#it's the most harmless bullshit i have ever seen in my fucking life

[carrotsnake]

dungeon meshi fandom rant

i usually stay away from fictional autism headcanons or indulging in them wholesale because i'm more on the 'characters are constructs' side of things. some may exhibit traits we relate to but placing real-world diagnostic labels on walking metaphors makes things too nebulous. however laios touden is an exception to me since autism allegories (despite no authorial intent) are pretty hard-wired into both his arc and dungeon meshi's core themes about being an outsider. so for once the fandom autism memes feel genuine to me lol. it doesn't feel as fanon-heavy or platitudinous, actually it's pretty uplifting. i appreciate the positivity.

that being said the most dogshit dunmesh take i've seen lately is the assertion that laios and falin show us autistic men are villified for things autistic women are accepted for. the fuck are you people smoking? some rebranded MRA-pilled bullshit? log off tumblr and go outside, then point and show me where this is the truth. i don't know if you guys are all living in a feminist utopia that i'm not privy too, but if so send me the address because things couldn't be less like that everywhere i've ever been.

countless times i've been told 'oh you're exactly like a female copy of [socially anxious male friend/co-worker/family member who shares my personality] and then i gotta watch them get special treatment as i get left behind and scolded for not being normal enough. him being blunt is rebellious & brutally honest, me being blunt is just being a b*tch with no filter. how many times do you see autistic women reaching high positions of power and being revered as a misunderstood genius.

how about everyone reminding us to 'be nice' to the supposedly harmless awkward guy who keeps making sexual comments & invading our boundaries because he can't help it apparently. but strangely enough, i have gone my whole life without creeping on others. only to be called creepy and off-putting by these same social equality preachers for not applying makeup or styling my hair right. autistic women are more likely to be sexually harrassed and/or abused than neurotypical women and no one gaf (let's b real they don't care when it happens to neurotypical women either if the man has a good enough sob story.) shit like walking strangely, having a speech impediment and talking too much about esoteric topics was enough to be outcasted for us. once more, with feeling: what are you people smoking?

and critically, falin is pretty. she's conventionally pure, self-sacrificial, beautiful with hollywood curves, soft-spoken, and never questions anyone nor asserts herself over others when her needs aren't being met. her dislikes in the adventurer's bible are 'nothing in particular', she never spoke out against her village's bullying even when she had it worse than laios, quickly forgives her parents for exiling her, and never shows any opinion on marcille's use of dark magic. she's a paragon of femininity. anything less than that, and she would probably invoke similar if not more disgust from her peers than laios through the audacity of not conforming to gender expectations. but she likes holding bugs or whatever so...whoa! she's so feral and subversive amiright guys. but crucially she looks cute while doing it so we're not too uncomfortable to stan.

i love laios so much, he's in my newest blorbo collection for sure but calling the female characters who don't like him judgemental is not a good look. we as the readers who have been inside the main chara's head know he's a good guy - but in the context of dungeon meshi's world, where sexism is as prevalent as stranger danger, it's fair for them to assume bad intent and keep their distance. they're looking out for their own safety and you're mad about that because, what, it makes your 2D nigel sad? cry about it.

so quit using anime characters as fodder for your thinly-veiled 'everyday men milk themselves' preaches. the touden siblings are not a good example of this. if you unironically agree with that take: it's time to go talk to some real women broski.

[industrial-horror]

“How are people still falling for this?”

You’d expect reasonable adults to move past their beliefs in ridiculous things like bigfoot, flat Earth, and the AMPTP negotiating in good faith. But the easiest person to fool is yourself, and plenty of us have been taken in by our own ever so slightly twitchy muscles.

This Week's Moment of Science… Ouija Boards & The Ideomotor Effect

Centuries before Hasbro marketed it as a toy, spirit boards of all sorts were used to commune with the dead. The versions most of us have seen this century typically display all the letters of the Latin alphabet and the numbers 0-9 along with the words ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ and an irreverent little ‘goodbye’ to let you know the afterlife is fed up with your shit. The spirit-board-pointer-thingy is called a planchette, French for ‘little plank.’

There are a few rumors about how it came by the modern name ‘Ouija.’ It seems the most likely story is that the group looking to patent and sell the toy in the late 1800s decided to ask the board to breathe life into its name. With hands upon the planchette, it spelled out, “ouija.” Well they just had to know what that meant. Cheeky board that it was, Ouija answered “good luck.”

It was marketed as an Egyptian spirit board with a name meaning ‘good luck.’ Eventually, that story changed to it being a combination of the French and German words for “yes.”

The cool thing about asking a Ouija board which boy in school likes you? Those tricksy spirits from the next realm are gonna tell you it’s the boy you’re thinking of. Which might be the scientific explanation for how this mundane board at the center of so many junior high sleepovers got its name.

So the legend goes, the person who suggested compelling the board to talk was wearing a locket with a picture of someone named ‘Ouida’ in it. Accounts vary on if the name was written in the locket as Ouida, Ouija, or even written at all. But it calls into question the idea that the name was perfectly random when it was already on the mind and, curiously, the fingertips.

(Allegedly or whatever, because everyone’s got a story to sell and maybe it was the French and German thing).

So, the ideomotor effect.

Humans are giant fuck-up machines and even when we’re not scheming up some shit on purpose, our minds and bodies are getting into shenanigans without us. Somewhat literally meaning 'a motion from an idea,' we make these minuscule movements unconsciously. Even if it’s not on purpose, this kind of motion can be motivated by our thoughts, for better or worse. Tell yourself not to move all you want, but put that ‘little plank’ underneath your hands? The back of your mind may have secrets to spill.

Everyone at the table thinks they’re definitely the only one not moving it, and everyone is almost certainly moving it. Scientists and modern skeptics alike have gone to great lengths to show that this isn’t the work of ghosts or humans who play coy with their handiwork when the board comes to life; it’s just our minds doing the talking- er, spelling for us.

This effect on a Ouija board if someone is taking the results for what they are– a reflection of their own desires– is perfectly harmless entertainment. But if you have a tendency to get spooked into believing in these things and subsequently paying money to a psychic based on some bullshit a planchette spelled out on a toy made by the same company that produces Lite Brite, Jenga, and My Little fucking Pony? Maybe board game based communication with dearly departed Uncle Greg isn’t for you.

That said, there are other fields in which the ideomotor effect is employed that harm practically everyone involved. But we’ll talk about facilitated communication another day.

This has been your Moment of Science, just saying… I didn’t move it. No, I didn’t. I seriously didn’t you guys.

[the-storming-sea]

additional important information for the quirkless kids club (can’t think of a better name) au

Happens probably uhhhh after the Cultural Festival arc bc thats always a good time for aus

Melissa is visiting from I-Island, getting away from her dad’s current court case while visiting her uncle Might which is why she’s here

While the kids are out on the town with All Might as a chaperone, some guy runs in with his quirk acting up, and miraculously, it only hits All Might, Izuku, Melissa, and Yuuga

cue BABIES

(cue also several panicked students calling Aizawa, crying and screaming, and Aizawa bracing himself for the worst time of his life)

Toshi, as he insists on being called, is 13-14 years old, Yuuga and Izuku are 4-5, Melissa is around 8

VERY early on the kids realize that everyone besides Bakugo fully believes that Toshinori, Izuku, and Yuuga have quirks. Wisely, they decide to not correct this fact. They’re kids, not stupid, and lying beats being bullied any day

Toshinori, in traditional pre teen fashion, is an asshole but only to the quirked older kids/adults. He’s an absolute angel to Izuku, Yuuga, Melissa, and Eri. He’s their big brother AND their father now. Anyone who wants to get to them has to get to HIM first. The only people he allows to get through is Nezu because he thinks Nezu is very cool and gives warm hugs, and Recovery Girl because he vaguely remembers Recovery Girl

An hour in and Toshinori has adopted Izuku as his young babiest prodigy. He holds exactly the same kind of feral energy protective that Toshinori himself holds. Toshinori likes that in a kid. 

Toshi also plans on teaching both Izuku and Yuuga how to be the best quirkless vigilantes the world has ever seen and all the laws they can get away with breaking. And since most laws pertain to quirks, there are plenty of those laws

Melissa keeps wandering into the support department because its the one place where she feels the most comfortable, and people keep kicking her out because keep thinking she’ll fall apart like glass if she stays in there for too long. Naturally, the other three boys help her break into the support department. As a reward, and because she finds it fucking hilarious, Hatsume grants them flamethrowers. Yuuga’s is bedazzled

Hatsume also gifts Yuuga a (mostly harmless) bedazzled gun. Toshi shows him how to use it on people who make fun of him

Every time some weak quirked motherfucker tries to slide in saying shit about the “powerful quirk” they totally have, Toshinori bites them. Literally every time. Except for one time someone tries to insinuate that Toshinori’s spoiled because of his powerful quirk. Then it’s Izuku who does the biting

After it’s revealed that no really, they are all actually quirkless, those same motherfuckers try to slide in saying how they totally get how they must feel. Toshinori still tries to bite them

Hound Dog can smell the distress on the kids CONSTANTLY, even from Toshinori. he’s arranging them all therapy sessions for after they turn back to normal

nezu at this point has realized that yuuga got a quirk from afo and is quickly making plans to get place him under UA’s care while getting his parents to a safe location

Bakugo is torn between guilt and annoyance constantly. he knows that whatever god is out there is giving him karma for the bullshit he pulled in the past, but dealing with these little bastards is a nightmare. also how the fuck is yuuga quirklesss?? is this an afo thing? is this an afo bullshit thing??? did yuuga get a quirk from afo??? what the FUCK–

please ask me more things abt them my brain is empty and i am BEGGING

[songmingisthighs]

[12.43] mafia!seonghwa × reader

⇀ convinced his partner is trying to steal him away from you, you tried conveying your feelings to him. But he didn't believe you, he thought you're just simply jealous.

⇁ tw : mafia life, jealousy, angst, death

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author’s imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

Clad in his couture suit, Seonghwa walked into the party venue with you in his arms. You were wearing a beautiful, glimmering Indigo dress that accentuates your curves, earrings that provide shine to your face, and heels that seem to heighten your class.

Despite all that, you had a forced smile on your face as you just had an argument with Seonghwa in his car merely minutes prior.

He is well aware of your apprehension towards his current partner in crime, a female that done the title of a seductress in the organization both for her role and her daily behaviour. You can't even lie and say that she looks like an inside-out, bloated cow because she's beyond perfect. To make things worse, you heard that the reason why she was partnered with Seonghwa was that she and he look good together.

At first, it was harmless observation over the two, wanting to see their chemistry and whether or not what people said was true. But when you see that even outside of their mission she'd flirt and cling onto him, you feel threatened. Naturally, you told Seonghwa about this but he only brushed your feelings off, convincing himself and you that it's merely childish jealousy.

The issue was never addressed and it accumulates to the point that it became the bane of most of your arguments. So he decided to just avoid talking about anything that relates to his partner in any way.

This is why when he accidentally let it slip that she'd be at the party back in the car, you were slightly furious at him for not giving you a heads up.

So here you are, standing by the champagne tower as Seonghwa made his rounds alone only to be joined by his 'partner' when he talked to their ally.

Your hand was clenching the flute so hard, it was threatening to break any second.

"Whoah, never seen you so tense," a voice called out, breaking your focus of glaring at Seonghwa and her. You look towards the source of the voice only to be greeted with Wooyoung's teasing smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled at his teasing jab, "hi Woo," you greeted, letting him pull you into a deep hug that lasted a while.

"Givenchy," he stated after taking a whiff at your neck, "man has taste," he pulled away to properly take your attire in, going as far as twirling you playfully which made you giggle. The people around looked at you two with a smile, probably thinking about how cute you two looked together. Which didn't go unnoticed by Seonghwa who is now zeroing his vision in on you and Wooyoung as the girl next to him clung on his arm tightly, seemingly pretending like they're together.

"Where's Seonghwa hyung?" Wooyoung asked after he stopped twirling you, grabbing a flute of champagne instead. You rolled your eyes at the reminder and simply nod your head towards where Seonghwa and his partner stood before sipping the champagne.

Wooyoung cringed at the sight of the girl throwing herself onto a taken man but what bothered him was the fact that Seonghwa seemed to not be affected by it.

"How stupid is your boyfriend to still insist that your intuition is nothing more than jealousy? I mean seriously! She's embarrassing herself!" he groaned, knowing full well what's going on between you and Seonghwa.

You were glad that you're not the only one who realized, despite the person who shared your sentiment is not your boyfriend.

But before you can answer, loud gunshots shocked everyone and suddenly chaos broke.

Wooyoung immediately pushed you behind him as he produces a gun from inside his suit. He turned to you briefly to hurry you out, "go out now, run and don't look back, take the stairs by the balcony and get out of here as quickly as you can and do not try to hide," he said before rushing towards the sound of the gunshot before you could say anything else.

People were pushing you left and right, trying to escape the hall and so were you. But you can't find it in yourself to run just yet, you look around the crowd of people, trying to find Seonghwa.

Soon enough, your eyes met his.

"Seonghwa!" you called out, pushing your way to get to him as he was trying to get to you. But then another voice calling his name broke his attention away from you.

Seonghwa looked towards the source of the voice only to find his partner by the tables, her dress stuck between two tables and for some reason she didn't seem to be able to pull herself out.

If you weren't in such a panicked state, you'd roll your eyes and call her out on her bullshit.

Your eyes flit between her and Seonghwa as Seonghwa's flit between you and her. You were hoping that he'd ignore her and run to you instead so you both could go to safety.

But your heart broke when he shot you an apologetic look, mouthing out 'sorry' before running to help his partner.

You can actually feel your heart shatter seeing that in a dire situation, he had chosen the girl that you had explicitly told him you don't trust, that you think she has it in her to steal him away from you. But he didn't seem to care.

Slowly, your feet began moving on their own. You couldn't even register where your feet are dragging you to. But as you reach the door towards the balcony, you look back to the sight of Seonghwa holding his partner closely before going where the other members of his organization are going.

And that was the last time you had seen each other for the night.

The shoot out went for quite a while. Apparently, a rival organization caught wind of the party and decided to use this opportunity to infiltrate the mansion to steal something. Their plans were foiled and that's when all hell broke loose.

When Seonghwa and the others managed to kill and capture their rivals, things began to finally wind down. Most people had already fled the scene, being part of the criminal world surely gave them the knowledge of what to do when a shoot out happens.

There were some guests left, those who hid behind tables or were unable to escape due to fear, and sadly, those who were caught in the crosshairs.

Seonghwa sighed at the sight in front of him, bodies lying on the ground, some belonging to their rival, some were members of his organization, and some were the unfortunate guests.

He looked around to see the lower-ranking workers carrying bodies on a stretcher with a white cloth covering everything. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, no matter how long he's been involved in the mafia life, he couldn't seem to shake his sadness away when seeing innocent victims.

As he looked around, he saw Wooyoung walking back to the hall where the party was held merely an hour ago. "Wooyoung!" Seonghwa called, running towards the guy to catch up to him. Wooyoung stopped in his tracks and looked back, waiting for Seonghwa, "Hey, what's up?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Have you seen (Y/N)? The last time I saw her was when I went to help my partner a-" "you helped your partner instead of making sure (Y/N) was okay?" Wooyoung cut him off, an incredulous look on his face. Seonghwa was caught off-guard at the tone his friend used at him, "yeah? She was stuck and needed my help, I couldn't just-" "she's a member of a fucking mafia, she kills people for a living and on a daily basis, you really think she couldn't have gotten herself unstuck?" Wooyoung scoffed.

Seonghwa only stared at Wooyoung with a confused expression, not knowing how to answer him nor how to defend his choice in the predicament after Wooyoung explained the situation his way.

Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung nodded towards the door by the table that once had the champagne tower, "Last time I saw her, I told her to run and get the hell out of here," he said simply. Seonghwa muttered a small 'thanks' to him and was about to run to look for you when Wooyoung put a hand on his shoulder, "Just so you know, what you did will change things forever between you two, you got a heck load of making up to do," he said simply before continuing his previous path.

He realized that Wooyoung was right. So he immediately set off to find you, wherever you are.

His instinct told him that you're still around, considering his car is still in the parking lot and that you hadn't known anyone else in the party, he deducted that it wouldn't be possible for you to have gone back.

Even so, you were nowhere to be found. He tried looking everywhere inside the mansion and outside in the garden, but there were no signs of you, not even when he asked the other guests and members of the organization that were still around.

He stepped out to the grand front entrance and look around but only seeing people carrying the bodies of the deceased. He was starting to get worried.

"Seonghwa!" a feminine voice called.

He snaps his head, hoping to see you, but only to be greeted by the sight of his partner jogging towards him. For the first time ever, he rolled his eyes at her and went back to trying to locate you.

She, on the other hand, didn't seem to get the hint as she suddenly hugged one of his arms, "Hey, I was looking everywhere for you, I was worried," she said, pouting at him.

Seonghwa tried to pry his arm off of hers, but she held tight. Wooyoung was right, she's beyond capable of getting herself unstuck, so why did he went to help her instead of you?

"I don't have time for this, I'm looking for my girlfriend," he said gruffly, still trying to push her off as his eyes trail on the people around.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure she's perfectly fine somewhere, maybe even with Wooyoung," she said ignorantly.

At the insinuation that you'd be with Wooyoung, Seonghwa snap his head towards her and was about to say something when suddenly the sight of your dress caught his eyes.

He'd recognize the sparkly indigo dress that he had personally picked for you from miles away. For a second, he forgot about his partner and was about to run towards you.

But his steps halted at the scene in front of him.

Seonghwa hadn't processed that the piece of your dress that he saw was from underneath a cloth that covered your whole body that's rested on a stretcher.

He could feel his heart stopped, his head spinning, and his breath hitching. He was trying to convince himself that you're okay, that you're simply unconscious and is resting, waiting to be taken to the hospital to be treated.

When he realized that a couple of workers were about to carry you away, he sprinted and yelled for them to stop.

As soon as he arrived by your side, his trembling hands held on the piece of dress that peeked out. Again, he tried convincing himself that everything's okay, that maybe this is not you. Slowly, he pulled the cloth back a little to expose your hand. The ring that he had bought you to commemorate your 2nd anniversary brought dread to him for the first time ever. He used to love seeing it on your finger, showing people that you're taken, but not this time.

Bracing himself, he pulled the rest of the cloth off of you. "Oh no," he choked out and finally broke down when he saw your pale, lifeless face. The same face that greeted him every morning and accompanied him every night, the same face that would scrunch up whilst cleaning his wound when he came back home from a mission. The same face that dropped in disappointment when he decided to go after the other girl in her last moments.

He can't believe your last memory of him was him turning his back on you, his last conversation with you was when he called your feelings childish and uncalled for, that the last time he held your beating heart was when he pushed you away so he could talk to people he didn't even care for.

All he could do now is held onto you as he cried, hand going over the wound that ultimately ended your life. Several bullet holes littered your body, but he seems to be focused on the one that's directly on your heart. He thought about how much pain your heart must've born, how much the pain he inflicted on you must've hurt much more than the bullet that struck through. He thought about how he should've gone to you to ensure your safety.

Seonghwa, the usually reserved and collected man, didn't even care about the attention he drew. People around were looking at him with much pity, those who knew him wanted to comfort him but didn't know how to, even Wooyoung can't help but shed his pettiness over his older friend when seeing him wailing over his loss.

But Seonghwa didn't care.

How could he?

When the only important person in his life was ripped away from him before he could make amends.

Without thinking twice, he stood up and carried you off the stretcher. The workers that were supposed to take care of the deceased stood silent and unsure, yet they didn't stop Seonghwa even when he began to carry you towards his car.

"Don't worry, I'm taking you home so you can rest," he said with tears still streaming down his face. He looked down at your face, he could fool himself and say that you're only sleeping, that tomorrow things will be better. Yeah, for now, he can do that.

Once he put you on the front seat securely and went over to the driver's seat, he leaned down and press a kiss to your forehead lovingly, "I'm never gonna leave you anymore," he said before turning the car engine on and drove off.

[wanderingwomanwondering]

Thoughts on The Buddie Talk from 502

Other folks have looked at this conversation, but I wanted to get on my bullshit about it too. LOL.

So imho this whole conversation is about love and heart, specifically Eddie’s but with Buck’s heart added in. Line by line analysis and commentary. Let the BS begin. Here we go…

Buck: Hey are you sleeping, or just pretending?

