sufficient Africa means an end to Western exploitation of natural resources.

A Revolutionary Black Consciousness – White supremacy relies on Black submission and ignorance. Educated, militant Black people threaten the system’s survival.

Example: The assassination of Thomas Sankara (Burkina Faso, 1987)—a leader who was building African self-sufficiency—was orchestrated by forces that feared a strong, independent Black nation.

Garveyite Takeaway: White supremacy only exists because Black people have been divided, miseducated, and kept economically dependent. Its greatest fear is a self-sufficient Black world.

4. The Solution: Black Power and Nation-Building

Marcus Garvey taught that the only way to defeat white supremacy is through self-reliance. Instead of fighting for inclusion in white systems, Black people must:

Build independent Black economies – Stop depending on white-owned businesses for survival.

Control our own education systems – Teach Black children the truth about their history and potential.

Unify globally – Connect Africa, the Caribbean, and Black communities worldwide under a single Pan-African vision.

Strengthen Black political and military power – Create strong leadership and defense systems to protect our interests.

Example: Garvey’s UNIA movement aimed to create an independent Black nation free from white control. This vision remains the only true path to Black liberation.

Garveyite Takeaway: We must stop seeking validation from a system that fears us and start building institutions that serve us.

Conclusion: White Supremacy Will Always Fear a Strong Black Race

White supremacy has never been about strength—it has always been about fear. The system is terrified of Black independence, Black intelligence, and Black unity.

Final Thought:

Marcus Garvey warned that Black people must be the architects of their own destiny. The biggest act of resistance against white supremacy is to stop needing it.

Garveyite Call to Action:

Stop wasting energy trying to change white supremacists—build independent Black institutions instead.

Recognize that the system is not invincible—it is based on fear, and fear is weak.

Study Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, and other leaders who exposed the cowardice of white supremacy.

White supremacy is afraid of Black strength. So let’s become as strong as possible.

[moon-browed]

There is a monster sleeping in my chest, in the space between my lungs and my ribcage, its snoring causes my throat to tighten and clench until it wakes, seizing control of my vocal cords and tongue, a twisted ventriloquist speaking in my voice. It does not speak lies, (if my hands touched a bible the only burn would be that of guilt) and as it strips me naked its claws carve a smile across my face, it forces me to bare my teeth, (a bluff) but the bark is just as damaging as the bite would've been. You ask me why I keep smiling and I tell you it's because I let the rot take root into my teeth so that maybe I can ignore the stench of it coming from behind my eyes.

You cannot turn a monster into something non monstrous just because you love it.

I tell the story about how black mold destroyed my sense of smell for the nth time, and I wonder if you can tell that the mold never left my lungs, (it festers and grows and spreads) and I fear that if I breathe too close to you fungi will grow in your chest and you'll speak to me in song distorted before you choke on your own voice.

The monster feeds on the mold, (a symbiotic relationship that I can't get rid of) "you do not love me" you say and the monster jumps and tumbles at your words, but I hold its tongue and try to kill it with my own hands before I let it show you why you're wrong. It never stays dead long. It always wakes up when an unfamiliar perfume enters your peripheral, and I try to calm it, but a monster can't sing another monster to sleep, it can only bite until one of the two bleeds out on the floor, eyes wide, looking at the sky for some kind of divine intervention. It does not stay dead long.

I brand myself all mighty God and bring it back (what a cruel fate).

To out-monster the monstrous is an act of survival as much as it is one of cowardice. I do not remember my flesh to ever be tender, (I was always hard on the teeth) no matter how much I cut myself up on the chopping board, a lamb turned butcher, trying to tenderize the flesh so that any willing fang could easily reach the core. But I am not meant for that kind of love, I am meant to be ripped apart by it, ruined, to be cracked ribs and bruised shoulders, a bloody mouth smiling.

In my dreams I am this terrible thing, (red eyed and burning up) and I have this sinking feeling that I will do something unfixable, and I must remind myself that I am in control. Most days I do not know if I should repent for the sin of deceit. I would crawl across the world on my bare knees if it meant you'd tell me I'm good. I'd drink bleach to make myself clean for you, kiss me and taste only chemicals. At least my teeth will be white then.

There must be something special about being loved by monstrosity, by nothing but black teeth and cracked claws, by something not bearing to be loved back. Something that cries and screams at the possibility of seeing your back turned. A rabid dog clings to whatever sanity it has left before its muscles snap its spine and suffocate it. Did you know that when you break your neck you die of asphyxiation? Your body cannot send air from your mouth to your lungs anymore, and they collapse in on themselves. I think about that a lot, the terror one must feel in those moments as they know that they will die beyond any kind of doubt. I think about how the way you say my name feels like a clean snap of my vertebrae, and I crumble like a broken statue at your feet, looking up at your lip quivering. I channel the author in me and tell myself a good lie, that you're smiling, that your eyes are on me at your feet, and not that you're wincing at the blood inching too close to your shoes.

Your fingers dance for someone who is not me, and I try to replicate the movement but I can never seem to get it right, you never look at me as I twist and turn and contort in whatever way I think will tempt you for long enough to notice that I'm already looking for you. I fear that I've memorised your cheekbones and jaw, and if you close your eyes you won't remember what my voice sounds like.

I call myself an artist and so I try to make a necklace out of everything sacred but my hands can't seem to craft anything other than a noose with your name on it. I put it in my box of memories and forget about it.

Can there be redemption for something soulless? If I beg hard enough, will I be spared by a higher force, or will I be weeping at the altar of a god who's not listening anymore? If I look up and beg for forgiveness, will I only see myself begging down for the courage to do it? What does the fact that I strive to be perfect for you make of you? Does it make you a God, or does it make me desperate for a follower to feel real? To give me a body and senses and a mind of my own? To make a shrine out of someone so I can live in them. Divinity is lonely as it seems.

I am particles, I could be anything if you don't keep your eyes on me, and yet every time you look I choose to be yours. Please keep your eyes on me, I do not want to disperse yet, I want to keep breathing as yours even for just a futile moment, to love what is mortal in spite of it, to hold it close to my bones and let it break them when it falls.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi, one more question!

I read Tomarry fan fiction with time travel, and when they write that Harry is taking Tom from the orphanage, for some reason they write that Harry expects that if he gives the love and care that he was deprived of, then Tom will become a different person. That is, Harry projects himself onto Tom and expects the same reaction from him that Harry himself would have had if he had been taken away from the Dursleys. And also, I do not understand the authors themselves believe that if you give a child (Tom) everything he wants and do not limit him at least somehow, that he will grow up to be a morally better person? Or do they think that Harry is so narrow-minded and does not understand that punishments and rewards are needed for proper upbringing? That it's not enough to just say "don't do this because it's wrong for a moral reason", but to provide a logical explanation that would be based on logic and pragmatism, which would sound clearer to Tom? What do you think about it?

Anyone could write whatever they want, and I'm not going to diss any specific fics or authors. Personally, I'm not the biggest fan of Harry going back in time to raise Tom fics because it's just not to my personal taste. So, this isn't the kind of scenario I really think about for Harry's and Tom's characters.

In general, though, I think Harry understands Tom and how he thinks more than fanon often gives him credit for. I also think Tom isn't as evil incarnate as some fanon paints him as. I don't think he's super moral, but I don't think he is especially cruel either.

Like, Tom doesn't do immoral things because he doesn't know what's good and what's evil, he is an intelligent capable adult — he knows very well what he's doing is evil, he just doesn't mind doing evil if he thinks it's necessary.

And he has morals. He regrets needing to kill Snape, he dislikes unnecessary death and bloodshed and actively avoids it in the first war. He doesn't want to kill students in the battle of Hogwarts and calls a ceasefire to let them regroup and treat their injuries to the detriment of his own side. He hates cowardice and treachery. He derides Wormtail because he betrayed his friends, yes, that betrayal helped Voldemort, but Voldemort despises cowardly traitors as a rule and his morals are important to him. He hates pretentious purebloods and he shows this contempt in how he treats his followers. Tom has a moral core all on its own with his shitty upbringing, it's just, kinda messed up and he's a practicality-over-morality kind of person most of the time. I'm saying most because he doesn't allow himself to cheat when trying to kill Harry. He just has to kill Harry properly, in a fair duel, because of his own morals and ideals. I also think Tom would be insulted by the concept of cheating at school, for example.

I mentioned in the past the fact Voldemort's favorite spell is the killing curse kinda shows that he has some twisted sense of morality. I mean, in a world where you can burn and cut and torture people with magic there are so many cruel and painful ways to kill someone, and yet, Voldemort's go-to spell, when he isn't making a point or torturing someone for a specific reason, is Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse is a painless death, even Voldemort considers it a merciful death. It's quick and painless and efficient. This is the death he gave James and Lily because he respected them and didn't want them to suffer unnecessarily. This is the death he chooses for anyone he doesn't have a specific reason to torture because he is against what he deems as unnecessary cruelty. Snape's death is the only real death that is unnecessarily cruel but I think it has more to do with JKR needing a way for Snape to get Harry the information he needs rather than be accurate to Voldemort's character as he was shown thus far.

Like, he has some weird sense of morality, and even with the evil things he does, like murder, he knows they are bad and he does so anyway. Sometimes, he does so regretfully, in the most merciful way he can, and other times, when he hates someone, he relishes in it. It's not about not understanding good and evil or not knowing what morals are, it's about caring about morals less than about whatever goal he wants to accomplish, and sometimes that goal is to humiliate the crap out of Lucius Malfoy, or to showcase how great he is and be dramatic about it. But the fact he has his twisted morals and considers himself merciful is part of what makes him so interesting to me.

