#my education experience was very fucking weird

[sad-wet-cat-hannibal]

(Essay incoming so I'm adding a read more)

I think you've said some good stuff here, and I too get annoyed or even angered by people using the term in a way that I interpret as flippant; but I'd like to add that as someone who frequently described distressing books and films as "traumatising", it turned out that that word was rather apt - because my intense response was caused by my trauma being triggered by those very same things, too often in ways that felt like reliving it.

Here's the kicker. I didn't know I *had* any trauma. All I knew was that engaging with these works made me feel distressed and disturbed as if I were personally traumatised by these things. Like they were real. Like they damaged me. Just from reading them or seeing them. They'd haunt me for weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years. Sometimes they gave me weird symptoms I couldn't explain. So, naturally, I was hyper-avoidant as fuck.

That intense sensitivity and hyper-avoidance, combined with my ignorance to the fact that my psyche was not experiencing these things from an untraumatised position, meant I thought that "intensely distressing/traumatising" was just the normal effect these things had - except lots of other people seemed oblivious, and even delighted in the exact same works. Sometimes none more so than the kind of motherfuckers who actually like traumatising people.

So I figured, as incomprehensible as it seemed, everyone else had to be either too numbed out/oblivious/naïve to realise how awful this shit was, or were actually big fans of bad things happening in real life.

Because if to me it felt too real, capable of destroying my peace of mind for weeks, then surely to some extent that must be the same for everyone else, right? (Obviously not, but I was younger and working with what limited knowledge I had.) From that logic it's really easy to buy into censorship, into propaganda that claims that the symptoms of a society with a dysfunctional approach to life are often born of the media that echoes them, rather than the other way round. It's real to you. It's your only explanation. (You don't want to feel like this. You don't want anyone to feel like this. It's inhumane.)

What I'm trying to say is that not everyone knows they're traumatised. I think as many as those who do, do not. Perhaps far more. And for those people, the only time they are able to touch on the truth of their half-veiled iceberg is when they tell you that The Bridge to Terabithia "traumatised" them.

(I know it "did" me.)

Telling them they're exaggerating, and misusing language that doesn't apply to them runs the very real risk of making it harder for them to treat their feelings with the consideration and weight they deserve, and enabling them to begin the process of unraveling their denial and tending their wounds. It runs the risk of reinforcing the (potentially forgotten or minimised) messaging they may have already received, during and after the trauma, that it doesn't matter. They're exaggerating. They're making things up. Other people have trauma, other people have it so much worse, other people suffer - but not you. Your account of your experience is unbelievable. Silly. You will not be seen or heard or understood, not by anyone else, and not by yourself...

Yet. Hopefully one day. But I think it often takes other people being willing to shine a light on the pain, and say, "Yeah, it's real. It's caused by things. You aren't alone and you aren't exaggerating."

I think the flippant watering down of the word is potentially very unhelpful too, but there's a section of society who want to push the narrative that the vast majority of people speaking seriously and from a place of relevant psycho-education about their trauma are just special snowflakes jumping on a trend. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel wary of adding fuel to their fire by trying to gatekeep trauma. I don't know what the solution to these two conflicting uses of the word is, or if it's even possible to create a solution that doesn't simultaneously police the traumatised out of expressing their pain the only way they currently know how. Which would set back the whole thing of trying to help people... We get enough trauma olympics ingrained into everyone as it is.

Oh yeah!! Just remembered, Gabor Mate said in either his book from 2024 or an interview about it that he considers everyone to be traumatised, the question is simply one of degree (if I'm remembering correctly). So from that it may in fact be possible to argue that books and films can traumatise people, although perhaps not necessarily to the extent we might associate with PTSD or CPTSD.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[book-tease]

ballad of a homeschool girl is very fucking me coded it’s insane. get out of my head liv 🙄

[neverendingford]

Therapists have two genders:

Professional Asshole and

Well-meaning Incompetent

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[zebulontheplanet]

I think the people who come onto my posts and ask “well how would you know if you’re visibly autistic” just…don’t get it. Because truly, how do you think we’d know? Surely it’s not the stares, or the looks to our caregivers, or the comments, or the verbal and sometimes even physical altercations/fights, or the isolation, or the segregation, or the baby talking, or the being underestimated, or being put in ABA, or being put in special education/contained classrooms. It surely can’t be that. Right? /sarcasm

I don’t think people REALLY read my posts. They get defensive. Think I’m screaming in their faces about how they’re not autistic enough because they don’t experience the same discrimination as a higher support needs, caregiver dependent, nonverbal/nonspeaking/semispeaking individuals. Because no, that’s totally what I’m doing. /sarcasm.