Day and night/light and dark are strong themes throughout the episode. @benka79 did a meta on this theme. I think that by extension, awake vs asleep is meaningful in this scene. In matters of the heart, Eddie is trying to sleep or turn a blind eye, doing what he thinks is best for Chris rather than himself. This is exactly what Carla warned him against. But he knows. He knows that Carla is right but he’s ignoring her and trying to ignore Buck. He’s only pretending to be in the dark about his heart and his desires, at least to a degree.

Eddie: I was actually trying to until you interrupted.

Enter Buck, shaking shit up. Interrupting Eddie’s well-intentioned lie. Eddie knows there’s more than meets the eye and Buck is forcing him to open his eyes, wake up and see what’s really going on and reckon with himself and his true desires.

Buck: I’m exhausted. Uh, how are you feeling?

This line has been rattling around in my brain for what feels like a thousand years. Buck is NOT asleep, he’s not able to turn a blind eye. And being the only one willing to look directly at matters of the heart is wearing him out. Dude’s exhausted! He SEES that something is up with Eddie’s heart and he wants Eddie to tell him all about it.

Eddie: Hot. I’m sweating out of places I didn’t know I could.

During the blackout, AC isn’t working so everyone is sweating. Buck even has a thin layer of sweat in the scene. Sweating from the heat is normal and completely reasonable, but is that what’s being invoked here? We know that sweating is also a symptom of health issues (panic and heart problems not the least among them, and definitely symbolically relevant here). Eddie looks like he’s sweating for normal reasons but in the next line Buck questions that.

Buck: No uh like a cold sweat though, right? Uh, any chest pains?

Again, Buck is wide awake. He KNOWS something is wrong with Eddie’s heart/feelings and that Eddie is hiding it from him. He jumps to cold sweats, the kind that are most connected to health problems and are not about the actual temperature in the room. Then follows up with asking about chest pains. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Buck is paralleled with the cardiologist. She’s about Eddie’s literal heart but Eddie’s figurative heart is in Buck’s hands and Buck’s hands only. And my dude is assertively assessing the situation.

Eddie: You don’t give up, do you? I’m fine, Buck.

Good ol’ Eddie, perfecting his avoidance and denial game. But he knows Buck. He does NOT ever give up and he especially doesn’t give up on the people he loves. Eddie recognized this and thanked Buck for it in 303. Buck didn’t give up on Christopher during the tsunami, or on Eddie in Eddie Begins or in Survivors. But that was about Chris and Eddie’s life. This scene in 502 is new in a way. Buck is refusing to give up on Eddie’s heart, his feelings. Now Buck is fighting for Eddie’s quality of life, for his happiness.

Buck: People who are fine don’t go and see cardiologists. You need to tell me if something is wrong.

Buck was so worried about Eddie in 501. Of course Eddie denied that anything was wrong but Buck isn’t stupid. In 501 he asked about the situation clearly and openly because he cares about Eddie and wants to help in any way he can, and Eddie pushed him away. So here in 502 he implicitly invokes the Will. He’s like fine if you won’t tell me as your friend who gives a shit about you, then tell me for Chris’s sake because thanks to the will, I actually fucking need to know if you’re going to drop dead.

Eddie: Alright, it was a panic attack, not a heart attack. A panic attack.

Eddie’s frustrated confession was solid gold. It laid my edges and raised my credit score. He knows that Buck’s persistence is harmless and comes from a genuine place of respect and care. Still, that doesn’t make it any less annoying for a man who’s trying to sleep, pretending his own heart isn’t breaking under the weight of his sense of duty to his son.

Buck: Since when do you panic?

My God, he knows him so well.

Eddie: That’s what I said. I don’t panic. Except I did.

Eddie accepting that this was absolutely a panic attack was huge. Before he had been pushing against the reality of it, but here in Buck’s loving care he could be honest with himself and with Buck that it was indeed panic.

Buck: Ok, well, what triggered it? I mean you did just get shot and almost killed by a sniper. I guess that could be considered an anxiety inducing-

Buck’s in full “cardiologist” mode. He’s paying forward all those years of therapy! What he’s doing here isn’t a replacement for my dude getting some real therapy but here’s Buck with his clipboard efficiently helping Eddie figure his emotional shit out. It’s perfection. It’s also good that he acknowledged the shooting. I think it’s super important that when Buck mentions it, he looks down and away from Eddie.

Buck, my dude, you are not over being covered in the blood of the love of your life. You can still feel his weight in your hands, muscle memory from lifting him above the spray of gasoline and bullets. Eddie may still be asleep on that front but, Buck, you are wide awake and exhausted by the heavy love you’re carrying.

Eddie: That wasn’t it. Ok, if I’m being honest with myself, I think it was Ana.

Oh this is fun. So you are capable of being real, you just choose not to be. Good to know.

Buck: Uh, I thought things were great with her.

Stop. Lying. You saw Eddie get squirrely when talking about the Christening. You saw Eddie get awkward af when A*a and Christopher came to the firehouse. You’ve seen these issues with your own eyeballs. Great? Really? Yeah, this just makes me think muh boy is oblivious and/or he really was expecting Eddie to come clean about issues related to the shooting, not his love life. This reiterates my point that Buck himself is not nearly done with processing the shooting.

Eddie: She’s been a godsend through all this - staying with Christopher - but I think that’s what’s causing the panic. Somehow it become a ready-made family and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

This portion of the conversation has been analyzed to bits by many brilliant others. I don’t have anything to add. I’m like, look dude, you already have a family with Buck and Christopher. A*a’s effin’ up your happy healthy family flow. It’s ok, just turn her loose.

Buck: So what are you gonna do?

Buck’s wisdom grows every frickin’ day. He knows this isn’t sustainable for Eddie. He knows that the heart matters. He knows that feelings are real and help us navigate toward a happy life. Action is needed and he’s nudging Eddie in that direction.

Eddie: I think I’m just gonna stick it out. Ana’s been the first woman I’ve wanted to spend this much time with since Shannon.

Oh dear, Eddie’s overblown sense of duty to everyone but himself strikes again. He can…tolerate… A*a. How romantic!

Buck: Stick it out? That’s not the way you talk about someone you’re in love with.

Um, no. Buck calls shenanigans. He’s not A*a’s bestie but he doesn’t feel any desire whatsoever to have her condemned to a loveless relationship.

Eddie: My kid loves her!

Always putting Christopher first but not realizing that if he isn’t truly happy, Christopher will know because he’s perceptive af. Plus the two haven’t discussed A*a on screen so I’m not convinced Chris loves her as much as Eddie wants to believe.

Buck: Is that enough? Eddie I have been Ana. I know what it’s like to be in love with someone who is not all the way in. Deep down you know it and it hurts. It hurts worse than the truth, so if you don’t want to hurt Ana, you owe it to her to be honest.

Buck is doing A LOT of work here to help Eddie see that his plan of inaction is not good. He centers Eddie asking him if staying for Chris is enough. When that doesn’t work, he realizes that Eddie doesn’t care about his own heart enough to leave so he changes strategies and puts himself in A*a’s place to invoke some empathy for A*a from Eddie. It’s super…interesting that Eddie doesn’t care enough for A*a to come to this conclusion on his own!!

Eddie: You know it just feels like a lot man.

Why, my dude?? Explain. Could it be that A*a is serving a purpose beyond Chris? Could it be that staying with her helps you avoid, allows you to pretend and be oblivious to deeper truths within your battered but still beating heart? Does she obscure the Buck shaped hole in your ticker?

Buck: Well, go to sleep. You don’t need to decide right now. It’s not like we’re going home anytime soon.

Buck is disappointed, exhausted, and frustrated and it has my dude slinging shade like morning hash. He’s like fine turn a blind eye, ignore your heart it’s cool *all the sarcasm* Then we get the reference to home and the fact that the two of them are far from it at this point and we all know how important home is as a Buddie theme. I wrote a little about it here.

Bonus: Eddie closed his eyes after Buck walked away, the he OPENED them again. He fully saw what Buck was saying. He can’t avoid the truth of his heart for much longer.

Y’all this has GOT to be the season that one or both of these idiots realize their feelings. Excuse me while I end.

[eurofox]

Ok, I have gained a lot of new followers because of a certain post.

And I kind of feel the need to make some things clear.

While I'm pretty harsh on men at times, that's really because I have good men in my life so I know stuff like 'men are simple creatures' or 'men need submissive housewives' is bullshit when I see it. I just think I think it would be helpful if more women were aware of the shitty ones, especially the ones getting radicalised online, they often regurgitate the same talking points over and over. Don't give them so much benefit of the doubt (they certainly don't do it for us) . And learn to spot fake male feminists too.

Also I don't hate housewives or sahms. Unless they come out with bullshit about being a woman's one and only calling, yknow, that shite they say about how literally anything else is an 'attempt at imitating men'. It's an important and difficult job, that unfortunately, in the real world, is undervalued and leaves you dependent on someone else money wise. It's never a good idea, even the most wonderful man could have an accident or something, and it's a precaution position. The right to work and personal control of money is less about fulfillment imo, rather survival. There's countless of examples of sahms being left high and dry, I just think it's romanticised to much. And I guess these days it goes for sahds too.

I don't hate sex workers either. I suppose a few do enjoy it. And I don't hate the girls who do onlyfans either, but I just don't think having people who know you irl paying peanuts for nudes of you is a good idea. I think slut shaming is disgusting, but I also feel girls feel pressured into doing more than they are comfortable with because they don't want to be seen as prudes. And I know a lot of women who've had boundaries crossed in the bedroom because their man watches so much porn, myself included. I don't think it's harmless at all and imo, it can't be compared to titty mags in the past.

Also seen reblogs lately talking about female seperatism. I can see the merits of that in certain scenarios, like DV shelters, convents or lesbian islands or something, but otherwise it's a bit confusing to me tbh.

And I think transmen and transwomen are real, but I also think a lot of this gender identity stuff is getting regressive in a way. Example, the masculine and feminine urge memes. An uncomfortable amount of it is just conforming to stereotypes. And this neo pronoun stuff I really thought was a joke, I'm not ever taking that seriously sorry. And I don't think cis women discussing the very real and often shitty parts of being born female is insensitive to transwomen, which is real and baffling take I've seen too fucking often on this site. Periods,pregnancy, lack of physical strength expectations of subservience and people pleasing are all shitty fucking things and I'm glad women are finally discussing it, it's not 'white feminism' either. I know transpeople irl who aren't so fucking weird about 'exclusion' so maybe it's a terminally online thing idk.

[missinghan]

aria of an assassin ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : assassin au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 6,2k.

❖ warning : mentions of blood & violence, explicit language 

❖ summary : minho hasn’t been fazed for decades throughout his bloodied career until the next target happens to be a black cat and he’s suddenly incapable of pulling the trigger.

❖ note : okay, so it’s been a year? this tiny, stupid blog is turning one year old today? yea I couldn’t believe it either. this is to all of my mutuals and readers out there, I don’t say it enough but I truly appreciate each and every one of you 🖤 I wish I could have written something longer but due to school, this random piece will have to do for now.

❖ the sequel : with felix is out!

one.

“Shit.”

Minho grits in a hushed tone although all that has been accompanying him is the pitiful moonlight and icy breeze dissolving into every fiber of his skin. Every minuscule movement suddenly becomes too irritating to his eardrums. The hustle and bustle life of the city at night. Terrible traffic. Even the sound of his own inhales and exhales. 

What is that thing?

He thinks to himself, proceeding to expand his eyesight with the pair of scopes; confusion soon flares into curiosity, then faint anger and dead silence. He swears his heartbeat just paused awkwardly like a broken record for a split second there. Such strange, or odd targets are no stranger to him; nor do they stir something inside the coldness of his rib cage. 

Not an easy kill, they say. And not easy it is. 

Because whatever he’s watching with his very eyes is a cat. A goddamn cat with a coat as sleek pitch as the dark canvas upon his head and piercing golden eyes. The peculiar animal walks with its head held high like it’s lording over everyone else—such self-reassurance, such radiance some humans cease to possess. 

It’s dangerous, they say. But it’s a fucking cat! Irritation bubbles up at the back of his throat, makes his skin crawl, and causes a bark of profanity to leave his lips once more. Has it not occurred to his client that he doesn’t kill children and animals? When it’s clearly been written on the contract? In bold, underlined, and everything?

They could have at least given him more details on what he’s getting himself to this time. 

An exhale. He packs up his things, pulls his black cap down a little, and leaves the top of the building without looking back. If he did, he would have seen those starry eyes boring holes onto his back. 

two.

The road Minho is walking through is more than familiar. For one, he takes the same path every day to grab a drink at his go-to place—a vending machine near an old, plain high school. 

It’s fair to say he knows every corner of the neighborhood like the back of his hand—from the dark alley where bullies beat up their classmates to the small stall of lemonade of a middle school girl who waves at him every morning. He never reciprocates though; it doesn’t feel right. The amount of apathy in his heart isn’t enough for him to act normally when taking lives is what he does for a living.  

For two, he used to have a part-time job at that particular high school for an old request. Due to his conscience, he did go out of his way to take the kill outside of the school—causing a catastrophe in such an environment makes him uncomfortable.

Just then, he stops. His brow raises. Isn’t that…

The black cat slinks through the crowd of nosy students in the direction of where he too is heading. It raises its nose and gives the air a rough sniff, making a face as though the general stagnant with exhaust fumes stench of the city disgusts the entirety of its existence. 

Watching it take a slight dip to avoid being hit with someone’s bag, Minho holds back every urge to come running at the creature and wrap his arms around its small figure. He wonders how long it’d take for the cat to reach its final destination because it’s definitely taking some sweet ass time to stride through the front of the main gate like a supermodel. Meanwhile, he’s stressed to the core as if the harmless high school filled with teenagers is nothing less than a battlefield. 

Is it testing him?

Something is oddly unsettling about an animal staring straight into his eyes. Paranoia fuels the forgotten irritation inside his chest, sets out to make him actually think those golden eyes are memorizing every inch of his feature. Then, they soften with what seems to be exhaustion, its tiny head turning and its tiny feet take it skipping gently away from the scene. 

Minho finally acknowledges the knot inside his stomach and the breath he’s been holding. With a harsh gulp, he no longer takes notice of the fact if his cap is hung low enough or if he’s walking too quickly. For the first time in long, a rush of adrenaline hits him hard enough to make him speed walk through the herd of chatty teenagers. 

Questions naturally pop up as his shoes kiss the ground, his shadow sprinting into a dark, though familiar alleyway. Was he hallucinating? But he’s been getting enough sleep and eating well. What makes him so certain that it was the same cat? Instincts or some sixth sense bullshit perhaps. If it was the cat that’s assigned to be killed off in a week, what’s so dangerous about it? And how long has he been running for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? And to where? 

“You.”

Half-way through trying to keep his thoughts off of his face, Minho stops himself when a rather feminine voice echoes through the narrow space. Unsure of whether the voice was reaching out to him, his legs stop moving while his eyes are peering through the dark. Much to his heart’s dismay, shivers run up his spine when something comes in contact with the warm flesh of his neck. 

“What’s your name?” 

Slowly, with his hands on the back of his head, he turns on his heels. “Excuse you?”

You retract your gun-shaped fingers into the pocket of your jacket, phlegmatic eyes gazing at him through the thickness of the night. “I want to know your name,” you try to make your point clear, utterly unfazed. 

Minho stares you down for a good five seconds. Neatly dressed in the school uniform, an oversized jacket thrown over your body but no backpacks. There’s a name tag being embroidered onto the fabric in red “Shin Yuna - 1A”. Whoever you are, he’s certain that isn’t your name. That name doesn’t even suit you. That isn’t your uniform. 

“What’s the point?” he questions, hands dropped to the sides in slight relief. 

You tilt your head, expression neutral. “I have a habit of collecting names of people who tried or are trying to kill me. It’s quite relaxing to write it down on a list actually. You know, easier to keep track.”

He’s trying hard to not let any impulsive urges overthrow the rational side of his brain. Everything suddenly twitches in slow motion. His silence seems to bore you. Your eyes are more dead than angry, more done than irritated. Like you’ve been through this shit one too many times already to care. 

“At least say why you’re sent to kill me.”

That, Minho can answer within a blink of an eye. “They sent me because I don’t exist.”

Your gaze glistens with a glaze of boredom. “Everyone said so.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Where’s your house, kid? I’ll walk you back. It’d be a pain in the ass if your parents found out how you’re wandering alone after school,” he brushes it off like you’re a slight nuisance (which you are). His heartbeat spikes up once at the mention of family, one that you’ve acknowledged with ease. 

Your arms are folded over your chest now, to cover up the sudden stab of sympathy inside your chest. “There’s no need. I don’t have a place to go back to nor do I have parents who will nag me for staying out late.” 

His mind automatically blackouts along with his senses, blurred with such peculiar feelings swirling at the pit of his stomach. You make it sound like it’s not that big of a deal like you’ve utterly been numb for so long. It’s tragic but understandable. This isn’t the first time he has witnessed a story like yours—your parents, dead or alive, he does not know; by the sound of it, you’re an orphan. Another unfortunate being to graze this planet like himself. This means you can’t afford school, so that uniform really doesn’t belong to you. 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“It’s Lee Know. Call me Lee Know.”

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.” 

You didn’t mean to expose anything about your life to a total stranger, or specifically an assassin. However, nothing matters when you most likely won’t meet him again nor will he succeed in taking your life. Even the fact that he chose not to give you his real name amplifies how much shit he does not give about you. You don’t expect anything more honestly. 

“Alright, we’re done here,” you feign enthusiasm before clasping your hands together. “Go home. The sun is already going down.”

Strangely enough, Minho can only watch as your shadow shifts to the outline of a black cat before dipping into the depths of the starless night. 

three.

To Minho it’s always just another day in the office. Except his office is a windy rooftop overlooking the mark’s exact location. His tools—rather than a computer—is a state-of-the-art rifle with a telescopic lens. A silencer isn’t very important since traffic and people are more than enough to drown out any suspicious noises. Most will mistake it for a back-firing van. He takes aim with no more qualms than one would gossip about a colleague, then pulls the trigger while thinking about what to order other than Chinese for lunch. When the work is done, he carefully packs everything up into an inconspicuous rucksack. And leaves the scene, like a phantom. 

It’s always been the same boring, bloodied cycle. 

Yet something’s changed since Minho met you. 

He used to maintain a cool detachment to his targets. His conscience prefers not to think of them; whenever he does, it’s as if they’re already dead, mobile meat bags waiting to be laid on a cutting board. He doesn’t like to think merrily of his job, he doesn’t see it as helping them meet their destiny. None of that bullshit. To put it more nonchalantly, everyone will die one day. Minho considers it as a good way to go. Oblivious and in pain for one moment before completely gone the next. 

Simple. Convenient. Much less agonizing than this brutal world. 

Although that doesn’t mean he isn’t traumatized by the amount of blood that has stained his hands. On good days, he might get three to four hours of sleep. Bad days, few minutes to none at all. Terrifying nightmares gnaws at his soul every night, the ugly scar like a reminder of every single one of his sins. He can’t force himself to lose his sanity like any fools out there going down the same path. 

“Shit…” Minho mutters, running a rough hand through his hair. He didn’t sleep well last night—like every other night; hence the bad temper and bitter taste at the back of his throat. 

After a deep breath, he stares at his Hecate II with mischievous eyes—those of a hunter framed in the expressionless face of an executioner. His blunt hands are steady as they lift the shiny weapon over the concrete of a rooftop, drawing out a dry shot in his mind. 

Through his scope, he watches as you’re crossing the road in your human form before stopping abruptly in front of a random tree. You then proceed to squint your eyes and look up in the opposite direction. Minho unknowingly holds his breath, waits for you to release your iron gaze, and move on with your life. But his expectations don’t prevail. 

“What the fuck?” 

Without much patience, he curses before shifting his scope to the same direction only to find another shadow creeping around on the balcony of a nearby building. No time to think of a rational solution—killing them is an ideal one—Minho feels his palms growing sweaty when a small, peculiar object comes flying toward his way. His head quickly moves away before the bullet pierces through his scope, shattering the glass completely. 

“Son of a bitch,” he lets out a shaky breath. Crimson starts to drip down on the side of his cheekbone, but he can care less. 

Because that’s the least of his problem right now. 

Another subtle ‘bang’ can be heard in the distance, like a broken record scratching against his eardrums. Kid…! Minho’s heart collapses in realization. 

four. 

It’s not hard for Minho to do research on quite an amount of vital information about you. When he saw your body dropped to the ground lifelessly and an ambulance immediately drove by to pick up your body, he knew things weren’t going to end just like that. 

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.”