[hwajin]

#!! - 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ; twin flames

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : soulmate au, non idol au, smut!! mdni, angst

— 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : hyunjin x fem!reader

— 𝐰𝐜 : 4.8k

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : it had been a while since you and hyunjin had shared a first kiss, since chan had vanished from your life — since you'd have been supposed to run towards a new love, a better one; if not for fear holding you back, if not for your cowardice standing in your and hyunjin's way.

— 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : IT'S OVERRRRR i quite literally sobbed a bit writing this chapter!! i have NEVER finished a whole series before ever and even tho it's not my best work and i would have written a couple things differently if i've given myself more time this is still my proudest work! love love love to everyone who enjoyed this series or who could feel with it 🫶🫶🫶

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Underwear scattered on Hyunjin’s bedroom floor, yours and his. Panties in lace, with bows adorning their core, sets of lingerie on his chair, by the side of his bed, or simple black silk amidst his sheets. Evidence of just what exactly you and him had been busying yourself with since the first time you had touched, truly touched. Proof that your relationship wasn’t one at all, not having proceeded into directions Hyunjin had planned to.

Then again, he had promised himself to not plan, not when it came to you. To go into you without expectations, without an aim – he was glad to have you, however that was, and he felt himself too selfish should he ever want more from you, emotionally. He was well aware you weren’t ready to fall in love – or to admit to it. So, he let himself call over to your place – Chan had long moved out, as Hyunjin’d found out, having left the place to you solely –, let you come over to his whenever you pleased; he let you toy with him. Though, maybe toy was a word far too harsh – it implied pain, and you didn’t want to hurt Hyunjin. He knew, he hoped, that you had good intentions when it came to him; your lingering touches every morning against his naked chest, when you were supposed to be off to work though still laid in bed with him, despite your promise not to sleep over at the others’ place, the nicknames you called him although you told yourself and him to not go that far, your stolen, passionate kisses right after you’d tell Hyunjin that a relationship, a great love the way he imagined wasn’t something you could give him, just yet. He had promised to not ask for it, to wait on you – but whenever your touch found his skin, delicate, tender, far too sweet to not be called love, in its’ very form, Hyunjin doubted that you didn’t feel affection towards him, that your hesitation was credited simply to fear. Fear of another heartbreak, fear, maybe, that you’d misjudged Hyunjin the way you did Chan. Hyunjin understood, let himself hurt, because it was for you – grew impatient, grew needy, grew utterly hopeless.

Though, he’d lie saying he didn’t yet enjoy the time he got to spent with you. You were contradicting yourself in relation to them – told Hyunjin sternly that there was no room for romance when you met up though acted a girlfriend at times, swayed and in love, pecking his lips to catch him off guard, calling him over when you cooked a meal you knew he enjoyed, proposed long walks where no subject was left uncovered. And Hyunjin never commented it, let himself engulf in the supposed relationship he’d found himself in, with an affectionate smile often – you weren’t ready though would be, he was sure of it.

Both your bodies were sprawled out on Hyunjin’s bed, not naked entirely though not fully dressed either – you in only a shirt of his and a pair of lacen panties, him in nothing but his boxers. The December temperatures called for more layers on your skins, even indoors, though the sheets against you and the warmth both bodies emitted – and not less the lovemaking not an hour earlier – was enough to keep you from freezing. You didn’t have the heart to go yet, nor the wish to – you had missed Hyunjin though it’s barely been two days since you’ve last seen him, and you went over your own boundaries if it meant spending more time with him. It was strange, and you were frightened of your lack of backbone, when it came to Hyunjin; you had promised yourself a break from love, from anything regarding it though you couldn’t seem to distance yourself enough from him. Ever since your first touch, the first time your lips had found home on the other your body had ached to be with his own, simply near his. To talk of nothing, to do nothing, but together. Actions far too intimate for your liking – it wasn’t only carnal, not simply sexual attraction as you had hoped; it was love, if you had to name it, and it scared you. It scared you to commit, it scared you, even, to admit to the feelings in the first place – around Hyunjin you pretended to be happy keeping it casual, to be fine calling him over past midnight usually, though every time he left, far into the early morning, with a longing kiss you couldn’t help but wish for more. For having his closure, for having his body next to your own when you awoke hours later, for calling over right then and there, again.

You felt Hyunjin’s touch on your skin, his soft fingertips on your flesh. His breath fell hot against the crook of your neck – his face has been buried in it for the past half hour, wordless and silent, comforting. His breathing was regular, almost in sync with your own, his chest palpably heaving against you, falling to leave you empty, heaving again against your body. His limbs were heavy, lazily sprawled around your own; you weren’t sure if he was sleeping, your hand tangled into his hair an indicator he might be – there wasn’t a day Hyunjin wasn’t slave to your fingers against his scalp. That was the worst part – knowing Hyunjin loved you as much as you loved, and letting him hurt nonetheless. Feeling his affection, his patience, his determination – you admired him, truly; if you were in his place you might have long given up, might have long lost hope. Though maybe you wouldn’t have. If you imagined the roles reversed, if you imagine yourself in a position hopeless and waiting and longing, for a love greater would never be found – you’d stay, too. If it was for him.

Though the roles weren’t reversed, and you found yourself scared, still. Overwhelmed suddenly by Hyunjin’s body so very close to you, the subtle implication of a love you knew he could grant you. Your heart quickened when you realized your utter comfort in his hold, just how much you enjoyed his arms around your waist, his solemn touch on parts no one but him had the privilege of touching – the space between your breasts, where his lips liked to find home, the plush of your thighs, so close to your sex though never quite, the lower of your tummy, thumb merely grazing pubes as his hand danced upon your skin. You enjoyed it all, and far too much.

“I have to go.”

Your body tense when you exclaimed the words which cut through the silence uncomfortably – Hyunjin jerked at your voice, though not having been loud enough to scare him it was stern enough to disturb, let alone the implications of your words. His body imitated yours, tensing up in its’ place, arms tightening around your torso, as though to hold you back, to prevent your parting. His head parted from your neck – it left you terribly cold, too empty. Hyunjin looked at you, perplexed, his dark eyes ones of a puppy, big and pleading, silently asking; for you, for more, for love. It were eyes you so often struggled to deny, a sight you hated to turn down. His hair a mess, his face puffy and reddened by his lips and cheeks, only a hint of colour but enough to turn you weak. You were too invested, too deep into him. Too in love.

You wriggled yourself out of his hold – Hyunjin couldn’t help but loosen his grip on you, finally, though it left you colder than expected, and more desperate for him than ever. You hated parting as much as he did, it hurt you just as deeply as it did Hyunjin. Though you feared that staying would scar you worse in the long run, so you braced yourself, selfishly. You shifted and heaved yourself off the bed, off Hyunjin’s mattress which smelled of vanilla and home, of him, and scrambled together your things. Not all of them, never all of them – you always left something to have an easy excuse to come over, despite not needing one. You took your cherry chapstick laying on his bedside table, the one Hyunjin found himself to love on you, kissing it off whenever applied; your headphones on his table where paintings of flowers and you were scattered all over, shooting a bullet right through the plush of your heart, the tenderness he cared for you with, the pedestal he held you on; your underwear on his floor, bringing bashful colour to your skin, remembering the words Hyunjin had said taking each of them off, over the past weeks – you left merely white underpants draped over his chair you pretended not to see, a necklace on his table you pretentiously thought was his, and a hair tie which could have as well been his own. You cringed over your own pathos.

Hyunjin watched you in the process of collecting and packing your things, entangled in his sheets smelling of your perfume and sex. You didn’t dare look at him; his topless body always portrayed a domesticity you felt like fleeing from, you urged to find comfort in. Hyunjin watched wordlessly, up until the point where you’ve realized you’ve still been wearing his shirt – you took it off, casually, without a second thought before putting on your own, seemingly ready to leave; that was the moment Hyunjin spoke, finally.

“Already? You can stay a bit, you’ve only been here for an hour.”

Desperation in his voice, undeniably. You felt cruel – more so when you looked at him. Half sitting in his bed, eyes calling for you, every fibre of his body longing to hold yours again. He looked inviting, he looked like he could grant happiness if you only allowed it – he looked, therefore, dangerous.

A big sigh from you – you didn’t like to get angry at him, and you weren’t particularly. It was anger credited only to yourself, and though Hyunjin was never at fault it was sometimes directed at him. You hated yourself for it every time anew.

“I can’t… you know I can’t stay.”

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, it was lighter than expected. You never took much over to his place.

Hyunjin sat up fully now, and your eyes directed their attention towards the door – you didn’t lack self-control, though the view of him wasn’t something you were able to resist, nor bear. Because it was frustratingly heart-breaking, because you wanted to drop every bit of your belongings to find yourself in these arms of his, secure and warm, homely. You almost took a step towards it when his voice kept you from your plan again.

“But babe, you-“

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me babe.”

It was your breaking point. Nicknames weren’t a rarity with Hyunjin, though this very moment, when fear of commitment and disappointment nagged at you it was far too much of what you could physically handle. The word sounding so natural, so lovely it was impossible to hold back the tears that prickled behind your lids, a bad omen of the emotions rolling upon you. Confusion, because it was him you wished to be with, fear, because you hurt, frustration, because you didn’t seem to handle the situation remotely well.

