#like this is a different conversation but a lot of times people who are into darker subjects have usually always been into something dark

[sombreset]

I’m still not over Deadpool & Wolverine: WWIII. At all.

(Spoilers, also cw for blood and gore and just. Weird imagery)

There’s SO much stuff that happens in this comic, way more than I am posting here, that really digs deep into why Wade and Logan are so intertwined. They both suffered horribly. They’re both near immortal. They’ll both outlive everything they know. They both have rage that doesn’t ever seem to go away, they just have very different coping mechanisms.

This comic LITERALLY intertwines them, in more than one way.

First example is the one most people talk about, which is the whole thing where Logan cuts off a chunk of his own leg and cooks it for Wade so he has at least something to eat (is it gay to make the decision to cut off a piece of yourself and give it to another man so he has something to eat, even tho you both technically don’t need to eat, it just helps? Who knows)

Second example is the end of the comic, which I wish more people would talk about. While they’re fighting a big bad, Wade gets torn apart. Like… crushed. Into pieces. Past the point where Logan thinks regenerative healing can save him. And Logan is, despite all his complaining of how much he doesn’t like Wade, destroyed. Scared, and as the big bad points out— afraid.

Logan then goes into an absolute blind rage. He’s in pain. He’s scared. He genuinely thinks he lost Wade, and he loses it.

All the while, a small voice can be heard telling him to stop. Begging him to stop. He’s lost control. The antagonists of the comics wanted this, and while Logan is thrashing around they intentionally teleport him in front of a mother and child, fully expecting Wolverine to not tell the difference between friend or foe and kill them. Logan certainly cannot tell what he’s doing at this point. He can hardly see.

And then…

Suddenly, Wade. Because some of Wade’s blood got into Logan, he literally grew OUT of him, just in time to stop him from murdering innocent people. Because Logan had fully lost control. Wade pleads with him to stop, and in the end he literally pulls out one of Logan’s bones and shoves it into his face to get him to actually snap out of it. Afterwards, they have a lot of really good conversation, but to avoid clogging this post more— tldr Wade calms Logan down, and tells him “Nobody can decide we’re monsters but us.” Which… I love.

Later on after the fight, there’s this funny panel (and a few before) where Wade’s like dude we are sharing your ass AND dick rn isn’t that crazy and then yeah he makes the comment about being “in” Logan which. Nice

Anyways crazy b/c by the end of this comic, parts of Logan have literally been inside of Wade (chunk of Logan’s leg eaten by Wade) and ALL of Wade has been in Logan (he fucking grew out of him)

This comic is VERY good go read it if you haven’t

[anghraine]

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[trans-axolotl]

my gendered experience growing up as an intersex person was overwhelmingly defined by my responses and resistance to everything that got me labeled as a failure: failure to quickly get a gender assigned at birth, failure to go through a normal puberty and grow up into a woman, failure at meeting the standards for "complete womanhood" because of my intersex sex traits, and yet simultaneously failing to ever be acknowledged as a "real man" and being treated as a threat when I expressed I wanted to transition.

before i realized i was a man and came out as trans, the ways that girlhood was denied to me was very often humiliating and painful. locker rooms filled with other girls were a frequent source of shame. there were many big and small ways that i was told that my intersex body made me insufficient, incomplete, broken. i was forced onto estrogen, forced into shaving my body hair, and was constantly being told to change myself to better fit this mystical idea of a "normal woman." and even though I ultimately ended up becoming a man, the denial of girlhood was painful.

but i think that these things would have been even more difficult to navigate as an intersex girl if on top of everything I already said, i was having to cope with the denial of my girlhood while i was forced into boys locker rooms. if my doctors were forcing me onto testosterone hrt and refusing to even discuss estrogen, if all my legal paperwork had "M" on it and was a logistical nightmare to change, if every support group for my intersex variation labeled it as a "men's support group," if the LGBTQ community spaces i tried to join were misogynistic towards me often to the point of exile, if my self determination as an intersex girl was denied in most spaces of my life, and on and on and on. while listing all these things out i also don't want to make it seem like it's all about suffering and pain--so much of transition for me has been about joy in my self determination and how much it feels like a reclamation of autonomy to decide what I want my body and self to be like--i know this is an experience i share with so many of my trans intersex friends.

as an person who was AFAB, although there were many ways that trying to grow up as an intersex girl were a painful, logistical nightmare, many times and places that i was excluded from woman's spaces, etc. however, there was a simultaneous affirmation that i was right to strive for that in the first place. which is logic rooted in some fucked up compulsory dyadism, but also which would have made some things slightly easier or even possible at all if i had wanted to embrace being an intersex girl within this fucked up system.

