#is cowardice to its core

[sir-adamus]

the old Sharlayan position of moral cowardice, i see

[iftari]

heres my personal question/reflection. growing up post 9/11 i rmr a lot (& i mean A LOT) of sentiment surrounding the concept of assimilating to the west, being the "good immigrant" and still being fucked by institutions. in line w that was a lot of feeling on how tiring that felt, how exhausting, n like, would we ever be accepted? this isnt an accurate timeline but i would say say this shit peaked in mainstream culture w yt ppl in 2016 (hamilton i think is acc a really great pinpoint of this) and then this energy i would say imo kinda died down throughout trumps presidency (which i personally think has to do w the fact that sm yt liberals were firing up for poc so arguably this was the time institutions were pretending to make "amends". actually. liberals & instutions were maybe trying to make 'ammends' a bit before 2016. maybe since 2014? timeline is rough on this but for sure they were Very Sorry during trump...)

anyway. 2024. in the imperial core of america alone i would say theres *at least* 4 genocides happening (& thats prob me undercounting !) simultaneously. there is currently a very overt livestreamed genocide of palestinians. it is VERY much impacting ppl in the imperial core in the sense that the facade of liberalism is so plainly falling away, institutions are very explicitly engaging in islamaphobia, antiblackness, n anti-palestinian sentiment, etc. and like i obviously think its important to document bc every form of fascism is important to note but i also feel like we're kinda back to convos we've had before of 'omg been SUCH good immigrants n *this* is how they treat us??? oh my!' n like i understand the feeling of betrayal but i wonder how much interrogating is going on beyond the betryal. to sum degree it feels like the way ppl engage w covid in the sense of...im wondering how much of what ur experiencing is actually radicalizing u that america even in its most liberal form should not exist - exactly like israel - n how much of what ur experiencing is like...shock that it could happen to u & the ppl u care ab (vs the....'unimportant/undesirable ppl). like yes its awful campuses are so blatantly engaging in islamohobia. but shouldnt we be reconciling more, as a community that we need to create a world w.o colleges n shifting the importance *away* from unis (esp in a time of shitty economy?) rather than reconciling w like...the betrayal of a institution preserving imperial interests? like how many times are we going to keep learning this? what are we benefiting from having this same shock over n over again? who is it serving to keep experiencing this? feeling similar to this campaign of voting 'uncommited' like who does this serve? dems dont acc care if they have office or not and theyre very clearly ok w losing. they dont need the presidency fr - if anything hey want to lose so they can punish ppl more for not shutting up. so like when we extend energy on the uncommited campaign, who is it serving? what purpose is it filling (& i do believe it is filling a purpose for some ppl. i think for lots of ppl it fulfils the very real emotional need to do *SOMETHING*, to move, to exert the tension n energy we're feeling n thats a correct emotional response! but how u spend ur energy DOES matter bc part of fascism is to literally divert energy so u DONT take up arms. like imo america is not at a place culturally for any sort of violent revolutionary resistance (organized or not) ! like we're just not! but the most explicit nonviolent form of resistance is not being uncommited to voting for a party that is relying on not having electoral offices but rather an actual coordinated strike. THAT has purpose no?)

[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.

[metamatar]

i understand that this might be a sensitive topic for you with your experiences of psychiatry, but your post on ‘not being able to do things even when you know how to do them and know that they’ll be good’ really resonates with me as a person w/ adhd. you might be struggling with executive dysfunction?

anon i resent the characterisation that my opposition to psychiatry is borne out of sensitivity, i was never hospitalized (luckily) i merely do not respect the intellectual bankruptcy on display. and even if it was, for my comrades whose rejection of psychiatric diagnosis is personal and borne out of its violence, their rejection is not out of some kind of cowardice to confront, bc they lived it.