Hyunjin was silent, though only for a second. Shocked and he looked like it – it’s not that you had never made a boundary abundantly clear to him, yet this was the first time you sounded truly upset, angered while doing so. Though he wasn’t hurt by it, not by your anger, not by your words, even. He was hurt, for your sake. For the tremble in your voice hinted at your frustration over yourself, at your wish for the situation to be different altogether. He knew you wanted to love him, without fear and hesitation, without having to say goodbye before the sun rose. He hurt knowing you were making it so hard for yourself, despite him being right before you, not even in hand’s reach, but already within your hold.

You stood in his room, unmoving, though not leaving, either. Waiting maybe for an answer, or too cowardly to leave him, after all. Body urging to be with him too much to walk out his home and into your own. You heard him shifting in his bed – you still weren’t looking at him, turned to him sideways, facing the door. You heard his naked feet against his rug-less floor, felt his body closer and closer to your own until you could feel his warmth engulfing you. Suffocating.

“You’re… look at me.”

It wasn’t as much a command as it was a plea. Hyunjin’s voice sounded quiet, careful, as if the littlest wrongdoing would scare you off. Not for today only, but forever. That with an unwanted word you would vanish, as quickly as you had first emerged.

Hyunjin didn’t touch you. He stood inches from you and waited, until you – reluctantly, quite – turned to face him; it was your single downfall. Pain glazed on his irises, lips agape to speak though seemingly unknowing of what exactly. His brows were furrowed, a pained expression painting his face – you despised seeing him this way. He deserved a treatment far better than the one you were torturing him with, one that wouldn’t require him to worry, to hopelessly long, to hurt. You despised seeing him in pain, and you hated yourself most for it.

“You… you could stay, you know.”

Careful, his words merely crawling past his lips and into the room, but a deer caught in the forests and too timid to move. You barely registered his voice at all, as quiet as it was – though when you realized his words, realized, most importantly, the implications behind them your expression changed, your demeanour did. You looked up at him, his face as though waiting for a storm, appalled and frightened, almost. He didn’t deserve your anger.

“Hyunjin you–… you know I can’t. I can’t stay, I’m not– I don’t think I’m ready yet, I–“

Your voice trembled. You didn’t want to cry, not yet. You knew this topic had been inevitable, and you didn’t want to weaken at the very beginning. Though speaking your thoughts aloud instead of thinking them, admitting to what you’ve been trying to deny with such verbosity prior didn’t help your state, nor did the view before you – the man you so badly wanted to call your lover looking as distraught as you were feeling, helpless and enraged now, it seemed. You couldn’t blame him.

Hyunjin was angry. Hurt, and helpless, and angry, not at you, not at himself, even. At Chan, maybe, for having left you so very scarred, at his own cowardness of not having brought up this topic earlier. At the fact he understood and yet couldn’t accept, not when both of you wanted more. And so clearly, at that. It enraged him that you were scared of allowing yourself happiness you well knew he could give you – it brought tears to his eyes.

“You… can’t you see I treat you well? Can’t you see that we’d be happy together– that we are happy together?”

Hyunjin’s voice was nothing but a whisper. Not angry because he bore enough patience to control himself, rather desperate, instead. It broke you more than if he’d screamed at you. But he stood before you, looking smaller than he was, almost begging; for something you didn’t trust yourself able to give.

“I can. I can see we’d be happy… that’s why I’m scared.”

A beat and you looked up at him, his figure hovering over yours, both unmoving, frozen in your place. Hyunjin’s expression changing into one of confusion, pity.

“I was happy with Chan, too, I– I’m scared it’s gonna be the same thing all over again, I–“

“I’m not Chan.”, Hyunjin’s voice stern now, absent of unsureness. “I’m not him, so you don’t have to be scared with me, I–“, hesitation for only a moment as he watched tears roll down your cheeks, silent tears as you held his gaze; he stepped closer, body almost touching your own and his hands reached out, unable to stand separate and he cupped your face, thumb grazing over the wet that kept streaming past your eyes. “I love you. I’ve loved you when I first saw you in that store, and I’ve loved you ever since… you don’t have a reason to be scared with me; I won’t ever not love you.”

Hyunjin’s lips connected to your own before you could say anything else, before you could burst out in helpless sobbing. You cursed Hyunjin for making you love him, for storming into your life and turning it upside down, for never having let go of you – and yet, simultaneously, you couldn’t help but thank the heavens for bringing him to you. Because maybe, if you let yourself, you would learn to love again. You would learn trust anew, would learn peace and domesticity and affection – maybe, if you let go of your fear with Hyunjin right beside you he would teach you to accept love again.

You kissed him back after a moment of hesitation, of hopelessly collecting your thoughts – you couldn’t quite, and kissing him was easier, so you let him. Let him touch your face with delicate fingers, let him move his previously kiss-bitten lips against your own wet ones, tears mixing into hot, damp breaths. Your bag slid off your shoulder and you held him, clung onto his arms as though the loss of contact would take him away from you forever – you couldn’t afford it, nor would you dare to accept it. You let him love you the way he’s always wanted, the way you’ve always deserved and you cried into the kiss, unable to stop tears because unable to truly stop fear. You’d accept him, accept the inevitable because you wanted it just as much, though it surely wouldn’t come without determination, without work. Love and trust wouldn’t emerge suddenly but over time, though you were, finally, ready to welcome both. If it was him by your side.

Hyunjin broke the kiss to look at you, holding you still, never daring to let go. His eyes scanned your face for any sign of reluctance or acceptance – though he’d prefer the latter. And he found one in the way you kept looking at him, wanting, needing, vulnerable. In the way you kept holding onto his body, clawing into his skin, pleading silently. He understood, he kissed you again – slowly this time, secure. Granting you the time you silently pleaded for, making you understand he would gift you all the time in the world, if need be, every bit of patience he contained.

Your bodies moved backwards – never breaking lips’ contact – until Hyunjin’s legs nudged the edge of the bed. He sat slowly, pulling you against him, onto his lap in calm manner; his demeanour was tender, delicate. He was careful. His touch on your body as you softly straddled him was featherlight, fingertips tapping and dancing across your skin while his palms left warmth where they met you, familiar and comfortable warmth you so often had scared away from letting in. Warmth Hyunjin had been granting you all along, patiently – warmth you finally, though not entirely mindlessly, felt ready to reciprocate.

You broke the kiss, sitting atop him still, holding onto his naked shoulders, feeling the weight of his hands on your hips – for the first time since you’ve met him you felt like you were really, truly looking at him. Your lover. Your soulmate. His eyes were dark, pearly, big, laced with so many emotions you wondered how he was able to hold them all within him. There was sadness and agony, passion and love, adoration and frustration and hope and fear, and so much more. Hyunjin’s lips were reddened, dry from panting, chipped from the lack of using balms. His brows were furrowed in question, looking up at you watching him – you never wanted to tear your eyes off him again. You felt like you had wasted time, and you urged to make it quit; you wanted to spend every remaining day, every last second with Hyunjin by your side.

You closed the distance between your bodies again to a kiss. Your lips met Hyunjin’s softly, slowly – you took your time now, trusted a little more now. And he allowed it. Hyunjin allowed for you to take control, let you move against him as slowly as you wished to – opening his mouth when your tongue prodded at his lips, letting your wet muscle dance with his own, let you bite against his plush mouth for only a second before you granted him open-mouthed kisses again, leaving him in utter awe. He’s been wishing for these sort of kisses from you, for ages now – passionate, without hesitation, exploring instead of scaring away from it. He was finally receiving them; and he felt the luckiest man alive.

It took moments to find yourself laying beneath his figure, dressed still. Hyunjin’s hands were roaming across your body – though not too hasty, never fast. His lips engulfed your own, kissed and nibbled at your neck, against your jaw – passionate and soft, utterly adoring. He took his time with you, time you never much allowed him to take, time you had deemed too romantic to accept; you were accepting it now, relishing in the new love you had denied yourself. And it felt nice. Hyunjin’s lips against your skin has never felt so calming, so secure. His touch, the pads of his fingertips atop your body’s’ every inch was salvation, final pleasure. You let him, entirely. Let him explore you, the way he’s never done before. Let him look at you, intently. Let him undress you, slowly. Shirt first, then your pants. You let Hyunjin kiss every inch of skin he exposed, if took him ages to. You let him pour love into every connection with him and your flesh, basked in the way you enjoyed it.

It took a couple further moments before you lay beneath him in the nude. It wasn’t the first time he saw you like that, though now you felt shy, bashful. You almost wanted to hide yourself – it was intimacy you hadn’t experienced in too long. Your body tensed, and Hyunjin noticed. His hand lay on your waist, his right cupping your cheek – he gave you a kiss, long and slow, before locking eyes with you, deep and loving.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you; trust me.”

It didn’t need much more to calm you. Your limbs went slack against the mattress, your hands held onto Hyunjin’s figure as he never stopped peppering you in kisses. His erection pressed heavily against your thigh, though neither of you paid it any mind, for the time being. Hyunjin had never taken this much time with you before – and you had never let him. Only now you noticed how much you had needed it, all along.

