#like I struggled way too much on this idk why

[fxrmuladaydreams]

angel on his shoulder: happy birthday (op81)

mean!oscar x sweet!reader

summary: oscar struggles to find the perfect gift for your birthday

notes: again, he’s not really mean, but idk what to call him now

wc: 1533

prev. part

You had somehow managed to do it, to worm your way into Oscar’s life, to make yourself a permanent part of his day. What was once passing glances had now turned into soft smiles and quiet conversations. He looked forward to seeing you everyday, to talking with you.

He started saving a seat for you whenever he ate lunch, or sitting closer to Lando during meetings, so he could sit closer to you. He longed to be at the receiving end of your smiles and laughs, and mentally cheered when he was.

Of course spending more time with you meant spending more time with Lando as well. Oscar didn’t dislike Lando, not at all, but Lando could occasionally be… a bit much. Especially when he was wiggling his eyebrows at him for simply talking with you.

He was sitting in the training room at the MTC one day, getting ready to begin his workout when he feels an arm around his shoulders. He turns to see Lando smirking down at him.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey yourself.” Lando replies. “What are you up to?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows and looks around the gym. “What do you think?”

Lando rolls his eyes, but smiles as he walks towards a set of weights.

“Is, uh, is Y/n coming around?” Oscar tries to sound casual, but hearing Lando snort makes his face flush.

“To stay with me while I work out? I doubt she’d be interested in that.” He scoffs. “But I bet she’d be more interested if she knew you were here too.”

“What?” Oscar spurts. “Why would she?” He can feel his face burning up.

“No reason.” Lando says, teasingly. “Hey, what are you doing for next week?”

Oscar furrows his brows. “What’s going on next week?”

“Y/n’s birthday.” Lando answers. “You didn’t know?” He turns to look at Oscar.

Oscar tries to think back, wondering if you’ve mentioned your birthday.

“Well it’s next week. I’m throwing a party for her. You can come if you want.”

Oscar nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”

Lando grins. “Good. She’ll be glad to hear that.”

Oscar tries to hide the blush he feels spreading on his cheeks.

“I’ve already got her gift picked out and wrapped. Not by me, of course. It’d look like I was handing her a wad of paper.”

“Gift?” Oscar asks. He feels panic beginning to rise in his chest.

“Yeah, gift. It’s a birthday.” Lando laughs. “You have to get her a gift.”

“Right.” Oscar murmurs. He stands up. “I think I’m done here, for the day.” With that he walks out of the training center, gym bag slung over his shoulder, his gaze locked on the ground as he leaves.

“Didn’t even see him do anything.” Lando mumbles to himself.

Oscar spends the rest of the day wracking his brain for something, anything to get you for your birthday. He could get you jewelry? But that seems too intimate. Money? Too casual.

He sits alone while he eats his lunch, staring off into space as he eats, trying to think of something.

“Hey, Os. You okay?” You ask softly placing your food down on the table next to him.

He snaps out of his thoughts, looking at you wide-eyed.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

You laugh. “I don’t know, you’ve got this weird look on your face.”

He shakes his head. “No I don’t.”

“Okay, fine.” You laugh.

Oscar sighs, looking back at his food, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a book on your lap.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“Oh,” you smile, lifting the book to put it on the table. “It’s the book I’m reading right now.”

Oscar looks at the cover.

“It’s actually like, the tenth time I’m reading it.” You say.

Oscar snorts. “Why?”

“It’s my favorite book.” You shrug. “It’s so good. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.”

Oscar hums.

“No, seriously, it would be so nice to have someone to talk to about it.” You whine. “I tried to get Lando to read it, and do you know what he said? He said ‘I’ll wait for the movie’. Can you believe that?” You ask.

Oscar laughs. “That sounds about right.” He watches as you push the book to the side to eat your lunch. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, okay, see you.”

Oscar tries not to let the way your shoulders slump affect him. He gathers his things, and leaves you sitting there, pulling out his phone as he walks away.

After work Oscar goes to several different shops, looking for that damned book. He’s just about to give up, when he finally finds one lone copy. He keeps it tucked close to his chest as he walks to the checkout counter, as if afraid someone’s going to try to pry it from his hands.

He spends any free time he has for the week with his nose in the book. He brings it with him to the MTC, he reads it before and after work, he feels like the book becomes a part of him.

He shows up to Lando’s apartment for your party, with his gift tucked under his arm. He’d spent about an hour on picking a shirt, then another on fixing his unruly hair.

He has to admit, he’s surprised when he walks into Lando’s apartment. It’s not the bright rave lights or loud music he’d picture Lando would pick out for a party for himself, instead it’s soft warm lighting with some soft music in the background.

“I see you’ve made it.” Lando says, when he sees Oscar. “And you’ve managed to find a gift.” He smirks. “What’d you get her?”

Oscar shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Keeping it a surprise?”

Before Oscar can answer, he’s pulled into a soft hug. “Thanks for coming, Os.” He hears your voice next to his ear.

Oscar smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Happy birthday.”

When you pull away Oscar allows himself a moment to admire you. You’re wearing a soft dress that compliments you well. He notices the small sparking stone on the necklace around your neck.

“Pretty necklace.” He says.

You lift a hand to touch the stone. “Thanks. Lando got it for me.”

Oscar feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. His eyes search for the brit, who has made himself scarce.

“I told him it was too much. He said it’s the least he can do for me, having to put up with him everyday.” You laugh.

Oscar gives you an unconvincing smile, awkwardly shifting the gift under his arm, the gift he’s starting to feel immensely insecure about.

“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” You ask him. “Lando invited all of these people, but I don’t think I know half of them.” You laugh.

Oscar nods, following you as you lead him to the balcony.

You each take a seat, looking out at the sun setting over Monaco. He can’t help but admire you. The sun makes you practically glow, your eyes quite literally sparkle.

“Thanks for coming, really.” You break the silence. “I appreciate what Lando’s done, but I can’t help but feel a bit… out of place.”

Oscar hums. He holds out his gift to you, figuring it’d be better to deal with the embarrassment of you thinking it’s lame out here alone, rather than inside surrounded by people.

He watches as you tear open the gift, a confused look spreading across your face as you see what it is.

“It’s my book…” You say, holding the same book you showed him at the beginning of the week, though this copy is clearly newer. “Thanks Oscar.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment.