Discrimination is discrimination. But that doesn’t mean that the discrimination is going to be the same.

I’m totally screaming in your face, telling you you’re not autistic enough, that everyone should experience the discrimination and “horrors” of being higher support needs. That’s totally what I’m doing /sarcasm.

If you’re visibly autistic, it’s not a matter of asking yourself “well how do I know?” Because you don’t ask yourself that. You ALREADY know. It’s been something that’s so integrated into your mind that you’re reminded about it Every. Single. Fucking. Day. Because? You make your parents life difficult. You give your caregiver fatigue. You go hungry because no one has fed you because you can’t cook, or only can cook very basic things. You are constantly under and overstimulated, so you have violent meltdowns that ruin relationships, friendships, etc. You can’t get out of bed without help or prompts, so you just stay in bed all day. Mindlessly watching movies and scrolling social media.

You go outside, have to wear headphones or ear defenders, sunglasses, have chewlery, have to carry a AAC device and a bag with everything you could possibly need to help you from not having a meltdown, you see the stares. The way they look at you as you flap your hands, and laugh inappropriately, and rock, and skip, and run, and walk “weird” and drool, and mouth breathe, and put your fingers in your mouth, etc. and you see it on peoples faces. The way they cross the sidewalk, the way they lower their gaze, the way they do anything to get away from YOU.

There is a difference between being higher support needs and low to medium masking, so every trait is more intense, and being low support needs, high masking but looking a little “odd” or “off putting.” This isn’t an attack on anyone, but there are differences, and I’m tired of acting like people who aren’t higher support needs know what I go through.

This is my reality. This is what being visibly autistic is like. And I hope y’all realize that, cause it ain’t fun.

[seeingivy]

death by a thousand cuts

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: a wild taylor as gojo has appeared. enjoy. satoru as taylor swift anon who is always in the asks, this is for you. i see you and i hear you.

--

“holy shit. there’s no way you’re on his fucking linked in during class?” megumi whispers. 

you feel your eyes widen as you look to your left to find a very, deeply distraught megumi staring at you. and it’s almost like clockwork, the way he abandons his accounting spreadsheet – and quickly slides into the messages app on his laptop. 

the three consecutive buzzes of your phone thrum under your thigh come before you see nobara and yuuji turn their heads back, two rows ahead of you in the lecture hall, and looking awfully more distraught than megumi. 

“you’re kidding.” nobara mouths. 

“freak!” yuuji whispers, earning you a set of weird glances from the group at your right. 

you glare at the two of them, before turning to megumi and bringing your foot down on top of his. megumi winces, giving you a very characteristic and unbothered eye roll, before he returns to finishing up his spreadsheet. 

you pull your hood up over your ears, cheeks warm and pink from embarrassment, before you focus back on the screen. 

you know that he’s right. that there is really no point at looking at his account – not when you have all of the details memorized. 

Satoru Gojo  Senior Data Science Student @ Tokyo Technical Institute 

three work experiences. data analytics intern for the justice project. hackathon project lead. meadow investments development engineer. 

two degrees under his education. because he’s dual enrolled and set to get a bachelor’s in computer science and a masters in engineering by the end of his term next year. 

and one organization. alpha kappa psi, the business fraternity. 

the only reason you were at the scene of the crime.  

it was all miwa’s fault. and partially yours, for being so willing to come to her aid – at all times. when she asked you to accompany her to the bid party – just because she wanted to support mechamaru fresh in their new relationship and didn’t do too well in social situations – you had all but obliged. at the most, you would get a cheap shot and brownie points to get miwa to run the errands for the entire month. 

except when it came to it, miwa wasn’t nervous at all, only because mechamaru had spent the past few weeks hyping her up to his pledge class. which left you alone, stuck to roam around until she was ready to leave at the end of the night. 

the floor was sticky with beer, there was an almost rancid, putrid smell lingering in the air that you couldn’t pinpoint, and you were stuck with sixty of your peers – shitfaced to a point you didn’t even know was humanly possible. 

and with miwa long gone, doing god knows what with mechamaru and you were stuck leaning against the fridge, bored out of your mind. that’s when he found you – pawing your way through the food. 

his smell was the first thing that caught your attention, second to the fact that he was hovering over your shoulder, cheeks brushing against each other. it was almost minty and stark – almost eradicating the lingering smell of weed that was burning your nose. 

the skin on his cheek was soft, featherlike when it brushed against yours. 

“whatcha doing, dollface?” 

you immediately curl your nose, turned off by the unnecessary sweetness. you had your fill of dirty frat boys during orientation week, three years ago, and knew damn well that you had to steer clear of whatever was happening here. 