It must have been ten minutes when Hyunjin’s tip finally prodded at your entrance. Not demanding, not even needy – simply letting know, and waiting for your move. And you spread your thighs without much hesitation; Hyunjin’s kisses had always been prone to make you breathless and longing, his always lingering touch and the caressing of his fingers he was always so mindful about had never before, nor now, failed to drive you to a point of desperateness. He’d always been a master in coaxing you into him, though only now you welcomed it entirely. Two of Hyunjin’s fingers tested the waters at your wetness, playing with your clit for a mere second – only to feel you squirm beneath him, to hear a whimper of frustration leave your longing lips – before he slowly entered you, waiting several moments after each inch; not that he needed to, not that you weren’t used to his stretch at this point, but still he near tortured you with his pace, slow and leisure.

You felt his every vein within you, his every twitch and pulse that ran through him – and maybe that was his goal – before he finally bottomed out. It elicited a whimper from both of you; Hyunjin buried in your neck, the vibrations of his voice rushing all over your body, your own face by his ear and you gave it a loving nibble, which he sighed at. Your fingers entangled in his locks, your legs wrapped around his torso, not allowing him to move, keeping your lover in place. You had never been this close before, or maybe had never noticed it; you suddenly wanted to catch up on all the lost time you had wasted foolishly. You wanted to feel Hyunjin for a little while longer, wanted to hold him against you until both your bodies grew weak and tired, wanted to lay and simply kiss him for as long as he would allow it. You suddenly needed him entirely and inseparably, and you would go lengths for it.

Hyunjin started moving against your hips, rolling his own into you with delicacy. He had never not been soft with you, though it felt far different now – his hand found home on your face, always cupping your cheek, always locking eyes, as though a fraction more distance would whip you from right beneath him, as though you were a doll made of most fragile glass. You liked it. You enjoyed this side of Hyunjin far more than you had expected to, now that you welcomed it. You spread your legs further for him, granting him more access, more space – he took it gratefully, increasing the speed of his waving thrusts by a bit, only enough to tease, not enough yet to gift full satisfaction. You were a whining mess of needing more, and Hyunjin wasn’t much better – he was moments from losing his composure, from fucking into you with the passion he had held back all the times prior, mindless, now, of the time he wanted to take with you. You were impossible to resist, to not lose sanity over.

It needed you to initiate, though. You enjoyed this side of Hyunjin, now that you didn’t shy away from his loving affection, but your body needed more than what he was not giving you. More passion, more vigour, more him. You rolled your hips up into his, meeting him halfway and the man stuttered in his motions, halting only a second, granting you a quick look before you continued moving in unison — hips crashing against hips, lips upon each other, hands and fingers nothing but glued onto bodies; it didn’t take either of you long until you came simultaneously, limbs trembling, moans choking, panting, faces hidden in necks.

Wetness of tears stood in your eyes; you had only needed to let him in. All the time you had wasted on Chan, the efforts you could have put into Hyunjin all this while frustrating, though fickle now — you knew to find love in him, and to trust whole heartedly.

— 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :

“But it’s a big thing!! All our friends are gonna be there, I’d take like- let’s do five more bottles.”

You were standing between the aisles of the small store, Hyunjin by your side, gears in his head visibly turning at your suggestion. You had grown to love this expression on him over the past two years of dating — one year and eight months, but who was truly counting —; furrowed brows, pursed lips, looking so very serious over most mundane business. Though, you wouldn’t call Hyunjin’s achievements mundane — you were shopping for a party in order to celebrate your boyfriends’ first own gallery show, one he’d worked for most diligently, right after you’ve developed into an official item. ‘Twin Flame’ — the name of his show, paintings of which he’d said are inspired by you, his very muse, solely; you felt pride swell whenever thought of it.

“You’re right actually, let’s take some more snacks as well.”

The pair of you walked up the aisle of chips — Hyunjin remembered when he had seen you here the first time, when he had felt a gaping hole in his soul suddenly, one that had eased the closer he had moved to you. One that felt truly and entirely stuffed, now that you were his; and you weren’t any different. When you walked outside, déjà vu made you recall the feeling you had felt when Hyunjin had walked past you — lonely, suddenly, pulled towards his heart’s direction. It had been fate, other people would simply call it luck; yet two lovers found themselves within the other, found the missing piece of their ever-longing souls — found, after years of searching, long-lost twin flames.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

@loverikis @iwannabangchan @hwangful @whatudowhennooneseesyou @inkybird @seungminluv3 @skzddicted @berryblog @beautifullywrecked-aeris @moonlightcandy00 @hyynee @nightrayseishina @shrub31201 @snowwy-night @aemondsrhaenyra @hyuneisbae @lovhyunj @ladytrbl @danyxthirstae01 @someoneinlovve @lili-kims-blog @rachagen @koorminii @good-soup3023 @shiru-chan @blahbluhblahbluh @laryisthinking @knisterlicht @studyingthemind @ppiri-bahng @septicrebel @channiesfavoritebrownie @midsoulz @foivetimesacharm @daceyena @yoonguurt @lovingeaglepeanut @hyuneyeon @therealhyunjingf @llunapastell @dreamstarsandskz @baeksofty @143hyunes @fandems @junebug032

[starshower1215]

Nile Dok and Erwin Smith: A Word Vomit

I'm so curious about the drama they might have gone through to have broken up their friendship the way that they did. Nile and Erwin were described to be childhood friends, and the only tangible reason we're given as to why they are so cold towards each other now, as adults, is because Nile joined the Military Police instead of the Survey Corps, which he had initially wanted to join with Erwin.

So, there's a large dichotomy between the mindset of people in the Survey Corps and people in the Military Police. The SC is sort of liberal in the AoT world, promoting freedom, the change of the status quo, and accountability, whereas the Military Police seems more conservative, because it benefits them and because they are located directly inside of Wall Sina. They're more impacted by the bystander effect, as they're shown, generally, to go along with things unquestioningly as long as their safety isn't endangered:

Like here, where this officer of a higher rank shows no care whatsoever for any deeper meaning or larger purpose. No matter how he may be contributing to violence or injustice, he just wants to be safe and live an easy life, which is threatened by either direct danger or loss of his status, which would force him outside of Wall Sina and closer to titan territory. As pointed out by Annie in Chapter 31, "Grin," this isn't the mindset of any terrible human, but simply that of the common man. At its core, there are traits of ignorance, complacency, and cowardice, which is generally what we resort to when there is no effort to act otherwise. That is the nature which keeps us safe. That's why there is such a thin line between bravery and stupidity.

Well, assuming Nile might have prioritised the bigger picture over his own personal desires and adopted a more SC-like mindset during his time as a recruit (which is likely, since he wanted to join the Survey Corps of his own will, and underwent the harsh training that sometimes even killed trainees with the intention of doing so), then he's undergone drastic shifts from that mindset to reach the perspective he has now. It isn't only that he doesn't see eye-to-eye with Erwin's views anymore; he seems to degrade it, even, and to view the Survey Corps as a foolish group instead of humanity's spear or the group at the face of evolving knowledge. Or stagnant knowledge, at the time of Nile and Erwin's training corps days, but oh, well.

Nile demeans the purpose of the Survey Corps and Erwin's goals by accusing him of being "interested in titans," similarly to the way one might assume Hange was demeaned for taking a genuine interest in them, or like Armin was called a "heretic" for having a book on the outside world. Instead of framing it the way it is, in which Erwin is drawn in by the possibility of humanity outside the walls, he re-frames it more as an inexplicable interest in the enemy of humanity, which is calling him a heretic at its core. So he adopted the MP trait of complacency and lost the curiosity he likely had as a trainee.

He also takes Erwin as a sort of abnormal man, a man who is "more interested in titans than Marie," or perhaps more broadly, a man who is more "interested in titans" than women. Now, the social norm in the universe of AoT regarding marriage isn't really disclosed, but based on realistic social expectations, the concept of not being married, or interested in romance, really, isn't particularly welcome. Even if outwardly, we express that it's all right, it's still quite common to receive side-eyes for not being married at older ages. Regardless of gender, people start wondering whether a person might be "crazy" or worse, gasp, infertile. The horror. That seems to be what Erwin is experiencing now, as he grows older. Even Nile, a former friend of his, regards him as having "something wrong" with him for prioritising his goals over settling down with Marie.

On a separate note, Nile also addresses the way he might have hurt his friend when he chose to join the MPs instead of the SC.

In response to Erwin's supposedly harmless reminiscence of the past, Nile's words seem to carry a hint of passive aggression or intentional dismissal of the previous pain he'd caused. Erwin doesn't seem to be bothered at all. He's consistently cordial in his interactions with Nile, even when Nile insults him at the very end of their conversation. Though, this could be attributed to their different personalities, as Erwin is always attempting to move forward. But anyway, Nile is unforgiving in his actions, and oddly specific, so maybe he'd just been pissed before that Erwin might not have understood his actions.

Anyway, what looks like the reason for his attitude shift is that he simply lost hope in the Survey Corps. Maybe meeting Marie, being shown a future where he could find happiness without knowing what was beyond the walls, changed his outlook on what his best choice was. The Military Police, where he could secure for his wife and future children a safe life where they could possibly find happiness, or the Survey Corps, which had good intentions but had gotten nowhere in the past few years, and was still seen as a waste of taxes at the time. That must have been the change in his attitude from seeing the SC as brave to seeing them as stupid, because he realised that, within his lifetime, what was going to change, if the Survey Corps only got massacred and massacred again?

Possibly, he tried to tell this to Erwin, and maybe even tried to dissuade him from pursuing the question his father had implanted into his brain so long ago, insisting that it was stupid to hope for anything more. After all, if you think about it, faith is the most illogical thing on Earth. Erwin must have looked foolishly optimistic, and Nile, breaking to him that his dreams were baseless, was a betrayal, as he likely would have been the first to know what Erwin wanted, being his childhood friend. He would have been with Erwin when his father was taken.