“Open it.”

You look at him confused again. “I swear if you cut a hole in my favorite book-“

“Just open it.” He cuts you off with a smile.

You slowly open it, flipping through the first few pages, the title page, the acknowledgment, the table of contents, until you get to the first actual page of the book.

Inside, surrounding the text in the book are little notes and doodles, scrawled in messy handwriting. You flip through the pages to see them everywhere.

“You annotated it?” You ask softly.

Oscar nods. “I read it this week. I figured it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to about it.” He says. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s not great-“

“I love it.” You cut him off.

“You do?”

You nod. You had copies upon copies of this book, paperbacks, hardcovers, special editions, sprayed edges, but none of them compared to the one in your hands. The one Oscar took the time to read, then write out all of his own thoughts for you. It felt like you were holding a piece of him in your arms.

“Yeah, I love it. Thank you.” You murmur, pulling him into a hug.

Oscar feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. He smiles to himself, feeling like he’s successfully planted himself in your heart now.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Breaking Point” ~ Pt 4 Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: SMUT, NSFW, angst, arguments, sleepy oral? Idk.

Summary: When Lewis shows up unannounced at Y/N’s filming location and follows her back to her LA home, unresolved tensions boil over, sparking an intense argument that exposes the growing rift between them. As they clash over misunderstandings and unspoken resentments, Y/N struggles to hold her ground, refusing to melt under Lewis’s charm, even as he tries to bridge the distance in his own stubborn, unrelenting way.

The silence in the car is suffocating, thick with all the words left unsaid between us. We’re heading back to my house in LA, and the tension stretches like an invisible line, taut and fraying. Every time I glance his way, I catch Lewis staring, his gaze heavy, filled with something that feels like disappointment or maybe just frustration.

It’s strange having him here, in my city, in my space. He’s never part of this life—my world where I’m more than his girlfriend, more than a footnote in his racing saga. Today, he got a glimpse of me with my crew, laughing, bantering, a side of myself he barely knows. A side that doesn’t revolve around him. And maybe that’s why this hurts so much. He’s so supportive of everything about me… except this. My career. The one thing that pulls me away from him.

I feel his hand settle on my thigh, his fingers warm against my skin. Instinctively, irritation flares up. I want to shove him off, to shake his hand away, but I don’t. I know it’ll only set him off, and I’m too tired for another argument. Instead, I focus on the passing streets, letting the city lights blur together, pretending not to notice his fingers tracing idle circles. He reaches over, grabbing my hand, playing with the rings on my fingers like I’m his personal stress toy. The sensation is grounding, sure, but also infuriating. Does he even realize how invasive this feels? How much he takes from me without even realizing it?

When we finally arrive at my house, I pull away the second the car stops, sliding out and thanking James, my driver, with a quick “Goodnight.” Lewis lingers, watching me with that unreadable gaze, like he’s studying me. I feel exposed, as if I’m a stranger he’s trying to understand, trying to fit into some mold that doesn’t really exist. It’s clear he’s not used to seeing me here, in LA, in the life that belongs to me.

I walk up the steps to my front door, feeling his presence right behind me. My house is beautiful—sprawling, a mix of modern LA glamour and Spanish-style architecture, spacious and luxurious. It’s mine, yet not entirely mine. After all, it’s Lewis who pays for it. I hadn’t wanted his money in the beginning, fought him on it, but he insisted, saying that rejecting his help felt like rejecting him. So here I am, living in this house he gifted me, a reminder of his presence even when he’s not here.

I unlock the door and step inside, throwing my keys on the table in the foyer. The house is decorated to my taste—soft hues, eclectic art pieces, warm textures that make it feel like home, my sanctuary. I walk into the living room, hearing his footsteps close behind me. He glances around, taking in the space, a look of faint surprise on his face.

“Wow… did you change it?” he asks, looking genuinely intrigued.

I shrug, not bothering to hide my irritation. “Not really… well, kind of.” I don’t give him much more. He hasn’t been here in nearly a year. Of course he wouldn’t remember.

He huffs, following me up the stairs, his footsteps deliberate, like he’s pushing through the tension hanging between us. I can feel the irritation rolling off him, the way he’s holding himself back, and it makes me want to push even harder.

“Are you gonna be like this all night? Y/N?” he says, his tone laced with barely restrained frustration.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn to face him, crossing my arms. “Yes.”

His jaw clenches, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t you have a normal conversation with me? Why is that so hard?”

I roll my eyes, throwing my hands up. “It’s not a ‘normal’ conversation, Lewis.” I can’t hold back anymore. “I can’t believe you just showed up like that,” I blurt out, the annoyance bubbling over.

His eyes narrow as I open the door to my bedroom, stepping into the softly lit space. My room is intimate, filled with small decorations and touches that feel so personal, so me. It’s like a slap in the face to him, a reminder that he doesn’t see my life like this enough, that he doesn’t really know this part of me.

“Because I love you? Because I wanted to surprise you? And support you?” he scoffs, almost as if my irritation is absurd.

I throw my bag at the end of my bed, barely glancing at him. “Okay… well, thanks. You can go now… I’m so surprised and supported. Mission accomplished.” My tone is dripping with sarcasm. “You can go back to your life.”

He stares at me, his eyes flashing with anger, a dangerous edge simmering beneath the surface. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m trying.”

“Cool. I’m so impressed… you’re so impressive. Mr. champion, millionaire, stupid playboy. Is that what you want? Me to praise you for your attempt? You’re so fucking amazing, Lewis!” My voice rises, my irritation finally spilling out in sharp, pointed words.

He takes a step toward me, his gaze dark and intense. “You’re really pushing it. You know what I mean… I’m trying to make you feel loved. What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re what’s wrong.” I snap back, feeling the weight of my resentment boiling over. “Just leave now. I know you’re gonna leave in the morning anyway… with your stupid race on Sunday.”

He sighs, exasperated but unwilling to give up. “I don’t have to leave until Wednesday night,” he says, his tone hardening as he steps closer. “I’m staying.”

I roll my eyes, brushing past him into my bathroom. “No. Just leave.”

He follows me, his voice low and demanding as he steps into the room behind me. “I said…” he grabs my arm, pulling me toward him, his hand firm on my chin as he tilts my face to look at him. “I’m staying.”