pretty much every time i've seen people on tumblr talking about "afab transfems" in an intersex context, people seem happy to collapse these experiences and act like there's no meaningful distinction or point in distinguishing between different types of intersex embodiment. it seems incredibly extractive, to be perfectly honest with you--taking terms already used by a community to make meaning of their experiences and to expand and dilute that term enough that it means something pretty different than the original.

it's making me think about the concept of epistemic injustice, which is a term coined by Miranda Fricker to describe oppression related to knowledge, communication, and making meaning of the world. There's two subtypes of epistemic injustice: testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice. Testimonial injustice refers to the dynamic where marginalized people are labeled as not credible, excluded from conversations, and their testimony and knowledge is labeled as unreliable, even when they're the ones who are experts and have first hand experience of what people are talking about. (this is why i probably won't make this post rebloggable--i've noticed this pattern on tumblr many times where trans men speaking about transmisogyny get lots of notes and are given a lot of grace, where trans women are silenced, attacked for not having perfect wording, and otherwise delegitimized.)

the second type is called hermeneutical injustice. it describes how marginalized people are denied the right to make sense of the experiences in their own lives. this can look like preventing people from building community, terminology, a political understanding of themselves, and the interpretive resources needed to process how you live in the world.

this is a form of injustice that I think almost all intersex people are very familiar with--we are denied community and interpretive resources to the point that we're told we don't even exist, that intersex isn't a real word, and so many more examples that leave us isolated and with very few options for understanding what we're collectively experiencing. as an intersex person i really intimately understand how frustrating, confusing, and painful it is to not have words for your experiences, your identity, your life.

so it makes me really sad and pissed off when it seems like intersex people seem to be replicating this exact same type of epistemic injustice towards transfems and specifically towards intersex transfems. pretty much every time recently i see people talking about "afab transfems" they're doing so in a way that seems to deny that trans women even have the right to make sense of their own experiences in the world. there seems to be this mindset that these political frameworks, these interpretive resources that transfems have built up are just up for grabs for anyone. and then on top of that has come with it a lot of cruel, hateful language and direct attacks towards many intersex transfems who are facing so much harassment right now.

an important value to me is this idea of reciprocity as a foundation for solidarity. to me reciprocity means that we're prioritizing the ways we care for each other, we're thinking about how we can uplift each other, and we're watching out for extractive or exploitative patterns where one group is constantly expected to be in "solidarity" with another group without getting the same respect and care back toward them. i think that there could be so many ways that intersex people of all genders could share our overlapping experiences and actually be in true, meaningful solidarity with each other, but i barely ever actually see that happen on tumblr. and that pisses me off, because i do think that there's so much we have in common that we could celebrate and support each other with. i feel so much kinship with so, so many of my trans intersex friends, and ways where i see our lives converge. but i don't think that can happen in an environment where there's no acknowledgment of the ways that our experiences will sometimes (often) differ from each other, and the ways that we have unique needs.

another frustration i've had based on this most recent couple months of transmisogynistic intersex posting on tumblr is how intersex people have been mostly ignoring intersex community resources and devaluing the existing intersex terminology that people created to try to meet our needs. so much of what i've seen people describing on tumblr seems to really line up with the term ipsogender. Ipsogender is a term coined by an intersex sociologist Cary Gabriel Costello, and is used to describe intersex people whose gender matches the gender they were medically assigned at birth, but who might not feel like cis or trans fits them, might experience dysphoria, and who might feel like they've ended up transitioning medically or socially in some ways. this is a word that exists that an intersex person put time into coining because they wanted other intersex people to feel seen, embraced, and have ways of understanding themselves and communicating to others, and that's something that's super meaningful to me! and yet, i've rarely seen anyone reference it, and also seen multiple people making fun of it in other spaces online.

there's also intergender, which is another intersex specific gender term used to describe when your gender is inseparable from your intersex traits, and that your intersex identity is intertwined with your gender identity in some way. some people just identify as intergender, others use it as an adjective and exist as an intergender man or woman. intersex terminology like this is really important to me, especially because we're so often denied the right to make sense of our own experiences.

i think ultimately what i wanted to say with this post is just that when i think about intersex community, some of the most important values of intersex community for me are solidarity, care for each other, and affirming our right to define our own existence. and i don't think that can happen in a community where people are acting in extractive ways, harassing and attacking their fellow community members, and being dismissive of the realities of other intersex people's lives.