“playing where’s waldo, genius. i’m obviously looking for food.” you state. 

you reach for the closest box, a perfectly cut slice of cake, encased in a wrap. the plastic is covered in messy scribbles on the top – spelling out satoru in loopy letters. 

“you’re just going to eat someone else’s cake?” he asks. 

“how do you know it’s not mine?” 

“intuition.” 

it’s only then that you stop yourself to look up at this stranger whispering in your ear, only to find glimmering blue eyes, peering over the top of a set of sunglasses. the sunglasses are god awful – even worse with the combination of the tanktop and the snapback he’s wearing backwards.  

you swear there’s a faded, glittery pink lipstick mark indented at the top of his cheek. 

“you-you’d be shocked.” you stutter, as you pull the box out of the fridge and place it on the counter. 

he momentarily walks away – which is when you take the second to ogle him in full. a toned back, a tattoo on the top of his shoulder that you can’t entirely make out. white hair, veiny arms, and a silver necklace hanging against his collarbone. 

he returns back, two forks in hand, before making a dramatic display of handing you one. 

“for you, my sweet lady.” 

“i’m not sure why you brought two forks. who said i was going to share with you?” 

he grins, leaning his head back to laugh like a little kid, before he scoots closer to you – the sweet scent coming back. 

“c’mon.” 

he reaches for your hand, before lifting it to place it against his chest. you can feel his heart beating under the feeling of your fingertips, his eyes wide and expectant as he waits for and answer. 

“do me a favor, yeah? let me share my cake with a pretty girl at a party. there’s only a limited amount of joys in this life.” 

you scoff, before pulling your hand back. 

“you’re corny.” 

he shrugs. 

“you’ll get used to it.” 

you groan, as you slam your computer shut – the image of his shiny headshot staring back at you getting burned into your eyes. 

stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid. 

one stupid joke, a slice of cake, and somehow you woke up in his bed the next day being spooned by him. and one thing led to the next because he was somehow taking you to brunch, then settling his head in between your legs before dinner, and then back at your house the next day. 

it was an arrangement at that point. the dinners, what happened in between, and the morning after. 

you’re not sure what the terms and conditions are in a predicament like yours – with a guy like satoru. you know for a fact that he still flirts with other girls, because you’d see him walking with a different one every time you stopped at the coffee shop. but then he’d invite you to dinner, honey sweet words falling from his lips before he tucked you in for bed each night. 

friends with benefits. but he buys you gifts and takes you to dinner. and calls you beautiful. comes to your house after frat parties, with the faintest scent of a flowery perfume on his neck that you swear you’re imagining. 

letting him walk out of your apartment was your own personal tourture, of death by a thousand cuts, because every step farther away from you was closer to someone else. 

and that sinking, deep rooted dread, only got worse as time went on. 

you feel a hard smack against your head. 

“do your fucking homework.” 

--

satoru gojo has distinct features that you always find yourself staring at. a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his pointer finger, and the rings he wore. sometimes, you find yourself asking them about him. 

you reach forward, locking your fingers in on the chain around his neck, and using it to pull him closer. it's of a little postage stamp, though the silver looks rusted – like he’s worn it to death. he’s quick to oblige, a warm kiss on your cheek, before you yank again. 

“what, baby?” he whines. 

“where’d you get your necklace?” 

he leans back, looking down at the chain, before his eyes meet yours again. there’s a dim fluorescent glow coming in from the blinds of the window, sun far gone in the horizon, and it’s the only thing that makes this bearable. 

that his piercing blue eyes somewhat subdued from the lack of light. 

“you want it, princess?” 

“what? no. i just like it. i wasn’t –” 

it’s a boyish giggle that comes out of satoru’s mouth as he quickly unfastens the clasp from his neck before tangling it in his fist. 

you’re not an idiot – because it’s his freezing cold fingers pulling your shirt over your head – before he pulls you into his lap. 

this was one of satoru’s favorite things to do. pull you close, till you’re straddling him in his lap, and you can feel his breath tickling against his collarbone as he whispers sweet nothings to you. 

you wonder if he can see your blush in the dim light. if that’s part of why he likes it – seeing the effect he has on you. 

he reaches forward, pulling your hair to the side and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before he fastens his silver necklace around your neck. 

“you know. when i said i liked your necklace, i said i liked it on you. i wasn’t asking for it.” 

“but i like seeing you wear it more.”

satoru’s eyes are focused as he fixes the tangles in the chain, letting the little charm hang right in the little divot where your collarbone ends. and then he brings his hands in around your face, nearly squishing the softness of your cheeks together, before he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“will you wear my hoodie?” he jokes. 

you scoff. 

“are we in sixth grade? also, it quite literally says ‘yuuta’s big’ on the sleeve. that’s not obvious at all.”  

satoru rolls his eyes. 