He isn’t a believer, has never been one. Yet when he managed to take out your kidnappers in that ambulance, your weak breaths startled his heart and shook his mind into awareness of how serious the situation is. After that, he tracked down the hitman who delivered the hard blow, put a bullet through his brain, and found an USB full of detailed information about your existence. Which just makes things a whole lot more complicated to understand. 

Apparently, you’ve been ‘killed’ one too many times before—there are photographs of your supposedly dead body in a bag, thrown into the deep, dark woods, other times into a nameless river. The thing about you is that you were once an experimental subject to your own biological parents who are sickeningly vile scientists. At the age of nine, you fell down the stairs and had a big gash on your head. They never knew because your wounds were quick to heal themselves. However, your whole life was flipped upside down when they saw you shapeshifting into a black cat while running around at the playground. 

From then, your life became a living hell behind cold metal bars with needles stuck in your arms and strange pills being forced down your throat almost every day. Their sudden change only nourished resentment through time until you managed to cut down the laboratory’s power supply and fled from your own home. 

You have no one to lean on. No place to go back to. No nothing. And you’re just a teenager. 

Minho feels awful. 

Usually, he isn’t the type to be empathetic nor does he have the energy to. It’s very out of character for him to let his emotions linger on a homeless kid with some supernatural abilities that will make his life that much more dangerous. Because to him, more often than not, people tend to give their condolences only to forget after brief moments of grieving. At the end of the day, it isn’t their own problem, it isn’t their own life. But now when it comes to you, Minho feels a strong sense of responsibility that if you end up dying, it’s on him. 

It’s stupidly conflicted, it really is. His job—blowing people’s brains out—is the sole reason why he makes a six-digit amount of money for every job. Therefore, he isn’t sure what picking a random kid up from a fake ambulance and bringing her back to his shabby apartment is going to do him any good. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” 

You hate the fact that you can recognize that voice. 

Just then, you wake as if it’s an emergency, as if sleeping has become a dangerous task. Your heart is pounding loudly inside your ears, the sound echoing listlessly to the pit of your rib cage. It’s always like this. It takes you some time to calm your nerves before gathering what exactly happened the moment you blacked out. 

Right, you think to yourself, groaning slightly while pushing yourself up. You were shot right in the chest, and your body was probably discarded somewhere. After that, you’d grab a hitchhiker so they’ll drive you back into town. Like always. The only difference, this time though, is Minho placing your limp body on his bed with a blanket to warm you up. 

His face appears within your eyesight when you’re done adjusting your vision to the bright room—you’re not used to this much light around. “You look calmer than I expected,” he mentions. 

Minho grabs your face and scans it over. “Let me see. Did your wounds close up properly?” 

The tender action, which has become weirdly natural to him although this is his first time, accidentally triggers something inside you. Your hand automatically slaps his away. It is an upfront refusal, but it doesn’t surprise him. He only offers you a comfortable moment of silence before placing a tray on the wooden nightstand. 

“Eat up. I’m not going to feed you,” he cocks his head toward the bowl of porridge with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

You glare at him in suspicion. “Bringing me home. Giving me a bed to sleep on. And even food to eat. What are you trying to get at?”

“Nothing. I didn’t kill you only because you’re too young for my moral code,” he pretends to roll his eyes, voicing monotonously. 

A frown adorns your tired features. “So you’re going to kill me when I get older then?” 

“Probably,” Minho smirks faintly with a cock of his eyebrow. “That depends if you still remember my name, Y/N.” 

One thing after another, this assassin only continues to baffle you. He was just going to shoot you the other day and now he’s giving you food? Preposterous! To put it simply, you’re unprepared for such kind actions, such gentleness from someone who takes lives for a living. You’re unprepared for dealing with people in general because they detest anyone who’s different from them—your kind, the kind with supernatural abilities and all. Hence, you’re left unwilling to befriend anyone and would rather be alone for the rest of your life. 

Until such twisted moira pushes you to—what was his name again? Not his real name, the made-up one that he uses in the underworld. 

You speak up softly after feeling safe enough to let your guards down, “Lee Know, was it?” 

“It’s Lee Minho.” 

“Pardon?”

He only smiles, “My real name. It’s Lee Minho.”

five. 

“Y/N! A little help over here?”

“Coming.”

“Y/N, go check the fog machine!”

“Got you.”

“Y/N, can you put these boxes over there?”

“Alright.”

That’s all you’ve been doing for the entirety of your boring day. Getting yelled out at, having people ask for help nonstop, and responding with a two-word answer at max. You’re not complaining—they pay you well enough, the job is more on the down-low side because you’re nothing but a mere stage crew for an above-average theatre studio. So you simply hoist the three final plastic boxes into your arms with a jerk of your knees and place it where they asked you to. Thanks to your parents, their experiments along with skeptical-looking substances have efficiently enhanced your general strength and agility. 

Another crew member perks up when you plop the heavy stack of cardboard boxes down with a loud thud. “Oh, can you carry those lights to stage left too?”

“Sure.” You could have pretended to pick up one box at a time and to drag your feet across the stage with difficulties to avoid being used. But you’re too lazy to repeat the same cycle two more times, so you really don’t have any other choice here. 

Nevertheless, you suppose it’s not entirely bad to do all of this heavy handiwork. Because it keeps your mind off of unwanted things, such as Lee Minho for example. Lee Minho, the assassin, not the actor—you’d gladly fangirl over that certain celebrity rather than admit that you actually enjoy the hitman’s abrupt presence in your life. 

The fact that you know he will find you even if it means traveling to the ends of the Earth and back doesn’t help to ease your insomnia. So for the past few days, you’ve been working extra hours along with picking up a job at a florist in hopes of not bumping into him. Stupid. You know it is. But how can you deal with a self-esteem crisis because the idea of being a burden just irks you so much? 

It’s like you’re hopelessly proving that you don’t need anyone when you, in fact, want that kind of unconditional love that every other human yearns for. 

After helping your colleagues out with the lighting, you simply sit behind those thick curtains until the show is over. Then, you head out, find a place to sleep, and head to an old lady’s place to pick up new clothes to change into for the next day. Since she’s been treating you with nothing but kindness, you’ve tried to pass by and helped her out at her son’s antique store too. 

Your routine is supposed to go that way and stay that way. You won’t die because you don’t like overworking yourself. You’re doing just great. 

“Hey, Y/N! Your brother is here to pick you up!”

Throwing your crewmate a blunt wave, you find your way out of the school’s theatre through a back door without shifting the expression on your face. You don’t have any siblings. And your colleagues don’t know anything about your family background either. So it, unfortunately, boils your guesses down to one. 

Despite knowing who it is and why they show up, you open your mouth to speak, “How did you find me again?”

Minho shows up with a more casual version of his working attire—instead of the fully black, monochromatic outfit, he’s changing it up with a leather jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. He leans on his shiny motorcycle smugly like he knows something that you don’t, in which you very much dislike. 

“Young lady, I’ll have you know that being an assassin helps me appear at places to do things I’m not supposed to do,” he ignores the fact that your question was purely rhetorical and chimes. 

You attempt to throw him a glare which isn’t intimidating enough. “Call me ‘young lady’ one more time and I’ll put my foot where it’s not supposed to be.” Who are you kidding? He’s a hitman when you’re just a kid. Pigs would be flying by the time you managed to physically shoo him away. 

“Am I supposed to guess where that is?”

“Enough. Go to work. Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, are you encouraging me to kill people?” Minho gasps, acting shocked and appalled. Clearly, he’s not good at it despite sharing a name with a well-known actor. 

You can only retort harshly, “Don’t put words in my mouth, you ass.”

“Come on, kid. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Why?”

His hand automatically reaches for your forearm. “Don’t people eat for pleasure? What’s wrong with you?”

Your heart leaps in, anger perhaps, pupils shaking when he closes in on you. Upon your reaction, Minho retracts his arm immediately. He should have thought better of it; you’re probably too traumatized to be dealing with him right now. 

At that, your eyes round at the remorse on his face and you could have glared him off right then and there. But somehow, your basic human manners overcome your usual snappy self, letting you think that maybe he means no harm. Maybe he’s checking up on you one last time before going on about his life. You shouldn’t be too riled up about it just because he tried to kill you once.

Minho catches the familiar anxious gaze and sighs, “Okay, we don’t have to get something to eat. I’ll give you a ride back. Do you have somewhere to stay the night?”

It’s rotten work, whatever he’s trying to do. So you shake the harmless tingle inside your chest away before pushing past him. “No,” you answer dryly and leave. 

six.

You go to work sick the day after because you couldn’t find a place to sleep in and had to make do with napping in front of a tattoo place. Yes, napping; because when you finally shifted into your cat form and allowed your eyes to rest, the sky started pouring waterfalls. The rain had soaked into your shiny black coat, making it frizzy and luring the sickness up your spine the moment you tried finding a different haven.

No one notices. No one.

Not even the mask, the extra layer of sweatshirt nor your hushed coughs every now and then. Despite downing the cold pills early in the morning, you’re only burning up harder by the second. Oh, you know! Maybe they just don’t care, that’s it. Because calling in off for work due to a minor cold isn’t a valid reason. However, you’re still shivering on the inside and burning on the outside. Enhanced genes or any of that bullshit isn’t enough to prevent you from getting sick like any other student. Perhaps something wasn’t complete, or they’d messed up somewhere. Perhaps that’s why they’re trying to get you back.

How foolish of you to think somewhere deep down, they still want you back. With a reason as blunt as you being their child. 

Drowning in deep thoughts, you almost crash into a pile of boxes filled with equipment when your foot gets tangled to a random cable. Your eyes automatically screw shut as you wait for the impact but it never comes. Only a gentle pair of hands on your shoulders did. From that point on, you can’t hear or see properly. You don’t even have enough stamina to register who’s holding onto you so reassuringly. Whatever is happening gets hazier by the tick of a clock. It’s either you’re hallucinating or Minho is giving you that mirthful scowl of his. 

Yep, you’re definitely hallucinating.

“Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question.”

A frown adorns his perplexed features as his glassy eyes skim your face. He has a really pretty smile, he should smile more, you think. His hand latches onto your burning forehead, slides down on the side of your cheek with such grace as though he’s caressing you. A grumble leaves his lips at your dreadful state. This is why he should have never let you go in the first place. 

“Come on, kid. Let me help you,” Minho says before giving your arm a light tug.

You don’t like what you just heard. “I don’t need your help.”

“You can barely walk.”

“Who said so-” As if on cue, he lets go of your arm bluntly. Caught off guard, your legs go weak without any remaining strength. You stumble and would have most likely fallen on your face if it weren’t for his grip on your arm. A gasp comes out inaudible when he hoists you upright, not planning to let go any time soon.

Minho scratches the tip of his nose with his ring finger, sniffing lightly. It seems like he’s arguing with a younger version of himself. He now knows how it felt like for those caretakers back then. 

“You did,” he says with the same smirk when you woke up in his apartment for the first time.

seven.

That’s the only time you’ve ever allowed someone to help you with something. But Minho had to constantly check on you every two seconds, not wanting you to fall asleep on his bike while it’s speeding down the highway like a gust of wind. For a moment there, he really thought you would slip away into the night as he tried to find his keys because that’s just how you are. 

Minho is no doctor, but he doesn’t go to one for a cold or a really bad fever. He can manage, he tries to convince himself. 

After testing your temperature and giving you something new to change into, he slaps a cool gel patch onto your forehead before heading off to the kitchen to cook up something. You need to be full to be able to take your medicine anyway.

In the act of resting on his bed, you decide you can’t take staying in the same spot anymore so your body perks up in a sluggish manner. The aroma of home-cooked food wakes your senses almost immediately, causing you to look over at his busy figure by the marble counter. You think it’s endearing how he hasn’t bothered to change into something more comfortable. But he instead threw an apron over his working attire and dived right into the cooking process. 

You have always felt like you were missing out on something whenever you looked at Minho. Perhaps it was how his striking eyes stared at you, whether mischievous or else. Perhaps it was how his lips were turning down most of the time with less than affectionate words. 

Or it’s plainly how he has been trying to hide that he actually cares. 

“Hungry?” He tilts his head to the side playfully once his sixth sense starts kicking in. 

You can only nod. “Yeah.” 

It takes Minho a lot of convincing yet you won’t let him feed you. Like hell, you would. Therefore, with helpless eyes, he watches you from across the table. He doesn’t laugh or get annoyed when your shaky hand drops the spoon and splatters the soup all over the table. His hand simply reaches for a piece of paper towel to clean up the mess, tossing it into the trash bin later. The same cycle repeats in comforting silence until you finish the entire bowl. The soup definitely wasn’t five-star worthy. But it’s enough to warm you up inside and out. Of course, Minho chooses to let the dishwasher do the job—his hatred for doing dishes is always at its finest. 

Then, like the other night, he has already passed out on the table with a blanket draped over his body when you step out of the shower. Instead of plopping the weight of your exhaustion onto his bed this time, your legs stay frozen like cement on the floor while your eyes take in his reclined figure under the thin fabric. Minho is sleeping with his head buried in his arms, his glasses and messy files abandoned to the side. He’s definitely not a heavy sleeper because he doesn’t snore; only feather-like breaths can be heard through this endless beat of silence. The faintly blinking light from his laptop makes you feel exposed so you push yourself toward the balcony. 

A hiss comes out hushed and quiet when your feet come into contact with the cold tile floor, bringing you across the studio apartment with small tiptoes. You peer over your shoulder, gazing at the only available source of light. Unconsciously, you ball your fists. 

With a soft sigh, you slide open the glass door and step out to bathe yourself in the comfort of the moonlight. Despite the chilling air of the night, something warm fills up your lungs like an overflowed cup of wine. It suffocates you a little until the knots in your muscles and mind loosen; a sense of relief washes over you—you haven’t felt that in years. 

Nothing makes sense. 

A hitman hired by your parents shouldn’t be putting a roof over your head, tucking you into bed nor feeding you. Minho barely knows you; and your knowledge about him as a genuine person isn’t enough to convince you that this is reality. Because after years of wandering the streets, being tossed around like trash with plenty of a series of unfortunate events, you’ve made it a habit to sink into yourself. 

So the longer you stay here, the more you’ll get attached to him. And the more you get attached, the more he takes away your default instincts to turn your back on everything.

Guilt wells up inside your chest as though it’s an old habit, a setting by default. If you ever try to go over the moderate line, you will break. 

Holding back a croaked sob, you know that once you let it go, tears will only start flooding. With a push of your muscles, you effortlessly hoist yourself up the metal railings in one go. The wind combs through your hair like an empathetic hand but you ignore it, Minho’s sweater closing in on your skin. 

You should leave, you try to urge yourself. You should jump off and dive into the depths of the night, let the allure cradle you in its emotionless arms. 

Because after all, despite all those eyes on you out there, you’re ultimately alone within. 

A foot dips out into thin air once the slump in your shoulders goes weightless. Immediately after, an incredible force pulls you by the ankle, and to the ground with a loud thud. Minho falls onto his back harshly, groaning slightly with you on top of him.

He knew what you were trying to do, he saw it the other night with his own eyes. Even under the knowledge of your capabilities, Minho still feels a rush of panic rising inside his chest. It’s only until his arms fully have a hold of you does his racing heartbeats slow down. Supernatural abilities or none, you’re still sick. And he’d be losing his mind if he woke up to an empty bed tomorrow morning. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he speaks with trembling vocal cords, in a tone you’ve never heard before. Strict but mellow. As though there’s a race inside his mind but he’s desperately trying to keep his cool. It’s fear. The moment he’s introduced to the idea of losing you—it’s genuine fear. 

“Minho, I can’t die. Didn’t I tell you—“

His grip squeezes you in a breath tighter, cutting you off completely. “The fuck were you thinking? You can’t just jump off the balcony like that!”

“I already told you. I can’t die. Minho, I’ve done that plenty of times before,” you furrow your brows in a troubled manner, unsure of how to react. 

Minho widens his eyes at you in sheer disbelief. Shock riddles his senses and gets the best of him. So now he’s fussing with his hands, incoherent profanity leaving his lips non-stop within the next thirty seconds or so. He’s usually very calm, collected, calculating, and cold. This is very unlike him. It makes you wonder why he’s acting this way. He knows that you can’t die from jumping off a building. So what’s there to worry about? 

“You’re such an idiot! Try doing that again and I’ll kill you with my own-“

You truly don’t know how important you are to him. Frankly, he hasn’t even realized that yet. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, pulling him closer. Since you’re bad at resolving any kind of conflict, you opt for the most rational solution—going with his flow until he’s calmed down. “I won’t do that again, promise.” 

His lips fall agape at your words. He wasn’t expecting that. And even when you see how he’s reacting to your sudden change, you decide it’s no time to back down. This might be the only time you could show him that you’re at least grateful for everything he’s done. 

He’s quieted down now. And when he manages to speak again without tripping over his own words, his voice comes out as a whisper. “Hey kid,” he looks down at you, wanting to stroke your hair but drops his hand in sheer defeat. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“Who would do my job when I’m gone? Isn’t that irresponsible?” You exhale deeply before fluttering your eyes close, finding odd peace within the rhythm of his heart. 

Minho says pointedly, “Well, you could have asked someone to help you with it.”

“No one would help me.”

“How’d you know? Have you tried asking them before?” 

Your eyes shoot open and flicker around your surroundings, you’re at a loss for words for a split second there. Heat rushes to the apples of your cheeks in shame, your head hung terribly low. “I’m not used to asking for help. I’d hate to be a burden,” you confess. 

Innocence glimmers in your eyes when you look up at him, waterlines threatening to break any second now. Your lashes are slightly damped and how lost you’re looking right now can physically draw crimson on his heart. At the end of the day, you’re just a kid. You had to grow up the hard way, with no one by your side telling you what’s right and what’s wrong, even simple things like how to react to non-verbal affection. 

Don’t let her go, Minho. Not now. Not ever.

“Then fix it now.”

“What?” You pause. 

“If you need help, ask for it. If things are hard, say it. I’ll be there to give you a hand.”

Tears well up in your eyes, croaked sobs shake your body, only prompting him to pull your closer. It’s warm. Damnit, why is it so warm? “I-I can’t sleep. Sing me something?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Minho just knows that he would bleed with you even when the rain pours and the sky falls one day.

[androgynousblackbox]

He was a 14 year old non native english speaker. That is important to note too. Do american ever realize how many words their language has and how long does it take for non natives to pick on what is the “right/wrong” thing to say? I am sorry if this comes across as a shock for people, but american slurs are not universal, we don’t hear about them in other countries, we don’t know what they mean or why they are bad. We only learn that talking with people and being told. On 2013 the internet was much less filtered place, and this is not to say “those were the times”, but it’s important to notice that this 14 year old non native english speaker probably saw a lot of kids his own age or even adults using the words and recieving no backlash for it. Should he have known better? How. Literally how do you expect a non native english speaker, a fucking 14 at that, to just KNOW these things unless they are taught? HOW. Where the fuck in Indonesia was he supposed to know about the actual impact of that word? I personally didn’t even know that the americans had so many words to insult latines until I started to hang out in more leftist spaces, which only happened on my 20s. I was a full grown ass adult and I didn’t know a lot of shit. It took a lot of hard work to be able to just hold an actual conversation, and if you want to hate on a 23 because of fucking it up unknowingly ONE TIME at 14, something he realized was wrong and never repeated again, then get the fuck out of here with your ethnocentrist ass. The fucking audacity. You all grow up on that environment with those words. The rest of the world didn’t. And yet you still expect us to be aware of all of them? Yeah, we are going to learn and we are going to care not to hurt anyone with our words, but that is going to take some fucking time, jesus christ. The rest of this is frankly garbage. “Some of the phrases are stereotypical”. What phrases. How it’s bad. What stereotypes. Do you all realize that the point of why stereotypes is bad is because they happen to be the ONLY way of representing a group, not because of the stereotype itsel? A lot of gay men are flamboyant, who the fuck cares. Having one character be like that in the middle of other queer character showing otherwise doesn’t have the impact you all think it does. Stereotypes about poly relationship? As someone that actually read the comic, they show poly relationship as a loving one where they constantly reinforce communication and consent. The guys ask each other to kiss, to pet ech other’s head, to hug, to just touch. They communicate their feelings and constantly support each other through their hardships, they share interests, they establish clear boundaries early on and they follow through with them. Please tell me how the fuck is that wrong. I will wait. About “negative stereotype about transness”, I will call right now bullshit. The only mention of transness in the whole ass comic is the character saying “I am still recuperating from my surgery”, talking about top surgery, and then they having scars when they go to the beach. I didn’t even know that this character was supposed to be trans until he goes to pride wearing a collar with the trans flag colors. Plus, he was written by a transmasc queer person so, you know what, fuck any possible justifcation or excuse, they can write their own fucking transmasc queer character how the fuck they please as a fucking transmasc queer author. OP, I know you don’t want to discourse about it, and me neither, but I just want to say that this whole backlash behind this person is absurd, unwarranted and frankly disgusting. None of this is directed at you, it’s directed to the people sharing “call outs” and going on about how much they hate this author/his comic. The kind of negative attention around this one author on twitter is balls to the wall homophobic and transphobic garbage, and although that is not everyone who has a problem with the author I am sure, it does enables it on such a pervasive way that it doesn’t matter that he apoligized, it doesn’t matter that he stopped making that content, it doesn’t matter that he clearly didn’t made the same mistake again. It only matter to trash him to the ground for past mistakes and because people think it’s “cringy”. Fuck this shit.

the boyfriends webtoon drama: myths and facts (NOT a callout)

for those of you who are unfamiliar with the name 'refrainbow,' here's a quick rundown of basic information:

Ray, aka refrainbow on twitter, is a 23 y/o gay transmasculine comic artist. there is no easily accessible publicly available information about their race or ethnicity in their carrd.co link (or bio) aside from the words "based in Indonesia."

you may recognize his art style from this fan animated short on youtube, which went viral mainly for being... less-than-well-received. the comic's gratuitous usage of internet slang and flashy pastel overtones (some of which clash with each other to the point that it irritates my scotopic sensitivity syndrome), and barely-there character development (to the point where readers have to go out of their way to look up any of the character's names) have given it a notorious reputation for representing "everything that's wrong with fandom culture and LGBTQ+ rep as a whole."

the premise is simple: four guys who go to the same university decide to start dating each other. each represents a different character trope--goth, jock, prep, and nerd.

some users have gone so far as to argue that the webtoon perpetuates harmful stereotypes about gayness, transness, and polyamorous relationships. (while I can't really agree or disagree since I haven't read the comic, from the few panels I've seen, it does seem to take a strangely infantilizing approach to the discussion of top/bottom dynamics.)