[iid-smile]

#08 ୨ৎ ⸝⸝ @meidiary ⋆

i think im in luv with u... 😪 mei is a 10/10 guys!! certified cutie ☺️ idk who i was expecting you to pick, but inumaki 😆😆 one of my favs fr! and i was so excited to do 23 for some reason... you're the first one to request it 👏 all of them are headcanons 🙂‍↕️ (tumblr keeps not saving what i put down its stressing me out!!!)

#18 🍓 | protecting you

im sorry, but inumaki can be such a scaredy cat sometimes...

he'd be afraid, but still step up and get in between you and whatever is the threat

doesn't consider his own safety and wellbeing in the process either... he always puts others first, and a little bit of throat pain is much better than you getting hurt

100% mans up against insects because you hate them

gets intimated when he's up against a muscular 6ft guy, but has a eureka moment and uses his cursed speech. easy win

theres also other things he'd protect you from too, like pulling you away from hot oil and flames if you're cooking together. he's got spidey senses (according to him)

the cold is also something he'd protect you from. always makes sure you have a warm coat, scarf, gloves, and everything. i think inumaki really likes earmuffs too, because then he can whisper about how much he loves you and you wouldn't hear a thing

#20 🍦 | love language

physical touch + quality time

a mixture of both

the two of you could lay around for hours, and he'd just listen to you talk as you both cuddle. when you're both into a particular show or series, snuggling in bed when you're both supposed to be sleeping hits different

if you're on public transport or aimlessly walking around, he'll hold your hand, but it's more like he's holding it from behind rather than actual handholding.

silence with him is always comfortable, and you completely tune out from the rest of the world whenever you're with him

gift giving

he gifts you snacks a lot. even better if he specifically gets ones with pink packaging

not the best with fashion but he tries for you. he would buy you a turtleneck just like his but a different colour and patterned

not the best with fashion, but he tries. at first, he'd literally buy you any clothes that are pink, and gets so confused when it's not your style. he gets it eventually, don't worry

matching shoes are a must! not the exact same shoe as you, but the same colour

pranks

not really a love language but aha

he loves it too much when he scares you with bugs, especially ones that fly. craneflies are the worst, because they're relatively easy to pick up and hold compared to flies or other flying creatures

he'll grab it by the leg and chase you around with it. sometimes he'll cup his hands together and pretend he has one because he finds it funny

he doesn't do anything with spiders because you're both scared of them

he actually would love it when you prank him back. scaring him from behind by shaking his shoulders is the best way to get him

#23 🍦 | your romance trope / dynamic

friends to lovers / mutual friends

he wouldn't date anybody he doesn't know well

since you're friends with a lot of people, there's no way he hasn't heard about you, and you happened to meet by chance

maybe coincidentally crossing paths and your extroverted self just had to say hello.

as soon as you both realise you have a mutual friend, the friendship blossoms and grows quick

the way he cares for you is so clear to everyone else except for you, but when somebody points it out, you can tell

sunshine x enthusiastic but silent enabler

inumaki is already a silly guy, and he just gets sillier

the conversations you have are always energetic, engaging and exciting, even with the language barrier, so he's pulling out ingredients that nobody's ever heard him say before. essentially, you're the only two that actually can understand

his energy immediately springs up whenever he gets to hang out with you. he can go from 0 to 100 in a split second, and that needs to be studied

he really doesn't mind how much you talk, since he likes to listen

#24 🍦 | when they're jealous

it's hard to see his face when his mouth and eyebrows are both covered, so you're only depending on the eyes. or if he tells you himself

if he wants to get out of a situation to feel more at ease, he'll tug on your sleeve or fingers

"🤬"

that's literally all he sends you over text or shows you on notes, and when you look over at him, it's really obvious that he's upset. (to you, at least)

will have a whole debate with you on why, how and what he's jealous about. small or big, it doesn't matter

when he gets the most jealous is if you're paying too much attention to something else in general

like, if you're sitting a bit too far to each other and you're on your phone, he'd pull you closer so you'd be right by his side, silently asking for you to talk to him a bit

event masterlist

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most. 

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars. 

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times. 