in the depression spectrum, they explain this kind of thing with anhedonia and fatigue to explain why you can't do things. in the bipolar spectrum they explain it in your manic phase with impulsivity and delusionality. in the anxiety spectrum with avoidance. the figure of the imagined neurotypical who is free from "executive dysfunction" is false, people struggle to do lots of things they think they should they characterise it as procrastination or lack of discipline constantly. the weightloss industry is real and preys exactly on that.

this rush for an explanation that is not well supported physiologically as psychiatry pretends, that focuses on at its core explanations (innate, permanent, alienated from the human experience) that are solved by tools that simply improve productivity (why do you think wall street abuses stimulants) is fundamentally an illustration of the intellectual bankruptcy on display. in specific, the adhd diagnosis itself functioned as a tool to discipline problem children in school – as though an inability to sit still and focus in the worlds most boring pedagogical settings is a sign of a disorder.

perhaps your adhd diagnosis means a lot to you! i cannot in good conscience pretend it will be comforting to me.

[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. 🙏🏿

[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!

[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

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[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.

[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

[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.

[thebreakfastgenie]

I think what strikes me based on my rudimentary knowledge of meaningful revolutions is how much the current breed of leftists basically have a backwards understanding of how a meaningful revolution works.

The more I think about it, there's a fuckton of hard work and decades of building on previous gains, victories and losses in order to make the present stand stronger. MLK and Malcolm X's stands for civil rights would not have been as strong or as effective if they hadn't been working on years of previous generations of black activists (and sympathetic non-black people) who did the tough and dirty work to make it possible for them to exist in the first place. And they (in their own different ways) respected the sacrifices of those who came before them and did their damndest to honor them as best they could.

Even more importantly, is that there's a very strong sense of valuing the smaller decisions that aren't that glamorous, but are absolutely necessary.

Everyone remembers the marches and the sit-ins and the Black Panthers, but what made them works was the heavily community-centric work as well. The building up of black communities to be self-sufficient, feeding the hungry and less fortunate in their communities, the hard work and careful coordination to make their protests effective. All of the little gears and cogs that made them able to have such a profound impact that is easily overlooked, but ensured that even long after they died would still ensure that future generations could continue the fight with some support.

By contrast, the current breed of leftist doesn't value the past sacrifices. If anything they seem to have this sneering contempt that their predecessors weren't perfect saints or did things correctly according to their "modern" sensibilities, or they have this weird romanticized fantasy of their predecessors that ignores the nuance and complexity of those who came before them.

They instead fixate on the "grand and glorious" things that men like MLK did (his marches and speeches and the like) while pretty much dismissing the hard work it took to get there in the first place. They fixate on his (not unjustified) disdain of liberals and turned that into the centerpiece of their thinking, rather than acknowledging that his disdain was due to the complex mixture of liberals' cowardice and ineffectiveness and self-sabotaging behavior (sounds familiar, given what many leftists have revealed themselves to be at their core), not that they had the label of being a liberal.

So instead of making a meaningful revolution from the ground up, they instead work backwards by causing a big explosion without caring about who gets caught in the crossfire, and expecting to be lauded and praised for it even when it ends up being a big wet fart.

To use a weird analogy, it's like building a warship. Meaningful activists focused on having strong inner workings so that the ship runs smoothly and strong, keeping their core well protected and having the right weapons and tactics staffed by the best crew. It may get battered and beaten and may one day be destroyed, but you know it's the kind of ship that can take a beating and dish it out in return, and that it'll be the pride of any fleet while its active.

The current leftist warship is a shoddy mess, fixated only on how many guns they have and how flashy they look, and their primary tactic is to blow up their engines and reactors in a kamikaze attack because they think it makes them look dangerous, ignoring that if they somehow survive, they now only have a crippled mess and most of their own side dead from the backlash, with the sharks they hoped to flashily defeat circling them to finish them off. And the only thing people will remember of it is with shame and embarrassment because it failed miserably to do anything meaningful.

