#mourn's labels

[mourningmogaicrew]

-fluiere

A suffix that indicates that an identity is fluid, fluctuating, changing in essence, and vast.

This suffix is different from -fluid and describes more complex shifting labels. Instead of fluidity, the quality of -fluiere orientations is fluienity. (Pronounced flee-N-it-ee or flew-N-it-ee)

It was originally designed for orientations but someone could also be genderfluiere, label/pronounfluiere, etc.

These identities may seem to ebb and flow like bodies of water, and feel like they're almost constantly changing (quickly or slowly). The base identity remains the same while everything about it shifts and moves. These orientations work like lava lamps in that they are moving and changing colors (feelings) while still having the same container (label). They are impossibly large but also small.

These identities may feel difficult to describe using traditional concepts and may rely on metaphors or hyper-specific scenarios instead: they are like a planet in the vastness of space, constantly moving and spinning while staying in the same orbit. They are a moth's wings fluttering, the colors and patterns of a kaleidoscope shifting, plasma moving, a flower growing and blooming, everything and nothing at once, the cycle of the tides and the phases of the moon, a 3d shape rotating, etc.

(Sorry for getting so metaphorical. But I guess it kind of shows what I mean about this being hard to describe)

Some people may feel that they’ve given up on describing themself because every time they find a label their identity seems to slightly change again. I’m not forcing anyone to identify as -fluiere but I think this term may be helpful for people with similar struggles!

Flag IDs in alt text. I also made flags for bi, pan, poly, nonbinary, trans, agender, catgender, genderfluid, spiritine/kenochoric, androgyne, demigender, aro, ace, aroace, polyam, and pronoun- fluiere and hopefully I'll get around to posting them!

[shimp]

The problem with canon CaitVi isn't that it's 'toxic'. Plenty of the relationships in Arcane are unhealthy and yet remain compelling. Silco and Jinx undoubtedly have an unhealthy parent/child relationship but it's still interesting. JayVik and Timebomb have unhealthy aspects to some degree. (Most relationships in the show are lime this, lbr.)

The problem is that the way CaitVi is unhealthy comes off as either clunky or unintentional. Like, the dirt under your nails line could be interesting as a line halfway through the series to show Vi's codependence and attachment toward Caitlyn to the point where she undervalues herself, but instead it comes at the end, and it feels like the vibe is supposed to be romantic, but instead it comes across as self-demeaning, and as the final conclusion of their relationship... a little unsatisfying.

That, and I ship Vi and Jinx in a very platonic sense; all of season one was the tale of two sisters, and I think Jinx was more important to Vi than Caitlyn ever was, and the fact that she now thinks Jinx is dead... The last scene should be her mourning with Ekko, the only other person who might understand what Jinx meant to her.

You might say this would make her 'bad rep' or something because the lesbian ship doesn't become endgame or whatever, but the thing is: representation isn't necessarily about ships. Vi would still be a lesbian or bisexual if her and Caitlyn broke up forever (and so would Caitlyn). They've already very firmly established that throughout the series.

Keep in mind I'm not anti-CaitVi at all and I still think they could have become endgame, but like... As it is in the show, they haven't really convinced me it's a viable long-term relationship and I can see them easily breaking up at some point after the credits roll, and the most important thing to note is that if that was intentional I don't think it would be as bad, but I don't think it WAS intentional.

Essentially, what this reads to me is the writers attempting to tell a certain type of story in which Vi and Caitlyn getting together is positive for the series, the sweet in the bittersweet ending of Arcane and Vi's arc, and failing to communicate that effectively.

[dethrite]

alright. fine. what if I gave him the welcome to night vale eldritch horror cat?