“you would love yuuta, though. he’s your pseudo little brother, because you’re with me, you know?” 

you shake your head, as you crawl out of his lap, and reach for the water bottle on the side table. you try to ground yourself, head spinning as you try to decipher what that means – and tap your feet on the floor. 

you can feel him at your side, his observant blue eyes burning holes into your skin, as you note the steady, almost cautious tone in his voice. 

“you okay? something i said?” 

you shake him off. 

“yeah, yeah. sorry. got out of the mood there for a second, just have a lot to do this week.” 

satoru hums, before bringing his hands around your torso, leaning his entire weight against you as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck. 

“you ever think you work too hard, pretty girl?” 

“working hard or hardly working?” you joke. even his corny jokes were rubbing off on you. 

you hear satoru scoff, before he starts rubbing circles into the bare skin of your stomach, as the goosebumps start to trickle over your skin. 

“oh, don’t be like that. you’re the smartest person i know.” 

“is this a clever way to get into my pants?” 

“no. it’s me telling you that i think you’re very intelligent, you’re very driven, and you don’t have to worry about if you’re working hard enough. i know the only breaks you take are to go to that dumb movie theater downtown with your grumpy friend or when you scream my name every –” 

“satoru.” you whine. 

“don’t say my name like that. it turns me on.” 

you grin. 

“satoru.” you hum, teasing him. 

“fuck off.” 

he pauses, before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. 

“but really. you’re a clever, you’re pretty, and irritatingly very accomplished. slow down so i can catch up, okay?” 

“that’s rich coming from you. mister three internships, two degrees in four years.” 

it’s quiet. 

“how’d you know that?” satoru asks. 

you can hear the smile in his voice. and the dread pooling in your stomach. 

“what?” 

“how’d you know it was two degrees?” 

“you-you told me.” 

“no, i didn’t. i just got accepted a few weeks ago, i haven’t even told some of my friends yet.” 

you groan, before bringing your hands up to your face. you bury your eyes into the sockets of your eyes, getting caught embarrassedly red handed. 

“where?” 

you sigh. 

“i stalked you on linked in.” 

satoru grins wide, before pulling you back onto the bed and into his embrace. you can hear his giggling in your ear as you try to pull away. 

“oh, baby you didn’t.” 

“i had to make sure i didn’t apply where you worked!” 

“no, you didn’t. we don’t even work in the same field.” 

“you don’t know! i could change my mind!” 

satoru laughs, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

“you have a crush on me! angel, you should have just said so!” 

you give him a hard push, before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“quit teasing. so i’m a stalker! so what? i just want to make sure i’m not putting out for a loser. you could be coding some AI for the government for all i know and i don’t want to be –” 

“okay, okay. relax. i’m just teasing, i just think it’s cute you keep tabs on me.” 

you glare. 

“i don’t like you.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes, before flopping his head down on your pillow and tapping the space next to him. you crawl into the space, before nestling yourself into his arms. you can feel your brain spiraling – instant regret for saying too much, being too weird, too harsh, and not saying what you felt – as you focus on the feeling of his hands running through your hair. 

“i can tell that the hamster in your brain is working overtime. just go to bed, okay?” 

“okay, lock the door when you leave?” 

“i don’t have plans tomorrow morning. if you could humble yourself to eat breakfast with me, i’d actually like that.” 

you frown, stomach jolting in your guts. 

he had never stayed for an arbitrary reason – like spending the night just to sleep next to you. you shut your eyes, burying your face deeper into the sweet smell of his skin, and throw the thought away. 

“mimosas?” 

“you want to drink that early in the morning?” 

“it’s saturday. gives me a good kick to start my day.” 

“aren’t mimosas made with champagne? i hate champagne. and it makes you really handsy.” 

you smile. 

“you like when i’m handsy.” 

“i mean, yes. but we can just do pancakes and go to the library together so we can do work. i’ll keep you accountable and find you snacks when you get inevitably cranky. then when you come home all tired, we can be as handsy as we want. it’s more satisfying when you have to work for it.” 

you groan, burying the complications of spending yet another day with him in the back of your head as you try to flutter your eyes shut – in futile attempts to quiet the thoughts racketing around in your mind. 

“okay, okay whatever. we’ll see tomorrow, i just – i’m really tired right now and –” 

“shut up, dollface. just sleep.” 