The activists used to be people who wanted to make a difference, even if they never get to see the fruits of their labor themselves. A substantial number of activists now are just shallow glory hounds and grifters who want the fame and adulation of their predecessors, even if they sabotage themselves to do it and cannibalize the past to prop up a shaky fantasy that they have no desire to do the tough and unpleasant work for.

Yeah you raise a lot of good points. I've often thought we should study past activist movements, particularly successful ones, in detail. I did study the Civil Rights movement in college and it was really eye-opening! We covered Malcolm X and the Black Panthers too, but there was more focus on the CRM so I feel more informed about that. What so many people don't understand, partly due to natural ignorance and partly to the way that history is often presented, is the astonishing amount of work that went into it. There was so much planning! There was so much strategizing! And there was a lot of internal disagreement, sometimes quite contentious, but they typically did a good job of presenting a united front to the outside which is a lesson I desperately wish the left would learn. Those people were committed to their goals and they worked extremely hard and accepted a lot of personal sacrifice.

The left now (and honestly society more broadly) is definitely working on a romanticized view of past movements, often one from movies and TV. That's why you get protests where a lot of people show up but there's no real effect or even clear, specific demands. Successful mass protests are typically one tool in a larger strategy; that's what MLK's marches were. I've attended protests and felt vaguely embarrassed because people were chanting rhyming slogans but we weren't doing anything. A couple years ago I attended a trans rights march in Boston. It was, effectively, a solidarity march with trans people in other states (Tennessee was one that was in the news a lot at the time) who were dealing with some pretty nasty legislative persecution from Republicans. There was a list of demands, most of which were pretty good (there were some kooky ones thrown in), like asking Massachusetts to be more proactive about being a sanctuary state. One of the organizers read this list of demands outside the statehouse... on a Saturday. There was no one inside! And then there were so many speeches from random participants about whatever leftist omnicause stuff they want to talk about.... I'm not sure how long that went on because the friend I was with had to go to the bathroom, so we left before it was over. I don't regret going, because I did want to show my solidarity with the people who were suffering in other parts of the country, but I left there with mixed feelings.

What this experience crystallized for me is that the left loves the romance and the drama of the idea of a protest.

Obviously the left needs good, effective leaders and spokespeople. That seems to be lacking right now. I also think we badly need movement education. We need to study past movements and learn how to use these tools now.

This does not have to happen in a formal academic setting! The We the People kids at my high school last year designed a protest/civil disobedience lesson for their end of the year civic virtue project and taught it to other kids at the school (the kids are ALRIGHT man). I have been told by a friend who is heavily involved in organized labor that they've participated in education through their union.

I think there's a notion that grassroots movements, like rock and roll, are more authentic if amateurs just make it up as they go along. But the theory and the history will help you! It's a skill that can and must be honed if you want to be effective.

The lack of serious organizing on the left right now is one reason I throw my lot in with the mainstream liberals. At least there there's an organized structure with clear strategies and goals.

[undercoverpan]

Say what you mean (I can't, sorry)

"Why didn't you make me tea when I was sick?"

The room they're in is quiet. Spider isn't looking at him, rather, he's staring at his cup of water as he sits down in one of the cold, metal chairs the RDA had left behind. Jake's place within the four walls is at the small counter, leaning other it with his elbows as he grips a piece of bone, whittling it into a bead. Neither face the other.

"What?" He asks, resuming with his carving. Spider glances at him from the corner of his eyes, catching the dismissive tone, and thinks of shutting his mouth. Just dropping the conversation. But with a second glance, he catches amber on the man's songchord, and thins his lips. Proof of his place within the family is reflected in that insignificant amber, the same blood that courses through his veins now. How he hated his blood; how he wonders why and how Jake could cherish it. His blood beckons him to speak, rushing to his cheeks as he opens his mouth again.

"When I was sick, you never made me tea." 

Jake regards his words in the way you might regard the core of an eaten Yovo fruit. Past its sweet flesh, what is it worth? The seeds may be cultivated by Eywa, but not necessarily the Na'vi. By Jake. But Spider wants to be valued beyond his metaphorical and literal flesh. 