I think we all most of us can agree that just because something makes us cringe doesn't mean it has no right to exist. at the end of the day, this comic has very little influence on mainstream media, even less so after its controversial public reception.

unfortunately, the controversy didn't stay fictional.

on May 13, 2021, Ray confirmed that they used to create non-SFW comics featuring members of BTS, which fall under the category of RPF ('real person fiction'), and later stopped doing so, citing "I've come to realize that it is a violation of their consent" as the reason why.

on October 10, 2021, Ray quoted a tweet from 9 years ago (October 5, 2013) where they had, at age 14, called a character from the competitive swimming anime Free! the n word, saying "I'm very sorry for ever using it ... I'll make sure that I will never use it again."

while I'm glad they apologized for the harm they have caused and are attempting to make amends, it's not my place to forgive them (I'm nonblack and not east asian), and the same goes for many of you who are reading this post.

for anyone who skipped to the end of this post looking for a TL;DR or waited patiently for me to finish, without further ado, here's the 'boyfriends' webtoon/refrainbow discourse summarized.

Myths* ❌

refrainbow is white

he fetishizes asian men

they're a troll trying to make the LGBTQ+ community look bad

he genuinely intends to perpetuate queerphobic stereotypes and harmful beliefs about polyamory

they intentionally slutshame/are anti sexworker

*when I say "myths" I mean we currently don't have sufficient information to determine whether or not they are true, and anyone spreading this information very likely has no real basis for it.

Facts ✔️

refrainbow is nonblack

they used the n word at age 14, when they should have been old enough to know better than to do so

he used to create smutty comics featuring real life members of BTS

since then, they have apologized for both

some of the phrases his OCs use and ways they act are stereotypical of gay/trans men and polycules, especially when related to their sex lives

anyway. I'm tired of looking at this post and I have better things to do with my time, so I'm gonna sign off now. do with this information what you will.

[bestkindofbeehive]

Smile for Me Week, Day 1: Secret

happy smile for me week!!! for my first trick, have a fic I wrote after thinking about my dad too hard. it ends well and it was pretty cathartic for me, but it does get a bit emotionally intense re: feelings about having to stay closeted in front of your parents for years, so fair warning. but it does end well I promise!!! I’ll probably post this on ao3 soon too, so look out for that!

-----

Never in a million years would Parsley have ever expected that being stuck in the same slapdash “mental health” retreat as his dad would end in anything other than frustration. And, to be fair, that was how things went for a while. But then that weird florist handed him one of his dad’s terrible dishes, and before he knew it he was getting drunk off his ass and actually talking to his dad for the first time in... years, probably. Somehow it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. The Kahlúa and birthday cake flavored vodka probably helped.

And then he’d been woken up in the middle of the night and suddenly urged out of the giant front gates with very little reason why— something something carbon monoxide poisoning. Not that Parsley really needed convincing to get the hell out of there at that point. Even a constant flow of free alcohol probably wouldn’t have kept him there for much longer. Those last PSAs were getting pretty creepy and, well, incredibly specific and aggressive towards one particular person. He had hoped that chicken te- flower vendor made it out alright, but he saw them a few days later in town. So things couldn’t have ended too badly.

The most astonishing thing, though, was the fact that he and his dad actually kept talking once they got out of that place. And he somehow didn’t wind up wanting to tear his hair out by the end of every conversation, even. Of course his dad frustrated him plenty of times, but it never got bad bad like it used to. Things between them were... good. Not good good, but just. Good.

So good, in fact, that Parsley manages to somehow metaphorically vomit up the words necessary to tell his dad he wasn’t attracted to women. He wasn’t even drunk— tipsy, certainly, but he was painfully in control of all his faculties that night.

It went... well. He knows the night ended on good terms, and he knows his dad didn’t get angry. He’s pretty sure his dad told him he loved him at some point, which is a good sign. It only happened a few weeks ago. He isn’t really ready to think about it very hard in any capacity. He’s scared that he’ll go looking for some specific sign, or a phrase, or a look— something that definitively tells him that his dad doesn’t look at him and wish he had another son— and come up empty.

Parsley takes what he can get, until what he can get isn’t enough anymore.

The tension finally breaks one evening; almost six months to the day they both left the Habitat. They were watching the end of some melodrama that was airing right before the hilariously disorganized cooking show they both enjoyed. And the stupid thing is that Parsley can’t even remember what his dad said that set him off so bad— but, god, his dad would know just the right string of words to tick him off enough to say something. It was something about keeping secrets. Something about how he didn’t understand why some people keep harmless stuff so close to their chest for no reason. Which is rich coming from him, the man who has to bluster his way through every emotional conversation he’s ever had. Parsley would be seeing red if his eyes weren’t already that color.

“See, I mean, like with your whole, uh, situation— Not that I’m tryin’ to rag on you or anything, sprig, but I just don’t see why you didn’t just go on and tell me! I wouldn't've been mad at you or nothin’,” Jimothan says, gladly shoving his entire foot in his mouth for the sake of scolding Parsley, just like old times.

Parsley, to his credit, doesn’t immediately blow up. “You didn’t exactly make it the easiest thing to do,” he says, his voice clipped and his jaw tense. His dad makes a bewildered noise next to him; a noise that wouldn’t be out of place in a sitcom.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean? I always told you that you could talk to me about anything, didn’t I?” Jimothan asks. The look of genuine confusion on his face almost makes Parsley want to drop it and just keep watching tv, but the fuse has already been lit.

“Sure, if you forget about all the times you showed me that definitely wasn’t true,” Parsley scoffs, pretending to focus on the tv again. The melodrama is still going. The character on screen is crying big, unrealistic tears. Parsley can’t make out what they’re crying about over the blood starting to rush through his ears. Every neural pathway in his brain left over from his teens is yelling at him to just let dad think that he’s right so the lecture that hasn’t even started will stop.

“What’re you— Parsley, what the heck are you talkin’ about? I’ve never— When have I ever said somethin’ that would make you think I wouldn’t—”

Something in his dad’s tone immediately sets Parsley’s blood to a boil. He sounds like he doesn’t understand; like he doesn’t even know where this is even coming from. He has no idea. Fuck, would it hurt less if his dad tried to justify himself instead? If he sounded angry instead of confused? Because this means that he just doesn’t know. Decades of hiding and bullshit and being afraid and he just didn’t know.

“Are you KIDDING ME?” Parsley fires back, eyes wide open and blood red. Jimothan almost jumps, having not been witness to his son’s temper in a while. “When HAVEN’T you said something that would make me think you wouldn’t approve? I wouldn’t— I couldn’t go a day without you making some comment about how I needed to get a girlfriend, or- or- how you couldn’t wait to have grandkids, or some other stupid thing about me “finally” getting a wife someday—” Parsley rants, his voice stuttering with the anger flying around in his chest.

Jimothan at least has the decency to look a bit stunned. “But— Oh c’mon Parsley, that was just me tryin’ to give you a little push! I thought you were havin’ a tough time talking to girls, so I figured I would just give you some pointers—”

“No! That’s just it! You just had to build up and build up this— this idea of what I was supposed to do! Every time you just had to make a comment like that it was another bullet on the fist— LIST of all the things I wasn’t doing right,” Parsley flusters. At some point in his rant his hands find their way to his head, and he tries to run his fingers through his hair to calm himself down, but they keep catching on tangles. “A-And you wanna act like I shouldn’t have been scared to tell you, but you—!”

“Scared?” His dad’s expression breaks a little, which just makes this awful situation all the more difficult. Shit. Shit shit shit, this wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. It shouldn’t even be happening, but the fire in Parsley’s chest isn’t dying down and he can’t keep his traitor mouth shut.

“Sprig, you didn’t have any reason to be scared, it woulda been fi—” Jimothan tries to start.

“Ugh, you’re not LISTENING!” Parsley feels like he’s seconds away from tearing his hair out. God, he sounds like such a teenager. “It wasn’t that easy! Of course I was scared! How the hell could I have explained— I just—!!” 

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU I WASN’T THE SON YOU WANTED?!” Parsley finally screams.

The room gets quiet frighteningly fast. His dad just stares at him, his face slack with a cocktail of confusion, surprise, and what Parsley wants to hope is sadness.

Suddenly, all the anger and half-hearted bravado flies out of Parsley’s chest. His arms fall to his sides, and he’s left panting with the exertion of having just spilled out a flood of emotions that have been building since he was in elementary school. He doesn’t feel relieved. He just feels tired.

And then he starts crying. Which is just... great. As if this night needed some extra turmoil to really polish things off. Like most times, he can’t even stop himself; he was never good about not wearing his heart on his sleeve. Not his anger, not his disappointment, and definitely not his heartache. It’s not even a “dignified cry”, as his dad would put it— he’s hiding his face in his hands, and he can’t stop his shoulders from shaking every time he tries to suck in a stuttery breath.

He probably looks pretty pathetic right now, Parsley thinks. And in a few moments he’ll hear his dad get up and walk out of his apartment while mumbling something about seeing him later. And then in about a week’s time, Parsley will answer the phone, hear his dad’s voice, and both of them will never speak of this night ever again.

But something different happens.

Instead, he feels his dad’s sturdy hands take him by the shoulders and pull him into a firm hug. It’s an awkward thing; Parsley’s hands were still covering his face, so now they’re kind of pinned to his chest, and his dad is squeezing him just slightly too hard. They’re both out of practice, really.

Before Parsley can manage a “whuh” in response, he hears more than sees his dad take in a big, faltering breath while his shoulders start to shake. Parsley has only seen his dad cry a handful of times in his life. Most of them happened around the time the divorce was finalized. But after that... Nothing.

Jimothan makes a wounded noise of a sob. “Y-You’re— God, sprig, I would never...” he starts, but can’t find the words to finish. Parsley manages to find it in himself to forgive his dad for that pretty easily. He’s never been the most eloquent when it comes to emotional outbursts. Parsley manages to wriggle his arms free, and wraps them around his dad. The older man lets out a little sniffle in response, and then starts to run his hand down his son’s messy head of hair. It only catches a few times.

“You’re all I got, Parsley,” his dad mumbles through the thickness in his voice. “You’re all I got.”

Parsley lets himself cry just a little bit more, his chest finally starting to feel lighter than it has in years. The two of them exist like that for a while— clumsily hugging and crying and mumbling little fragments of things they’ve both been meaning to say. At some point they’ll have to break apart, and at some point the night will have to end. They’ll part ways with slightly stilted goodbyes, and very likely won’t speak of this night for at least a few months. But for now, they both let themselves have this moment. 

And it’s not much, but it’s enough.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 7

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There is violence in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: *chants* BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF. *sings* they're ain't no big thing just show them a little swing. Beneficial Cucumber. Author's notes are spoilers without context at this point... Y'all-

My beta, @miscmarvelwritings . We make the best duo. I am her dumb of ass and she is my gay. I love her.

Tony was elbow-deep in a robot when I came out of the elevator, Peter holding up the spare part needed, hovering next to the engineer. Without preamble, I was directed to help and dutifully fulfilled Tony's requests. Nothing indicated that my evening stunt ever happened besides Pete's faint blush; I might as well have written it off to the tank top hugging the upper part of my body in all the right places.

I was disappointed, I won't lie to myself - I expected Tony to tease me at least a little bit, snark something vaguely lewd and move on. But the engineer was quiet today, eerily so, almost to the point where it seemed he was ignoring me on purpose. My pride didn't let me begin any of our usual banter so I frowned in silence, making the appearance of a very focused person. Bolts and screws - most interesting things in the world!

As usual, I clocked out first around eleven thirty, leaving Pete and Tony some time to discuss their secret science stuff. Usually I would be exhausted by this point which left little to no room for jealousy but that night, emotions hit me like a freight train and it took me every ounce of my willpower to head out to Bruce's for the inevitable "I'm disappointed in you/Fuck safely" round of brainwashing.

My brain kept returning to the downwards tilt of Tony's mouth and the somber mood around him. I hated seeing him so...unhappy and tense.

The moment I set step in Bruce's lab, I saw the man's back hunched over a tube, I felt the same energy coming from him. What a fucking day! The sigh that left my mouth was resigned. "Bruce?"

A couple of seconds passed before he turned. He attempted a smile but it didn't reach his eyes at all. "Hi, Princess."

I cocked my head in defeat. "If this is the part where you lecture me, let's get over it. Or even better, you say nothing and we carry on," I pursed my lips, inspecting my nails in favour of actually facing the scientist.

I heard the click-clack of his instruments being placed on the table and the soft taps of his shoes against the tiled floor. His arms reached around my shoulders before I could even attempt to pull away, one of his broad palms tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not mad, baby girl," He told me quietly.

I felt some of the tension dissipate, wrapped my arms around him, coming to a realization the man was all but melting into me.

"Just stay safe, alright? I don't want you to get hurt," With the same quiet tone, Bruce gently shushed my worries away. "If something is wrong, you can come to me. You know that, right?" He sounded painfully hopeful as he withdrew just enough to capture my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eye.

Something about the look in his eyes made my heart ache. I didn't have the heart to refuse, nor did I want to, so I nodded. Promptly, I was embraced yet again, his lips resting on the crown of my head, both of us swaying gently.

I've never wanted to cry so badly in my entire life.

"I'm a fuckin' mess, Bwucie, you haven't got a clue what you've gotten yourself into," I settled for a round of self-deprication instead. Bitter as it was, it was the barenaked truth.

"Then you're a beautiful mess," I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. So I smiled, too, obscured by his lab coat.

As much as I didn't want to leave the embrace, like, ever, I had to get home before one o'clock - before mother went to bed, zonked out on Valium and Ambien from the endless supply closet courtesy of my dad. "M'hafta go home," I mumbled.

Bruce sighed deeply. "I'll grab one of Tony's cars and drive you," He went over to remove his lab coat as I gaped. "I'm a forty-five year old man, I can drive." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Tony won't mind?" I asked the first question that popped into my mind to attempt dispelling the awkward moment.

"Trust me, he won't mind at all," Bruce mumbled darkly. I wondered what's up with that but the immediate future for me was already planned out: I was really looking forward to going home, crawling into bed with my clothes on and having a good old fashioned cry.

We made quick work of locating a set of keys and peeling out of the garage in Tony's shiny Audi R8, tires squealing on the wet pavement. It had stopped raining sometime during my robot building but the city was still filled with puddles. I could smell the moist, decaying leaves through the tiny gap of the window, the city was drowning in autumn like I was drowning in my own cluelessness.

The adrenaline rush, the weight of Tony's foul mood, the grief and pleading that radiated off Bruce mixed into a horrendous cocktail of misery and pain. Too much pain for my little, weak, dumb heart to handle. And all these people out in the streets, dressed to the nines despite the disgusting weather - laughing, hugging and drunkenly giggling, it was like salt on my wounds, rubbing it in how much of a good time they were having.

"This your house?" Bruce pointed at the black, high gate of the entrance to my garage.

"Yeah, it's a bit much," I nodded absentmindedly, seeing Bruce's eyes bulge at the sheer size of my estate. My mother wouldn't settle for any less than the best so having a monstrously huge (for NYC) home was what she got. Dad just signed the checks.

Bruce hummed.

I made a face, reaching for his warm hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Bwucie," Smiling at him, I used up the last of my good mood to show the gratitude he deserved.

He pulled me into a tight hug right over the middle console. It wasn't comfortable by any means with the numerous buttons and switches poking at the soft of my stomach but there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms during that moment. The breaths that left me felt like they were punched out of my chest cavity by steel-toed boots.

"Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams." He kissed my cheek, lingering just a tiny bit.

I did the same, rubbing softly against his stubble and giggling at the ticklish sensation. "Night night, Bwucie."

I waved at him again as I unlocked my front gates and watched him speed off from behind it, obscured by the shadows of the decorative trees growing right behind the fence.

Bruce's face had morphed into something akin to torment or suffering the moment I disappeared from his immediate eyesight and it baffled me to no extent. I ransacked my brain left and right, searching for a reason I might have inadvertently caused him to feel that way but found none. The only logical reason was that he was just lonely. He didn't have many friends from what I gathered and if judging by the proud tone in which he spoke of Will-Mr Davies today, he desperately needed some other company than his teammates. I wish I could have helped.

Mother was nowhere to be seen when I entered the house so a beeline for my bed was successful. The ugly, loud, dry-heaving sobs weren't in any shape or form attractive or acceptable to show to anybody but me so when they forced their way out of me, the pillow keeping me company. I cried as for everything that was happening to me as much as I sobbed because of the self-pity I was indulging in.

It was pathetic, really. My mother would scoff and my father... Well, he'd offer me to 'cheer up, throw a party, do normal teenager stuff'. The bottle of wine I kept in my closet was empty in no time: I justified that as a single lady in a big city, I was entitled to relax once in a while.

Who was I lying to? I downed a bottle in twenty minutes just so I could fall asleep and begone from all this bullshit for a while.

On Monday, I anonymously submitted the documents pertaining to Thompson's behaviour to the school board and to a local newspaper that was known to dabble in socialite gossip. Next day, an investigation was promptly launched and important-looking people started to appear in the hallways, going in and out of the principal's office. Flash was pulled out of class by two police officers: at this point, half the student population was unashamedly filming it on their smartphones, me included. With grim satisfaction, I sent the video directly to the group chat with an added message of "so long, fucker".

Steve didn't even remark on my profanity, just sent a thumbs up.

It really fuckin' blew up the next morning. The news was plastered across every paper, every social media site - "Midtown Principal's son arrested for grand theft auto and assault", "Midtown Principal Being Investigated for obstruction of education" and other ridiculous headlines that had me, Bucky and Natasha in shit-fits.

Flash returned to school on Wednesday accessorized with a pretty ankle monitor and a sullen frown. During lunch, he sat only with two of his closest minions instead of the chatty group he was usually seen with. Everybody avoided him like the bubonic plague, even teachers ignored him.

With the final bell, me and Pete went on to look for Happy outside the school territory.

I was spending nearly every evening at the tower either in Tony's or Bruce's lab or sandwiched between Wanda and Bucky on the couch, gossiping while TV shows mutely played in the background. I had found a second friend in the face of Winter Soldier who, much like me, spent a lot of his days occupied by the internet or in a general state of confusion. Bucky was charming, funny and very flamboyant. I enjoyed the no-nonsense attitude and zero fucks that he gave the world in general.

The moment I stepped on the other side of the gate, I immediately knew something was wrong. Peter squirmed uncomfortably beside me, looking frantically in every direction, trying to spot Happy's car in vain.