--

you get invited to the alpha kappa psi formal. miwa – who found out from mechamaru, whose pledge class brother is very close with satoru’s little yuuta – said that satoru wanted you there. 

then why didn’t he ask you? 

you bite the bullet anyways, borrowing one of kugisaki’s pale blue slip dresses – and attend as mechamaru’s pledge brother – todo’s date – to get in. 

he’s a strange guy, who doesn’t pay you too much attention. it’s one polite wave and a cardstock ticket he hands you before you don’t see him again for the rest of the night. and you’re stuck with miwa and mechamaru, who are bigger fans of pda than you are. 

“how’s satoru, y/n?” mechamaru asks. 

“ah. he’s good. you know as much as i do, right?” 

you can feel yourself sweating. 

would satoru leave if you said too much? if you embarrassed him in front of one of his brothers? did they know you guys had an…arrangement? was it an arrangement? were you seeing each other? why did they think he invited you? 

“dunno. aren’t you guys really good friends?” mechamaru asks. 

“um, yeah.” 

“yeah, he was telling us you studied together at the library the other day. figured he’d want you to meet suguru and ieiri.” 

suguru and ieiri. 

“yeah. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you guys want anything?” 

“i’m good, love. we’ll be here.” miwa states, giving a reassuring squeeze to your bicep before you drag your heels to the makeshift bar. 

you walk over to the bar, straight to the open bottle of rosé that has your name on it, as you lean against the wall. you pour way too much into your flute, nearly spilling it over the back of your hand, as you curse. 

“do you want help?” 

you look up to find a boy looking at you, wide eyes, with his bangs sweeping down the side of his face. he has tired eyes, but it’s a seemingly bright smile he offers you. 

“sorry, yeah. i’ll clean it up, i swear.” 

“no, no. no problem.” 

he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket, before he pulls your hand in his and wipes the excess pink stain on it. you cringe at the stain on the cloth before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“i’m sorry about that. that’s really kind of you, i just –” 

“no problem! you seemed…kind of frustrated there. happy to help.” 

you shoot him a polite smile, before nervously sipping – maybe a little too fast for comfort. but the warm feeling is enough to temporarily curb the nerves, which is perfect for your sake. 

“are you a brother?” you ask. 

“yeah! is this your first formal?” 

“yeah. i’m seeing someone in your frat and he asked me to come. well, he didn’t ask me to come, he told someone else he wanted me to come so i came as one of the other brother’s date. but not really his date, because i haven't seen him since then. or the guy i’m talking to.” 

he leans back, eyes wide. 

“right. do you like him? if…if you mind me asking.”  

“my date? i can’t even remember his name. he’s like a tall, muscular guy. man bun?” 

“no, yeah. his name is todo, i figured that’s who you were talking about. i mean the other guy.” 

“oh. well, yeah. but he’s so…i don’t know. he’s a frat guy. and a chronic flirt. the first time i met him he had a lipstick stain on his cheek. and he smells like girly perfume every time he comes to see me, so –” 

he sucks his teeth in. 

“idiot.” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“no! oh my god, not you! i meant…me! just thought of something. gotta run for a second, i’ll be back.” 

“wait, you didn’t even tell me your –” 

you watch as he rushes off, in a speed walking fervor, as mechamaru and miwa join you at your side. they give you a polite smile, which you return, as you swirl the glass in your hand. 

“mechamaru. do you know that guy who just walked away? tired looking, the long hair?” 

“oh, yuuta. yeah, what about him?” 

“yuuta?” 

“yeah, you’ve never met him? he’s like gojo’s pride and joy.” 

you sink against the wall, embarrassment coursing through you, as you down the rest of your glass. and then three more, which is accompanied by weary looks from miwa. and after finishing off the entire bottle – an hour and a half into the party without seeing satoru – you’re set on leaving. 

and it’s only on your rageful stomp out the door, well past tipsy, that you find the godawful man of the hour, leaning against the wall. 

it’s enough to fill you with a rage. because he’s leaning against the wall, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and smiling brightly at whichever girl he’s talking to. you’re almost positive that it’s probably her flowery perfume that you’re smelling on his neck at the time, that she’s who he sees when he’s not with you, and it’s like pins and needles in your stomach. 

and you almost make your escape, before he catches you on your way out. 

“y/n? wait, y/n!” 

you’re one step out the door, before he grabs your bicep, and pulls back, giving you a bright grin. 

“i didn’t know you were here yet. i’ve been waiting, come here, c’mhere.” satoru mumbles, quickly rushing you over to the group of three people standing by the door, who all turn their heads for you. 

you groan as you turn to the group of them. it’s the same tired eyes as before – that you now know belong to yuuta – and two strangers you’ve never seen before. a guy almost as tall as satoru, with swooping bangs and a manbun, and the girl – who you can’t stand to look at, with perfect beach waves swooping past her shoulders. 

and what you can’t help but notice is a sparkling, silver postage stamp necklace around her neck. the same one around yours, that you had been fidgeting with since satoru gave it to you weeks ago. 