"Did you want some tea?" He offers; and Spider stills. His rational mind, the one that never made any effort to shield him from the less rational parts of himself that dwelled within his heart, tells him that that is what he wants. Tea. He's asked for tea and he's being offered tea. He associates that part of his thoughts with cowardice and willful ignorance, because this isn't what he wants. 

"No, not right now. Back then, when I was a kid. You used to make the others tea; but never me. Why?" He presses, and though he shows great restraint with the emotions seeping through his teeth like blood through a white bandage, it is still as palpable and intrusive as the past comparison. Jake pauses, turns, and looks at Spider. He feels microscopic beneath his intense gaze, like an insect, like a yerik, like prey and insignificance all at once. Their relationship is one of commensalism, maybe parasitism if you push it. Spider certainly is.

"That's because you rarely got sick. Also, Norm wanted to keep you away from Na'vi foods and drink when you got sick–" he starts and Spider feels shame welling up in his throat like bile. Embarrassment. "No. Not that. Why didn't you make me tea?" He says. It's simple, a simple question. But below the surface, it's a heavy; loaded question. It's not stupid, or petty, or childish; it is a plea. A plea for understanding, a plea for please don't make me really say it.

"I never thought to make you tea. I…I thought you liked making your own tea." He offers instead an odd olive branch of sorts. Spider tightens his grip on his cup. "I always wanted someone to make me tea. It–, I like my tea, but I've never compared it to anything else. I don't know if I'm doing it right; I don't know what tea is supposed to taste like." He says, admits with some embarrassment and hesitance. Jake takes a breath; it feels like he's taking the air straight from Spider's lungs.

"Is it so bad, not knowing what tea is if you like what you make?" 

He asks. 

"Is it so bad that I want you to make me tea?" Spider counters. Jake sighs and Spider feels ridiculous. An 8 year old tugging at someone's sleeve, saying come look, I hit it right in the middle this time! I carved it myself! I wove it myself! I saw this and thought of you! I learned how to do this today! I made this for you!

"It's not that I don't want to make you tea, Spider, I promise. It's just…" he hesitates, searching for something inside himself, something more genuine than he wants to be right now. "...With the kids, and Neytiri, and the rest of the clan, I was just so busy." 

Spider feels something in him deflate, filled with some delusional hope that because he is part of 'the kids' and 'the clan' he'd get tea, but he wasn't. Never was, never will be. He bites his lip, hunching over like Jake punched him in the stomach and with the pain in his chest, he might've.

"Okay." He says, tersely. He doesn't dare meet his gaze. Doesn't want to imagine what he'd find in that golden eyed gaze.

"Spider…" He trails, reaches a big blue hand towards Spider in some kind of attempt at comfort. It's a cruel thing, reaching when you've made it clear you have no intention of holding. Featherlight touches grace him occasionally, but he wants the real thing. He wants somebody to care in the same way a father was. Anyone, anyone at all.

"It was stupid to ask," he says, standing up, "Sorry. It's stupid–, I'm stupid–,"  He rushes out of the room, water forgotten, eyes red rimmed and body stiff, trapped in rigor mortis. His body is tense, reeling from some kind of impact. He grits his teeth as he makes it to his little bedroom. He opens and closes the door behind him, a quiet click as it shuts behind him. His room, small and usually suffocating, is his sanctuary.

Sanctuary.  His uturu from the rest of the world, when it all became too much. And it's so stupid and he's so stupid because it's just tea. It's just tea, it's something he can make on his own, it's something he doesn't necessarily love; it was such a stupid and petty and desperate thing to ask. He feels like there are bugs under his skin, he wants to rip them all out. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid

He feels hot tears down his cheeks. Embarrassing.

He sinks to the floor, knees tucked beneath his chin. He heaves.