My stomach flips, a mix of nerves and something else swirling inside me as I meet his intense gaze. His eyes are smoldering, his jaw tight, and I can feel the determination radiating off him, daring me to challenge him.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper, trying to sound annoyed.

He lets go of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a gentle, almost tender gesture that makes my heart ache. I can tell he wants more, that he’s craving some kind of reassurance, something from me, but I can’t bring myself to give in. Not yet.

He starts to step back, but I turn to the mirror, trying to compose myself, pretending his presence doesn’t affect me as much as it does. But he doesn’t move far; instead, he leans against the counter, his gaze fixed on me.

“Give me a kiss,” he says softly, his tone almost pleading.

I glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Give me a kiss…” he repeats, his voice coaxing, insistent.

I continue to glare, refusing to budge, letting the silence stretch.

“Y/N…” he murmurs, his tone dipping, a hint of something darker beneath it. “I’ll be getting a lot more than a kiss when we get to bed, so you better just give me one now.”

I furrow my brow, stubbornly refusing to indulge him. “You’re not forgiven. You don’t get a kiss… and you don’t get to stay in my room.”

He groans, rubbing his eyebrows in frustration. “Oh my god. You’re such a brat. Why are you like this? I’m trying to fix things.”

“They aren’t fixed. Leave me alone,” I mutter, turning back to the mirror, focusing on brushing my hair, anything to avoid the pull of his gaze.

He steps closer, his expression softening, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I love you, baby girl. Please… stop being like this.”

I narrow my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to be all soft and sweet, pulling at my heartstrings, hoping I’ll melt and give in. But it’s not going to work. Not this time.

“Goodnight. The guest bedroom is perfect for you,” I say, flashing him a sarcastic smile.

He glares at me, his expression hardening in irritation. With a heavy sigh, he finally turns and leaves, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving me alone with the hollow ache that always seems to linger when he’s gone.

It’s late—sometime in the early hours, I’m sure—and I’ve barely settled into sleep when the faint sound of my bedroom door clicking shut pulls me out of my dreams. I stay still, eyes closed, hoping it’s just my imagination. But then I feel the bed shift, the mattress sinking slightly as a familiar warmth slips in beside me.

A heavy arm drapes over my waist, and I instinctively make a soft, annoyed sound, shifting away, but he just tightens his grip, pulling me back. His presence is warm, enveloping, and for a moment, I consider giving in, letting his touch soothe the tension between us. But I can’t quite shake my irritation, even through the haze of sleep.

“Baby… baby girl… shh…” His voice is soft, a gentle murmur as he leans in, pressing feather-light kisses along my neck and cheek. Each kiss is an apology, a quiet plea, and I can feel his regret seeping into each touch.

I hum in response, somewhere between annoyance and surrender, too drowsy to put up much of a fight. His hand slips under my shirt, his fingers gliding over my skin in slow, soothing circles, as if he’s trying to coax the tension out of me, to ease the edges of my frustration.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl…” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “I love you so much… please don’t be mad at me.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within me, a part of me that’s been holding onto my anger, but now feels it starting to crumble. I want to hold onto it, to let him know how much he’s hurt me, but his gentle touch, the warmth of his apology, makes it hard to keep the walls up.

I sigh, barely able to form a coherent response, the words slipping out in a quiet murmur. “Lewis…”

His fingers trail lower, caressing the curve of my hip before slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I squirm at the intimate touch, a shiver running through me despite my lingering irritation. His hand settles between my thighs, and I can't help but part them slightly, allowing him access.

"Let me make it up to you, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let me show you how much I love you."

I'm too sleepy to protest, the warmth of his touch lulling me back towards unconsciousness. My body responds to him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his fingers begin to move, stroking me gently, coaxing me towards arousal.

"That's it, baby," he whispers encouragingly. "Just relax for me. Let me take care of you."

His words wash over me, soothing and seductive, and I feel myself melting into his touch. My hips begin to move of their own accord, squirming against his hand as he works me closer and closer to the edge.

I'm lost in a haze of pleasure, the earlier argument fading away as his skillful fingers bring me to the brink of climax. Just as I'm about to fall over the edge, he withdraws his hand, leaving me frustrated and wanting more.

"Lewis..." I whine, my voice thick with need.

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he shifts position. "Not yet, baby girl. I'm not done apologizing."

With that, he moves down the bed, settling between my legs. I feel his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh, and I can't suppress the moan that escapes my lips. He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, before he leans in, his tongue sliding over me in one long, slow lick.

I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to work me with his mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking me in all the right places.

He continues his ministrations, his tongue swirling around my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my body. I can feel myself getting wetter.

"Fuck, Lewis," I moan, my hips squirming against his face. "Don't stop."

He obliges, doubling down on his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, his lips sucking harder. My fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as I grind against his mouth, chasing my release.

"You taste so fucking good, baby girl," he groans, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. "I could eat this pretty little pussy all night."

His words are filthy, but they only serve to turn me on more, spurring me towards my impending climax. I can feel it building, a coil of tension in my lower belly, winding tighter and tighter with each flick of his tongue.

"Lewis, I'm gonna... I'm gonna," I pant, my body tensing, my thighs quivering around his head.

He doesn't relent, his mouth working me feverishly, his tongue flicking rapidly over my clit, pushing me over the edge. I come with a cry, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me.

He laps it me up eagerly, prolonging my orgasm until I'm a trembling, boneless mess beneath him. Only then does he pull away, crawling back up my body to claim my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, sharing the taste of my own arousal with me.

"I love you, baby girl," he murmurs against my lips, his eyes shining with adoration.

I whimper slightly, the fleeing still lingers. I look at him as I become fully awake. Is he serious? Only Lewis would try this…

“‘Mmm…” I hum in response, not giving him the satisfaction of saying it back. He’s not forgiven, not matter how good he makes me feel.

His eyebrows furrow at me as he looks down at me. He sighs heavily, looking and sounding annoyed. He lays down next to me, cuddling close. I close my eyes… I’ll let him stay the here.