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

a

Yesterday i got the craziest message out of the blue .. My ex bf from 2011-2013's other ex gf who he was with before me hit me up to say that he got arrested?? And that her and like 5 other people are pressing charges against him for assault spanning across all different periods of time.. it's really wild idk how to feel. She said if i feel comfortable i can give my own testimony for when they go to court , even tho i dont live in england anymore.. Im like yeah honestly i will because like this dude is so unrelentingly violent and scary he legit almost killed me it was so extreme, i've known a lot of corrupt ppl but he is the only one i've always thought needs to be locked away from society like it's a murder scene waiting to happen not to mention he is just a straightup rapist

it's crazy too cus like 4 or 5 nights ago i had a dream that me and him and the girl who messaged me were all watching videos of ourselves in that time period like i even posted about it on here. i thought it was just a typical trauma processing dream not an actual premonition of something i would have to revisit irl

She said something about how she'd been looking back in her old fb messages with him to help paint a picture of the timeline so out of morbid curiosity today i checked to see if i still had ours. Sure enough i do, i've never looked at them retroactively before, but holy shit like... He is so much more of a monster than i even remembered, i dont get triggered easily anymore but it genuinely hurt my heart to see how horrible he was. Every conversation is just him snapping at me because i didnt respond to him fast enough or something so minor, and the whole time im just trying to apologize and de-escalate but it makes him more and more furious. the day before i was about to fly to london to move back in with him he was threatening to kill himself because i was going to my friends house to say bye to them. He was like "You're going to a party i just know it you're lying to me you'd never tell me you're really going to a party because you know i'm suicidal you've ruined my night you're a piece of shit" Like this was the NIGHT before i was about to leave everything behind just for him

i'm like rly shocked at everything i saw in that convo today im not even scratching the surface with this post. Anyways i guess it's cool that there is some justice happening right now and the people who survived him have been able to band together to try and ensure he can't hurt anyone else in the future. i rly wish none of us ever had to go thru any of that tho ugh i was so young i just really had no idea and it fucked me up for many many years afterwards. ive come a long way tho .

ill probly delete later cus idk who lurks this blog. i prefer not to show weakness :K But yeah.. just wanted to express this crazy unexpected life event and get it off my chest while its fresh

Peace and love !!!

[rockermybuddie]

Misunderstanding

Tommy x Evan “Buck”

A/n: i write a lot of Tommy and Buck. Imma write something different. Eventually.

Summary: Its Bucks off day and he decided he was going to bake some cookies and bring them to Tommy at work. When he arrives he spots Tommy talking to someone hes never seen before. Hes about to walk over to his boyfriend when the man kisses Tommy. Buck stops and turns around walking away before seeing or hearing Tommys reaction.

————

~Bucks POV~

I feel Tommys lips on mine as he gives me a goodbye kiss. “See you later.” He whispers. I hear the bedroom door click shut and drift back into sleeping.

When i woke up i made me some oatmeal and watched an episode of The Bachelor. When i was done i was bored. Eddie went down to Texas to vist with Christopher. I’m glad the two are making mends, i know it hurt Eddie when Chris left to live with his grandparents in Texas.

Maddie and Chim are taking a short trip to Long Beach. And Hen and Karin are dealing with the foster people to get Nia. So im out of options when it comes to hanging out with someone.

I decided im going to bake some cookies for Tommy and his station, so i get to work. I’m going to make a variety and an allergy free batch.

Once i finished i put the cookies in some boxes and loaded them into my jeep. I didnt text Tommy that i was coming because i want it to be a surprise.

When i arrived i parked my jeep and grabbed the boxes of cookies with a big smile on my face. I walked into the station and scanned the area looking for Tommy.

“Looking for Tommy?” Someone asks. “Yes.” I answer. Everyone here knows who i am. “Hes upstairs in the kitchen.” The person says. “Thanks.” I smile and make my way up the stairs.

When i get to the top i turn the corner and see Tommy talking to someone i’ve never seen before. Hes tall and skinny but well built, he has short curly blonde hair. I cant tell what color his eyes are but the way he is looking at Tommy is making me uneasy and hes standing really close to Tommy. Tommy is leaning against the counter just keeping conversation.

I was about to say his name when the guy leans forwards giving Tommy a kiss. That was all i needed to see even though thats not what i wanted to see. My heart instantly sank and i turned away and got out of there as fast as i could.

I threw the boxes of cookies in the trunk not caring if they spilled out and drove out of there as fast as I could.

I drove to my apartment because i obviously didnt want to go back to Tommys bouse where i’ve been staying at most of the time anyways.

When i walked in it was kind of cold but it didn’t bother me because i was flamming with anger. I cant believe Tommy kissed another guy. I tried not to cry but it was too hard to hold back. I really thought he was the one, that he wouldnt cheat on me. I guess i was wrong.