[midnight-mourning]

mourningggggggggggggggg, are there any plans for a chapter in a Sun or Moon perspective? 🫣 👉👈

also dont be shy, drop more writing commentary from past chapters pretty please? (i had such a joyous time reading them^^ "fuck OFF micheal" "sun is not broken, just desperate" "you have no qualms about this, sun does tho" " got another section but where does she GO-")

Hiiiii pip 👋👋

To answer your first question:

:D

To your second, I will never deny you all the right to look at my incomprehensible BS <3 Here's a few more from mainly Arcs 1 & 2 in no particular order, hope you enjoy:

**Small heads up, I swear A LOT in my notes to myself, if that makes people uncomfortable lmk and I can reupload with some edits

I have Lockdown, S&S, and MFA all in one mega chapter in my editor bc I needed a bridge between lockdown and the party chapters so that's why they're all together lol

I have more as well, these are just what I had on hand, and i stg chekhov's gun when I find you, WHEN I FIND YOU I STG-

Sigh,

It's absolutely lost in the Dialogue Dump, but that's a problem for another time. Anywho,

Thank you for the ask!!

[ceruleanvulpine]

the silliest part of my job rn: somewhere at my company, some team has an API that provides.. uh... let's pretend it's bird species names. like, it's data that doesn't change often, but sometimes it does, so you're not gonna just publish a static table on your website, you make a webservice that lets you request this data for a specific bird instead

this API has auth requirements which make it annoying to hit it with your browser. so every few days I just get messages from our beloved design guy like can you please use your specialized developer tools (postman) to look up the species name of MODO? thanks !

[ghoul-butch]

.

[divinekangaroo]

dreams that never come true - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

At some point during the S6-E1 four year timeskip, a small slice of life.

Ada Thorne Presents: the Suppressed Desire Ball.

(Tommy might've preferred to be abroad, too. In the absence of drink, the thought of navigating the far-reaching territories of those taffeta skirts might get him through.)

.

Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Ruby Shelby, Charles Shelby, Various Shelby Household Maids | Fluff (or the Appearance of Fluff), Fancy Dress Party, Family Dynamics, Family Bonding, Domesticity, Foreshadowing, Gendered Dynamics, Class Issues, References to Sigmund Freud, Bittersweet, 1500 Word Flash Fiction

.

[georgianadarcies]

went to salem yesterday and we were dicking around in the witch shops and while I don’t believe that witchcraft is actually real or anything they sell actually does anything I discovered that none of the crystals they sell have negative results. they’re all supposed to improve lives. there are no revenge crystals. but any crystal is a revenge crystal if you throw it hard enough so I should’ve bought some clear communication ones to chuck at that boy

[hauntedbythenarrative]

.

(a lot of tmi in the tags, just saying)

[prettytm]

When you ride the dick, Imma choke you out Hit it from the back, blow the vocals out That's the type of shit we on - Vic Menca - Eastside Girl

[infizero]

im thinking about yuu from stars align again

[stonerzelda]

i wish i had the expendable money to just completely re-swagify my wardrobe man liekk i just want to get some colorful skirts + tripp pants complete w accessories n shit but somehow ive never been able to get to a place where that would be feasible despite cycling thru the same 3 outfits for like 10 years

[this-is-not-a-slow-burn]

I see a lot of 'this is how the majority of cis ppl feel and it’s NOT agender’ and it shows how people are misunderstanding agender wildly.

CIS ppl don't think about their gender a lot because for them it is settled. It's a done deal, so they don't think about it a lot. But they do perform and participate according to their internal understanding of the gender they have, and how that is displayed per their worldview.

Agender people don't think about their gender a lot because they don't have a set feeling of their gender, because they don't feel any kind of way about their own gender. They don't have a gender to perform or present. Or rather, they don't conform to any because they don't have an internal sense of having a gender. It's a non issue, other than thinking about how they just don't think about it.

It's a HUGE and very important difference. It's also not the same as nonbinary.

I love this video about it, which helped me crack the code and realize that I'm Agender (afab) In my mind I'm neither CIS or trans.