————————————-

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[the-ghost-rat]

NO BUT LITREALY lumity is legitmently such an utter mess the more i think abt it that it lowky reminds me of catradora in a way(but not as bad) i would far rather they have willow and luz be end game, im not even a willow fan but its less insulting then luz instantly dating a girl who bullied her friend for years

Yeah i remember the song doing that n its still so weird to me how some ppl keep defending it-i highly doubt ppl would try to defend it if g1 did something like that

Oh yeah she was definitely implied to be Aboriginal, Aboriginal or Māori due to the tattoos on her dad, granted she would be biracial Indigenous & white due to her mom(her mom is a water nymph so greek) its weird to me how ppl keep insisting she was just a white girl in g1 cus of dumb reasons like her being blonde, having green eyes & “light skin”(shes just blue😭) when its obv she’s not , some ppl argue shes still implied Indigenous in g3 which while yes true Indigenous latines & Aboriginal/Māori folk arent the same and acting as if any representation of an Indigenous person is representive of all Indigenous cultures is weird af 😐 (also yeah your spot on about Brazilians-as a Brazilian myself its so frustrating how there is little to no representation for us likely due to us not speaking spanish, i was actually excited at first for lagoona being latina now cus the creature from the black lagoon is specifically located in the amazon which is in Brazil but turns out she wasnt)

My friend did note that both the mummy & the frankenstein monster in the classic universal films were played by the same actor which i think is a cute detail about clankie but i just overall cant say im a fan of it or at least how its tackled (the fans make the pairing even less enjoyable their so damn insufferable)

Yeah i agree about nefera shes such a nothing character now, it feels like they wanted to do helga & olga but didnt get why that one worked so well, the whole point of clawdeens siblings vs cleos sister was to show the differences between a healthy relationship between siblings vs a toxic one i mean hell clawdeen even had a big sister like cleo

Honestly g3 cleos voice is so damn funny to me cus its litrealy just amanitas voice😂

G3 toralei is so weird cus they obv wanted her to be punk w her first doll but were too scared to actually go there so instead they went more 80s glam and rave which just dont rlly work for toralei, i mean her band is litrealy called hissfits a pun on missfits a punk band yet like you said she just sings pop-rock songs, g1 toralei was definitely punk the only character & doll in g3 id say are actually punk is venus & welcome comittee frankie which is weird cus g3 frankie is supposed to be “DIY punk” yet they only ever dress in prepy fashion , g1s punk characters were based on a more toned down verison of punk yeah but they were still punk regardless

Tbh im canadian too n i dont rlly mind ghoulia being canadian not being mentioned much-mainly cus idk what they couls do to mention it 🤷🏽‍♂️ i also dont think a voice actor needs to perfectly match the characters appearance unless the character is disabled or has an accent cus we wont see them but also cus i care way more abt how they eruased her being autistic coded & had her speak, yes she “technically” spoke in g1 but not only are not all languages verbal ones(such as ASL) but also to the audience she was mute , alot of nonverbal autistic ppl noted that they communicate in a similar way she does besides she displayed other autistic traits like hating change , needing a schudule, having a special interest , struggling to express herself etc, only to now have all of that gone in g3 not to mention even her implied physical disability is removed in g3, she doesnt have a hunch n moves just like everyone else does most we get is “oh she needs a skateboard to move around better” which is such a dumb way to represent a mobility aid - i do fully understand foxford & bunny tho , i do think they should have done a better job at estiblishing them ceing icelandic n welsh at least give them an accent, but for bunny her having an actor w down syndrome is extremely important, down syndrome does effect someones speech pattern its important to make sure her voice actor has the same speech pattern as a neurotypical/able bodied person cant do that, granted i also am just in general burnt out on wereanimals in MH 😅 thats all we get now n its so damn lazy n boring, i would far rather if they picked an entirely different welsh folklore monster for bunny n made foxford something like idk a kitsune(just as an example) just anything but a wereanimal

Monster high G3 rant

Watching the TV series and I’m kind of disappointed.

This will be my second watch of season 1, I’m rewatching after the current season 2 episodes.

the show feels very flat in my opinion. They’ve given the characters a lot of cool traits, but they’re used for like one episode and then never brought up, or they only use one specific trait 24/7. Like Frankie in this generation, they have the ability to electrocute, extend their body parts, and they get visions from the people they’re made out of. Specifically they get visions from this one recurring doctor/ scientist. The idea is cool, but the vision literally is there to give exposition about something conveniently. Like when they are trying to solve the puzzle of clawdeens mom, Frankie’s vision just conveniently tells them what to do and how to do it.

In that same episode, we see manny taur. A Minotaur character. And right away we are just told that he’s good at puzzle solving, and so is draculaura! They’re rivals! But this is the first time I’ve ever seen or heard about draculaura being into puzzles, let alone her one sided rivalry with manny. And as the episode ends, she’s like “well you can be the rightful puzzle master” but it feels so flat. There has been no build up to this moment.

Another example is lagoona. In her designated episode, she is rooting for torelai to win the fear-leading captain over draculaura (another thing that has no build up as to why it’s important to her) lagoona explains that torelai is holding a secret over her head, and if it gets out she will lose her status as the fiercest monster in school. But this is the first time we have heard this!! In previous episodes there’s no mention of her being scary or fierce. Or even her super fast swimming skills. It’s just brought up and glosses over with a “be who you are, it’s okay to like what you want! We all have secrets 🥹” but there’s no real character development.

My last example will be the way draculaura is presented in this series. From what she tells us, she has high standards to live up to as a vampire. She needs to look good for her day so she studies endlessly and is striving for perfection. But she also has a love for witchcraft, which is banned in monster high due to its connections to humans. This can be a cute premise, but they NEVER show draculaura compared to any other vampire to show how she’s supposed to act. They never give us episodes where she blows off her friend’s shenanigans because it makes her look bad, and they never really show her dad being so overbearing. They don’t show us WHY humans are hated. And even though witchcraft is banned, whenever anyone finds out about it they’re just cool with it? No push back or anything. The only character to challenge draculaura was torelai.

This all may be very nitpicky, but MH is a character driven franchise. Character relationships with each other and their surroundings are very important to me. I want to feel the so called pressure these characters are being put under. It doesn’t have to be ultra serious 24/7, but issues get resolved within one episode and then rehashed a few episodes later with no further development. Especially with characters like Cleo and lagoona. They have been benched as side characters in this show, and side characters get much worse treatment.

‘The general episode progression is like this - introduce an issue, introduce a high stakes situation that involves the school, have all or one of the main 3 engage in a sequence of fights against this issue(or rapid solving of said issue through convince) - issue is resolved and lesson is told to viewers-characters reset for the next episode.