"Ay, Parker," The familiar obnoxious voice of Peter's bully reached our ears. "You wanna tell me how you got your grubby little hands on that file?"

Thompson had brought back up with him, the idiot that he was. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the fence while five older boys surrounded us in a tight circle.

"Leave us alone, Flash, you're already in trouble," Peter tried reasoning with the bully meanwhile I... I was searching for a cleaner, dryer spot to dump my $1500 bag onto in preparation for the inevitable. I was no stranger to swinging my arm - as a frequent house party guest, I've had to fend off enough unwelcome advances. I've been told I have a mean, mean right hook.

"Bold of you to assume Peter would actually steal something," I stated in a bored tone once my bag was out of the way and Pete was standing securely behind me. I wasn't afraid of Flash, mostly because I knew he'd step back for the fear of retaliation from my family was usually too much.

"Oh, look at that, the weirdo is talking," Thompson mocked, getting up and standing right in front of my face. "You know, I don't get why the likes of you have to go to school with us, normal people. See, Peter here might be a little wimp but at least he won't shoot up the whole school one day because his daddy didn't love him enough," Thompson decided to test his luck. To finish his epic tirade with a flourish, he spat on the ground next to me.

I snorted. "Wow, that's an awful lot of smart words for someone as dumb as a doorknob," I shook my head in disdain. "Look, either you go now or I'll sue you so far up your ass, you'll be sucking dick in prison just to get something to fill your stomach with." And wow, that comeback was really, really good. I was proud of myself.

I saw pure rage mar Thompson's already ugly face into something demonic and ducked at the last moment, feeling the blunt sting of his knuckles connect with my left cheekbone. Reflectively I swung, too, decking him straight in the nose with all the rage and despair that was burning deeply inside of me at that time.

I heard gasps all around me as the students whispered, shouted and cheered at Thompson's confused form hitting the ground. He held his face and his palms were stained a deep crimson; I felt something warm on my face, copper in my mouth.

"Does anybody want some of that, too?" My tone was icy. I shrugged off the hand that landed on my shoulder, glaring down one of the boys who came with Thompson.

"Shit, cops, RUN!" One of the students suddenly shouted and just like that, both me and Flash were surrounded only by a handful of students who had filmed the entire incident on camera. God bless technology!

"Uh, I think you're bleeding," Pete timidly remarked from behind me, hand still awkwardly outstretched towards me. He cast a guilty look to the side where Happy was running towards us, phone held to his ear, no doubt already on the line with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Shit, fuck, SHIT. I didn't plan for this!

The police officers called an ambulance for Flash and took my statement while I was holding my bleeding nose up to the sky, much to the officer's dismay. Happy had passed the officer his mobile phone and I briefly heard Tony's voice saying that I will be taken care of in the tower's medical suite - and let's face it, no cop will go against Iron Man's charm and wit.

As an eighteen year old, I could refuse the on-site medical assistance that the city provided and my parents weren't required so I was let go after my statement was taken and my injuries photographed.

Not that the photoshoot really was required. Multiple people had the incident on video, from multiple angles. It was an open and close case. I called my mother in the elevator (she didn't answer) and left her a voice message with the bare facts of the situation and my current whereabouts.

Seeing the whole team assembled in the living room, some nervously twitching, some anxiously pacing, I couldn't help but let out a slightly hysterical giggle. "Oh my god, guys, I'm not in a coma, stop acting like I'm in a coma!"

Bucky was the first to approach me, carefully hugging me and steering me towards Bruce. He looked a bit rough, green-ish? I guess. But the first aid kit was already on the table and Stephen Strange was hovering nearby.

"You decked the sucker real good, doll," Bucky's Brooklyn accent made his speech less intelligible but he definitely got all the cookie points for the heat and the passion.

"Ditto. Should've kicked him in the balls, too," Natasha smirked and Steve mirrored her smirk with a darker twist.

"I'm going to sue him so darn far up his ass," Tony seethed, looking absolutely livid.

"Don't worry, mother's got it handled," I obediently laid down on the couch, staring up at Bruce's wide eyes and Stephen's focused face.

"You are fearless and fierce, dear lady," Thor boomed from somewhere.

All of this was making me... Emotional. I just punched a piece of human garbage, it was not a big deal, okay? He had it coming. I chuckled uncomfortably, wincing when Bruce began dabbing at the dried blood on my face with a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol. "Petey, you alright?" I asked, worried about the sudden onset of silence from the usually chatty boy. He mumbled something. "Speak up, I can't hear shit with all the ringing in my ears."

That earned me a worried look from doctor Strange and a frown from Bruce.

"I should've protected you-I mean-it's not that you can't do it yourself, or because you're a girl, it's just-I," he suddenly stopped.

"Go ahead, kid," Tony urged him with unmistakable kindness in his voice.

"You see, I'm-I'm actually Spider-Man and I'm afraid to accidentally kill someone, 'cause I'm really strong." Pete blurted out.

I had to replay his words several times in my head to get to the gist of what he was actually saying. Shy little Peter? Spider-Man? So that's why he was such a fucking pacifist? I mean, it made perfect sense if he really was strong enough to lift cars and hold together collapsing bridges like I'd seen on YouTube.

"Huh," I stated after a brief pause. "I guess I did double the work today, dumped out some trash and prevented a potential murder. I'm on a roll and I deserve chocolate cake," I rambled to distract myself from the incoming dull headache and the sting of the alcohol against the split skin of my cheek.

Strange chuckled, looking, possibly, the happiest I've ever seen him. Bruce giggled too. A tiny bit.

"Friday, order the biggest, most expensive chocolate cake that can be delivered in... Two hours," Tony immediately spoke up.

"Cake," I mumbled happily, a strange drowsiness overcoming me, making my eyelids droop. "Hey-mmm, doc?" I slurred, seeing Stephen's face fall. "M'think m'concussed, f'king 'ell!" The snort that left his mouth was absolutely hilarious; I started giggling, too, startling Banner into action.

He picked up his phone, saying something I didn't understand at all.

"Y'kno," I had this totally bright idea I absolutely NEEDED to share with everyone. "Y'kinda look like the guy... Wha's'is name... Bendy-snap Crum-ble-sticks? No, wait," Snorts and giggles began to resonate through the room as the amount of Doctor Stranges suddenly multiplied by two. He was a WIZARD, that was so cool! "I think... Mmm, yes... Benadryl-Claritin? No-no-no, 'das meds," Woah, a lot of people were there and they were suddenly all laughing. I wondered what was so funny. It was hard to think with so many people laughing; my temples were pulsating uncomfortably. "Wait, I know, I know!" There were wheezing noises now, noises that distinctively reminded me of Tony and Wanda and Bucky. "Bubble-butt Coitus-snack!" I triumphantly exclaimed, finally happy to have gotten it right.

The laughter turned into truly demonic cackling, surrounding me, they were so loud I almost managed to get fully afraid. And then, I passed the fuck out.

TAGLIST IS OPEN Y'ALL.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem

[cobaltusami]

Tropical Vacation pt. 1

Hey hi hello! So I'm going to be starting to post the 50 follower special over the course of this week, I have proof read 10,000 words worth of writing so hopefully by the time I have all the parts already written posted, I'll have the rest of it done or almost done!

There aren't any real tickles In this part because I was setting up for the rest of the story, but there's a close encounter near the end. Next part will have lots of tickles!

Characters In this part: Makoto, Leon, Mondo, Chihiro, Taka, Sakura, Hina, Hiro, Celeste, Kyoko

Words: 1,944

PT 1: [You are here.], PT 2: [Click here.]

It was a normal day In Hope’s peak academy-- If there was ever such a thing. The students were gathered In the dining hall eating breakfast as they normally do and chatting amongst themselves.

The energy was pretty calm today, Hiro cheerfully pointed out upon arriving, only to be told not to jinx them.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

“Hey, do you hear something?” Makoto asked hesitantly. Kyoko nodded and closed her eyes momentarily, focusing on the odd sound.

“It sounds like… Ocean waves.” She concluded, her lavender eyes scanning the room curiously.

“Ocean waves? Why would we be hearing the ocean?” Makoto pondered aloud.

“Hina, Is that not what It sounds like to you?” Kyoko asked the swimmer, who had perked up at the mention of the ocean.

“You’re totally right! I hear It too!” She agreed.

Leon looked to his left where a speaker was attached to a support beam. “It’s coming from over here. Don’t tell me, Monokuma…” he trailed off with a heavy sigh.

As if he were Beetlejuice and his name had been mentioned 3 times, a wild Monokuma appeared from out of seemingly nowhere. “I thought you students might benefit from a change in scenery! I wouldn’t want you getting TOO depressed, You might get too depressed to kill anyone!”

The whole room heaved a collective sigh. “For the last fuckin’ time, We aren’t going to kill one another! So you can go fuck yourself!” Mondo snapped.

“But Robots don’t have the right parts for that!” Monokuma retorted, looking dejected. “How could you be so cruel? Pointing out my insecurities like that…”

“Yeah yeah, This Is great banter and all but--” Leon wasn’t about to sit through another hour of Mondo and Monokuma going back and forth, not after the last time. “What the hell do you mean, ‘Change of scenery’?”

“Good question, Kirishima!” Monokuma responded. “Oh, Whoops, Wrong series!”

“Has Monokuma finally lost it?” Hiro whispered. “What’s he talking about? Series?”

“I dunno... Did Monokuma ever have It to begin with, Man?” Leon whispered back.

“Anyway!” Monokuma cleared his nonexistent throat. “I thought I would liven your surroundings up with some ambience for a while, What do you think? Pretty realistic huh? You can practically feel the ocean breeze right?”

Makoto exchanged glances with Kyoko, not trusting this little shit for a second. “That’s It?”

“What? Were you expecting more?” Monokuma asked, tilting his head.

“There’s not going to be like a shark In the pool or anything… Right? This is it?” Hina asked hesitantly.

“Don’t give him ideas.” Makoto said, exasperated.

“Eh? Why would I do that? I want you to kill each other, Not become shark bait!” The bear retorted. “If you don’t believe me, go check around the school. I don’t have time to explain my feng shui to you, I have places to be!”

As abruptly as he appeared, He disappeared In an annoyed huff. Leaving the dining hall confused.

“So, Does everyone else think he’s using paranoia as a motive again or Is It just me?” Leon asked in a deadpan tone, a few students nodded in agreement.

“I for one would welcome a change in pace! Perhaps he is legitimately concerned for our mental health!” Taka spoke up. “We should absolutely check out the school after breakfast to see what’s changed!”

“T-Taka… Bro…” Mondo sighed. “Monokuma don’t give a shit about us, This Is obviously a trick.”

“What did he mean by that?” Chihiro asked quietly. “He has places to be?”

“He was probably just bullshitting us as usual.” Leon replied.

Kyoko hummed quietly, skeptical. She had also caught that unusual dialog line.

“Let us finish breakfast and then go look around.” Celeste suggested, taking a sip of her tea.

Everyone agreed and the energy of the room returned to It’s previous lightheartedness.

Upon exiting the room afterwards, the students noticed inflatable palm trees and random piles of sand scattered across the common area.

Makoto stared at the ‘decor’ In awkward silence, there’s no way it could be this harmless… right?

“It appears as though Monokuma really did do some redecorating…” Kyoko hummed thoughtfully, though not fully convinced of the remodel either.

“It’s…” Hina trailed off, an inflatable Monokuma wearing a grass skirt catching her eye.

“Tacky?” Leon suggested, kicking one of the Monokuma decorations out of his way.

She eyed a giant inflatable flamingo as she replied. “Kind of cute? I mean, At least It’s different.”

“Different, It certainly Is…” Sakura mumbled, sticking by Hina’s side just in case any of these inflatable beach toys decided to spring to life like Monokuma and try to attack the Swimmer.

“I think It looks fuckin’ stupid!” Mondo scoffed.

“Not just that, Monokuma has completely made a mess with all of this sand everywhere!” Taka seemed more outraged about the mess than the ominous looming threat.

“Sakura-- Look at that!” Hina pointed excitedly at a massive flamingo floaty. You could literally fit multiple people on it. “It’s so cute! I’m so gonna put this in the pool!”

“Hina, What do you need an inflatable this large for?” Sakura sighed. “You don’t even use them.”

“So that we can both chill on it together and pretend we’re at the beach, Duh!” Hina giggled, The martial artist couldn’t help but smile and shake her head at that.

She was about to say something in response but felt something light land on her head, She instinctively grabbed it and inspected it. It was a pink lei. “What the… Where did this come from?”

“The fuck?” Mondo grabbed a blue lei off of his shoulder.

Hina perked up as a yellow lei landed in her hands. She looked up in the direction It came from to see Chihiro standing atop a massive duck floaty that was similar in size to the flamingo. In their hands they had several more lei’s.

“Chihiro, where did you find those? These are so cute!” Hina squealed, happily putting the lei on.

Chihiro giggled. “I found them sitting in a box next to the door.” They replied, smiling.

Sakura and Mondo both looked up at Chihiro in silence for a moment as they both processed what they were looking at. But once they did…

“CHI!” Mondo yelled, alarmed.

“Chihiro!” Sakura gasped.

“Y-Yeah?” Chihiro asked meekly, startled by the unusual reaction from their friends.

“What are you doing up there??”

“Get down from there right now before ya fall and hurt yourself!”

“What are they now, Chihiro’s parents?” Leon asked, exasperated.

“I mean, If I had to pick anyone here to be my parents, I’d pick these two.” Makoto chuckled quietly.

Chihiro frowned and went to climb off of the duck’s head but they stumbled and squeaked as they went crashing towards the floor.

Mondo dove for the small programmer but Sakura had already seen they were gonna fall so she had taken off in their direction.

Sakura managed to catch them in her arms but didn’t anticipate Mondo also diving for them, she figured Mondo would have seen she was already on it but evidently not.

Mondo ended up colliding with Sakura and the two went tumbling to the floor, luckily Chihiro hadn’t been collateral because Sakura had just put them down.

“OW FUCK!”

“Ugh…”

Leon and Hiro both cracked up laughing at the two, but quickly stopped when Taka and Hina sent them death glares.

Mondo laid there, winded. His upper half was draped across Sakura, She had tried to catch him to break his fall but underestimated how much momentum he’d built up and they both ended up hitting the floor a few times whilst they tumbled.

“Oh no! Are you guys okay?!” Chihiro gasped, rushing over to them with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would get hurt!”

“Hurt? Who says... we’re hurt?” Mondo tried to put the programmer at ease, mustering up a lopsided grin. “I’m fine, what about you Sakura?”

She was silent for a moment, Most likely also winded from hitting the floor so hard.

“Sakura?” Mondo repeated, pushing himself up off of her, his hand brushing against her side. Her eyes snapped open, suddenly very alert as she jerked upwards into a sitting position.

“Y-Yes. I’m fine too.” She blushed, her arms wrapping around herself self consciously.

Mondo made a confused face. “What’s wrong? Ya hit your head?”

“No, I… Nevermind.”

Chihiro’s face scrunched with confusion too as they replayed what had just happened in their head. Then they realized. “Ohh! I think I know!”

“What Is It?” The Biker asked, turning his head to look at the small student.

“I-It’s nothing. I suppose I’m just a little bit winded from you landing on me.” She said calmly, her face unreadable.

“Well… That could be too…” They mumbled, thinking over It more carefully.

Suddenly, Hina began laughing, as she had apparently figured out what happened. “Oh my god! Mondo! Dude she--”

“Hina!” Sakura interjected quickly, sensing danger. “Don’t even think about It!”

“Will someone just tell me what the fuck is going on!?” Mondo snapped.

“I can’t say It, Because Sakura might kill me If I do.” Hina snickered.

Chihiro sat down next to the Martial artist. “Are you hurt…?” they asked quietly, putting their hand carefully on her side.

She flinched visibly and looked at the small student, blushing. “N-No. I’m fine, Really.” she tried to reassure them. Because she was too busy worrying about Chihiro, she didn’t catch the look of realization across Mondo’s face. Ohhh and the evil grin that followed…

“Sakura, Don’t tell me…” Mondo grinned as the white haired student looked back at him. “Are you ticklish?”

She recognized the almost predatory look in his eyes, and quickly put distance between them by backing up then rising to her feet. “No.” she responded In a serious tone.

Mondo stood up and was slowly advancing towards the slightly nervous woman. “I think you’re lying~”

“Taka!” Sakura said suddenly. “I think Mondo’s bleeding.”

“What!?” Taka was quickly in front of his Kyoudai, checking him for injuries, also effectively standing in his way.

“Wh-what? No-- Taka I’m fine! She’s tricking you!” Mondo stammered, incredulous that Taka would fall for such an obvious trick.

“Trick or not, I need to make sure you’re okay!”

This gave Sakura a chance to get away from the biker, sneaking past back to the safety of her room.

Once Taka was sure that Mondo wasn’t bleeding, he backed off. “Ogami! This isn’t fuckin’ over!” He called down the hall in vain.

“I believe It Is!” She called back, Hina was nearly on the floor laughing her ass off.

“S-Sorry Kyoudai…” Taka meekly apologized.

Mondo sighed. “It’s fine. You were just worried.”

Taka was about to say something else but felt a lei being placed around his neck, he looked down at it in surprise. It was red to match his eyes. “Ch-Chihiro?” he stammered, turning around to face the Programmer.

“I saved the red one for you, there was only one in the box and I thought it would look the best on you.” They smiled.

Taka teared up at the kind gesture. “Th-Thank you! I shall treasure this for as long as I shall live!”

Chihiro giggled as they hugged the strict student, making him even more teary as he returned the hug.

“Using Taka against Mondo to escape Is really smart…” Leon said quietly to Makoto and Hiro.

“Yeah, How come we never thought of that?” Hiro replied.

“That would require you all to have a functioning brain in your heads.” Celeste smiled as they gave her pointed looks.

Kyoko smirked at this, apparently agreeing with Celeste’s sentiment.

[popculturebuffet]

Sparkshortstravaganza! (Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Well this was a needed kick in the pants. When I first heard of the Sparkshorts program I was excited. As a kid I loved PIxar, as an adult I love pixar and as an old man dealing with the loss of his partner floating away in my balloon house, i’ll still love pixar. So the idea of a program focused on giving new fresh talent the room to do whatever they wanted and make content that would be on Disney Plus, a platform BADLY bereft of original animation? It was a dream come true and the first one I saw Kitbull is easily a masterpiece and something that I can vividly recall every part of to this day, which for my terrible short term memory recalling EVERYTHING is a rare feat few works have achived.  But given I have a REALLY bad habit of letting things I want to watch sit there if I don’t jump on them immediately.. I let it sit there and didn’t touch any of the shorts and mostly forgot about the program until now. Until Kev, my patron and the only person paying for reviews at the moment, though others are more than welcome wink wonk, just decided what the heck and to test out comissioning shorts picked these ones because why not. And given I had been dragging my feet and reading the descriptions found creative and suprisingly heavy premises... I was fully on board And better late than never because along with Soul this program has EASILY restored my faith in the company after Onward really disapointed. Granted they’ve done worse, while there are pixar films I haven’t seen I need to like Coco or Cars 3, I’ve vowed NEVER to watch Cars 2 unless I have to and that vow has served me well so far. The shorts here are as a whole beautifully animated, have a ton of wonderful concepts and even the two weaker ones are still gorgeous to look at and a decent watch regardless and both come from a very well meaning place with a very well meant message. So yeah i’m thankful for this comission and to show you why let’s go through every Sparkshorts so far and see why their so awesome.. after some background of course. 

Sparkshorts, for the uniniated, is a program by pixar where animators are given six months and a limited budget to create a film based on personal experince. The program was designed to test out new ways of animating, directing and creating and to find a creative “spark” in it’s employees. Thus each film feels unique, has it’s own style.. and is utterly charming. I’ll be looking at them chronologically as while this wasn’t my watch order, I feel it’s a bit neater that way. I’ve already taken long enough to get to watching these, let’s open these films up and see what makes them tick shall we?