I really don't care about what pronouns someone refers to me with. He, she. they. whatever it is, because it doesn't matter. I'm a person. That's the only part that matters to me.

contrary to popular belief not everyone has an innate sense of internal gender or care to have one or seek a name for it, some people go their whole lives without questioning their occupation in one of two gender roles, but for some people, if pressed, they don’t feel that internal sense of ‘i am a woman’ or ‘i am a man’, and in that case i feel the switch over to transgender vs cisgender relies on active identification of a gender other than the one they were assigned. if someone’s like ‘idk dude I just work here’ then that’s valid

[orphicmusings]

nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby

summary: the aftermath of what happened in skyhaven with pre-relationship sylus. hurt/comfort, exploring mc’s trauma.

A simultaneous sigh blooms from both of your lungs as the last wanderer crumbles into oblivion. The dust of its essence floated up to the polluted night sky of the N109 zone, painting artificial stars for the pair of victors below. Sylus lifts his gaze to you after he scrapes what’s left of the aftermath from his fingernails. He looks infuriatingly unaffected. You, however…

“You look like shit.” He remarks playfully, his eyes softening as he holds out his hand to help you up. You, like he anticipates, softly slap it away and get up on wobbly legs. “Fuck off.” You retort, still trying to catch your breath, and he simply smiles- striding next to you and subtly offering you his weight to lean on. You tried stubbornly standing on your own, but found yourself surrendering to his quiet help as you walked back to his bike.

“I’m not letting you ride back to Linkon like this.” He huffed, handing you his spare helmet, the one that is practically yours at this point. “Spend the night at the base.” Coming from him, it sounded more of a purring command than a gentle suggestion. “Get some beauty sleep.”

You had felt your muscles tense and your heart clenched as you were rapidly reminded of the last time you stayed over someone else’s place. The sound of doors locking, the pills, the confusion, the breathing man that you still mourned. Before you could refuse, though, a traitorous yawn escaped your throat. You knew he was right, that you were in no shape to travel home, and it’s not like he could exactly traipse into Linkon at the moment to accompany you. Besides, you’ve been fighting alongside him for a while now, and while he has little weaknesses, you’re willing to exploit them if need be. “Alright.” You breathe your surrender as you put the helmet on, bracing yourself for his driving skills.

Luke and Kieran greet you at the door like eager puppies. What happened, boss? Boss lady? Did ya kill something? How many? How bloody? Any guts?

Sylus held out a commanding hand and answered for you, thankfully. “Don’t ambush the poor girl, she’s beat up.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m not beat up-”

“Come.” He holds his arm out for you, and you defeatedly take it, blindly following wherever he deigns to go.

“My head…” You groaned at the harsh overhead kitchen light being flicked on, rubbing your temples. “Does the big bad mob boss happen to have ibuprofen?”

“I’m not headache proof, believe it or not.” He exhaled a small chuckle. “Sit down.” He ushered you to the sofa across from the kitchen table. You obliged, but not because he told you to, of course. You were achey, dirty and exhausted. He held a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other, and you hesitated slightly as you let him give them to you. Turning the pills over in your fingers with a squint of your eyes, you looked for the label etched into the chalky red circles to identify that it was, in fact, ibuprofen.

Sylus noticed. Of course he noticed, he always does. “What?” He tilts his head, confused, but his tone still holds a hint of safe and familiar teasing. “You think I’m slipping you something?”

Swallowing back those nagging memories again along with the medicine, you force a chuckle. “Can never be sure with a lawless scoundrel like you, can I?”

He grinned, one of those rare smiles of his, toothy and reaching for his ruby eyes. “I may be a lawless scoundrel, sweetheart, but I’m not a monster.”

Not a monster, because a monster would do that.

Your best friend in the whole world would do that.

A deep breath left you, ready to be rid of this conversation topic. “Can I take a shower?”

His wide grin melted down to his signature smug smirk once again. “In which wing?”