“here’s your drink, satoru.” the girl states, handing him a glass of white wine that he takes. 

it’s enough to make your rage bubble to the surface. 

“the lady of the hour, guys! this is y/n, she’s my –” 

you scoff. 

“are you kidding?” 

“hm?” 

“lady of the hour? for what, your jokes?” 

you watch as satoru’s face drops, before he sets the glass of wine down on the closest table. 

“huh? what do you mean? i wanted to introduce you to ieiri, i know you’re going to love her.” 

 you can feel the tears accumulating in your eyes, that you’re almost positive that satoru notices, because his face visibly droops even more, this time replaced with genuine concern that sends a pang in your chest that has you wrestling your wrist out of his hold. 

“you…you’re so mean, satoru.” 

“baby, what?” 

“don’t…why are you calling me that? every morning you wake up next to me and you’re still not my baby. that’s not exactly fair. you smell like a different girl and you still…you still flirt with other people.” you whisper. 

his eyes go wide. 

“no, i –” 

“every time you walk away i’m half convinced you’re just going to someone else you’re stringing along like me. i’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve walked hundreds of steps away from me hundreds of times and it feels like a thousand little cuts every time you do and it kills me that you don’t even care.” 

you can feel that whatever is coming out is word vomit, like it’s started and now it won’t ever stop. 

“i see you everywhere, because you literally come everywhere with me just to leave. any song you’ve sang is now our song, any movie, literally anything you’ve even touched. i can’t even wear certain clothes without thinking about how you complimented me in them and i’m stuck thinking about how you probably say that to everyone. you don’t even drink wine and you’re over here drinking some with this random girl at this party, when that’s my thing that we drink wine together. you gave her the same necklace as me, and you apparently asked me to come to but didn’t even tell me about to my face? then you sick your little frat brother to ask me if i like you just so you can….i don’t know, i don’t know what you’d do with that information!” 

you watch as satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, only to turn to the three of them at his side, who are all shaking their heads dismissively. 

“suguru. i fucking told you he had to be leaving something out.” 

“well, i didn’t realize it was going to be like this, shoko. no wonder she won’t date him.” 

you swallow hard, as you seem to sink deeper in the pits of your own embarrassment, which seems to be a record low. 

“fuck. you…you said her name is shoko?” 

geto offers you a smile. 

“that’s right.” 

“like satoru’s hometown friend? the…the lesbian?” 

“that would be me.” she confirms. 

you cringe. 

“oh my god. i’m really sorry, i’m really drunk. i drank an entire bottle of wine after i accidentally talked to yuuta and i just –” 

“well, i’d get drunk if i were you too. he smells like other girls? and flirts with them?” shoko asks. 

“i do not! i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i didn’t even know she even liked me back till twenty minutes ago.” 

“the necklace is a nice gesture. satoru, geto, and i all have these matching postage stamp necklaces from this shitty place in our hometown. we got them together when we graduated so we wouldn’t forget about what was important when we all go to college.” 

you turn to satoru. 

“and you just gave that to me?” 

“well, i knew you’d take care of it.” 

“that’s like…that’s like sentimental, satoru. you literally gave me your childhood best friends memento and that’s so-” 

“well, obviously that seems like a little much if you think we’re just friends with benefits!” 

you scoff. 

“you’re the one who wanted to be friends with benefits.” you clarify.

“what are you talking about? you literally cringe away from any affection i give you!” satoru retorts. 

“because you flirt with other girls!” 

“not since you! why would i flirt with other people?” 

“you tell me. i smell the perfume.” 

satoru groans. 

“that’s your perfume, dipshit. you left your hoodie at my house and it smells like you so sometimes i sleep next to it and then i smell like it. how do you not recognize your own smell?” 

you pause. 

“you do what?” 

“not in a fucking weird way. i just miss you when you’re busy. you smell nice, it’s –” 

“hopeless.” yuuta states, earning him a nod from suguru. 

“you didn’t even ask me to come here with you.” you state. 

“shoko had to be my date so she could come. i had to make yuuta drag maki in through a window because geto was his plus one. i just wanted you here so you could meet my childhood friends, who i care about. they’ve heard about you for so long that i just thought –” 

“you talk to your friends about me?” 

“an insufferable amount. though most of his agony seems self inflicted now, because he’s a fucking idiot.” shoko confirms. 

“okay, let’s get y/n some water, yeah?” yuuta suggests, before shuffling the two of them off, to which satoru sends a grateful smile before turning back to you. 

he crouches down a little, just so your eyes are level, as you frown at him. 