The room blurs, turning into a muddled sea of colours in his vision. His head is cold against the hard floor as sobs wrack his built frame. And yet, from the corner of his eye, he spots something. It's in a brown can, a familiar one. He reaches out his hand and touches cold metal, pulling it from beneath his bed. 

It's one of the better drinks the RDA makes. Coffee flavoured energy drink, a favourite amongst the science guys. He always thought it tasted like dung, the bitterness juxtaposed awfully with the artificial sweetness. But when it's in a chipped mug, topped with copious amounts of whipped cream and chocolate, it's good. When it's shared around a campfire with Quaritch, it's good. When it's put into a microwave and subsequently blows up said microwave, it's good. 

He ignores the warning labels and drinks it down. It's good.

_________

Spider not asking what he rlly wants <333 turning to an unhealthy imitation of what he truly desires <333 he cant ask his dad for affection or why he feels unloved, he like frfr

[mariacallous]

Over the past week, Donald Trump has been on a fascist romp. At rallies in Colorado and California, he amped up his usual rants, and added a rancid grace note by suggesting that a woman heckler should “get the hell knocked out of her” by her mother after she gets back home. But on Sunday morning, he outdid himself in an interview on Fox News, by saying that “the enemy within”—Americans he described as “radical left lunatics,” including Representative Adam Schiff of California, whom he mentioned by name—are more dangerous than Russia or China, and could be “very easily handled” by the National Guard or the U.S. military.

This wasn’t the first time Trump suggested using America’s armed forces against its own people: As president, he thought of the military as his personal guard and regularly fantasized about commanding “his generals” to crush dissent, which is one reason former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley reportedly told Bob Woodward that he sees Trump as “fascist to his core.”

The term fascism has been so overused as a denunciation that many people have understandably tuned it out. But every American should be shocked to hear a presidential nominee say that other Americans (including a sitting member of Congress) are more dangerous than two nations pointing hundreds of nuclear warheads at America’s cities. During the Cold War, conservative members of the GOP would likely have labeled anyone saying such things as a “comsymp,” a fellow traveler, or even a traitor. Indeed, one might expect that other Republicans would be horrified to hear such hatred directed at their fellow citizens and such comfort given to the nation’s enemies.

Pretty to think so. But today’s Republican leaders are cowards, and some are even worse: They are complicit, as Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin proved today in an interview with CNN’s Jake Tapper. At least cowards run away. The GOP elected officials who cross the street against the light just to get away from the reporters are at least showing a tiny, molecular awareness of shame. Youngkin, however, smiled and dissembled and excused Trump’s hideousness with a kind of folksy shamelessness that made cowardice seem noble by comparison.

Tapper read Trump’s remarks verbatim, and then asked: “Is that something that you support?” Youngkin replied that Tapper misunderstood Trump, who he said was referring to undocumented immigrants. No, Tapper responded, Trump clearly meant American citizens. Tapper added that Trump had singled out Schiff. Youngkin aw-shucksed his way through stories about Venezuelan criminals and Virginians dying from fentanyl. “Obviously there is a border crisis,” Tapper said. “Obviously there are too many criminals who should not be in this country, and they should be jailed and deported completely, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” And then, to his credit, Tapper wouldn’t let go: What about Trump’s threat to use the military against Americans?

Well, Youngkin shrugged, he “can’t speak” for Trump, but he was certain that Tapper was “misrepresenting [Trump’s] thoughts.”

Some of the people who watched Youngkin’s appalling dishonesty immediately thought of one of the most famous passages from George Orwell’s 1984: “The Party told him to reject the evidence of his eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”

But this interpretation gives Youngkin too much credit. Orwell’s dictators were able to terrify people with torture and deprivation into accepting the government’s lies. Youngkin, however, is not a terrified subject of an authoritarian regime: He’s just an opportunist. Like J. D. Vance, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Youngkin is demanding that everyone else play along and pretend that Trump is just a misunderstood immigration hawk, and then move on—all so that Youngkin can later say that he was a loyal Republican when he contends for the leadership of the GOP after Trump is either defeated, retired, or long gone.