I know this is a children’s show, but that doesn’t mean it needs to have bad writing, not all kids are high off cocomelon. Kids deserve good writing in their media!

My next rant will be about clawdeen and her story this generation

[toxicrevolver]

What are three things on your music bucket list for 2024?

Tagged by @we-survive-endlessly thanks for the tag!!!

1) go to at least one concert

2) listen to more k-bands (the handful I know slap and I need more)

3) make more playlists for the silliest/most random reasons/ideas

Tagging (no pressure): @haahka @accal1a @smushedmuffin @serendipminie @odeblr

[arsenicflame]

i Do Not Trust people who make Mary the bad guy in their stories when the show went out of its way to specifically show us how she was suffering just as much as stede was in their marriage and that shes, yknow, a good person

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[inkedinfusions]

the imagery for that whole paragraph is STUNNING! I can imagine it so perfectly in my mind with the way you describe it. Istg the way you describe things is pure art in and of itself

!!!Thank you!! I find that I really like writing descriptive scenes. That is also why I struggled a little with the dialogue in the beginning, because up until the key, all the short stories I've written have no dialogue at all. I love love love describing spaces, feelings, and the character's metal state. I think they can be used by the reader to better insert themselves in the scene.

I love that you added this in cause I’m betting a lot of people might’ve been questioning if it was Zeke too

Yes! Its a logical conclusion on a surface level, but we must not forget that the Scouts had absolutely no idea that the Volunteers were a thing, and much less that they worked under Zeke. Also, it would be impossible to send anything to the island prior to Yelena's ship, as there were no other shipments to the island from anyone else, and Paradis does not have any radio technology yet.

same Reader saaaame! I can imagine it so perfectly in my head too the little smile he gave us 🤭 got me giggling and shit

Meeeee!! My sister is used to my bs so she didn't question me when I started giggling in front of my computer lmaoo

so I’m guessing then based off that line that I was right to have guessed last chapter that it is due to his future memories that he knows Readers name. That’s so interesting and I’m curious to see Eren potentially tell Reader all about that and just see what he knows

Ding ding ding! You were right on the money. I like the idea that, just as aot is a timeloop of sorts, fics are timeloops too. So I incorporated than into the key. My reasoning is: if Y/n is going to be an important part of the story, and future!Eren sends key memories to his younger self, then why would she not appear in the memories? Kinda spoilery but not really because its an Eren fic, he knows (being the Attack Titan) how the government or military would react to a random girl, much younger than any of the Volunteers, arriving to the island, and then becoming close to The scout squad. So in order to ensure her safety he ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ (<- you can probably guess but I'm keeping it hidden for my own enjoyment lol)

AHHHHHHHH THE TAPESTRY LINE AGAIN!? it’s so gooooddd!!! I’m so happy you used that metaphor again! I love especially that you used it for this line here “…a loose thread will ultimately be pulled by an unknown force, sending you tumbling down once again.” It’s just such a good metaphor and I love the way you’ve been using it

Tapestry metaphor! Tapestry metaphor! Tapestry metaphor! Metaphors and anaphoras my true loves.

girl I don’t know why you were scared about writing the scouts wrong! I love the way you wrote Hange. I thought you captured her more… eccentric and dramatic (idk what other words to use) personality really well and I also loved how you wrote Levi’s distrust of the volunteers

Aughhhh thank you! I always get nervous when writing new characters but they always end up writing themselves. Levi is def not trusting the Volunteers, but does he trust Y/n? probably not guess you'll have to wait and see.

oooo that’s interesting. I’m excited to see what they wanna do with Reader

:DDDDDDD

Anyway, thanks for writing out your thoughts! I always look forward to reading what you thought about the chapter, as well as any theories you have for me. Thank you for reading!

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 8

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev   next–⊱

𝟎𝟖 | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

chapter word count: 3.3 k

content warnings: blanket warnings

a/n: So we are doing this again, where I say that I'm too busy and the next chapter will take a while and then I turn my back and upload on schedule. Anyway. I hope ya'll enjoyed last chapter's cliffhanger!

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 are taken aback is a gross understatement; you’re utterly stunned. Your eyes widen a fraction, and for a millisecond the air, the ocean, and your heart all still. 

Never in your dreams –well, maybe some of them– would you have thought that your name would come out of his mouth seconds after meeting you. There are no introductions to serve as prelude to his words, no past interactions to serve as crutch for rationalization. 

The gleaming moonlight is suddenly much more brilliant, bathing you both in silver rays. Your hair sways in the salty ocean breeze, and so does his, matching yours in a gentle rhythm. The wind is much calmer than the storm that heralded your arrival, air strangely warmer despite the environment that would suggest otherwise. 

Your name in his lips is not a question, but rather an answer. 

He, somehow, knows who you are, as his tone does not ask if that is your name, but instead states it with the certainty only someone familiar with another can. It is strange, how his eyes speak of understanding, how his stance speaks of kinship.

You are frozen in place for what seems like eternity, but is likely just a couple of seconds. Hange’s enthusiastic voice is lost in the pulse of the sea’s waves, in the drum of your heart, in the whisper of breath of your unasked questions. 

How? Is the first one your mind asks.

Zeke, you reply, before discarding the idea. It is neither logically sound nor something coherent with the instructions and warnings you were given. The Scouts never knew about the Volunteers before they set foot on the island, never considered such an organization's existence in the first place, and much less one that Zeke led. 

Invariably, you know him. 

Unexpectedly, he knows you. 

“What?” you instead ask out loud, when you notice that he is searching your response for confirmation.  

You hesitate with your question, not unlike when you first asked Yelena who she was. It is terrifying how, just when you feel you have a grasp on what is happening, the rug is pulled from your feet and you are left dazed and confused on the floor. 

It makes you think that when you reweave a new carpet from your loom, when you believe you can see the whole picture it depicts, a loose thread will ultimately be pulled by an unknown force, sending you tumbling down once again. 

You are a bit embarrassed of yourself when he gives you a small smile and your stomach flutters just as your cheeks heat up. Maybe this is a dream you think, and it's not the first time that you are hesitant to accept reality, but it is the first occasion that you don't compare it to a nightmare. 