“is this what that hamster in your brain is doing up there? overthinking literally everything?” 

“you –”

“if you asked, i would have clarified for you. we’ve always been exclusive and if you talked to someone else while we were talking, i’m going to have to kill him.” 

“don’t be stupid.” 

“i’ll just send a threat! sign his emails up for scientology. he was talking to my girl!” 

you glare at him. 

“you…you’re so stupid, satoru. you confuse me so much and i just…you take up too much space. you’re everywhere – literally no part of me that you haven’t taken up and i just…” 

satoru frowns, before pulling his hands around your face, and angling up by your chin to look at him. 

“don’t give up now. it just got good.” he whispers. 

“satoru.” 

“cmon. let me lick all thousand of your cuts clean.” 

“ew. you’re…you’re so gross, satoru.” 

“okay, that was just a dirty joke. but let me make it up to you, really. i didn’t realize you…you were thinking all that. i thought you just liked me because i was sexy and because i eat your –” 

“satoru!” 

“please. let me into that hamster ball in your brain. i deserve some space.” 

“it’s all boarded up. the hamster ball house burned down.” you groan. 

he leans back, like he’s inspecting your face, before he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“dunno. i’m seeing some flickering lights in there. i can tell your hamster in there really wants me.” 

“quit….quit calling me a hamster! you’re so…ugh. i have a headache and i’m drunk and i’m really confused and i just –” 

satoru mimics a little salute, before he loops his hand around your waist and walks you towards the little bar. 

“okay, test run. i’m on boyfriend duty. if this goes well enough, you give me a chance tomorrow.” 

you squint your eyes at him. 

“okay, water first. then i have two baby aspirin for you in my pocket. three kisses on the cheek if you won’t insult me after and a compliment if you won’t kill me.” 

“really?” 

“yuuta told me you downed a whole bottle. since you’re too mad to be handsy, you have a headache. but don’t worry, i came prepared. meaning i forced yuuta to find some baby aspirin or else. and also, kisses because you smell good and you’re wearing this pretty blue dress that’s the same color as my eyes and you’re about to meet my favorite people ever and you’re my favorite person ever, so this is a big deal.” satoru responds.

he’s rambling so hard that you feel like you can see the hamster in his mind working overtime. 

--

“what’s the verdict?” 

satoru’s voice is like a thousand bullets in your head as you smack him in the face, trying to silence the chattering coming out of his mouth. 

“satoru. what…what time is it?” 

“six in the morning. but it’s the next day and i need to know how my test run went.” 

“your….what?” 

satoru whines. 

“no, no don’t tell me you’re too drunk to remember? my test run! to be your boyfriend?” 

you groan, flickering your eyes open to the alarm clock on your bed, spelling out the time. 6:07 am. 

“no, i remember. you need the answer at six in the morning when i’m hungover?” 

“this is agony! i really get this whole thousand cuts thing now, this hurts. tell me.” 

you push his face into the pillow, before mumbling it as quietly as you can. 

“you pass.” 

“huh?” 

“you heard me. you passed. just…shut up, please.” 

it’s his giggles you hear before sleeping and a warm kiss on your forehead, before you pass out again. 

--

satoru as taylor swift songs masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai  @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome @mykyoon  @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters  @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot  @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

[ashascoven]

❃☆ showering w/ the pyromaniac rat man ☆❃ pt. 1

☆ so hi!! um!! welcome to my first fanfic lolz (im nervous about posting this can you tell ?!?! o(*°▽°*)o)

☆ im rlly new to posting on tumblr, but ive been reading fanfics on here for a WHILE!! it's inspired me to write a silly one about my favorite lanky robber <3 if theres any mistakes, PLEASE hit my line abt it (i beg)

☆ here is part 2, which is smut/nsfw, also on my profile!

☆ FANFIC DEETS! junkratxreader ☆

reader is a female who's known for working with plants

VERY lengthy build-up fanfic (LOTS of reading, buckle up yall)

fluff??

emotional stuff, but nothing intense (??)

first time writing an australian accent, pls lmk if anythings weird!!

hope u enjoy :,D

“Hggshmmshh.. peeaachh c-c.. cobbler.. mmh.. eeheeheeheh!! Piee..”

“Dammit! Move over, rat-ass!” 

You felt as if you had finally managed to doze off only a couple minutes ago. 

One second you're about to drift away into a somewhat decent sleep, counting flying sheep and letting your drool start to fall.

The next, you're getting whacked in the head with a metallic hand or shoved by a wooden peg in one of your sides.

Having to share a bed with a loudly snoring pyro-freak who reeked of gunpowder and body odor was not a promising night of rest, especially in a room of pure humidity and sweat. 