——-

~Tommys POV~

Everything was going fine at work, had a few easy calls. We got a new person his name is Kaleb Green, great young kid. Hes been doing really good.

We were in the kitchen just talking about why we wanted to become a firefighter and the craziest calls we have ever been on.

“So is your locker the one with the gay pride flag on it?” He asks me. “Yes?” I answer carefully. I dont think this kid is a homophobe or anything but im alway cautious when it comes to telling people. I have no shame in being a gay man but having such a masculine job some people may see me differently.

“Thats so cool. Another gay firefighter. I’ve never met another one. I dont feel so alone now.” He says. “Oh, well actually…” i was going to tell him about Evan but before i could finish my sentence he leaned forward and kissed me. I definitely was not expecting that.

“Dude! What the hell?!” I shout shoving him off of me. “Sorry. Too far?” He stupidly asks. “Yes way too far! Plus i have a boyfriend. He happens to be a firefighter too.” I snap. “Please dont report me. I really like it here” he begs. “Too late.” I tell him walking out of the kitchen.

I walk downstairs to report him when i see a familiar grey jeep leaving the parking lot pretty fast. I hope that wasnt Evan.

“Hey Kinard, what did Evan bring you?” Steven asks from a far. “Shit” i say under my breath that was Evan and he probably saw what happened in the kitchen because i never saw him.

I was about to ask if i could handle this when a call came through. I had to push down my anger and my worries about what just happened and focus on the call. God i hope its a simple call so it goes by fast.

It was not. It was a warehouse fire and the warehouse contained toxic chemicals so everything we did had to be done carefully and correctly. It took the rest of the shift.

We finally got back to the station at 11pm. I grabbed my bag and headed straight for my truck. “Hey Kinard.” I hear Kaleb call out behind me. “Dont talk to me. You most likely just ended my relationship with Evan and he was the best thing thats ever came into my life.” I snap at him. Which I probably said too much, based off his facial expressions, but i need to talk to Evan tell him what happened and pray that he believes me. “Let me talk to him, then i’ll ask for a new placement.” Kaleb says, “let me fix this.” He adds. “No you are not talking to him and yes find a new placement. Its not going to work for you here.” I tell him throwing my bag in the truck and drove home.

——

When i arrive home i dont see Evans jeep which means hes not here. I dont know why i thought he would be at my house after all. I mean yeah hes been staying here most of his time anyways but this would be the last place he would come after seeing another guy kiss me.

I try calling him and texting him but hes not answering, rightfully so. I drive over to his apartment next. I see his jeep parked in its usual spot so i know hes here.

I knock on his door immediately when i arrive. No response. “Evan its me. Please can we talk?” I ask through the door loud enough he should be able to here me. After a few more moments of knocking and asking nicely I threaten to do a welfare check and kick down his door.

I then heard the sound of locks unlocking and the door opened to a cold apartment and a tall Evan with a tear stained face and a angry blank expression.

“Evan please listen, i didnt kiss him. He kissed me.”i say, this is a lot more nerve racking than i thought. Its so hard not to stutter and to hse the right wording. “I saw you Tommy.” Evans voice cracks, he walks to the other end of the table while im at the other. Hes so close but het so far.

“Evan i would never cheat on you. Please believe me. We were talking and he asked if my locker was the one with the gay pride flag. Next thing i felt his lips on mine and i pushed him away. I swear.” I tell him the whole story but i cant tell if he believes me or not.

How do you convince your partner that you aren’t cheating on them when they saw another guy kiss you? I feel like im losing him and i really dont want to.

——-

~Bucks POV~

I listen to what Tommy is telling me and my brain is telling me not to believe him but my heart is telling me that hes telling the truth. Because Tommy is the first person to ever so me the type of personal affection, how it feels to be loved. Even though we haven’t said it yet we can feel it when we cuddle, when we get intimate, and when we say the same thing at the same time.

But in this case what do i go with my brain or my heart? Part of me wants to just believe him and go back to how things were but the other half wants to kick him out of my apartment and never talk to him again.

“Evan everyone in this situation had a misunderstanding.” Tommy says. “How am I misunderstanding this Tommy?” I ask in anger. “Okay, okah, im sorry. Wrong words here. Kaleb had a misunderstanding with what i said and he didnt let me finish talking before he kissed me. I was literally about to tell him about you when he kissed me.” Tommy explains.