“Don’t pretend like you dont know me,” he says, further baffling you. “We both know way too much for that.”

“We do?” you ask, before correcting your tone. “We do.”

Eren tilts his head slightly, transferring his weight from one foot to another. “Yeah.”

You’ve noticed that there is a lot of space for silence in your life. Whether it contains unsaid secrets, unasked questions, or unresolved doubts, it always lingers behind you, never broken, never explained. 

And yet now, even with the uncertainty with which you approach the newborn conversation, there is implied solidarity in his words, in his actions. Eren didn’t try to pretend he was ignorant of you for the sake of having aces under his sleeve, nor did he attempt to trade that tidbit of information for another. 

Instead he came down the hill –because you are certain he was given explicit orders to not approach the ship’s crew– and talked to you, making it known that you had a connection. One that may only be just brought forth, but that came to life months before your first meeting, when he received his medal and his memories and his burden, and when you watched his story and his rage and his salvation.

You hear a whistle in the distance, and you whip your head towards its source, the sand and rock shore where the two Volunteers and two Scouts remain. You glance at them, too far away to distinguish their faces, their number, but knowing anyways who it is that stands there. Or maybe not, but you couldn't bear to think that your information was now obsolete. 

“I have to go,” you confess as if it is a great sin. 

Eren, who also turned his eyes to the shrill whistle, looks at you again. You swear his eyes soften, and gleam with something akin to… beholding? As quickly as these thoughts enter your mind you dismiss them, because, even if he could claim to know you through his future memories, it doesn’t excuse what you think you see. And so, you conclude it must be a trick of the light and of your perceived closeness to him through his story. 

He nods, not moving from his place between the dunes. You swallow, also not wanting to withdraw, but then you blink and the spell is broken on your end. The sand once again crunches underfoot, but then you stop when he calls your name again in a soft voice that is carried your way by the salty breeze. And so you cast your eyes upon him again, humming questioningly.

“Tell them your name,” is what Eren says after a moment. “They don't know,” he continues, infusing the word with weight, “but they learned.”

And it should be painfully awkward, how blunt questions and half finished answers are being thrown about, but there is no discomfort in the exchange. You know, and he knows, and you hadn’t realized how refreshing it was to just be, not relieved from the burdens but breathing in spite of them. You wonder if he has come to the same realization. 

“I will,” you say. “Thank you.”

“I’ll find you later,” he says. 

“Yeah,” you answer, almost tripping over your words. “Okay.”

You dont think to ask why until much later, when your feet have already taken you to the other side of the pier, sand crunching rhythmically under your robotic footsteps. Why he would tell you, and why now, and why in that way. But the more you delve into it, the more obvious it becomes. 

Eren knows what is supposed to happen (giant footsteps and crunching bones and the spray of blood and–) and is, in his eyes, powerless to do anything but follow the path already established by his future self, who is likewise chained by the same revelations. Perhaps you are as well, if the haunted look in his eyes is any indication of the unstoppable future that will be realized in a little more than three years. 

Still, everyone seeks salvation, even those who sacrifice themselves in order to save others. You and him are no exception. 

You will save him from his preordained fate, determined by his past, by his future. He will save you from your uncertain destiny, shrouded in mystery and paradoxes. 

Maybe you don't need to reweave a new tapestry just yet; maybe it's enough to only untangle the yarn. 

Hange Zoë is no less enthusiastic than the character you used to watch on Tv. Levi Ackerman is no less distrustful than the man you read manga about. They haven’t greeted you yet, as you’ve only just arrived to stand behind Yelena, next to Onyankopon. 

He glances at you when you arrive, silently asking with his eyes what held you back. You shake your head almost imperceptibly, imploring that neither he nor Yelena press the issue. 

“Is that her?” Hange chirps, curiously referring to you. 

You almost want to look behind you, to see if there's anyone else they might have been talking about, but you know there is no one else in your vicinity, and you're the only one who has approached recently enough to warrant the question. 

“She is the last one.” Yelena says. “Please excuse her tardiness.”

“Oh! Well, in that case it's so nice to meet–” 

“Four eyes,” Levi interrupts. “Now's not the time for chit-chat.” He turns to glance at you, before returning to look at Yelena, the de facto leader. “Expect the ship to be searched while we escort you three to our base.”

“I would expect nothing less,” is what Yelena responds. “Your caution is commentable.”

“Sure,” Levi says dryly, not an ounce of belief in his voice, signaling unnamed Scouts to march onto the ship and its crew. “Get walking.”

You all file in, walking amongst the dunes and rocks, with Yelena at the helm of your little group. You feel eyes on you, but when you turn to look no one in your direct vicinity is watching. Instead, you trip when going up some slippery rocks, too preoccupied with searching for nonexistent eyes, but fortunately Onyankopon catches you, grabbing your arm to prevent your fall. 

The rifle slung over his shoulder rattles with the commotion, and you feel how the others turn to look at you, before registering both your actions as non threatening. 

“Careful there, kid,” Onyankopon says. 

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly, heart still reeling from your near slip. “Sorry for the, uh, tardiness.”

“It's all good,” he reassures you, although you know your notoriety for being late is only growing. 

You also know –well, maybe not know, but you are smart enough to deduce– that Onyankopon does want to ask you about your reasons for not heading directly to the pier after the Volunteer in charge of letting you out of your small cabin reported to his post. 

But he won’t pose the question right now, where there is a great chance of being overheard, and where exchanging secrets would only cause more suspicion from the Scouts. 

There is no idle chatter as you make your way to the multiple tents that make up the Scout’s base, scattered around an open field in an orderly fashion. Small yellow dots light up the entrance flaps of each green structure, and there are multiple barrels strewn around. 

You once again feel eyes on you, only this time you are aware of who those eyes belong to. It is a given that the other soldiers would be apprehensive about the Volunteers sudden appearance, but you notice how their attention lingers a tad too long on you. 

You force yourself not to squirm under the weight of their curiosity, of their judgment. Yelena and Onyankopon get noticed as well, but it is you that garners the most attention. Because, well, adults are what they expected Marley to send, but a teenager? Even if you are older than some of the recruits and Marley didn’t actually send you, it was still something they didn’t account for. 

So it is strange, even to you, who was made aware of this prematurely, how you are included in the small group with the proclaimed leaders of the Volunteer faction. Yeah, you can see why all eyes are primarily on you. 