Sylus’s living situation was fucking ridiculous. Four bathrooms with showers, three of them with tubs. For, what, three people? You shake your head in disbelief as he leads you to a guest room. Just as lavish as the rest of the place, the first thing that stares back at you is the neatly made king sized bed. A leather futon sits across it, right next to an enormous closet. Before you can gawk at any other evidence of luxury in the room, he shuts the door behind you. Your gaze instinctively flies to the knob, the phantom click still ringing in your ears. Your shoulders hunch, posture stilling as you find yourself waiting for it— but the door remains unlocked. If Sylus noticed, he gave you the grace of ignoring it and deciding he teased you enough for now. He opens the closet, unhooking a hanger from inside, draping a plush back bathrobe from it. “This should fit you.” You ran your hands along the fluffy material, unable to stop touching it. “And could I wash my clothes after-“

“I will.” He assures you with an interruption. “Leave them outside the door. I’ll find something laying around for you to change into so you don’t have to wait for them to dry.” You nodded, not expecting this level of consideration from him. It brings an irritating, fond heat to your cheeks. “Right. Thank you.”

“Just being a good host.” He smirks, opening the bathroom door. The bathroom was, of course, also fucking ridiculous. Dark marble walls, spotless black tile floors. A black Japanese bathtub next to the spacious shower stall. Woody, spicy potpourri wafted through the air from a bowl on the sink. He moves to shut the door, and you turn. “Um…” Swallow. “Is it okay to keep the door unlocked?” He frowned in confusion, and you quickly added, “It’s the steam. Too much in an enclosed space, I get a headache and I already have one, so I-“

“Okay.” He simply agrees, leaving you no room to over-explain and lie further. You’re almost taken aback with the ease he’s treating you with, but if you think about it, he’s always just accepted. He may question once or twice, but always nods his head without judgment.

You showered all of the blood and grime off your skin, but the reminder of Skyhaven clung under your fingernails no matter how much you scrubbed. It was something you had been pushing away from the forefront of your mind for weeks, almost a month now.

It’s not what you think it is, you remind yourself as you clench your fist, watching the hot water droplets roll off your knuckles. It’s Caleb. He was trying to protect me…

“No, we’re not doing this right now!” You mumbled aloud to yourself. Think, think, think of something else. You abruptly turned the valve to the wall, the water turning freezing cold. Your breathing seemed to slow down with the ice hitting your veins, and by the time you caught two chills, you stepped out and toweled off. The robe felt nice against your damp skin, the fuzz of it all absorbing the water droplets quickly. Opening the door, you see the clothes Sylus left for you in a neat pile: two items. A black satin button down with an “S” monogrammed into the breast pocket with golden embroidery, and grey basketball shorts. A dry snort found its way out of your nose. What a look.

You swam in them, of course, but in a cozy way. You folded the waistband of the shorts until they would aptly rest on your hips, and you didn’t mind the way the shirt’s sleeves hung past your fingers. The shirt smelled like him. Like his stupidly nice cologne, the familiar scent of spices and leather on the collar.

You let your exhausted body drive you to sleep.

The door is locked.

The eyes you used to seek comfort in refuse to soften.

You blindly take his sleeping pills.

The door is locked.

He pins you down on the sofa, next to a photo of the two of you in a frighteningly similar position, play-fighting and laughing.

He threatens to wrap a collar around your throat.

Your pleas fall on deaf ears.

The man in front of you is breathing, but he is long dead.

The door is locked.

Your heart drops you awake, out of breath and eyes watery.

You are not in your bed.

Where are you?

You push the covers off you before you could even remember, rushing to swing the door open. The force of the mahogany hitting the wall got the attention of your gracious host.

“Sweetie…” A deep voice rumbled up your spine. Sylus.

You’re with Sylus.

The pet name lacked all the familiar playful condescension, more of a brace, a concerned approach to a wild, wounded animal. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer at first, your clouded mind still assessing the situation. Your shoulders relax a fraction as you register your surroundings, Sylus’s base. You spent the night here after a hunt. You’re with Sylus, you want to be here, and the door was unlocked. Your grip on the doorknob loosens. Sylus slowly comes out from behind you and into your field of vision. “Sit.” He ushers you back into the room, sitting on the bed and patting the silk sheets. You slowly obey, perching on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest. A gentle expression paints his face, something you could’ve sworn you’ve never seen before. “I’m going to ask again.” He urges softly, slowly, the brisk command his tone usually carried melted away.