“Thats what they all say.” I mumble under my breath. “Say what?” Tommy asks. “That the other person kissed them.” I answer. “Evan….” Tommy says, he can tell hes losing me.

It was quiet for a few moments as each of us trys to think of something. “I’ll come get my stuff tomorrow.” I say finally breaking the silence. “W-w-w-what?” Tommy stutters. “I said i’ll come get my stuff from your house tomorrow. While your at work so we dont see each other.” I repeat. Evans face goes into panic mode as he runs a frantic hand through his rough hair.

“Evan please. Im telling the truth. Listen Kaleb said he will talk to you. He’ll tell you everything i just said is true.” Tommy says all in one breath trying to convince me. “Please leave Tommy.” I ask. I’ve been hurt by too many people that are supposed to love me to try again and risk getting hurt again and again and again.

“Evan, baby please.” Tommy begs. “Stop. Get out Tommy. Get out before i call the police.” I command. Tommy rubs his chin with his hand as he turns to the door. He looks back at me one more time before he forces himself out the door.

Now im all alone, again. I should just stay single the rest of my life clearly everyone is going to hurt me when i get close to them.

——

The next day i wait intil i know Tommy is going to be at work so i can go get my clothes from over there.

When i arrive i dont see his truck which means he went to work today. I walk up to the door and i go to type in the code to unlock the door when the door opens. I look up and see the guy from yesterday. Kaleb.

I wanted to punch the guy so bad. He messed up the one good thing i had in my life. “Evan, right?” He asks. “So you’re Tommys new side piece huh?” I snarl. “Please let me explain myself. I never ment for any of this to happen. Can we just talk?” He asks stepping aside for me to come in. I roll my eyes and walk into the house.

I took a seat at the island in the kitchen as I listened to Kaleb talk. He basically said that it was his fault that he made the move and he ruined his chance at the firehouse. He said that he’s been transferred to a new one.

“So do you believe Tommy now? That he wouldn’t cheat on you?” Kaleb asks. “He was going to come tell you instantly but we got a call. You know how it is.” “Yeah.” Is all i say. “Well i have to get going. I really hope you can forgive Tommy. He really loves you.” Kaleb says as he lets himself out.

I sat at the kitchen island with my head in my hands thinking about what to do when i saw Tommy standing in the entrance of the kitchen leaning against the wall frame.

His body language was soft and his face was filled with regret. Hearing both sides of the story and that basically Tommy was telling the truth made it a little easier to go with my heart. But still knowing another guy kissed him hurts a little.

——

~Tomms POV~

I stood there and watched Evan as he proceeded what Kaleb told him. I can’t believe i caved and let Kaleb talk to Evan but its the only thing I could think of that could save mine and Evans relationship.

“So its true.” Evan finally says. “Yes.” I say. “A lot of people hurt me in the last Tommy.” He says. “I know. I never wanted to be one of them.” I try to control my voice to keep it steady.

“I know.” Evan says, “it still hurts that another guy kissed you.” He says. “It wont happen again. I swear to you Evan.” I promise him. “I know.” He says, a small smile spread across my face.

I walk towards him keeping an eye on his body language. “So do you forgive me?” I ask when im standing in front of him. I feel like im shaking as i wait for an answer. “Yes.” Evan tilts his head up and makes eye contact with me.

A smile spread my face as i lifted his chin up with my finger and connected my lips to his. God it felt so good to feel his lips against mine again. “What were you bringing me yesterday?” I ask out of curiosity. “Cookies. They are spilled in the back of my jeep.” He answers. “You taste better than cookies.” I say shrugging my shoulders. He smiles at that.

“I missed you so much.” I say against his lips resting my forehead against his. “I missed you too.” He says. I cradle the back of his head with my hand as i take his mouth back into mine.

I have him back and im never letting him go again.

——-

A/n: I hope you enjoyed the story!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi!🖤 what do you think Harry is like in a relationship? is he like romantic James? i like the idea of him being gay, especially with Draco or Theo, what kind of relationship could they have?

Anonymous asked:

hey there 👋 we khow your opinion about Harry as a parent, but what's about Harry as a romantic partner? i kinda hate like it was portrait in canon with Cho and Jinny bc of his survival mode and i don't think Harry actually likes them, it's more like Ron with Lavender - need to have a girl

Hi!