Hange reaches a tent that seems larger than all of the others, and enters through the flap, and the rest of you follow, flanked by Levi. They grab at the knob of the hanging lantern and the space is coated with light. On the inside there is a table and red chairs, two on one side, two on the other. Hange brings a third one from a corner, raising the total to five.

“Sit, sit!” they usher you, taking their place on the other side of the table. 

“Weapons on the table,” Levi says, less enthusiastically. 

You don't have any weapons to turn in, so you walk towards the chair on the far right and sit, fiddling with your thumbs before you remember to quash the anxieties bubbling inside of you. There is a strong sense of deja vu when you reach for one of the teacups gingerly placed on the table, noting with some sourness how bitter tea always seems to follow you in interrogations and introductions. 

You disassociate for a moment, choosing to retreat into your thoughts, rewinding your earlier interaction with Eren over and over again, not unlike what you used to do with his older brother. 

What sets it apart is the intention with which you are dissecting it, turning his words upside down to squeeze more of that refreshing understanding (You know, and he knows, and you hadn’t realized how refreshing it was to just be—) out. 

There is silence again, but this time it is filled with tension. You blink, unsettled by the lack of discussion between the two Volunteers and the two Scouts, only to find the later ones looking at you expectantly, Levi’s expression disguised with more finesse than Hange’s.

“…Sorry, what?” you ask. 

“Your name,” Hange clarifies. “I asked for your name.”

“Oh,” you say. “It’s Y/n.”

There is something almost imperceptible in the way Hange fiddles with Yelena’s gun, a recognition in both their and Levi’s eyes that you might’ve missed were it not for Eren’s insistence in presenting yourself with your name. 

You risk a glance at Yelena but her eyes are on you, not them, as are Onyankopon’s, so you let yourself breathe, halfway convinced they didn’t notice.

Hange does not miss a beat. “It’s nice to meet you Miss Y/n!” they say, drowning out your protests of Just Y/n please— and placing the gun back on the table, next to the rifle.

You nod, hesitant. “It’s nice to meet you too, uh, …?” You trail off, not remembering if they already introduced themselves or not.

“Hange Zoë, at your service!” They say, nudging Levi when he doesn’t say anything.

“Levi Ackerman.” And if you notice the distinct lack of add on like Hange’s introduction, well, that is to be expected.

Yelena takes the opportunity to steer the conversation away from pointless (to you) introductions and unimportant (to her) dialogue.

“So, about our proposal…”

She launches onto the plan you rehearsed and memorized with Zeke, drilled into your mind enough times as to prevent any slip ups of the scheme only him, Yelena, and you know.

It’s not different at all from the one presented in the series, and although you now have it branded deep in your mind, back home you had to watch several videos and read several posts in order to understand. 

The beauty of Attack On Titan was in the convoluted yet intriguing plot and themes, yet sometimes you needed outside help to comprehend half of the stuff that was going on. The fact that each character has their own motivations and their own secrets on top of the changing allegiances do nothing to help.

Still, hours and hours spent scraping the wiki and watching compilations finally pay off, and you’re confident in your ability to not only remember each plan, but also the people involved and the moments in which their loyalties shifted.

The motions are well rehearsed; Zeke will contact the nation of Hizuru, and Hizuru will contact the outside world, advocating for Paradis, as well as provide the blueprints necessary to help advance the island’s technology.

The plan would take around fifty years to reach completion, the amount of time that is estimated as enough to take to bring Paradis to a similar level technology wise to the rest of modern society. There would be a small-scale Rumbling to show off the island’s power, acting as a deterrent for nations with wishes to invade. 

Hange takes the gun again, pointing it directly at their face. It is unloaded, but it still unnerves you. You weren’t a gun savvy by any means, but the first thing you had been taught by Zeke when going over gun safety was to never ever point the gun at yourself, not even when it had the safety on, not even when it was unloaded. 

Yelena lists off the numbers of personnel in the army, counting all the divisions; the infantry, the navy, and aerial forces. Despite Hange’s and Levi’s best attempts, it is evident how frazzled they are by the revelation. 

One million foot soldiers, three fleets of twenty one battle ships each, new technologies and aerial weapons. Those are the new enemies that they must now fight against, a stark contrast to the mindless but brutal titans they are used to dealing with. 

“If Marley had such capabilities the whole time, why haven’t they attacked in over a year?” asks Hange. 

“There are two main reasons,” Yelena begins. “One; the Pure Titans. Even with the latest weapons available to Marley, they would hinder a land assault. Quite ironic that the very thing that is used to confine Eldians to the island also protects it from outside forces.” 

“Yeah, well, ain’t that funny,” Levi says. 

Yelena sips her tea. “Still, I’m impressed.”

“Impressed?” Hange asks.

Yelena doesn’t answer, choosing instead to take a sip from her cup. She looks at her right, directly at you, as if she wanted you to answer in her place. And you can't and won't ever be able to read her mind, but you’re pretty sure you can guess what she is playing at. 

“It's almost dawn,” you point out. “And we are sitting in a tent drinking tea. There is no commotion outside, no one hurrying to their fighting posts. There are also no protective structures around the base, suggesting that you have exterminated almost if not all titans on the island.”

It's clear they weren't expecting you to speak. Even if Eren told them something, the most logical approach to your presence in the tent was as a buffer, something for the Scouts to pick at, to find weakness in. Yelena is helping you overcome that, because, even if it would be easier to infiltrate them if you are deemed as non-threatening, the trust that would be placed upon you should you be assessed as capable makes them want to take the gamble. 

“And the second reason?” Hange asks. 

“Currently, Marley is at war with multiple nations,” Yelena says. “The loss of the Colossal and Female titan, as well as the defeat of their Warrior unit has given many of their enemies the chance to unite and retaliate against Marley.”

“If you guys are secret agents who infiltrated Marley, I’m guessing you came from conquered nations?” Hange asks. 

Yelena’s and Onyankopon’s faces harden– one fake, one true. 

“Oh, I’m right?!,” they exclaim after. “I bet you’ve got some pretty big backers to go up against Marley then.”

“Not quite,” Yelena says, and after a moment she clarifies. “Onyankopon and I are from conquered nations, but Y/n is Eldian.” There is only one truth in her whole statement, a new record. “We were powerless, forced to play soldiers for the nation that took our homes, but Y/n was deemed a devil the moment she was born.”