He legitimately thought that the MPs were the smart way to go (and logically speaking, they are), and Erwin's awareness surrounding the fact that he's sort of a fool for chasing his dream rather than settling down seems to exacerbate his disgust. It's really only when he realises that Erwin was quite right that his expression changes. Look at this guy:

He expresses his 'loss' affectionately towards Erwin, lol. He's so fed up with Erwin's gambles, but he still knows him deep down.

[peanutbutterwrites]

desperation

warnings: drug use, suicidal thoughts, nsfw, vomit, depression, trauma, angst. summary: your whole life you had never once felt special, that feeling can eat you up inside, it can make you do things you'd never do to keep it. word count: 6.1 k -disclaimer- this is in no way representing people in real life, I respect enhypen as artists and simply wanted to use them in a story. all circumstances are fake.

part two

a/n - this has been rotting for a while because it's a little out of my comfort zone. I don't usually write anything considered nsfw so I hope it came out alright. let me know.

YOU WERE AVERAGE. something you so desperately wanted to escape your whole life, but that was the truth. you had good grades, but they were never stellar. you were praised for your obedience, but never awarded. always an angel, never a god. people never take notice, they are all too wrapped up in their own lives to ever notice someone so horribly, average. but you noticed. in fact, it never quite left your mind, always hovering in the back corner, taunting you. jack of all trades, master of none, that’s why college was going to be different.

your entire life you were told, “just get past high school, it's all uphill from there.” but you’d all but completed your first year of college and still everything felt the same. you wanted it over with, all of it. maybe if you made a big deal out of it, you’d be known for something. but you were a coward, scared of scarring your own flesh should things go south. and then you’d be relevant, for a minute. until people eventually forgot again and got wrapped back up in their own lives. 

your roomates were where you were hoping to make friends, but that never happened. mina was a bitch, for lack of a more descriptive word, and held no interest towards you unless she’d run out of girls to party with. and when that happened, she dragged you to said party and fed you drink after drink until you puked your guts out from alcohol poisoning. and the worst part? you just let her, so she kept doing it. giselle was almost worse then you. almost cause at least she excelled at school work. giselle would spend hours upon hours in your cramped dorm room studying for the next exam, spilling snacks and papers everywhere, refusing to clean up. you never knew peace the whole year between never being alone in your own, clean, room and vomiting your guts out into the early hours. 

“hey,” came mina’s no longer sickly sweet voice. instead it had turned into a cold demand as the school year went on, “sana and jihyo ditched, you’re coming with me tonight.” she waited a few beats for your answer before raising an eyebrow, you shifted uncomfortably. you hoped today would be the day you’d grow up and refuse her, but cowardice is one of those emotions that latch onto you like a leech, and you were a coward at your core.

“uh yeah, I guess. but I don’t really feel like drinking tonight, mina.” you managed to choke out. mina scoffed in response,

“oh really? come on, you say that all the time and then you drink so much you start hacking up your insides, forget it.” she rolled her eyes and left your room, most likely to go change. you whimpered and dropped your phone on your bed on the verge of frustrated tears, not bothering to mention the reason for that drinking was mina herself.

“just tell her no.” came a slightly warmer voice to your right. 

“I can’t, giselle.’

“can’t or won’t. its pathetic.” her harsh words offset her softer tone and only managed to make you feel worse. peeling yourself off the bed, you stepped over piles of clothing to get to your designated closet. rifling through clothes, you settled on an all black ensemble and snatched your makeup bag to take to the dorm bathrooms. god forbid you show up to a college party with mina of all people, and not wear makeup. mina always talked about her reputation, she simply couldn’t be seen with you if you didn’t at least look decent. mina was superficial, narcissistic. if you looked good, she was satisfied, but don’t ever look too good. you simply didn’t feel like being overly punished tonight, so a light makeup look it was. grabbing a pair of alcohol stained heels, you made your way to mina’s room to let her know you were ready. 

“huh, not too bad.” she nodded at your outfit and finished combing on her mascara in front of her floor length mirror. “sunghoon is picking me up, so find a ride okay? I’ll text you the address.” your shoulders sagged as you took in the information, mina always did this.

“mina, I really don’t feel like going if I don’t have a ride. if you have sunghoon, why do you need me there?” she froze patting down her skin tight dress and turned to face you.

“why do I need you? let me get this straight, I don’t. I don’t need you, but I’m trying here.” her voice changed into a sickly sweet one and she strode over to you to pat your shoulder. “I’m trying to be friends, I just feel like you’re being really ungrateful.” you stiffened as she pouted her perfect, glossy lips and pulled her hand back.

“no, I’m sorry mina. I’m not trying to be ungrateful, just my car’s at home.” you frowned and grabbed her hand in an apology. mina sighed and held your hand in hers.

“alright, I guess we can give you a ride then. but you have to sit in the back, and don’t ruin this for me.” she smirked slightly and brushed past you as she grabbed a few last minute essentials. you hung your head in shame, you fell for it, again. desperation didn’t look good, and worst of all is it attracted the people who loved to use it. “hurry up!” mina called as her hells clicked on the cheap vinyl flooring and you were scurrying out the door after her. 

sunghoon drove an all black expensive car, it was sleek as it pulled up and cool to the touch as you gripped the back door. but it reeked of cologne, body odor, alcohol, and weed as you yanked the door open. you gagged slightly at the combination of smells and stepped over trashed trojan packages in the back seat. 

“huh, didn’t know I had a passenger.” sunghoon frowned at you, his voice was distant and cold. 

“don’t worry ‘hoon. she’s a good friend.” mina smiled as she touched his shoulder. you caved into yourself and prepared for a silent ride, trying to ignore mina’s flirty tone as the car glided away from the dorms.

“so, what’s your name?” it took you a minute to realize sunghoon was addressing you, and by the time you were ready to answer mina did it for you. 

“she’s my other roommate, you know? the boring one, not the brainiac.” sunghoon hmm’d in acknowledgement and the attention immediately shifted back to mina. you cringed at your own lack of response and mourned the second of attention he had allowed to you. with the rest of the ride being silent on your end, it felt like an eternity before arriving at the frat house where the party would be held. you watched as sunghoon helped mina out of the car and stumbled your way out on your own. the three of you made your way into the house that had music pumping through the windows. within seconds of entrance your nose was hit with a wave of smells and none of them pleasant. you followed diligently behind mina and sunghoon to a small gathering of people surrounded by alcohol and could almost feel your liver protesting from the months of abuse. mina shoved a red solo cup of some alcoholic liquid in your hand as she plopped down on sunghoon’s lap and laughed at something he said. you just stared at the strange liquid, your mouth creating too much saliva in preparation for the amount of vomiting sure to follow. 

“you okay there?” came a voice aimed at you. your head snapped up to meet eyes with a very pretty boy. his sharp nose and wide eyes reminded you of a deer and his slightly red hair only added to the comparison. 

“uh yeah, I just don’t really drink.” you managed to get out. he stared at you with a blank look before chucking and nudging another boy next to him. 

“you hear this chick? she doesn’t drink and she’s at jay’s party, that’s crazy man.” you frowned at him, moving slightly closer so that you didn’t have to yell. 

“jay? who’s that?” apparently this question was hilarious as he and his friend burst out laughing.

“man does this girl know nothing?” you felt your heart sink as they continued to laugh and you felt mina’s cold stare burning from the back of your head. 

“sorry.” you mumbled out and stared back down at the drink. 

“its whatever, you’re just at the wrong place.” the boy said with a slight laugh left in his voice. he brushed off his jeans off and stood up, offering you his hand. you stared up at him as he waited, he contorted his face into a strange expression and leaned down to grab your hand. “man, you’re one weird girl.” he chuckled as he started dragging you behind him. 

“wait, heeseung!” a high pitched voice called and the boy paused to look back. “where are you going?” you turned to see mina doing her signature pout at him and fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

“fuck off mina, nowhere.” he called back with a middle finger raised and his buddies roared with laughter as you were met with the rare sighting of mina flushing with embarrassment. “cocksucker.” the boy, heeseung apparently, muttered under his breath. you snorted at that and he looked down at you as he dragged you forward again. “oh come on, even her friends know.”

“i know.” you replied. as you moved through the party, you saw a boy laying down on a counter as another poured alcohol from a keg into his mouth. he had a sharp jawline and wore sunglasses despite the time of night and indoor activity. heeseung noticed you looking and pointed at the boy.

“that’s jay. the alcoholic.” he said point blank, it suddenly made much more sense why it was required to drink here. heeseung pushed a beaded curtain out of the way as he grabbed a heavy metal door and turned the handle.

“wait, where-” you were cut off as he pulled you into a garage and a wave of smoke invaded your nostrils. the air was hazy with smoke and your eyes watered as heesung continued to pull you. 

“hey heeseung, what’s up.” spoke one of the boys sitting on one of the very old and beat up leather couches within the garage. you counted a total of four men and they all had either a cig or joint lit up and in their pinched fingers. heeseung jerked his chin up and slapped his hand against the guy who had spoken in some sort of handshake. 

“this is sunghoon's friend, she’s chill.” heeseung announced and pushed you slightly towards the first couch which held one of the boys. you looked back at him, ignoring the comment about actually being friends with sunghoon, and he motioned for you to sit down. the couch sunk and groaned due to age and your added weight, but you couldn’t deny that the worn leather was comforting and warm. 