Purl: An Adorable Yarn Ball Vs Toxic Masculinity  Purl.. was better the more I thought about it. The first short released, it DOES have a good message and killer animation. The film takes place at B.R.O., a dude broey brockerage firm that’s painfully relasitic both in how broey it is and in how it looks. That’s to contrast our heroine: Purl, an adorable ball of yarn who just wants to be accepted but is instead ignored by the rest of the company till she changes herself up, donning a suit like her co workers she badly wants to fit in with and adopting their wolf of wallstreet esque douchebaggery. She finally gets accepted.. but ends up shedding her new self to help another Yarn Ball starting up.  Director Kristen Lester drew from personal experince, starting work at animation in a mostly male dominated workplace and thus having to adapt and only letting the femine side she’d repressed out when she moved to working at pixar, which had more female employees. The film DOES have a good message about toxic workplaces and toxic masulinty and learning the personal story did raise it a few notches as it made it clear to me that what SEEMED like an over exageration.. was probably just a light exageration given the kind of bro antics we’ve heard about at companies like Ubisoft. So while I didn’t like the film much at first honestly.. it’s over the top because it NEEDS to be because even though it’s 2021.. some idiots STILL don’t get it and kids are better off learning it now so it’ll hopefully stick when their entering the workforce. So we’ll get more people like perl willing to make a change and stick up for those like her and less dude bros. Still a decent and clever short with Perl’s bro form looking really neat and the animation on her in general is really fucking gorgeous. All in all not the best of these but still pretty good and while a bit thick on the message.. it kinda has to be. 

Smash And Grab: A Jaunty Ride to Freedom

This was a really fun one. Directed by Brian Larson and inspried by his need for a break from routine this follows two robots, the titular smash and grab who are designed to well.. smash and grab coal-like energy things for a train and have for years and years. The two long to high five, but can’t because their hooked to tubes so they can’t escape. But one day Smash looks out the window and not only sees fellow robots living a better life.. but a way to power him and his buddy/love intrest? I mean bromance or romance, either way it works. Point is our heroes escape, and have to fight security.  It’s just a really damn fun and creative movie. While robots wanting a better life isn’t new, the crisp art deco animation, breakneck pace, fun gags and heartwearming relationship between the two bots is just charming as hell. It’s just a fun ride the whole way through with a lot of heart and creativity with the two’s way they throw coal to one another used to take out the guards, and all together just some really good set pieces. Easily one of my faviorites here and that’s a high water mark to pass. 

Kitbull: Tiny Orphan Kitty + Big Abused Doggo = Best Friends

As I said this is the only one of these I saw before today and as I said it’s stuck with me. I love dogs. I have one of my own named Yoshi whose just a sweet boy. So i’ve always loved ALL DOGS.. and was thus horrified years ago when I learned about the stigma Bulldogs get. Seen as “agressive’ and “Mean’ and victious.. when really a lot of them, including my grandpa’s own pitbull when I was little, are just loveable as any other dogs. And having also known a former fighting dog my friend owned, if a much smaller min pin rather than a pitbull, who by the time I met him had become the sweetest dog you’d ever meet.. yeah.. don’t mistreat a dog just because some assholes force it to fight to the death because their sick, horrible, ghastly human beings.. if they can even be CALLED human beings after doing that to these poor animals.  My point is it’s nice to have a short about such a needed subject. Director Rosana Sullivan actually had the idea for the short for years and intended to do it as a side project, but when the program cropped up she moved it to pixar and the result is one of the most popular and easily one of the best of an already bright bunch, brought on by her love of animals and working in a shelter. It’s also one of Pixar’s first 2d animated projects and proves their just as good at that as cgi.  It’s the touching story of a kitty whose alone in the world and initally mistrustful and hissy at a big dog she finds and is naturally scared of.. until she grows to bond with the dog, realizing much like a LOT of fucking people need to that pitbulls.. are just dogs and often victims of circumstance and the poor, sweet pooch who just wants his owner to love him.. is instead thrown into a fighting pit, nearly killed and forced to make a daring escape with their new forever friends help. It’s through this wonderful, heartrending friendship that the dog finds freedom and the cat.. finds them both a home, no longer running from people but instead making sure they both get a person. It’s often brutal at times, with the scene of the dog being forced to fight being one of the most striking: while we thankfully don’t see the action, we HEAR IT, as does the poor kitty, and we see the aftermath: a friendly harmless dog thrown out into the cold just because it dosen’t WANT to fight. It’s just really heartrending stuff that makes the happy ending all the better. It’s also gorgeiously animated which I mentioned but i’ll say it again; the animation here is GOREGOUS, unqiue and stunning. Go watch this if you haven’t. 

Float: This is Why Krakoa Exists

This.. has easily been the hardest to review of the bunch. While ALL of these stories are very personal, very inclusive and very intresting, this one.. is a bit rougher than most of them and hits REALLY close to home. See this one was built out of director Bobby Rubio’s experinces raising his son who has autisim. 

It’s about a dad who discovers his infant son can float... and thus gets stares of fear or judgment from eveyrone around him slowly getting broken down by this. So he makes a HORRIBLE judgment call and rather than just accept some people are assholes, weighs his son’s backpack down with stones despite him hating it then drags him away when he ends up floating off, before screaming at the poor kid WHY CAN’T YOU BE DIFFRENT.. He DOES instantly regret this and the ending is genuinely touching as the father finally accepts his son is different and throws him into the air while on a swing, letting his son soar as he always should’ve. It is a beautifully animated and well meant film and the filipino representation is truly great: Rubio originally was going to have the characters as white but his fellow animators convinced him to go for represntation and be true to himself and honestly in a time when disney itself has had to be fought to get queer representation most of the time, it’s nice that pixar at least is a part of it that throughly encourages representation and will gladly put diversity and representation over any bullshit “risk factors”.  That being said.. while this was a decent short with a very well intentioned message and it clearly connected with a lot of people.. it wasn’t for me and I say this as someone who has autisim. As someone who has worn down people’s patince and been starred at by a freak for something I was way too young to properly deal with.  I’ve been in this Kid’s shoes. 

And that’s the problem: The metaphor dosen’t really work for me. While auitism CAN have some benifits and I wouldn’t be any other way i’d be lying if I said it was easy having trouble commuincating, constnatly misreading people, constnatly worrying if someone’s going to like you, and hyperfocusing on a problem instead of being able to set it and forget it for a bit to my own detriment. There’s other problems and not ALL of my issues come from anxiety disorder: I also have anxiety and depression. They just bleed badly INTO said autisim sometimes, as it’s hard to effectively combat anxiety sometimes when your mind won’t let you. 

What i’m saying is... there aren’t any FAULTS in his powers. See i’m a fan of x-men, so I can only see this boy as a mutant, and yes I know they usually manfifest at puberty but there have been exceptions so don’t at me.. and one of them who has no real downsides other than the unfair stigma of being a mutant. He’s more like storm, who can control the elements and whose power only enhances her life nad lesss like say Rogue, who looks normal.. but can’t touch anyone without knocking them out at best or horribly abosrbing them into her head at worst. There’s no downside other than the fact people judge him and his dad is a dick about it.  And the dad part is hard because I get what Rubio is going for: parents make mistakes, parents mess up and their only human even if they should embrace their kids anyway. That’s a good message and one I support.. I just think Rubio was way TOO hard on himself and thus made his stand in into an unlikeable asshole, one whose more concerned with how everyone ELSE thinks and does the horribly abusive action of basically tying his son’s wings down so he can’t fly. He mans well, it’s so his son dosen’t float off.. but instead of finding a way to help him and work with him on it.. he just stuffs rocks in his back and forces the kid to be miserable so other people can be happy. It just goes way too far in the other direction to work. As I said I think it’s the guy being too hard on himself, manifesting his worst moments with his kids and his biggest regrets and making himself into a very hard to like character because he has trouble forgviing himself for how he acted. So I want to say if you ever read this bobby while I wasn’t hte biggest fan of your film.. I do wholly support you and your son.. and the fact you made an entire FILM just to show your sturggle and show people there not alone was a beautiful act. You are not a bad person , we all make mistakes and we’re all just human. You are a good man Bobby Rubio. I may of not liked your metaphor... but your message is beautiful. 

Wind: Immigration by Way of Rocket Science

Thankfully moving on.. this one is tied with Kitbull for my faviorite. It has a truly intriguing premise, a great metaphor, stunning animation, and is just really moving, gripping and fun to watch. This one was by Edwin Chang, and as is usualy by now, it was built on personal experince.. but not his. It was built on the fact his father was an immigrant who had to leave his mother, Chang’s grandmother, behind to a better life. She rejoined them eventually but it left an impact on his father and thus serves as the core of this story. And honestly knowing that only STRENGTHENS an already impresssive sci fi short.  It’s the story of a boy, apparently named Ellis so i’ll use that, and his grandmother who live in a bizzare, hauntingly beautifuly stygian sinkhole that has floating rocks and debris. The two spend their day farming potatoes and grabbing whatever they can to hopefully make their way out. But it becomes clear to young Ellis after they find a plane his grandmother wants HIM to go alone and escape and is willing to sacrifice herself.. and ends up having to trick the boy into thinking sh’es going along in order to get him to do what he needs to surivive and thrive. It’s a truly gut wrenching story as even when she seems to have found a way for them both to leave.. it’s very clear she’s simply training him with all the welding tools and what not so he has skills to make it out there on his own in the unknown. So he can live without her.. but more importantly.. so he CAN LIVE. Away from the darkness, not having to scrape and to surivive and hopefully find something better out there. While the old parental figure sacrifciing thsmelves so the youngun can start hteir journey isn’t new.. it’s the unique, beautiful and haunting setting and the emotoin, conveyed only through the utterly beautiful animation that make this story feel fresh, along with it’s great metaphor. This short is just haunting, beauitful and really damn sad, and I only dont’ have all that much to say because it’s all in the visuals. The only thing I have left is like all of these really, watch it. But especailly this one. 

Loop: Enough Said

This is part of the reason I didn’t like Float all that much. Loop is just.. way better at conveying the experinces of having auitism. While Renee is a more severe case than me I can relate to what kicks off the film: Renee, usually paired with an adult at the camp she at, is forcibley paired with a chatty boy named Marcus. While Marcus is eager to go home and has no idea how to interact with the two the two genuinely bond, with Marcus slowly getting into Renee’s world. The key scene for this and the one that clinches the film is Renee waving her hands over the reeeds in the water, throughly enjoying it with marcus not getting it.. till he tries himself. Director Erica Milsom, whose worked with autistic children and picked this medium entriely because i’ts perfect for a non verbal character and is one that can tackle heavy issues like this in a way to help people understan, really wanted to counter most depections of severe autisim, paticuarlly sensory issues. While we see the good in them instead of JUST her freaking out or being overwhelemed: how her sounds and the things she feels truly relax her and how she really DOES enjoy nature and is perfectly at home there. It’s just a beautiful way to show this disablility is not ALL bad, as many works tend to focus soley on the drawbacks. While I had my issues with Float part of it was it had too much good.. but Loop is superior at this simply because it shows both with unflinching honesty: The beauty of something that calms and relaxes your brain or a touch or sensation that just FEEELS really good, things that while again i’m not on the same level as Renee.. I can still fully relate to.  But what puts it over float besides not having a messy metaphor is it DOES show the issues that come with it.. but does so WELL and with nuance. It shows how isolating autisim can be, especially for someone like Renee who can’t talk, how people are sometimes freaked out by you and don’t know how to interact with you and how adults can MEAN WELL, and the counsler setting them off was a good idea in the end... but can also be misguided and not fully know how to handle you without overwhelming you. It shows just how bad a panic attack can be, how you can just.. shut down and drive away. It was easily the sequence that hit the hartest and resonated the most as I’ve had those, and i’ve just shut down with no one able to reach me.. and it makes it all the more touching as Marcus eventually realizes how to handle things, and gives her space despite the setting son and the peril of being stranded.. because he realizes she needs it and offers to simply be there when she’s ready. It’s a touching, wonderful gesture, capped by him giving her a reed.. and the two heading home finally udnerstanding one another.This one is very close to wind in my heart and I think I found even more love for it writing this review and realizing just how much it hit me. And that ain’t bad. 

Out: Be Proud of Who You Are.. with the help of a gay cosmic space cat 

Speaking of hitting close to home and really resonating with me, we have Pixar’s first short with a gay main character, with his sexuality being the center of this. And as a bi person who had struggle accepting his sexuality let alone telling anyone, even when you know someoen will likely accept you.. this naturally hit hard. I took some time to realize I was bi, and when I did I was terrified of telling my mom, despite her being loving, supportive and just wonderful, same with my brother. Both fully accepted me as I figured and had no issue with it, esepcially sine my romantic history is nearly non existant anyways, but I related to our hero Greg’s fears of coming out to his parents despite them being utterly wonderful, well meaning people. It’s hard to come out, it’s hard to admit that about yourself, and it’s hard knowing you may not be accepted or things may change. I had an even harder time coming out to my dad, who I fully expected being a trump supporter and having said “if gay marriage is leagal I should be able to marry my cat”, to not support me and to loose him.. and was proud and suprised when nope, he was utterly supportive and happy for me.. if a bit awkward with the “be careful with sex” advice.. to someone whose had none and may never will due to being awkward as shit. But he meant well and the point is I really related to this, and it’s easily one of the best coming out stories of this kind, tied handily with Schitt’s Creek’s episode about Patrick coming out to his parents that dealt with the same theme.  And naturally given the nature of these shorts it was a story close to Stephen Clay Hunter’s heart, as he group up a gay nerd in the 80′s a time when homophobia was even worse and representation was near non-existent. So when given the shot he wanted to make something for a young him, something they can look at and point to and tha’ts me. And the behind the scenes short for this one sold just how... big this felt for him. To draw two men in love and embrcing, to see guys mo capping that. To see someone LIKE him on screen. It shows just how important representation is and how dumb it is it took 20 goddamn years at pixar for them to get gay. 

The short itsel is delightful as we open with a gay space cat and dog appearing in a rainbow. The Cat and Dog are watching Greg, a nice young man whose moving out of his small town with his boyfriend Manuel.. only to panic when his parents who he hasn’t come out to show up to help move and try and hide the one photo he has of them. And despite Manuel seeing it as a very easy thing to do to come out.. it’s not for Greg. He knows it’s hard and a scene of him practicing shows the poor guy breaking down at the thought of telling them despite getting every indicatio their nice people.  It’s then the whole Space Cat thing comes in as the cat enchanted Greg’s dog’s collar, so when greg puts it on as  a jest, it’s a body swap! So naturally we get tons of REALLY well animated shenanigans as Greg has to get his body back. Seriously the animation here is gorgeous with director Hunter choosing the painted on , impercet style to give it a storybook feel which fits the story perfectly.. seriously if Disney hasn’t made a story book of this do so.. and if they won’t someone on etsy do it because Etsy is apparently where the merch companies should be making happens.

The point is it’s fun, furious and leads to some great gags.. and then we get the emotional punch to the godnand as Greg bites his mom’s hand in order to prevent her finding a photo of him and his boyfriend. He instnatly regrets it, and breaking the photo in the process and goes to comfort her.. and we get easily the most emotinal, most beautiful part of it as Greg finds out his mom is hurt as she can clearly tell he’s keeping her at arms length and dosen’t want to loose him.. and she’s known all along he was gay.. just like the Schitts Creek example it’s clear she’s hurt a bit her son is scared to tell her but just wants him to be happy. So with a brilliant use of a squeaky toy greg switches back.. and comes out, with his dad warmly hugging miguel when he introduces himn and the space dog crying. Just a beautiful, charming, fun, and gorgeously animated short with some badly needed representation.

Also... one last note. This isn’t related to the short.. but Disney, who once again proves they can’t be progressive without stabbing themselves in the foot and no I will not stop giving out about this. This time’s especailly bad as while Out was heavily promoted.. the descripton DOSEN’T mention it having Pixar’s first gay lead and goes out of it’s way to hide Greg being gay despite the fact the short dosen’t and his being in the closet is the whole conflict of the short. And the not mnentiong the first gay lead thing is noticable because Loop DID rightly point out it was their first non verbal proganist. You can’t.. brag about being progressive about one thing and then try to hide your being progressive about another you idiots. Plus the “pleasing the bible belt” ship has sailed and left port. Ducktales is gay as hell with Penny being gay, even if Disney won’t let her just come out and say it, the crew still had her say it as much as they could, Violet’s dad’s being gay, Della being bi and Webby and Lena being as close to a couple you can get without disney screaming at them no. Andi Mack is fully avaliable on D+ as well.. well okay not fully because the dad turned out to be a pedophile, but still a series with a fully gay character is out there. And finally Owl House got TONS of press for having a bi progatanist and having her love intrest be a girl. Even if Dana Terrance had to FIGHT for that, and rightly so good on her, the point is you have queer characters already. The groups that hate you for that aren’t going to magically stop hating you because you hide the fact a short anyone can see from minute one is very , beautifully gay, I mean it starts with a very swishy space cat emerging from a rainbow atop a pink dog. COME ON. I only have a few words left for disney..

Okay whew, one more and we’re out of here. 

Burrow: It’s Okay to Ask for Help and To Bang a Willing Salamander This was the first one I watched today. In hindsight had I properly researched the shorts and realized how heavy they were I probably would’ve saved this one for later to help balance out the deep feels of some of these. While Burrow is VERY VERY good, as all these shorts have been even Float, it’s subject matter is a lot lighter. I mean so far we’ve had stories about toxic masculinity, animal abuse, issues accepting your child is diffrent, sacrficing yourself so your loved one can have a better life, autisim and coming out of the closet. Even Smash and Grab which is light and breezy.. still has a disney death, and is still about a heroic rush to freedom from slavery whenyou think about it. This one.. is about an insecure bunny whose afraid to ask for help and ends up learning to get it while ending up plumiting through a bunch of comedic set pieces. It’s basically if Winnie the Pooh and Bugs Bunny had a baby comedy wise, it has the warm feeling of pooh art wise, a storybook quality tha’ts utterly adoring.. but director Madeline Sharafan specifccally wanted the animators to take after chuck jones, using lots of great expressions and reactions. It has a real classic theatrical screwball comedy vibe and given The Looney Tunes, Droopy, and Tom and Jerry mean the world to me and i’m glad nto reocnnect with 2/3 thanks to HBO Max.. I fucking loved it. 

Burrow is still a personal story and is based on Sharifan’s experinces having trouble colaberating, wanting something to be fully baked before showing it off, something I agian relate to. She often hid from the others and refused to show her work until it was done while everyone else was happy to help. And as the previously used to slam disney hard with something they own Hickman Era of X-men has shown.. colaboration is just better and more freeing. By having friends and colleuge s to bounce off of you refine ideas, see how people react to them and grow a bit and that’s what the shorts about. 

The plot is easily the simpliest of these: A young bunny wants to build her dream burrow but gets self concious when she runs into a friendly mole and rat living next door to where she wants to build and keeps digging to find both privacy and her own place.. and instead ends up digging into various shenangians and other burrows from frogs, to hedgehogs to most memorably some Salmanders taking a sauna.. and in the best and most ‘how the fuck did they get away with this bit of it”, one of the salamanders ends up .. gladly removing his town and being liike “You wanna do this? I mean I got an hour free” And i’m just saying while now wasn’t the time and the offer was a little awkward i’d go for it if I was her. I mean at least ask him out for coffee later. He seems nice enough if low on boundries. Then ride him until the morning light girl, ride it. She also finds the Demon Bear from New Mutants at one point.. so that’s where he retried to after danny kicked his ass again. Neat. 

But eventually our heroione digs herself too deep and ends up hitting water before finding a 

Who sees her crumpled plans and then does the stygian call of the badger to call all the other animals to help and after they escape the flood, the bunny finally realizes their good people and lets them see the plans. So we end on our heroine and her new friends and possible salamander lover helping her settle in as she finallyg ets the home she wanted, complete with disco. I mean every home should have a disco. If I didn’t have a ceeling fan i’d have a disco ball.. and I still want one just to set somewhere or hang away from the fan . Let me dream dammit. Overally a fun, hilarious, mad dash short with a good message and a good note to go out on.

Final Thoughts: Overall.. the Sparkshorts program is fucking spectacular, a great way to let some of Pixar’s staff get into the directors chair and really shine, and a way to tackle issues that they may not be able to get greenlit into a full film. Lushily animated, well produced, Pixar has announced MORE are coming and I cannot wait. Thank you kev for comissioning this, and thank you all for reading. If your new and liked this review, follow this blog as I talk disney all the time: when they come back i’ll be doing regular coverage of Amphibia, Ducktales and the Owl House as new episodes come out every week, and i’m currently doing a retropsective on the three cablleros kev also paid for, with the finale of it, an episode by episode look at the legend of the three cablleros, starting this week. I’m also covering LIfe and times of scrooge mcduck (though infrequently for a bit), and finishing up a look at darkwing duck’s just us justice ducks, started with looks at all the players involved and finshing next week with the episode itself.  So if any of that sounds good to you, check out the archives, but goodbye, goodbye, goodbye for now. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #522

haven’t been feelin’ surveys as much the past few days, but anyway, here’s one from yesterday.