The fake backstory you're using makes you a little uncomfortable, but it sure was convenient. They wanted to paint you as smart, but not too intelligent as to outsmart Paradis. Dependable, but not a pushover. Eldian, just like them, facing obstacles even when outside the walls. 

You tune out Yelena praising Zeke for organizing the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers, calling him a god amongst mortals. You hoped that small, subtle discomfort showed in your face, so the two members of the Scouts present would notice that you weren't lost in reverence for Zeke. 

“We are the Anti- Marleyan Volunteers,” she finishes. “Our goal: To free the Eldian people.”

Levi and Hange share glances, no doubt discussing the answer they would give. 

“We would like assurance of your allegiances,” Levi says. “You will not be able to contact Eren, or any of the others for that matter, but we want the girl to come with us.”

taglist: @dressycobra7 @xngelsau @bloodchapell @i-think-im-adorable13 @luna4mnoon @yuuuumii @kermittears @binluvsu

ask or comment to be added!

[roots-symphony]

what's so interesting is that agatha and nicky clearly had their cons well-oiled, and at the end it seems they even started turning their song into a part of it as well, like i don't think that was the first time nicky sang that song for an audience and they used it to lure witches (i do think it's the first time that it /technically/ didn't work), and how after nicky died it continued to gain popularity and be so well-known it became a legend, and along with that agatha being known as the only survivor of the road and people (like billy) seeking her out to walk it or just for knowledge of it. and i think that had been the idea when they first started using it as a con. making it so they no longer had to travel and scavenge, using it as a lure to bring the witches to them in order to keep nicky alive, but only one small misstep and rio got him anyway

and then thinking about how lorna, who had a generational curse placed upon her family that is going to kill both her and her daughter and who desperately wants to see her daughter survive, heard this song and created her own version to use as a protection spell for her daughter and, like agatha did before her, she made her version so well-known and so popular that years and years after death it's still protecting her daughter, until ultimately her daughter was finally able to use it to break the curse and save herself

idk just.. they're like two sides of the same coin, or distorted mirrors of each other

agathas love was so powerful and so strong that death gave nicky time

lornas love was so powerful and so strong that the ballad gave alice time and even freed her

if nicky hadnt been taken that night, could it have eventually freed him as well? rio said agatha used the dark magic of the darkhold to hide herself from rio, so was that the end goal? they'd continue to lure witches to both keep nicky alive and to have agatha become powerful enough to forever keep them hidden?

[rasairui]

I think anybody who thinks autism is more "accepted" nowadays is either in denial or can't see outside themselves. What we actually did is just popularize a really weird infantilized perception of autism that focuses on the symptoms that can be repackaged as "cute" or "quirky," and are continuing to treat people with inconvenient or even upsetting symptoms like garbage. And no I'm not talking about bigots who pull the "I'm literally neurodivergent" bs I'm talking about supposed allies telling me I'm acting like a child for getting too emotional when I literally have "Can't Regulate My Emotions" disorder, or that I'm moving weird, or that my voice never has the right tone to it. Sorry my autism doesn't stop and end at hand flapping and dinosaurs lmao I can gaurantee I'm not enjoying my meltdown any more than you are, buddy! In fact, I'd say I'm having a far worse time than you! I do not make a choice to be emotionally volatile nor do I feel good when I get upset. It's not my fault that emoting "properly" is a performance that takes energy and I really can't do it 100% of the time. Like idk it honestly feels like I still have to mask in supposedly progressive spaces just in a different way.

And of course this doesn't even start to get into people with higher support needs than me who are rarely acknowledged unless they themselves are doing it. It's one of the reasons those posts that are like "Do you think neurodivergence is just autism/adhd, and not (heavily stigmatized other disorder)?" rub me the wrong way. They always seem to be addressing the most sanitized version of autism possible which strikes me as counter intuitive to the point being made. And don't get me wrong, as a system I understand why it's being said but it just really frustrates me because the people these posts are about don't actually think severe cases of autism or adhd are neurodivergence either! They treat higher support needs people with the same disorders like shit!

No I do not think anyone who's ever made a post like that is a bad person nor do I expect every post to have a disclaimer containing every possible nuance but I do think a lot of them are not written with the existence of high support needs or "weird" autism symptoms in mind, which inadvertently feeds into this "palatable autism" thing people keep doing

[skunkes]

observation post but ive found myself doing a lot of "problem solving" for commissions in my sketchbook because it helps me in a way that drawing digitally does not... Now im trying to figure out why that happens and how to bridge that disconnect because well why would it be different. Why is it so different 😭

[seefasters]

people making all those body-switching drink spiking memory altering theories when its so much easier to admit you felt like the writing wasn't that good this season. knowing a thing is mid and still enjoying it is so freeing try it sometime

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[bunnihearted]

🦈2

[edge-oftheworld]

one thing I love about following celebrities/artists who are honest and proactive about their mental health struggles etc is I can’t count the number of times someone I know is going through something and I’m like ‘I’ve got a song for u’ and how much of my life involves telling myself ‘if [redacted] can do something/get better/etc then so can i’ (and having actual real evidence of it in front of me) and I can’t understate how much I appreciate these things.

but at the same time it involves a whole lot of watching people I care about suffer and you learn to read the signs and infer between the lines in songs and interviews, and yes we can never fully know what they don’t share with us, but when they do share things it’s not a big stretch to be like ‘this seems like it’s what life is like for you and I have taken encouragement from it but you deserve so much better’. and it’s easy to find ways to get angry at a predatory industry and realise things that could be hurtful if you’re already fragile.

and we can advocate for some things and help ourselves and the people around us feel better but it’s hard to meaningfully reach your faves as an individual. and there are things we can’t say on the internet in too much detail, speculation becomes the harmful kind of gossip, and so sometimes it’s a whole lot of internally saying ‘you’re doing incredibly well to have gotten to where you are but I wish for your sake things would get better faster’

[a-url-that-exists]

hot take Deadpool and Wolverine wasn't that good it was sort of just Ryan jacking off about how much money Disney was giving him, fanservice, and comic book/tv show references that only the most hardcore nerds would get.

[echojedis]

One day I’m going to write out my entire essay of tech/phee thoughts but I don’t want anything I say to be misunderstood