You can lie to anyone in your life. You could have said it was a bug in your blankets. A noise, he thought of an intruder. Even a nightmare about something else. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man in front of you who looks worried for the first time you’ve seen it. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man who seems to know your very soul despite only knowing you for a handful of months.

You don’t even try, clenching your fists so tight you’re sure your fingernails would draw blood out of the meat of your palm.

“I can’t tell you…” You murmured, holding back the flood. “Because if I do, it becomes real.”

He frowned, his head tilting to the side slightly. He pushed a soft smile out of the corner of his mouth. “I won’t tell reality if you won’t, sweetheart.”

You exhaled out of your nose shortly, an amused puff of air followed by a sniffle. “No, I’m…it’s serious.”

“I know.” He sat back on his elbows, blanketing the atmosphere with a sense of leisure and ease. That was something you had to admit he was good at. “I’ve noticed.”

You turn to him. “What?”

“You checked the pills I gave you.” He started. “I thought that was a one off, maybe you being extra careful, but then you announced you were gonna shower with the door unlocked-“

You scoffed shakily. “Okay, I didn’t announce-“

“The point is…” He interrupted. “You’ve been…off tonight.”

You don’t know how to answer. You know that at this point, if you open your mouth, the tears will start free falling.

“You don’t have to explain.” Fuck him for always reading your mind. “But you just need to tell me you’re alright. No guest feels unsafe under this roof.”

“It’s not you.” You assure shakily, resting your chin on your knees. “It’s…a long story.”

He nodded, accepting again. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Um…” You suck in a breath through your nose. Here we go. The tube of toothpaste is squeezed. Your voice is slow, measured as you continue. “Remember about three weeks ago I went to Skyhaven?”

You began to unload. From the top. He knew of the explosion, the one you wrongfully blamed him for. The reminder of that moment brings a flash of mortified heat to your cheeks, expecting him to bring it up. You pause for it, the tease, the coy ‘Yes, kitten, I’m so bad,’ but it doesn’t come. His eyes just pave a delicate path down your face, waiting for you to continue. You watch them widen slightly when you tell him your childhood best friend survived, and that you found him up there. Your words shake and choke in your throat when you get to the next part, tears pricking the back of your eyes. You squeeze them shut, and feel a feather-light weight on your hand; his covering yours. A soft affirmation, a silent I’ve got you. The action is so tender, it pushes even more tears to your waterline. You purse your trembling lips at the gentleness of it all, the opposite of the force you two exuded over one another when you first met. You shoot him point blank in the chest, and he holds your hand like it’s precious gold.

“Sweetie…” He looks at you as if the sight of your face twisted in tears makes him violently ache. “Don’t cry.”

Which of course, makes you cry more. He closes the distance between you within a second, pulling you into his side. “I’m trying not to.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He whispers gently, rubbing his thumb over your bare shoulder, the collar of his shirt hanging off of you. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

It takes a few minutes to gather the words, because how exactly do you say, I think my best friend held me hostage in his home and slipped me pills but I think it’s not really him based on zero evidence?

His thumb stopped its soothing rhythm. “He what?”

You cringe and stammer. You feel caught, for some irrational reason. “I-I know what it sounds like, but-”

“No.” He shook his head, his tone still soft but firm. “No, you don’t have to protect him.” He has to bite back the snarl in his voice, fight to keep his words gentle. “Not after he does this…” He wipes a tear from your cheek, his fingers lingering on the skin for a moment. “Not after he does this to you.” His voice shakes alongside yours, for different reasons. “You don’t need to tell me anything more, but you don’t protect him, either.”

You look up at him, drawing in a deep breath. It makes you realize that’s exactly what you’ve been doing all this time, refusing to acknowledge it. While he was ruining you, you were protecting his memory. At the same time, though, what you know about the professor and Caleb’s abnormal behavior flipping like a switch makes you doubt it was fully him that did this to you. Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you so deeply that you’re crying into the arms of the person you’d least expect. You watch his fists clench. “He didn’t…” A hesitation. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

You vehemently shake your head and you could hear a small breath of relief. “It wasn’t like that.” You go to explain again, to defend him, but stop yourself. “It was so scary.” He breathes a deep sigh, tightening his arms around you.