I think Harry would behave pretty differently in any relationship he's in since Harry takes a lot of social cues from whoever he's with. Like, his friendship with Ron is different from his friendship with Hermione, which is different from his friendship with Luna — like, Harry fits himself to whoever he is with. (I think it's in large part due to his background and low self-esteem)

Like. The most major difference between Ginny and Cho and any guy he might get with is how much Harry cares and whether he actually knows the person. Because I mentioned with Ginny and Cho how Harry does a lot of projecting and doesn't really know them as people. Like the second anon said, it was because he needed a girl to appear normal — to feel like he was a regular teenager.

In general, Harry, as a romantic partner, when he actually cares about his partner, would probably be incredibly loyal and attentive. We know he can pay tons of attention to any tiny detail when he cares. He'd probably be able to read his partner's moods so well because he'd bother to observe. With his intuition and attentiveness, it would almost be like Legilemancy (but Harry would never, he just knows how to read people he cares about). He'd probably be very protective of his partner (as we see him with his friends). He's the kind of guy who'll step in front to shield anyone he cares about. And I don't think he'd fall for the trap of overprotectiveness with a partner he actually likes, respects, and sees as an equal.

He'd probably not be one for pda or initiating physical affection in general, but over time he'd probably become more comfortable with it in private. I can't see him wanting to broadcast his relationships to the Wizarding World beyond making sure everyone knows he's taken so they'd shut up and stop asking him about it. He just strikes me as a private sort of person.

He's a pretty thoughtful gift giver, so there's that, too. I think Harry doesn't speak up his affection often (I mean, with his childhood, it's no wonder), but he'd show it. He'd be super attentive and thoughtful, and he'll say how important his partner is to him even if it'll take him time to get to "I love yous."

We do see him being pretty jealous over Ginny, so I think it'd be worse if he actually cared about the person and didn't just delude himself he does. Like, he'd have the most deadly of glares saved for people who talk to his partner.

Like, regardless of anything, he'd probably be pretty awkward about the whole relationship thing when he actually cares at first. Like, he was pretty awkward when he thought he had a crush on Cho, when he actually has a crush, it'll be worse, but also better. Like, depending on when in his life and the specific circumstances having actual feelings for his love interest could make him more or less awkward.

But besides that, with every partner, Harry would be different.

I made no secret of the fact I'm no Drarry shipper l, but I think Harry and Draco would have a similar dynamic to canon, in a way. Like, they'd be a bit obsessive, super competitive over everything, Draco would thrive on every bit of Harry's attention. Harry is pretty quiet, so I could see Draco speaking more often, and Harry'd listen. Kinda like how Harry is with Ron and Hermione, where these two talk more than him in conversations, but Harry doesn't mind because he likes listening to them, so the same thing.

Depending on when you get them together, the dynamic would also change. Post-war Drarry and Hogwarts years Drarry have a very different flavor to their interactions. With post-war Drarry having more of an understanding of each other, as Draco already had his major character growth. Pre-war, they'll have a bit more struggles in the getting-together phase. I think post-war drarry would work better, because, before it, I think Draco is just, very immature compared to Harry. Like, Draco acts his age, he's a dumb teen, but Harry, even as a child, is a bit mature in certain ways, so I think there'd be clashes there.

Nottpott is a ship im fully behind. Theo is as quiet as Harry (even quite), which would encourage Harry to externalize a lot of his thoughts, same as he'd encourage Theo to do. They both had crappy childhoods and share a lot of experiences, so they're on the same page from the get-go. Like, I think they're both experienced with having the maturity of being forced to grow up a little too early.

I imagine they chill with sometimes just sitting quietly together, with Harry filling in the silence more often than Theo (compared to Draco, with whom it'll be different). I think there would be less pda between Nottpott than between Drary, I feel Draco is more of a touchy person than Theo, definitely when it comes to the public eye. I think Theo would be boastful of dating Harry, not in the "I'm dating the Boy Who Lived" kinda way, but in the "I'm dating the best most brilliant person I know" kind of way, which Harry would get super bashful about (I'm all for anything that raises Harry's self-esteem). On the other direction, I think Harry would bring Theo out of his shell and unteach him a lot of crappy coping mechanisms and re-teach him to show more emotion.

I see Theo as more ruthless than Draco, so he'd be like a Harry enforcer. Harry wants something done, Theo would find out how — poison, archaic rituals, dark spells, whatever else — Theo would find it and be willing to use it.