“hey, I’m sunoo.” the boy next to you spoke. he had pink dyed hair and soft features that made him seem approachable, he blew out smoke into your face as he spoke. you coughed wafting away the plume and stuck out your other hand to shake with his. two of the other boys let out a lazy chuckled at your cough and formalities.

“you sure she’s cool? looks like she’s never smoked a day in her life.” joked one of the others. 

“well she doesn’t drink, and you losers need some pussy or at least a friend.” heeseung joked. “im out.” he waved bye to you and your eyes followed him, no longer feeling safe in this warm garage. 

“oh come one, we’re not that bad.” the one that had joked spoke. “i’m jake, jungwon, and ni-ki” he motioned to himself and the other two boys. jake had the twinge of an accent to his voice and he had fluffy hair with soft features. jungwon reminded you of a small cat as his eyes were slanted and round and his soft smile revealed dimples. ni-ki. ni-ki scared you. you sucked in a small breath when his sharp eyes snapped to you and the cigarette smoke he let out made your head spin. his cropped hair hung over his eyes but showed off multiple piercings and was jet black. he looked tall, long and lanky as his legs hung out of the recliner he inhabited and his long arm hung over the edge. as jake and jungwon went back to talking, ni-ki held your eyes in his and you felt unable to look away. you heard a breathy laugh come out of sunoo,

“i think she likes you.” your eyes snapped to sunoo and you felt your face become splotchy with heat. his breathy laugh turned into a boisterous one that forced him to start coughing and put out his joint. the laugh caught jake and jungwon’s attention and both boys let out a chuckle.

“aww, i think she has a crush. huh, hyung?” jake slapped jungwon is agreeance and both faded out boys laughed. you felt shame course through your veins and mentally beat yourself up for staring for too long. the worst part was that he was attractive. you’d never been in a relationship and guys had yet to ask you out, you felt shameful that he now had to deal with your attraction. you risked looking back up, and noticed he was still staring. he held up two fingers and your eyes remained locked with his as he motioned for you to come over to the recliner. your heart dropped to your ass as you debated what to do. but apparently you took too long deciding because with a deceptively innocent laugh, sunoo shoved you off the couch causing you to fall on your hands and knees. this only spurred the boys on further, causing them to howl with laughter leaving only ni-ki stone cold silent. you watched from the floor as he put out his cigarette and leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees. the laughing momentarily stopped as the boys waited for what he was going to do. he only spoke one word, but your heart froze.

“crawl.” the laughter began again, more hysterical then previously and tears pricked your eyes in shame. you couldn’t help the shiver that went through your body at hearing his voice. it was deep, and despite the sufficient smoke, it was rich and smooth. you felt sunoo swing his foot into the back of your thigh and you fell forward to catch yourself, causing you indirectly to crawl closer to ni-ki. 

“she’s seriously going to!” jake let out gleefully as laughter continued to ring throughout the garage. this snapped you to attention and you quickly scrambled up to stand and try to walk out of the entrapped space. you were holding back tears and the walls suddenly felt far too close. the once comforting warmth of the smoke turned too hot and your breathing increased rapidly. as you moved, ni-ki reached out and snatched your wrist harshly and tugged you toward the recliner. 

“oh come on, we’re just playing. right?” sunoo spoke with a teasing lightness to his voice and ni-ki pulled you onto his lap. you froze in fear, trying not to shift in your seat or cry as he reached over to pull another cigarette out of his pack. 

“right.” you mumbled eyes widening as sunoo gave you a ‘hell yeah!’ and slapped his hand against yours the same way heeseung and jake had previously. 

“she’s funny!” jake let out a stoned chuckle as jungwon snorted and took another hit. you looked down at your palm after you felt a weight in it and made eye contact with a black lighter. you looked over your shoulder to see ni-ki put the cigarette to his lips and motion for you to light it. shaking slightly, you took a few tries to strike the lighter into action and held the flame to the stick. you went to turn away, but yelped when you felt a large hand grip your chin and forcefully twist your head back. ni-ki took a large inhale and forced his thumb in your mouth to pry your jaw open. frozen in fear, your heart pounded loudly in your chest as his grip on your jaw became painful and the tears you had been holding back threatened to finally fall. as he leaned forward, your eyes widened only to have copious amount of smoke released into your mouth, nose, and eyes. snapping your face out of his grip you coughed violently away from him as tears finally fell down your face. through your coughing fit you heard the three others in the room hoot with laughter.

“don’t cry now, he likes that!” one of them joked which spurred the others on even more. the humiliation you felt was horrific, this would go down in your head as one of the most humiliating evenings you had ever had. you tried not to think too much about what that comment was hinting at, and instead your mind reeled with how to get out of the situation. through the haze of coughing and an attempt to regain your pride, you snatched the cig from his hands, took a deep inhale and blew it right into his face. the laughter stopped. nobody moved. and then a low rumbling laugh came from ni-ki and you felt your whole body relax. he wasn’t mad, which was good because the atmosphere and reactions of the other boys felt like if he was, you weren’t going to make it out of this garage in one piece. 

“so,” sunoo began, “what’s your major?” 

------------------------------ + -------------------------------

after that party, you didn’t mind going with mina as much anymore. though, the amount of times you wanted to attend and the amount of times mina asked was so severely disproportionate, that you didn’t get to see your new found friends for at least a week before she invited you out again. when getting ready for the party, you took extra care of your makeup and outfit thinking of the boy with the dark eyes. 

“what’s taking so long? got someone to impress?” mina joked with a glint of danger in her eyes, not unnoticed by you. 

“oh no, just am trying to keep up you know.” you smiled hesitantly back at her and watched as she softened slightly. 

“ok well, our rides here so unless you wanna walk..” she left her end hanging but you understood the implications. going down the elevator ride, you held your phone in your hands sending a quick text to sunoo to make sure he and his friends were in attendance tonight. you had been beyond grateful when sunoo offered his number to you at the end of the night and you two had actually been keeping in contact. you felt like you had finally gained a friend in this messed up experience and were giddy with the excitement of acceptance. mina was busy with taking pre-party selfies until the doors opened and you were able to make out a familiar black car. 

“you staying with sunghoon?” 

“yeah, he has a nice dick.” mina said crassly and you paused in shock momentarily. letting out an awkward cough, you tried to cover up your prudeish shock. 

“oh, yeah I get that.” she turned and gave you a look of pure pity before running up to sunghoon’s car and your face burned with embarrassment for the millionth time. mina was quick to start up a conversation with sunghoon, but his attention turned to you when you sat in the back.

“oh you’re back. how was last time, the guys nice enough?” mina was stunned into silence when she glanced back at you. 

“uh yeah, sunoo was really nice. I think they just like to joke around a lot.” sunghoon let out a soft chuckle.

“yeah that’s for sure, they mean no harm though. hope you didn’t take anything personally.” you shook your head and smiled softly at him through his mirror. mina piped up again believing the strange conversation to be over, until sunghoon cut her off. “ni-ki can be a real dick, but he’s a good friend when you get to know him. he give you are hard time?” this time mina let out an audible huff and glared back at you. shrinking from her gaze you responded. 

“oh well I mean he definitely startled me, but he was fine.” 

“hah! startled, yeah thats a good word for ni-ki.” 

“who’s ni-ki?” mina blurted out, desperately trying to stay in the conversation. a flush slowly climbed up your neck in response to mina’s direct ask and sunghoon let out a hoot.

“really ni-ki? I mean some people are freaky I guess, good for you.” sunghoon laughed as he said this, ignoring mina’s question in favor of slapping the steering wheel. 

“it’s not like that!” you tried to get out as quickly as possible, but sunghoon continued to laugh joking about how he was ‘so gonna tell jake’. the glare mina sent your way was enough to get you sinking back down in your seat and staying silent the rest of the ride with sunghoon’s occasional laughter making up the rest of the sound. 

you didn’t wait for mina and sunghoon this time, waving to them as you left the car and walked into the house. you expected the group of boys to occupy the garage again so you immediately began looking for a door leading there. in doing so, you bumped into someone familiar.

“hey, how’s it going?” heeseung asked with a smile.

“oh, hi heeseung. it’s alright, how about you?” 

“uh pretty boring so far, was gonna see if the guys had it any better.” your eyes lit up at the mention of your friends.

“oh great, I was heading there. lead the way.” he smiled as he gripped your wrist and guided you through the crowded party. this time, he headed for the stairs and you carefully placed your heels on each step. falling was not on your agenda and you were intent on going to one party this year where you didn’t embarrass yourself somehow. when he entered the room, the familiar smell of weed and cigarettes comforted you. 

“theres my girl!” you heard sunoo call out and you couldn’t help but let out a wide smile and little giggle as you waved to the boy. jake and jungwon stood up to give you and heeseung a hug greeting, clearly they were less faded then the first time you met them. ni-ki sent a piercing gaze from across the room and scoffed as he packed a bowl. while the boys were occupied with heeseung, you walked over to the side with ni-ki and sunoo.

“hi ni-ki.” you said hesitantly, showing him a soft smile. his sharp eyes snapped back up to you and you wilted under his stare.

“we’re not friends.” was all he let out and your smile completely fell. 