“I know.” He whispers. “I know, sweet girl, but you were brave.”

You scoff tearfully. “No I wasn’t.”

“You’re here.” He pointed out, brushing his hand through your hair. “Not there. I know your prowess firsthand.”

A pathetic half-laugh exits your chest, followed by more sobs. He holds you even tighter as you cling to his grounding familiarity. He does that for as long as you need it, waiting patiently as he assures you you did the right thing, that you’re safe with him, that he could walk into Linkon and take you home right now, bounty be damned; whatever it is you need to hear.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers into your hair. Your head is atop his chest, laying down now. Your eyes are closed, and he can tell you’ve cried yourself to sleep. “Always have. Always will.”

When your breaths turn steady, he moves slightly to get his phone from his pocket. One hand on your back, the other on the keyboard, he types a message to Luke and Kieran.

Farspace Fleet Colonel. Lives in Skyhaven. Name’s caleb. Need any and all information there is to know ASAP.

Another message.

Boss Lady will not let you hurt him, as much as I am dreaming the different ways I could make him hurt right now. Do not go after him. Just watch.

Two pairs of thumbs up from the twins follow the message, not needing any further instruction or explanation. He locks his phone and leans his head against the pillow, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. It’s quiet now, the only sound surrounding him are your soft breaths and Mephisto’s caws into the night as he suddenly takes a trip up north.

[aingeal98]

Headcanon that Tim introduces Cass to reddit and helps her make an account. But she mostly uses it to ask questions and user batgirlfan99 accidentally becomes a meme and an urban legend. Half her posts are AITA situations listing either horrible trauma done to her which she doesn't acknowledge as trauma or moments where she was most definitely the asshole but seems massively confused as to why. To make things more baffling the other half of her posts are questions to various subreddits like "Why does food have out of date labels when it tastes fine?" or "How many bones can I break when I'm fighting someone before it becomes cruel and not OK?" and "How can I get a real passport if I don't technically exist?"

She's so completely serious about all of this people aren't sure if it's an elaborate bit, shitposts like dril, or if someone should call a hospital and get her help. Tim's having too much fun watching it all happen so he strikes a deal with Babs to make sure Bruce never finds out and shuts it down. Babs agrees because it's nice to see Cass interacting with civilians even if it's anonymous and online.

Unfortunately Cass goes a little too locally viral on a discussion thread about Gotham water, insisting that she drank it for two years both during and after No Man's Land and she's fine, so people are clearly exaggerating about the chemicals. Bruce gets wind of it and starts making plans in case the account is run by a new Gotham joker variant but the more he looks at it the more these questions seem familiar...

The next time they're having a family dinner he mutters to Cass: "I still don't think I was the asshole during the Soul fight. You didn't give the full context ."

After this reveal, the rest of the dinner is spent with both of them arguing their case and everyone voting on if Bruce was NTA. Dick, Tim, Duke and Damian vote YTA. Cass and Bruce vote NTA. Dick says Cass was also the asshole for punching him in the face which sets off a whole new round of discourse.

batgirlfan99 deletes her account the following morning, leading to widespread mourning across her frequent subreddits. Cass still thinks it was worth it. She knows the difference between laundry detergent, fabric softener, and fabric conditioner now.

[veloelo]

Honestly one of the more subtly interesting things about G.I. Robot's backstory is how his humanity affirmed or rejected by society at convenience. After the war, GI is treated like a war hero, paraded around as a hero, but afterwards, once he is no longer needed, he is sold and treated like technology. After he ethically removes the neo-naizs, the government tries him as a human because it is easier than taking responsibility for basically abandoning and forgetting about dangerous machinery. But when Waller assembles the commados, he is no longer labeled as a human to skirt regulations. Really the only person who treats GI as a human despite of inconvenience is Nina, who mourns him when it would be easier to dismiss him as disposable.