I like to think of Theo as an external self-preservation extension for Harry. Someone who tells Harry and shows him he is worthy enough to be protected because Theo would be willing to endanger himself for Harry's sake (something he won't do for anyone else). (I think this last paragraph applies to Drarry too, since Draco has more self-preservation than Harry. Although, that's not a high bar. But he doesn't like seeing Harry in actual danger even in canon). The idea is that I like pairing Harry with a partner who doesn't want him to put himself in danger while not treating him like he's made of glass (cause he'd hate it), unlike Ginny who finds Harry endangering himself dreamy and part of the "Boy Who Lived" ideal.

So, yeah, I kinda rambled here, but I think Harry would be a really considerate and attentive, if awkward at first romantic partner if he actually cared about his partner.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[disastergenius]

by far the worst take i've seen so far post-ep19 of Junior Year is that having a week-by-week live play would have allowed fans to essentially influence the direction of the story in the way they want it to go and that would have resulted in the cast being more sympathetic to the Ratgrinders (ie getting them a redemption arc)

why do you feel the need to try and control this story? YOU ARE NOT THE ONE TELLING IT. if you want to tell a story please go write your own, or go write fanfiction to cope or whatever but you don't get to say that the players are telling the story wrong when it's their story they are telling

[sandinmybed]

can i be fr for a minute?? sending abuse to people online for holding different views than you is not activism and in fact actively hurts your cause. most people are not extreme in their viewpoints, you can give them a new perspective if you're willing to spend some time explaining shit. if someone is saying something you disagree with and you rush in there to condescend to them and call them disgusting and subhuman and dont even TRY to explain calmly why their views are harmful, they're going to shut you out instantly and double down on their views.

most people are simply genuinely ignorant to the issues they're talking about - they just pick their views up from the news and the world around them and express opinions because that's what every person does. if you run in there and tell them they're scum for it, what then? if someone does that to you, are you going to think "maybe i should do some research" or are you going to think "this person is an asshole, im blocking them." a lot of you think you're activists and then refuse to do any kind of actual WORK to support your cause.

[hella1975]

all hate to tiktok for taking 'having a space to more openly and actively talk about different cultures' to mean 'cultures are NOT to be shared and we must be vigilantly defensive of our cultures for fear of appropriation, a word that can be applied to any multicultural interaction'. like of course cultural appropriation is a very real problem but ive seen with the access to global multicultural conversation that tiktok provides it's made people TERRIFIED to even interact with cultures other than their own for fear of 'doing it wrong'. like at some point you have to acknowledge that in the real world of the great outdoors, the majority of people are eager to SHARE their cultures. yes there are ignorant questions and biases but also... how do you think those things get unlearnt? i dont understand how deciding that multiculturalism is an elephant in the room instead of a normal thing that should just be talked about and lived with is supposed to benefit anyone? and kids on tiktok are CONVINCED that it's a time bomb of a conversation to have and therefore must be avoided at all costs but like. people generally LOVE their home and their culture and are PROUD of it and want to share it. how have we made it so that showing genuine interest and a desire to understand something so integral to a person's identity is now feared and borderline demonised?

[cloud-somersault]

idk man, the epilogue is like this really deep...exploration of interpersonal connections and wants and desires interlaced with the complexity of circumstance and consequence and regret and guilt. and I started it as a like "haha, this is what I want! I want two monkeys being gay, haha!"

but it's so. fucking tragic, actually.

just in chapter 1, we see how defeated Macaque is, how lost he is. how he hesitates and flip flops constantly. how he says or thinks something with certainty, but then goes back on that. he tries so hard to commit to one path, but he truly is fluctuating and has no clue what to do

and wukong is just...certain of himself. he's certain of his wants and desires now after Constellations. He wants to maintain connections and put in the effort no matter what. and that..juxtaposition of them...is just so raw and hurtful in chapter 1 because we see that wukong notices that in Macaque because he knows him better than anyone.

And Macaque admits he's a little lost. he doesn't know what he wants. but he keeps walking. he wants to make his own choices. he wants to think for himself. he wants to see the truth for himself.

and as the days go by, as the weeks and months pass...as they grow and change, it's just sad. because it's not

the epilogue is not this "will they? won't they?" shadowpeach thing.

look at them as individuals. that's why i finally decided to change the perspective. because we needed to see macaque's thoughts. I've shown you wukong's; please give macaque that same level of attention.

when people write romance or relationships, they often misstep when it comes to the characters that are in the relationship. in order for that relationship to be believable and relatable and enjoyed by the audience, you have to develop the characters independently and together.

we cannot have shadowpeach until we know, with certainty, who macaque and wukong are.

[rappihahh]

Overthinking rn

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...