Have you ever lived in the same street as some of your relatives? No. Have you ever ridden on a Segway? No. Have you ever performed in a talent show? No. Have you ever been to a house auction? No. Have you ever worked in retail? Tragically. Have you ever participated in a fundraiser? Yes. Have you ever been fired? No. Never really worked long enough to. Have you ever grown your own fruits or vegetables? I grew habaneros once. Have you ever been on an upside-down rollercoaster? Fuck no. Have you ever been swimming with dolphins or sharks? No. I would like to swim with dolphins, though. Have you ever seen a whale? Only at SeaWorld, which I would never, ever revisit. Have you ever slept in a tent? Yeah, as a kid. Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero clue. What was the first social media site you ever used? Myspace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One, yes. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Do you like Slipknot? I love them. What do you think of Gorillaz? Not a big fan, but a couple songs are okay. What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? My first prom night. It was just a wonderful evening with great memories, even though they hurt now. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Get over Jason. Years ago I never, EVER thought it would be possible. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Um the first one that came to mind is how male anglerfish are literally absorbed over time into the female they attach to mate with. Nature is wild bro. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? I just like plain, double-stuffed ones. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Never tried for one. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Oh, who even knows. Something real dumb, I'm certain. How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Inhumane and just in general vile as all fuck hell. Have you ever made bread? No. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? I don't think so. Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? I'm already considering having Teddy's face be part of my tribute tattoo to him. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I mean, it really depends on the scent... Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? No. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? No. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Burned alive, 100%. Both are obviously awful, but at least with drowning, you go unconscious first. Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? No. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? I'm certainly afraid. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? If there was no decent chance of me getting better, please end my misery. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? I'd leave it up to them. In a way, I'd want them to lead their life normally and get to experience a proper education and friends, but at the same time, school can be hell. I'd just let them pick. According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? This story, even when I identified as Christian, always pissed me off. It's a fucking apple, and curiosity is human nature. Not to mention God never gave them an actual, valid fucking reason. Oh yeah, and let's just damn the entirety of humanity for two people's harmless action. Which parent named you? My ma. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They were all for different reasons. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No. What's one thing you got rid of that. you wish you hadn't? My favorite childhood toy. Have you ever witnessed an eclipse? I've seen a lot of lunar eclipses. If you could work at any retail store, which one would it be? Ugh how about none? What’s the name of the last cat you pet? Roman! Would you have kids with the last person you kissed? Neither of us want kids, so. How liberal are you? Quite. I feel like I get more and more so as time goes on; like I feel that the major focus of liberalism is "you do you" so long as it's not harming someone else, so... I'm not about to say "hey you can't do that" when it makes that person happy and does me no harm. I'm not going to pretend I don't have any conservative ideals at all, because I do, but for the most part, I'd definitely say I'm pretty liberal. Things change, and I think liberalism accommodates that. Would you mind living near large predatory animals? Nah. Have you ever experienced altitude sickness? No. What’s your biggest priority right now? ugh bro idk bc I'm not doing a good job taking care of ANYTHING Would you ever shoot someone right in the face? In the case of self-defense, that's right where I'm aiming. I wouldn't shoot anyone in any other case. Have you ever sold drugs? No. Have you ever had an out-of-body experience? No. Do you have more than one personality? No. Do you prefer gory horror films or the psychological ones? Psychological, 100%. That's far more genuine horror, imo. Do you prefer boys to shave down there? I literally couldn't care less whether or not anybody shaves. Body hair is natural and not inherently gross, and the stigma that it is needs to end already. Did you lose friends when you started dating someone? No. Do you talk in your sleep? More like shriek. My nightmares have been ramping up again, even with my mask... What was the last song you listened to? "A Different World" by Korn ft. Corey Taylor. If the Internet never existed, what do you think you'd be doing now? That's a scary thought, honestly. I'd probably be a much, much more successful person, honestly. Maybe I'd be an artist. Do you think weed culture is annoying? People who make it their entire life and personality are annoying, yes. I'm not against weed if used knowledgably and responsibly, but holy shit, your whole identity should not be a drug. Have you ever stayed in a relationship even though you didn't love that person? No. Do you ever listen to "lo-fi hip hop" on YouTube? No. Do you like your cookies soft or hard? SOFT AND GOOEY. I'll eat them because hello, they're still cookies, but I'm really not a fan of hard ones. Have you ever had to perform CPR on someone? No. I don't even know how. Have you ever been bitten by a dog? Not a serious bite, no. Just like gentle, playful ones generally from puppies. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? Yep, more than once. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Who was the last person you sincerely thanked? Sara, for helping me through some really dark thoughts a few days ago. What's the longest you've ever stayed as a guest at someone's house? Uhhh a month or two when we were technically homeless and Colleen let me stay with her. Would you consider yourself to be poor, middle class, or rich? I recently overheard my mom on the phone mention we're below the poverty line, so that was great to learn. Do you have any sort of debt? Who doesn't, if we're being honest... When was the last time you swam in a pool? Not since Mom and I regularly went to the gym last year... What do you do with your plastic grocery bags after you unload your things? We bunch them all together to save them and reuse, like for cleaning the cat's litter. Have you ever got into an argument with the last person you kissed? No, actually. Was today better than yesterday? Today's too young, really. But yesterday was pretty boring. What was the last thing that stressed you out or upset you? Career shit. Just crap regarding the future. Do you think you will dye your hair when you start going gray? I doubt my desire to dye my hair will eeeever go away. Name three items on your wishlist right now. An industrial ear piercing, a new laptop, and because I'm big into my Silent Hill phase again ha ha, I'm dying for a Robbie the Rabbit plush I've been asking for since high school, dead-ass. Mom's just never wanted to get it because his mouth is all bloodied. Are you more talented musically or artistically or neither? Artistically, for sure. Have you ever visited a teacher at their home? Yes. Do you hate social classes? I fucking disdain them. Some people have so little control over their monetary position and no one deserves to suffer or even die because of a bullshit system where we put worth into a piece of green fucking paper. Social classes are so inexplicably unfair. I'm getting fucking heated just answering this short question. Ever collected shells at the beach? Yeah, I liked doing that as a kid. Were you ever homeschooled? I was homebound briefly in middle school. Do you know anyone named Chris? My sister had a shitty ex-boyfriend with that name. Do you cook to music? I don't cook. Have you ever told someone you hated them? Regrettably, my dad. If you had to get a tattoo of any lyric/quote, what would it be and why? I mean, it's not technically a significant quote, but Mark reminds his fanbase all the time how much faith he has in absolutely everyone to achieve great things, so I would DIIIIIIIEEEEE if I could get "I believe in you" in his handwriting tattooed next to my tribute tat to him like y'all don't understand aklsdj;lakwje Favorite thing to do on Facebook? I just like scrolling and especially seeing good news from friends and stuff, even though at the same time it tends to frustrate me because I'm not going anywhere fast. If you could meet one celebrity, who would you want it to be? Mark, obvs. Have you ever seen a live bat? Yes!! If you could learn a new skill, what would that skill be? I wanna be able to draw hyperrealistically. Do you prefer reading a hardcover book or read electronic books? I strongly prefer physical books. Do you have a favourite brand of clothing? CLOOOOAAAAK. They just released a Valentine's Day line and I want a shirt so badly. :( Who is a mentor to you? I mean I guess in technicality, it would really be my therapist and psychiatrist. Do you suffer from insomnia or sleep apnea? I do have a very hard time falling asleep at night (oddly enough, only at night; naps are easy), and I'm actually diagnosed with severe sleep apnea. What states have you been to in the past year? I haven't left NC. What year was your house built? I have zero clue. What's your favorite superhero movie? I'm don't actively seek out superhero films, but I remember I deeply loved Logan when I saw it on a date. What was your favorite way to spend a summer day as a kid? Definitely swimming. What's the longest you've worked without a day off? I have no recollection of any "streaks" I had during my very brief work experiences. How's your mental health? Are you feeling well? lol nooooo Do you struggle with acne? I haven't since I reached like, I wanna say 19. Did you have a Xanga page back in the pre-Myspace days? No. Do you have any uncommon interests or hobbies? Definitely RP as a hobby. I have a great number of unorthodox interests too for sure, probably most notably vulture culture, my own "contribution" to the subject being roadkill photography. What's something that would make you incredibly happy right now? To lose a shit-ton of weight. Have you ever fostered an animal? No. What did you have for breakfast this morning? I had cold leftover pizza from last night.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

What type of kids do you think the ikevamp guys would be if they went to high school?

Oh boy HERE WE GO

(Under a cut bc this post is a Long Boi^TM)

Napoleon. Would prbly be that kid that’s like somehow bafflingly in the top ten of his class but nobody ever sees him??? Like he’s always late to school or napping in the quietest places on campus (they found him in a locker once and the school was laughing about it for WEEKS bc he insisted he was just chillin, and it wasn’t like a bullying incident he just wanted to sleep LMAO). Surprisingly amiable? A lot of people are afraid of him at first but he’s just so casual and direct, he gains quite a few friends (and a good number of girls have a crush on him--he always diverts the attention of skeevy guys). Good friends with Jeanne because they fence together a lot, and people are always baffled at how easily they chat

Mozart. Where do I begin. Number one in his class, perfectionist prick. That one kid that’s a known prodigy and that everyone hates for his impeccable grades and musical talent. Always gets the solos and conducting roles in the school performances. He knows how to play a crowd--will always be sweet and cherubic in front of teachers. But when it’s just the students? All gloves are off. Frigid and incendiary, will not take any shit and will tear you apart with words in milliseconds. Do not cross. He will end your entire life and self-esteem, it’s not worth it. Has a few friends, and they often experience the disdain of jealous students--but they’re all steadfast about defending him. And Mozart will not tolerate it if people are mistreating his friends, he’s an iron wall of defense; to be his friend means to always have someone looking out for you, make no mistake. He and Jeanne often grab food together after practice and ask about each others day, they hella close but never really show it while school’s on--their class schedules are worlds apart bc of their grades, and at lunch they’re usually practicing/doing hw. When they hug it out at graduation and pat each other on the back everyone nearly falls the fuck out of their chair LMFAO

Leonardo. That kid that 100% could probably be in the top fifty of his class but just can’t be bothered to give a damn. Always argues points with his teachers and plays devil’s advocate until they are inches from exploding at him. Always the one to mercifully make class feel shorter with his absolute distraction-heavy shitfuckery (and sometimes you really learn something because of his line of thinking). He's a dumbass but like harmless, essentially. Used to be the perfect student^TM and then decided the system was bullshit and he wanted no part of it, thinks public education can kiss his ass. Nobody knows it since he asks people not to talk about it, but he tutors kids after school for hours--has brought kids from Ds to Bs. He always dodges nosy people, never goes to parties, and finds ways to intervene around kids that are struggling with smth (with ninja stealth of course). Despite how easily he laughs and chats with just about anyone, he’s...actually surprisingly v much a lone wolf. Only ever consistently hangs out with the heartthrob rich kid, but nobody understands why???? And they’re always roasting each other wtf, are they even friends????

Comte. Pretty boy genius, always in the top five of his class though doesn’t seem too worried about it or obsessed with rank as students often are. It’s more that his parents have high expectations for his future as their heir, so he tends to fall in line with it. Born into money but somehow....not an asshole??? He doesn’t really like showing off, tries to be quiet about his accomplishments but his parents won’t really allow it--and he’s the star of the soccer team so it can be hard to hide. Most often the one at a party trying to help people sober up (always designated driver) or hearing his friends out when they have a problem. Has never publicly tried to bust heads, but some of the guys in the school insist he’s got a dark side--probably because he threatened them (passive aggressively) within an inch of their lives for being disgusting to girls. But nobody believes them bc...I mean look at him, does that look like a threat?? He just bought that kid’s lunch for christ’s sake. TONS of girls ask him out and confess their feelings, and he always lets them down as gently as he can--conceivably doesn’t like anyone himself, as far as the student body knows. Like Leonardo he’s v amiable, but also manages to reveal nothing personal while getting close. Leonardo’s the only one that’s managed to scratch the surface, and the kid won’t leave him alone for some godforsaken reason. And yet, he seems to enjoy their minutes of banter more than the hours of time spent with “friends”

Arthur. Oh boy. Good lord. Well. He used to be a sweetheart that would always seek out the mousier students and bring them into discussion/involve them on the playground. But alas, Teenage Jadedness^TM hit him like a train and now he’s an incorrigible flirt and believes no single person can be good deep down (somebody get this bitch some eyeliner). Believes the world will always be a cruel and unfeeling place where victims are never heard, so he just kind of goes full skeptical and bitter (think Sylvain for those of you that are FE fans). Has fun with every girl he sees (usually dating several girls at once) and doesn’t much care for his grades, but somehow has perfect scores in English?? He insists it’s because he needs to keep his seduction game on par with the voices of older legends before him, but some of the girls that see him in the library from time to time--v serious--are struck by how attractive he is in such deep focus, entirely uncharacteristic of his nosy and boisterous behavior in the halls (can often be seen whirling around Isaac like a bird of prey while our little baby robin Isaac stiffly tries to get away from him, and Dazai often joins to make things even more chaotic bc why not? In reality they just love this feisty kid that never gives up on what’s right, even though they’ve both given up trying themselves)

Dazai. He’s one of those kids that like does weed regularly but is also like...alarmingly insightful?? Like those kids I was always told to avoid, but now and again I would have conversations with out of necessity and was just...kinda shook. I mean granted he’s a little weird but he’s fairly harmless?? He’s like a class clown but on a massive scale--there’s nobody in the place that doesn’t know who he is, that haven’t heard tales of his exploits (he always comes in through the windows and gets detention for it a lot, and he even brought a chicken with him to school once????) nobody gets what he’s doing at any moment (don’t even know if he does really, chaotic mofo) and honestly nobody wants to know they just do the side eye meme when he appears or laughs. The teachers lament his untapped potential or just hate him for making their lives an even bigger headache than usual, and his grades are...yeah let’s not look at those. Organized the senior prank with absolute GLEE, and it was talked about for ages after he was gone--an inspiration chaotic bastards everywhere

Theodorus. (I hate.......that I pictured him in those like Vineyard Vine white boy clothes.......for the record its mostly bc his parents force him to wear them). All business. This kid doesn’t have time for your bullshit, will absolutely walk away if you’re boring him or seeking social clout. Popular because he’s hot and has a mean streak a mile wide, all the girls that didn’t like Mozart for being ethereal and effeminate boomeranged to find Theo ready to fulfill their hopes and dreams. They only grow more feral when rumors of him actually being fairly nice one on one--and telling creeps to fuck off of vulnerable girls at parties--start to circulate. (If he isn’t with Vincent, Arthur is probably near. Nobody understands how the two are brothers????) Van Gogh name apparently is just “I can be your angel or i can be your devil” and no one understands how... Grades are average and he’s plenty capable, most of his time is spent working after school because his parents refuse to provide Vincent with any artistic materials (canvas, paints, etc). They ask him to go to parties more, but he only goes to piss his parents off (he’s v lowkey punk and it’s understandably sexy of him). Will literally only listen to Vincent, and got in a looooot of trouble after getting into a fistfight with Shakespeare. Only stopped because his parents blamed Vincent for the incident, and Vincent apologized and went quiet for days ;-;

Vincent. Always been quiet and shy, but he doesn’t dislike ppl--he just has a hard time speaking up now and again. His parents always talk over him and tell him nothing he has to say has any real value, so he tends to struggle with a lot of self-doubt. Not isolated because he’s not likeable, it’s more because people tend to take advantage of his mild and earnest nature--until Theo runs them off. He’s on amiable terms with most people but has no real, true friends and it makes him feel lonely a lot. Mostly copes with the emotional turmoil by painting as much as he can. His grades are average, he does reliably well but can often be found daydreaming or distracted. Theo tends to escort him everywhere because of his propensity to attract danger (namely Shakespeare) or walk into things cuz he’s in his head a lot. A few of the artsier girls and the quiet academic girls have HUGE crushes on him (he’s softspoken, sweet, and calm; come on now), but he’s so distant--and honestly nice to everyone in equal measure--that they don’t have much hope of it coming to fruition. This kid deadass doesn’t think a single girl would ever like him that way so he’s just c:???????? when Theo talks about “those nosy harpies coming after my brother”

Jeanne. EDGY MCEDGE. Isn’t amazing in the academic department, but he’s a killer fencer--the rallying cry of the entire team. He became leader his sophomore year and he’s pretty much the only reason they keep destroying at tournaments throughout the year. Despite the pervasive interest in him he intimidates most people away with his swift intensity and ironclad stoicism. Silent as a grave and very still, people are convinced he’s the Grim Reaper reincarnated (listen he’s juST A DUTIFUL BABIE N O). If he isn’t fencing or practicing, Isaac often offers him help in the library after school hours in one of the study rooms (can’t be seen who’s inside from the outside). The two develop a kind of uncanny bond; they’re both so...bad at human-ing that they find a lot of comfort in the atmosphere they create. There’s none of the bullshit grandstanding or clout obsession, just them genuinely trying to help each other (yes Jeanne absolutely teaches Isaac self-defense moves in order to crush the kids that pick on him, and Jeanne often either glares or outright threatens those students when Isaac isn’t looking). Only ever smiles or feels understood when he’s hanging out with Mozart, so he cherishes the time Mozart offers him to hang (he knows the kid is busy up to his eyeballs and under a ton of pressure by comparison, his parents don’t care much as long as they can brag about his fencing records)

Isaac. Mega nerd that just...does not know how to interact. Only understands math and DESTROYS in competitive math club, but otherwise is always alone at lunch or just in the library. A little bean pole because he doesn’t look after himself very well (neglects to eat a lot) and can sometimes be found asleep on his books. If approached he will be very thorny, doesn’t have any friends to speak of and trusts everyone about as far as he can throw them. Yells at Arthur and Dazai a lot when they flock around him, and has gotten into his fair share of fights. Never starts fights, but will finish them. People are surprised he can hold his own, and he comes away with blood that ain’t his. There are a few girls that are curious about him, but its mostly the ones that have seen his awkward thoughtfulness in club--or the girls that are sick of the assholes and appreciate how stalwart he is. He really just wants to be left in peace (his parents never show up to his meets or when he wins academic awards, and the few teachers that notice are pretty concerned abt his reactivity and complete lack of social savvy...) Leonardo always helps him sneak in at night to look at the stars on the school roof

Shakespeare is p much the like “kid most anticipated to be in jail as soon as they’re out of high school” He just. Has that like...serial killer vibe??? Idk if I’m explaining this well but he was that guy that would always cling to genuinely compassionate girls just trying to be nice like a LEECH, and would never fucking shut up if he did or didn’t get attention. You just can't win with this kid. Probably wanted to kill the kids that made fun of him or at the very least wanted to lash out against the confident/popular/nice kids. Only liked you if he didn’t deem you a threat, or if you didn’t make him insecure, or if you tolerated him (aka Vincent. Vincent PLEASE stop trying to reach out to dangerous ppl....I love you too much to watch this shit...) He admitted as much to Theo and the kid went livid with rage and pummeled him into the ground, though most of the rest of the student body doesn’t know quite what happened. (Theo refuses to explain to anyone, and just walks away if asked). Shakespeare will just change the subject endlessly and make passive aggressive threats until the person leaves if they try to bring it up. The only time the entire class has EVER seen Leonardo mad is when Shakespeare kept tailing this girl that wanted no part of him

Sebastian. Nerdy like Isaac, but is more of the silent observer type. Like Theo, doesn't want any part of the bullshit but won't be as blunt or outspoken about it, he's only open about it if pressed or pissed off. Doesn't have much patience for the clique-driven nature of high school and tends to take an interest in the people who stand out beyond the mind-numbing drama. Also is in the top fifty but studies like a lunatic, and can often be seen asking Comte for tips now and again. Has tried talking to Mozart and admires his talents, but Mozart gives a cold shoulder that would put Antarctica to shame. (Leonardo tries to ninja him into taking breaks but never succeeds). Has a great deal of disdain for the troublemakers (Arthur and Dazai) but doesn't intervene, just watches shit go down and sighs. Probably the most normal(?) one of the bunch, just does his best and keeps his head down

[protectwoc]

why all reylos are racist

y’all can go ahead and cancel me now because some of you are not going to like what i have to say and i am completely okay with that.

this recent gq interview with john boyega has incensed me. hearing all the things he went through, from disney and from “fans” and with no support from anyone… i’m livid. sometimes when i think about it for too long i start shaking, i’m so furious. and the response from the reylo fandom has infuriated me to a degree i honestly didn’t know was possible.

some of you may have seen my recent tumblr rampage. it’s reylo bullying hours here on my blog, and i’m not sorry either. one person threatened to post screenshots of my comments, which like… okay? i know what the fuck i said, it wasn’t that long ago. in fact i was going to include the screenshots in this post right here, but they blocked me before i had the chance. sorry. i’m sure somebody has them. anyway…

over the past two days in the star wars fandom we have seen something unprecedented: an outpouring of support for john boyega. both reylos and anti-reylos have joined forces to voice support for john in the wake of the gq interview (and the blm protests, let’s be real, some of y’all would not have given half a fuck if it wasn’t suddenly cool to be antiracist). and this showing of unity is one of the most rage-inducing things i’ve ever seen in a fandom (which is saying something; i have seen some shit).

reylo fandom, full offense intended, but where the fuck do you get off? you’re supporting john now? where was this support when tfa came out and you couldn’t stand the thought of him next to your white-girl-self-insert? where was it when tlj came out and your boy ryan completely sidelined him? where was it earlier this fucking year when y’all twisted a harmless joke (like yall haven’t spent years writing reylo-throne-room-sex-meta BULLSHIT) and ignored the vile racist shit coming from your own fav’s mouth? but you’re supporting him now? now that being antiracist is trendy? fuck outta here with that bullshit.

your fandom is the reason for the vast majority of the absolutely subhuman treatment john has endured over the last few years. your fandom influenced ryan (yes i know what his name is) to write tlj the way he did, you have behaved indefensibly here on tumblr.hell writing and drawing and fantasizing about all sorts of racist bullshit, and y’all have STAYED in his twitter mentions spewing hatred seven ways to sunday. but NOW, without a shred of self-reflection, you’re supporting him? now his experiences are valid?

the way that your fandom refuses to take accountability for its actions makes me see red. y’all stay on some “not all reylos” nonsense and i am SICK OF IT. i’m only gonna say this once, and i want you to hear me: you cannot be a reylo and be “antiracist”. you cannot participate in a fandom that has behaved the way yours has and say “blm, uwu acab.” you can’t. like do you think black people are dumb? that we can’t see right through you? we can.