“oh be nice.” sunoo scoffed as he pulled you by your waist onto the bean bag he occupied. ni-ki continued to glare as he packed the bowl, noticeably at sunoo’s arm currently around your waist. you and sunoo continued what was your previous conversation over text as the three others made their way over. ni-ki lit the pipe and took a deep inhale before passing it into your hands. you held the pipe in your hands for a few seconds, just staring at it, before the boys let out copious amounts of laughter. at that moment, the door to the upstairs room sung open and you were grateful for the distraction. sunghoon and mina made their way in the room with many objections coming from the boys. 

“mina, get outta here.” heeseung sighed. mina’s only response was to roll her eye’s and flip him off. 

“oh please, I’m here for my friend.” mina said, smiling so sweetly at you that you had to fight the urge to cringe. sunoo rolled his eyes and grabbed the pipe from your hands to take a long hit.

“there, like that.” he smiled sincerely and handed it back to you. with the added pressure of mina glaring intensely at you, you felt even more nervous to even try and take a hit.

“you’re so annoying.” you heard to your right and the next thing you knew you were being manhandled and dragged in front of ni-ki. gripping your face harshly like last time, he stuffed the pipe in your mouth and you cringed from the clink of the glass against your teeth. liting the bowl, he motioned for you to inhale and you took a large hit from the pipe. ripping it out of your mouth, he yanked your face closer to himself.

“breath.” and you let out all the smoke into his mouth, coughing slightly at the burning feeling in your throat. “there.” he said harshly, shoving you away and tossing the pipe to jake on your left. he leaned back into the bean bag and you watched as his thighs manspread trying desperately not to stare. you were brought out of your intense staring by mina’s high pitched voice.

“me too, ni-ki.” she pouted her lips at her and you watched as sunghoon took a sip of his beer and stared at his phone, clearly not caring. suddenly you were worried, maybe ni-ki acted like this with everyone. you weren’t special. you sunk back into sunoo and he simply patted your shoulder trying not to laugh at your behavior. ni-ki scoffed and pulled out a cigarette, effectively ignoring mina. you watched as her face faltered and for the first time, saw doubt in her eyes. you tried to not let a feeling of pride fill you, but the idea of being special to someone caused you to lose rational thought. 

------------------------------ + -------------------------------

your mind had begun to rot. you thought about it day and night, the fact that you’ve been accepted and for once you were special. sunoo’s texts didn’t loose their consistency, in fact you two had built a wonderful friendship, far better then you and mina’s friendship. that one had deteriorated rapidly after all. but you were struggling to feel any emotion other then glee. mina’s face from that night had never left your mind since, the second guessing, the doubt that was clearly eating her up inside. you didn’t think mina had ever once been denied. you knew she had never be denied in favor of you of all people. even living in your own world in these past few days, her behavior had not gone unnoticed. 

“hey.” came giselle’s soft voice from across the room. you looked up from your phone to see her lying on her side facing you, bangs clipped up and glasses sliding slightly off her nose. 

“yes?”

“is it just me or is mina…acting strange?” you gulped down a bit of guilty saliva that had made its way into your mouth. “no, unhinged is a better word.” she wasn’t wrong. mina had been lashing out more then usual, not going to as many parties and spending a lot of time in her room. in favor of speaking, you met her question with a shrug. “did it finally happen?” you could tell what giselle was asking, and you knew she would bother you the rest of the night unless you answered. you nodded tentatively and giselle let out a small giggle. “serves her right.” you were surprised. you knew giselle and mina weren’t close, but you didn’t think giselle would delight in her downfall.

“is that bad?” giselle tilted her head in questioning. “that we’re happy about it?”

“ha, no hun. it’s not bad, serves that bitch right. I don’t know how you put up with her.” she looked back down to her phone and plopped a big, salty chip in her mouth. you rolled on your back, giselle’s response made you feel a bit better about the whole situation. maybe even if you were horribly average, you were bearable to most. and special to someone. 

“hey, giselle?”

“hm?”

“do you like me?”

“fuck no.”

------------------------------ + -------------------------------

mina had finally given in. you knew that drinking and partying were an itch to her, and she had to scratch it eventually. when she did, she would invite you. all you had to do was bide your time until you could see your friends again, and that time came almost a week after mina’s miniature depressive episode. 

“come on slut, let’s go party!” mina had popped her head in your dorm room. you had to fight a frown, this was not how mina had been acting recently. she seemed too upbeat, excited. she had barely left her room or spoke a word recently, this mina scared you.

“sure, that’s fine.” you moved to pick out some clothes.

“so, i was wondering. are you a virgin?” you froze mid hanger toss and your attention snapped to her. you could practically feel the shift of giselle’s uninterested eyes to her’s now, glaring at attention. you were never one who was gifted at lying. 

“uh, yeah. i guess.” you mumbled out and mina let out a high pitched giggle. 

“aww that’s so cute, no wonder that guy likes you.” this time you completely dropped your clothes. 

“huh?” you flushed bright red, your thoughts instantly going towards the boy with the sharp eyes. 

“yeah, jake told me.” she said, far too brightly. 

“really?” i asked. the genuine hope in your voice made you inwardly cringe at your own desperation. 

“yup, so we better get going soon!” mina sweeped out of the room and you tried to get yourself together. putting your favorite outfit on, that showed a little more skin then usual, and finishing up your makeup. as you grabbed your purse to follow behind mina, you could’ve sworn you heard a whisper come from behind you. giselle. 

pathetic.

the party was generic, filled with drugs and alcohol and young adults grinding on each other. you were eager to find the designated smoke room and texted sunoo to let him know you were there. as you began walking towards what you assumed was the east wing, this house was bigger than any you’d ever been in, mina hooked her arm in yours. 

“you meeting our friends?” an ounce at irritation flared up at her words, our? 

“yeah, sunoo told me where they were.” she just smiled and let you lead the way, which you did with reluctance. swinging open what you assumed was the right door, you were met with the signature smell of jake’s weed and cheers. 

“where you been!” jake let out as he stumbled up and pulled you into a tight hug. you giggled as he shook you back and forth with sunoo shouting protests behind him. jungwon gave you a small wave as the two other boys dragged you to their couch, laughter still bubbling up within you. you were rarely this happy. still reeling from their exciting welcome, you ignored ni-ki’s usual glare and gave him a genuine smile and wave. 

“its bong night, you ever smoke from one sweetheart?” sunoo asked, brushing your hair from your forehead. not wanting to be ostracized, you nodded your head in an unconvincing agreeance. the other boys oooh’d in ‘oh really?’s with one being far less forgiving of the unconvincing fib. 

“little liar, of course she hasn’t” ni-ki’s harsh voice cut through the air. “gonna have to teach her just like last time.” like cold water you were instantly knocked out of your giddy mood and visibly deflated. this only seemed to irritate him more. “oh don’t do that shit, it’s annoying.” you were never one to control your emotions. it was one of the reasons people found it so easy to poke at your insecurities and weak spots. you hated yourself for it. you were completely aware that it was a weakness, but could never bring yourself to control it. this was one of those moments. the hot shame of embarrassment crept its way from your gut as your eyes welled against your will. the guys actually seemed to be at loss. sunoo glared at ni-ki and rubbed slow circles on your back, but it was painfully obvious none of them had dealt with this before. the cherry on top was mina’s silent, cold glare you could feel penetrating your spine. ni-ki let out a large sigh before crushing his cigarette and opening his arms. drunk at the possibility of acceptance, and the fact that against all odds, mina told you he had feelings for you, you allowed yourself to be scooped in his arms like putty. it was humiliating how quickly you were at ease. he had long, rather large arms that encased you and made you feel comforted. as the conversation caught back up again, you completely relaxed into his arms and allowed him to occasionally blow smoke into your face. 

the rest of the night went well with more humiliation being limited to having to kiss jake in truth or dare. that you could deal with. still giddy off of ni-ki’s skinship, your head had been in the cloud the entire time. the party had significantly calmed down and sunoo was ready to head home causing you to begin to look for mina and sunghoon. sunghoon had been doing his own thing the whole party, and mina had left the smoking room a bit ago. giving your goodbyes to sunoo, jake, and jungwon, you made your way down the stairs feeling triumphant when you did in fact, not fall. you scoured the party only seeing sunghoon’s tall figure in the corner, no mina in sight. you pushed past people to make your over to him.

“uh, sorry to interrupt.” you said hesitantly as sunghoon and jay talked. sunghoon immediately turned to you,

“no worries, whats up.”

“I think I’m ready to go home if that’s okay.” sunghoon put his beer bottle in jay’s hands and he gleefully downed the rest for him.

“yeah sure, just go find mina and we’ll leave.” you nodded and moved to search the party once more. you were having far more trouble placing were mina was as the house was rather large and mina was quite a bit shorter then sunghoon. walking down a hallway, you got away from the music a bit and could think a bit clearer. the weed from earlier though still clouded you mind, so the sounds of moaning didn’t quite reach your ears before you turned another corner and your heart dropped. mina’s back was to you, but her long dark hair was the first thing you saw. the second? ni-ki’s piercing dark eyes. with one hand up her shirt and the other shoved under her skirt, his eyes snapped straight to yours with his mouth clearly occupied. you watched frozen as mina pressed herself further into him and he used a hand to shove her head in between his shoulder and neck. his eyes never leaving yours, you watched as he smirked devilishly and undid the only tie holding mina’s shirt up causing her to moan into him and her shirt to flutter to the ground. you could feel bile begin to rise up into your throat as you finally tore yourself away from the horrid sight and stumbled back the way you came. your breathing rapidly increased as you felt saliva fill your mouth and vomit fell on the wooden floor of the hallway, mina’s moans still bouncing along the walls. in daze, you began stumbling out of the party and ran into sunghoon waiting outside. he looked up from his phone and immediately cringed at your appearance.