In this, Youngkin joins a long list of utterly dishonorable people, including Nikki Haley, who ran against Trump with energy and honesty and then bowed and scraped after she was defeated. As The Atlantic’s editor in chief, Jeffrey Goldberg, has noted, 10 Republican senators could have changed the course of history by supporting Trump’s impeachment. Ohio Senator Rob Portman, a supposed GOP moderate, is a particularly galling example. Portman twice voted against convicting Trump. He announced his retirement just weeks after the January 6 insurrection, and he had no electoral chances to protect (not that protecting one’s electoral chances is an honorable excuse). Still, he let Trump slide, perhaps out of fear of reproach from his neighbors back in Ohio.

It’s not exactly a revelation that the Republican Party’s elected ranks have become a haven for cranks and opportunists, and sometimes, it’s hard to tell the difference: When Georgia Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, for example, talks about how “they” can control the weather, it’s hard to tell if she is just a kook, if she herself is an anti-Semite, or if she is employing yet another anti-Semitic trope because she knows that some of the MAGA base feasts on such garbage.

For someone like Greene, the difference doesn’t matter. She is ignorant. And she traffics in ignorance. Her constituents have rewarded her with a safe seat in Congress. But in the Trump era, the conceit all along has been that more responsible Republicans such as Youngkin are lurking in the background, keeping their heads down while quietly and competently doing the people’s business.

Americans should therefore watch Youngkin’s exchange with Tapper for themselves. They should see that supposedly competent Republicans have already abandoned the party. To believe otherwise—especially after watching someone like Youngkin—is to truly obey the commandment to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears.

[bengiyo]

Love for Love's Sake Ep 7 Stray Thoughts

Yesterday, the game started falling apart around Myungha, and it was scary as hell. His latest mission was to get Yeowoon to 100,000 IG followers. After getting help from Sangwon's mom, Yeowoon's stalker came out of hiding and tried to snatch Myungha's phone. Sangwon berated Myungha for his behavior, and Myungha is being more direct with Yeowoon. We left on a pretty effed cliffhanger where Myungha has 24 hours to decide if his grandmother or Yeowoon should die, but I know my boy will defy fate.

In my feelings about my grandmother again. She also gave me advice before the end.

Episode 7: Choices

Yeowoon brought the apricots! 😭

I was wondering how they would use the countdown clock, and I like the choice to knock him down to 15 days. I almost wonder if the game isn't actually falling apart and this is designed for the drama.

That was a little fast, but showing Myungha choosing to abandon happiness in a vacuum but choosing Myungha in a real scenario is excellent. He didn't even hesitate.

Even if he's mostly inviting the friends over because he's worried about Yeowoon, Myungha is so right that you have to work on your friendships too. You can still have couple time later, but you gotta keep your friends involved.

I like that Sangwon and Yeowoon still pick at each other.

You love your blorbo, but do you trust him? Will you be vulnerable with him?

Oooh, I like the pen as a reward for changing anything. It's giving Vlad saying he wants to write the ending.

Yeowoon asking all the right questions, and leading to the heart of it. Happiness is more than a momentary surge of feelings from a nice treat or a kiss. It's grounded in emotional security with those we value.

Now you're making your blorbo cry! Where is Yamada? She needs to come yell at this broody boy, too!

I usually hate these kinds of breakups in romance stories, but I like the way Myungha's cowardice plays into the game mechanics for this one. It's reminding me of Lito in Sense8.

Deleted? What did you write??

I love seeing the world literally fall apart because Myungha can't be emotionally honest with Yeowoon.

Another great cliffhanger.

This has been so excellent. It's so enjoyable having a show with clear character writing and a good understanding of its core conflict. The original trailer really didn't set me up for this, but this has been a very pleasant surprise. I am thriving.