“but rae,” i hear you whining. “you’re gonna say just because i like two characters together i’m a racist?” and of course not. that would be ludicrous. i think just because you knowingly engage and participate in a fandom that has racism encoded in its dna, you’re a racist. i think because y’all are in bed with racist harassers, racist trolls, and racist content creators, you’re a racist. that’s what the fuck i think. y’all lost the right to “it’s just a ship” me the instant you dragged john boyega into this.

here’s an example: i watched tfa about three days after it came out. i watched the first half, saw the obvious relationship set up between finn and rey, and thought, “aw, cute.” then i watched kylo and rey fight, watch him offer to teach her, and thought, “... interesting.”

when i got home i checked tumblr for finnrey content, saw the outpouring of love from black fans, all the cute fanart and fics blooming, and smiled. then, slowly, guiltily, i searched “reylo.”

BOOM. racism. the things i saw in the tag that night are tattooed on my brain. reylos rejoicing about the obvious rey/kyle pairing because “sw would never put her with that monkey finn”. calling him an “oaf”, “useless”, “bumbling”, “stupid”. reylos joking about how “when they talked about the Dark side, [they] didn’t think they meant that kind of dark.” “woke” reylos pretending to ship stormpilot in an obvious ploy to get finn away from kylo. and in between all of that, cute ship art. fun fics. talented gif makers. and nobody saying shit about the reprehensible behavior going on in their tag.

reylo is built on a foundation of racism. from that first week, racism has been woven into the fabric of your fandom, and it’s been going unchecked. and i don’t mean calling out other reylos. that’s not enough. i mean taking actual steps. y’all have been sitting in a cesspool of racism for five years, and its time for you to get the fuck out or shut the fuck up about being an “ally”. y’all need to leave this fandom.

don’t agree? here’s another story. in 2017, when i still watched supergirl (before i grew taste) i shipped karamel. for those of you who don’t know, karamel is the ship of kara zor-el (supergirl) and mon-el, her second love interest. when supergirl was moved to the cw for its second season, the decision was made to abruptly end her romance with jimmy olsen, played by mecahd brooks (a black man) and replace him with mon-el, played by chris wood, a white man, who was revealed to be, among other things, an alien slaveowner, as well as a playboy and all-around terrible person. and i shipped them. look, i’m not defending myself, but i never really bought the chemistry between jimmy and kara. even though mon-el’s introduction and the way that they carelessly disregarded kara’s feelings for jimmy made me uncomfortable, i thought the way melissa played her attraction to chris wood was more believable (and again, i’m not defending myself, but they are now married so it’s not like i was wrong). so i shipped them. simple as that, right?

well, no. not really. because the inherent racism in the way the writers wrote out her admittedly sweet romance with a black man in favor of a white slaveowner jerk kept bothering me. and finally i decided that it made me too uncomfortable to participate in. i never really reblogged any karamel fandom stuff, but i completely divorced myself from the fandom. i stopped reading karamel fic, and i switched to reblogging exclusively jimmy/kara content until the fandom died out/i stopped watching. i made a choice that real life racism is more important to me than a fucking fandom or a ship, and then i acted accordingly. simple as that.

and i’m not saying you have to stop liking the reylo dynamic. i still like the chemistry between kara and mon-el. i’ve shipped problematic ships before (bamon comes to mind) and i don’t think there’s anything wrong with that (to a point). but there’s a difference between liking a ship dynamic and engaging and contributing to a fan culture of racism. you have to stop participating in the fandom. y’all are in bed with people indistinguishable from confederate-flag-waving-all-lives-matter-touting racists and you don’t feel the need to get out of that environment? there comes a certain point where you have to decide if fandom bullshit is more important to you than fighting racism, and unfortunately, reylos have chosen wrong. that, ladies and gentlemen, is why all reylos are racist, regardless of what they say. roll credits.

except i have more to say, so i’m gonna say it. first of all, i’m not trying to hold myself up as some kind of paragon of virtue. i’m not holier-than-thou because all my ships are “woke” or whatever. chemistry is subjective, and we’re all going to be attracted to different ship dynamics, and there’s nothing wrong with that in theory. what matters is the execution. i finally had to say one day, “you know, this ship and the racist baggage it carries is actually less important to me than battling systemic racism on every level, including the fandom level”. y’all thought being antiracist was gonna be easy? that you wouldn’t have to make some actual changes, to make some actual sacrifices? sorry not sorry to disappoint. and if i, a normal-ass person with flaws and problematic thinking that i’m still dealing with and the whole ine yards, can make that decision, then other people should be required to as well.

(what really irks me is that the karamel fandom wasn’t even really that bad! i definitely could have gotten away with being a karamel stan in 2017. thankfully the supercat and supercorp shippers were doing the lord’s work and bullying them into submission (don’t think i’m letting y’all off the hook either, y’all have got some racism to deal with as well but that’s an essay for another day) but like most of the racism happened at the writing level; the fandom itself wasn’t engaging in racist clownery on the regular. but like the reylos are. y’all see racist bullshit coming from your neighbor, fav fic writer, artist, gif maker, whatever, and don’t say shit? don’t feel the need to distance yourself from them? gtfoh.)

i made this argument earlier when i was on my rampage (which i’m still on btw so don’t clown in my inbox, you will get your shit rocked) but i’m going to make it again because i feel like its important to note. when i pointed out that existing in the reylo fandom while you are aware of its racism makes you complicit in that racism, a white reylo told me earlier that (paraphrasing, my memory’s not as good as it used to be and i did mention that they’d blocked me) “you don’t solve a problem like systemic racism by ignoring it. leaving the fandom would be allowing it to happen.” when i pointed out that that’s police officer rhetoric almost verbatim, she (a white reylo) admonished me (a black woman) not to compare police brutality to a “ship war.” lmao.

look, clearly y’all need a refresher on what “systemic” means. it means, quite simply, that there are systems, large and small, allow for racism to exist, and it also means that allowing for racism to exist on the small scale means expecting it on a large one. like you think police officers spring fully formed from the head with racist ideals already ingrained? no! they learn it and learn to justify it with “well just because my friend made a racist joke doesn’t make me a racist” and “just because i laughed at my friend’s using a racist term in my video game doesn’t make me a racist” and “just because my friend is a racist doesn’t mean i’m a racist” and then we have people watching their coworkers kneel on a man’s back for 8 minutes with no remorse. i’m not gonna solve police brutality by fighting reylos on tumblr, but fandom racism is real racism with consequences on our world, and i don’t tolerate ANY type of racism. and the fact that you are so willing to not just tolerate it but justify it should say something to you.

and not all reylos are like this. similar to cops, good reylos don’t last. i have seen people grow so disgusted by the racism in the reylo fandom that they publicly turned their backs on it, and those reylos i respect. you’ve heard of “the only good cop is an ex-cop” well get ready for “the only good reylo is an ex-reylo”.

(and also like far be it from me to justify a cop but one could at least say they have their livelihoods to think about (not like they couldn’t just pick a nonmurderous profession but i digress) but you reylos can’t even choose between taking a stance against the hateful and unjustified bullying of a man who had the audacity to… get a job (?)... over a ship? come on now.)

the point of all this is, for all their posturing about “being antiracist” and “fuck 12” and “support john boyega”, reylos have decided that a relationship between two fictional people is more important than all the black and brown people who are hurt by that decision and the consequences of that decision. and before y’all pull some “b-but there are POC reylos!” (stop fucking using poc as an adjective, its a noun, it stands for person of color, please use it as such) internalized racism is a thing. busting out your token “reylo of color” (see how easy that was?) is not going to change my mind. all reylos are complicit in the racism of their peers, and being complicit makes you culpable. full stop.

and that is why the public support of john boyega from the reylo fandom has me seeing red. renounce your fandom or keep that man’s name out of your mouth. anyway, this was long and ranty and entirely stream-of-consciousness and i’m refusing to edit it so it’s probably completely incomprehensible to anyone besides me but if you made it this far thanks for reading ig. all reylos are racist, blm, fuck 12, acab, stan john boyega, don’t clown in my inbox unless you’re coming to bully me for being a karamel shipper, which i deserve (or do, i couldn’t give less of a fuck). good night.

[drcrushers]

something i wrote on just for fun. it’s probably a little dumb, but here we are.

Your smile could out-shine the sun.

It had started out innocent enough. An envelope tucked into her momma’s mailbox and addressed to her while she’d been out. Not one to get messages except from Hermes, she’d opened it with some curiosity. A letter, beautifully written in an unfamiliar hand and unsigned at the bottom. Not quite a love letter, but something almost like it. A request to write back, to put it into the mailbox and it would get to the secret author in return. 

Fuck it, why not?

She knew it was probably a mortal just showing fondness; she’d gotten letters like it before. But there’s something rather . . . fine. Poetic, in a sense. Kind. Made her feel a bit silly reading it over and over again, but Persephone is in a decent mood and decides to write back to at least thank them for the lovely letter. 

So she does.

She keeps it simple. Nothing flowery. Thanks the supposed author for the flattery in the way she does all the mortals when they give her offerings. It’s nice to write a letter; she ain’t in a while. She and Hades ain’t exchanged them in years, he doesn’t have time for them. Much like he doesn’t have time for her, but that’s neither here nor there. 

She writes back, signs it sloppily and tucks it into the mailbox. 

Persephone doesn’t expect another one back. 

I can’t stop smiling when I read your letter, so I hope you don’t mind my reply.

But there it is a few days later, the same handwriting with her name on the front. Which is strange - mortals tend to refer to her by titles, not her name. Afraid of saying it, they’d said once. Invoking her wrath. She’d called it a load of horse shit, but mortals tended to do things their way and she was content on letting them keep up that practice long as they wanted. 

This one seemed different.

The letter was a direct response. The same flowery language, delicate and sweet. Flirty, if she didn’t know any better. How flattering. But now she’s just curious - and part of her is spiteful, too. If Hades knew, she could only imagine his fit of jealousy. Good.

Persephone replies. 

And so a summer long fling begins. In words of course, nothing more. The letters become a brightness in her days of work. She looks forward to getting them, reading them, and drafting up replies. She develops a collection of them in her vanity drawer and the stack only grows as the summer goes on. A hidden secret, almost. Something her momma or Hades can’t intrude on or say she can’t. Maybe it’s selfish or stupid, but she doesn’t care. Not like it’ll matter come winter. The poor mortal will be dead or have forgotten her, surely. They often do when she goes down to the underworld. Back to her husband who’ll no doubt drive her to the depths of insanity again. 

Hell, she might not even make it to the end of the summer. Maybe he’ll come get her early - again. She tries not to think of it, and spends her days bringing the summertime to those who need it most. That’s how she operates. The letters are a nice break and she loses herself in them late into the evenings. Rereading them. Writing back. Pretending she has a friendship-maybe-more with someone who certainly doesn’t build capitalistic hellscapes for what is supposed to be her benefit. 

It’s not the butterflies she got from first meeting her husband, but the feeling is something similar. She can’t deny it. She genuinely smiles for what feels like the first time in years when she reads the letters or replies. 

We should meet before you go.

The request comes as the summer begins to fade. Fall and winter are close on it’s heels. She thinks immediately it’s a bad idea - but Hermes, who knows now, only encourages it oddly enough. A night out before she’s confined in darkness for six months. It’s not a bad idea. 

So she accepts.

---

Persephone hates her reflection. 

It shows too many lines, too many wrinkles that have shown up over the years. Her hair is unruly, curlier than her momma’s and it snags everything in the fields in it’s grasp that leaves her plucking foxtails and other burrs out of it for ages. Even down to the shade of her skin - none of it seems particularly beautiful compared to her momma or their other relatives up top. Most of the time she doesn’t give a damn; some days she stares at her reflection and wonders what others must see in her. What her husband had seen in her that day in the garden some centuries ago. What made her so different? So beautiful when there were a plethora of other nymphs, demi-gods, and outright goddesses who outranked her in that regard. 

She huffs, drags her fingers across her face. She’s getting old. Too old. Vaguely she wonders if, as a goddess of life, if she’ll end up grey and decrepit and still trying to garden? An old crone, meant to be the embodiment of life. Hera is as old as her momma and still somehow looks decades younger - then again, Hera doesn’t live in the mortal realm, and doesn’t do physical damned labor. Frankly she wonders how a woman like her survived ten years of war, but that’s besides the point. Much as she loathes her own reflection, Persephone would rather be wrinkled and grey than live on that mountain half the year. 

She toys with a small pot of dark charcoal eyeliner, well used and worn before picking up a small brush with which to apply it with. She remembers using wild berries to stain her lips long before her momma ever let her near an ounce of make up, trying to make herself look like what she imagined the ones up on the mountain looked like. Ethereal, beautiful, striking women - as a girl she’d had no idea how awful and cruel they could be at the time and simply wanted to embody them. Now she mostly tries to be everything they aren’t out of sheer spite. She uses a rich plum color against her lips, and decides she looks decent enough in the reflection that blinks back at her. 

She doesn’t know why she’s doing this - it’s stupid. But she’s just bitter and angry enough at her husband to spite him, too, and Persephone ain’t always made the best decisions sometimes. Hermes had only encouraged her, clearly eager to get her out of her own mind for a night and forget about her crippling marriage. 

Harmless night of flirting could do her good. Remind her she ain’t an old washed up hag. Morale boost and all that. Not as if she wasn’t spending the evening in his bed - though the more bitter part of her says it might do her husband some good to think so. Sober his ass right up to keep him acting like a damned moron. Besides, she’s been writing with this stranger all summer. The letters have been her life and Persephone would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious and intrigued. Eager to meet this stranger who’d spent his summer writing to her as well. Clearly he cared and if Persephone could give him a night of enjoyable company (sans anything below the belt) before winter claimed him, so be it. 

Huffing, Persephone tries to fuss with her hair - and decides it’s a lost cause. Why does she care so much? She shouldn’t. But she tries. Because Hades ain’t given her the excuse in a while. Might as well enjoy the night, even if it won’t lead to nothing. She ain’t that type - even if she wanted to be. Persephone has been fiercely loyal to her husband and knows he’s the same; they’re just a damned wreck when it comes to communicating. Maybe she can practice on this little date.. It’s the first time she’s given in to Hermes’ encouraging in a while - who she knows would rather see her happy than anything and thinks Hades is the source of all her misery. He’s half right. Truth is she does a lot of misery to herself because she can’t swallow her own damn pride or some other bullshit. Much as Hades has built the wall between them, Persephone’s been supplying him with the bricks for years. 

She doesn’t dress fancy. Her usual is good enough, still smelling of the flowers and pollen and the warmth of the sun stitched into the fabric. It’s her favorite. Maybe that’s why Hades had replicated it in black for down below, the dusting of diamonds a nod to how he viewed her as a gem to be displayed. A gown of darkness that was everything her favorite summer dress wasn’t. She doesn’t remember where she got it, just that it’s comfortable and flows freely enough not to restrict her. In the other she feels caged, chest tight and pained when she tries to breathe too deeply. It’s in her head, she knows, but the difference still matters. 

Satisfied she looks semi-decent enough to mingle with mortals, Persephone half gallops down the steps in the way she always has at her momma’s house. Ain’t been her house in a while. Ain’t felt like home since she ran off down below. Still, it serves as a roof over her head when she’s up top and her momma is still kind enough most of the time, eager to have her home. Demeter is out in the fields so she isn’t there to throw a comment her way as she leaves the house, the evening air slightly more crisp than usual. A sign that winter would be coming on soon - a sign that she’d be headed back down below in the not too distant future. Frankly she’s surprised Hades ain’t come for her already. Her stomach twists at the thought. 

Hermes’ bar isn’t far, the town a small scattering of lights in the growing dim light of day. Small houses gathered together, a quaint little place that had been perfect for Demeter, apparently. The bar was one of the larger buildings, music and voices already adrift out the open door. She can’t remember a time when it wasn’t crowded. Since she’s frequented crowds have only grown - Persephone remembers being worshipped at altars carved of marble and stone; now there’s only the bar that carries her token of favors, her mortals far too eager to buy her a drink in some parody of once bloody sacrifices. She doesn’t complain; they’re good at picking wine. 

As always there are gazes that turn her way as she approaches and Persephone plasters a smile across her face. She’s well practiced these days, pretending to be happy. The mortals don’t notice and greet her as always. Raise their cups, toast to their patroness who tries - but it’s hard when old man winter comes early and won’t let her go until late. Hard to keep an entire world going when she gets a fraction of time to bring decent harvests. Still seems no matter how hard she tries there are always ones who don’t make it through the winter. The ones missing from the tables in the bar. She may not remember their exact faces, but she knows they’re missing. Knows these places should be filled by healthy warm bodies - and instead there are only fleeting ghosts in the chairs instead. 

“Was wonderin’ if you’d show up.” Hermes remarks lightly, pouring her drink before she can even reach the bar proper. “I always do. Show up. Reckon it’s like clockwork these days.” Persephone replies, grabbing the glass as he finishes and taking a long swig. Immediately the warmth spreads from her belly out, and she knows she’ll be numb by the end of the night. Hopefully. 

“Sit yourself down. Or make the rounds. Whatever ya like. Your friend ain’t here yet.”

She snorts. “Of course not.”

Holding tight to her drink, Persephone does a turn about the room. The mortals are usually pleased to see her, leech off the warmth she naturally radiates. A smile, a laugh, a dance - it’s all too familiar to her and she’s happy to help in the ways she can. If they’re gonna die, they might as well die happy. Either way in the end they all come to her in the underworld. Once she could have granted them some semblance of the afterlife, but now they all toil away in those damned factories and mines. But they don’t need to know it. Not yet. Not now. 

She loses track of time as some point, because Hermes suddenly grabs her by the elbow and they do a little twirl. Her body is less tight, the alcohol already working easily into her system to let her at least enjoy the night without struggling to forget about her shithole marriage. 

“Your date is here.” He grins. 

“Ain’t a date.” She teases. “Least, better not let my man hear you say that.”

“Won’t hear it from me, sister.” Hermes winks, and turns her nearly into the arms of another. A sharp, delightful feeling races up her arms and down her spine the second her hands touch the rough ones of the other figure. 

She knows who it is without question, without even looking up. A smile comes unbidden before she can stop it. 

“It’s you.” She whispers, one of those hands coming up to tuck beneath her chin, to bring her gaze to his. Her heart races and she wants to laugh.

Hades smiles.

“It’s me.”