“dude… what happened?” you swallowed dryly and wiped some of the bile from your mouth with hand as tears welled in your eyes.

“I uh, I don’t think mina’s coming.” 

------------------------------ + -------------------------------

the thoughts were all consuming. you weren’t special. you were average like you’ve been your whole life. no one would give you the attention you wanted and no one would give you a second glance. mina walked into the dorm in the early hours of that morning, stopping by you and giselle’s shared room to poke her head in. she scoffed at your appearance, covers shoved to the end of the bed, the dress you had worn that night still on, and makeup smeared with bile still on your face. you knew cause you hadn’t been able to sleep. you just laid awake, staring at the wall as giselle’s snores broke apart your blank thoughts. 

you’re not special

[barrenclan]

Chonny Jash's cover of The Moss seems very patfw-core to me. I think someone's brought it up before but I'd like to specifically point out some of the new/changed lyrics that I think fit

But everything you see isn't everything that is

Every thing you think to be, every thought you can't dismiss

The lives we try to lead and the time we try to give

Well it's all a fallacy, we continue to relive

^ Cats like Pinepaw and Rainhaze's curiosity about what's beyond Barrenclan territory, how cats like Cootstorm try to discourage that type of thinking and how their actions unintentionally lead them to their fates. Also very cyclecore

And every thing will live, just as every thing will die

Every foe that you forgive, and every friend that you deny

Every single first hello, and every single last goodbye

Every smile that you show, every tear that you hide

^ In my head I'm picturing an amv/pmv and for this part I'm very much imagining a sort of slideshow section about contrasts and various events: Barrenclan/Defiance, Rainhaze and Ranger/Rainhaze and Asphodelpaw, Pinepaw and Saturn/Pinepaw and Wild Rose, Slugpelt and Cashew/Slugpelt and Dustfeather. Idk if that makes sense

Well, legend has it that we're all just doomed

And we've ruined our society

Well, legend has it that we dug our tomb

Which we'll lie in for all eternity

^ Barrenclan's whole staying as punishment for their cowardice ideology

Well legend has it that, the world once knew a whole palette of lovely blues and greens

Well legend has it that, our corpses lie a foundation of insincerity

^ what Barrenclan's territory used to be - blue and green - and what it is now - on a foundation of corpses

*Attempts to Jashify Raz* *Attempts to Jashify Raz* *Attempts to Jashify Raz—

I've seen a lot of people in the server talking about Chonny Jash, he seems pretty fun. But if I'm honest, I'm more of a Johnny Cash fan. :P

Ooh, yes! You've targeted me with a TMBG suggestion, I actually went ahead and added "Don't Let's Start" to the playlist but I love this song too.

Even when you're out of work you still have a job to do Even when you don't know what it is Your job knows what it is What it is is it's coming to get you

And when you wake up you can feel your hair grow Crawl out of your cave and you can watch your shadow Creep across the ground until the day is done All the while the planet circles 'round the sun

Haha, that is funny irony. But I agree with you! Isn't it interesting how despite being named that way, "Defiance" doesn't allow any of its members to defy Deepdark?

Compliance We just need your compliance You will feel no pain anymore No more defiance

Fall into line, you will do as you're told No choice fatigue, your blood is running cold We lose control, the world will fall apart Love of your life will mend your broken heart

Will Wood is ever-popular, of course, though I never got really into him. I can see this is as a Pinepaw song!

All nightmares start as dreams and I hear my subconscious screaming They say that beauty's just skin deep So naturally, please show me your

Bones, bones, bones, let me see your bones Well, I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?

They say that beauty's just skin deep So Ana stands and rends the rancid meat from her

Oh... Rainhaze and Slugpelt song.

Are you dead or are you sleepin'? Are you dead or are you sleepin'? God, I sure hope you are dead

Well, you disappeared so often like you dissolved into coffee Are you here right now, or are there probably fossils under your meat?

Defiance song! Spefically, I could see it as from Ranger/broader Defiance's perspective as he navigates the group.

We're at a revolution And we're baying for your blood We're laying down the law And your name's mud

Cause you say you fight for us Cross your heart and hope to die You're the bully in the playground and we'll hang you out to dry

Oh yeah, I remember this song from the IncuriousCat PMV. I like it! "Nowhere King" is also a Deepdark song, so that creepy children's song-esque music does fit with the series. If anyone wanted to edit together a trailer it'd be cool!

Perfect. No notes.

Actually, someone's already made a PMV to the comic with the song! You can check it out here.

I don't think it's been suggested yet! It's a Pinepaw song, of course.

I'll cut my hair (Ooh) to make you stare (Ooh) I'll hide my chest And I'll figure out a way to get us out of here

I can't really think right now and this place Has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane Are you dead? Sometimes I think I'm dead 'Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head But I don't wanna fall asleep just yet

[fearholic]

(1) Since when did your name lose all of its tenderness? That, I cannot remember. It seemed that the mere utterance of your name became an offense to be hoarded at the back of my throat, forming a lump to habituate myself in. I tirelessly gather the residues of your influence, remaining steadfast to what tacit devotion that has made it into. (2) Your eyes are a heap of resentment, and you gaze intently thinking I would fall short in notice. That's the part of the scheme—to produce loathsomeness, breeding hatred layer by layer because the intensity of its outcome has always been our definition of intimacy. That it felt less of a love if it doesn't inflict such pain, that we were never content unless we bleed in the process. You must've despised me down to the core when I started acting indifferent to this configuration and chose to reach out my hand in unfamiliarity. And the thing is, you loathe things beyond your anticipation. (3) A mere artistic loss, as I may often call it. But writing became an enterprise that produces not an ounce of collected creativity—but rather a product of outward cowardice wrapped in fancy words. I no longer dwell in such artistic expressions, what I do is to confess the regret for what it is. I am no good man nor a wise head everyone ought for me to be, I just learned the language of deception and twist measureless sentiments in my own accord. You may find comfort in the presence I emit, but once I'm out of sight—you'll know what kind of repercussions I just created that shouldn't matter, but have mattered still. (4) We are cut in the same cloth, this is but a series of sequential returns after sequential departures. Tell me, my darling—if the next step was meant for me to take this time. Tell me you would be there by the time the bottle's pointe spins in my direction. Even though your words would only be superficial, I'll melt them in my mouth like sour candies in striking wrappers. Tell me, my darling—that this won't be our final end. Tell me there's more to it, that you want me back and we will return to the starting line. (5) Fear of the growing fear itself, the frantic horror and the purest form of karma. Three things carved in a piece of paper but written in a single name. A circulating discomfort by the fingertips, touching every skin only for them to feel like yours. Paranoia—an endless chant. My tongue lays flat around your teeth, and tastes the bitterness off of your mouth. I am afraid you taste so different now, but I couldn't say it out loud. That's the fear, I feel the horror. The karma of watching you melting to someone else. (6) Running further could only leave more footsteps of consequences, yet, we made this the very solution from each other's grip. But the further our feet are inches far from the line, the more it yearns to turn and run back—hence, the cycle begins in our first attempt to put some distance in between. (7) You are my do or die, either my first victory or my final resting place. The latter have happened, far more than the former coming to life. You once told me that you felt like a child growing your teeth again, the first pain of the wound and the last one you have been devoted to—just as much as I am. But we were both children at the same time, hence, I crawl with words and uncertain actions to take. You follow my lead, but neither did I know I was going to lead us astray, leading us to the dead end. I am but a naive child with so much to say. We never grew again, but we did grow apart. A partial blame falls on my shoulders, I could've known better.

7 days of trial-letters to J.

[forestdeath1]

‘If Peter had been a hot guy , people would have loved him.’ I don't know how handsome he'd have to be to outweigh his cowardice. Peter's ugliness isn't about looks, it's his actions.

Voldemort, despite being canonically ugly, has many fans. He's openly evil, unlike the sneaky rat who betrays his friends out of fear.

There is a concept of ‘Great Evil’ that is often aesthetically appealing. This kind of evil transcends moral norms, stands beyond Good and Evil and unleashes the Dionysian impulses within our psyche, providing cathartic experiences. People are drawn to its audacity (not that they want to commit evil themselves, they're drawn to other aspects).

Peter's evil however is banal and mundane — born from cowardice, weakness and selfishness. It's the evil of the masses. It's the evil of silence, everyday evil, evil without an idea, driven by fear.

Some people romanticise Peter, seeing him as a tragic hero, inventing noble traits he never had. They don't love Peter, they love their ooc version of him. Peter's core is the banality and mundanity of evil, not “depth or complexity” of his motivation. If he were handsome, he would probably have more fans, but that still wouldn't be Peter. In people's mind, he would be a "misunderstood tragic hero."

But.. Is it really such a difficult concept that evil isn't always committed by GREAT EVIL and people don't always have a justification and deeeep motivation for it, but that it often comes from those who, under good circumstances, would never do it, but here "circumstances forced them"?

That's exactly where the depth of this character lies, in this nuance, not in the cliché "everything must have a very deep motivation" as if the world and the psyche are some kind of simple mechanism of cause and effect.

Appearance doesn't matter at all in Peter's case. Even if he were very handsome, he would still seem pathetic.