The mattress beneath you two was unbalanced and squeaky, the walls surrounding it adorning overgrowing vines and tears in its paper.

His twisting, turning, n’ noises didn't make it any better, but it was kind of reassuring in the sense that you weren't sleeping alone.

When was the last time he even showered anyway? 

Does this man know how to?

How does he sleep like this?

The more you questioned the Australian in your head, the more his body managed to keep sprawling across the queen sized mattress you two shared. 

Both his normal and prosthetic limbs jabbed at your back, his armed belt straps and gauntlets not contributing to your comfort whatsoever. 

“Fucking- MOVE!”

You gripped at the bed and gave him one kick in the ass with your bare foot. 

The maniac yelped himself into a giggling fit, somehow still remaining asleep. 

God, what's his secret to being such a happy sleeper?

With one last scoff, you nearly pushed him off of the bed, but you didn't think twice about it.

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your previous position with your back facing him, crossing your arms and trying to let your eyes close again.

You thought about the mission you two were given together, recalling it hundreds of times in your head to hopefully quench at your inability to have a comfortable sleep.

Back at one of those Overwatch HQ meetings, they discussed wanting to try something new while still maintaining everyone's duties. 

Experimenting with how different heroes and scientists worked one-on-one with one another for “observational purposes,” they said.

Gibberish about increasing the rate of productivity within our cause by cutting down our dispatched team sizes.. 

“More groups of heroes can get sent out on more missions if distributed differently..!”

Blah-blah-blah..

You ignored all of the blabbering at the time, your ears only ever being open for what sounded most important and intriguing.

“It'll be an educational experience for great future references-” 

You reaaaallyy didn't think you'd be in one of the duo dispatches, yet here you were, somehow still in the flesh.

All that was asked of you both was to keep a watch out for anything suspicious at some abandoned town in the middle of who-even-fucking-knows.

Wooden huts n’ houses that were falling apart, yet they somehow still formed and held a small community of humble elders.

Supposedly, this place was a possible target of some well-feared terrorist group, and “Grandpa Jack” wanted you two to scout.

Discussion about exposed plans for making sure as many innocent people as possible experienced war “too” made your blood boil. 

It didn't make sense to you, the whole “no pain, no gain” mindset.

Clearly these people chose to live all the way out here to get AWAY from the danger, why force that on some old people anyway?

With their lack of clean drinking water and functioning power in an empty desert, you were sure they've already seen enough.

“Haven't we lost thousands of innocent civilians already? Omnic or not, they can't just keep coming up with all of this frivolous shit and throw it at us..!”

You grumbled to yourself outloud, unconsciously turning to face the ultimate rat that was laying behind you.

“Why would they send us here if they KNEW there were people out here who needed help? Wasting precious time by sending two of us out here instead of a whole team is beyond me, honestly! We'll just keep getting killed and..” 

Your eyes ended up catching onto your distorted reflection on the goggles that Jamison wore to bed.

It made you trail off and unball your fists, causing you to think about the old people again.

You thought about how much you were gonna get onto HQ's ass to seek a better home for them all.

They were sweet to you and Jamie, and you were pretty sure he would try to take one or two to keep as parents of his own.

Considering he didn't have any living ones anymore, it would check out.

Your eyes wandered off onto the flickering of the dying light bulb hanging bare off the ceiling.

The bulb hung right behind mister sleeping beauty, holding on by torn wires.

You were surprised your sleeping partner hadn't managed to somehow pull it down in his sleep yet. The thought made you smile for a bit, letting your face rest.

Then, your hand reached up to Jamison's face. 

You didn't think much about it since your mind was more on other things still, but you unconsciously held his cheek.

You watched as he smiled in his sleep, gently putting his own hands on yours and nuzzling into your touch. 

The feeling of his rough palm against your skin along with the metal of his other one sent a chill through your body, but you didn't pull away.

Just looking at him resting like a baby put your mind at ease for a bit.. It helped calm your grumpiness from not being able to sleep these past few nights.

It’s been the longest mission yet, and also the first one that you’ve slept together with a person you were sent with.

You ran your thumb over his lightly chapped bottom lip, your mind finally winding itself down.

You two had somewhat of a record of being assigned missions together, but you were never as close to each other as this. 

Something about the way your silly acquaintance slept carelessly in front of you was strangely inviting.

You swallowed your emotions and repressed your urges to suddenly hug the rat man, drawing your thumb lower to his chin. 

You ran it over his speckled face hair, still letting him hug your arm. 

“Mmmmh.. G-gosh, so.. so waaarmm..! waarmm like a maarshmaallooww.. eheeh..!!”

He chuckled in his sleep as his hugging turned into more aggressive snuggling.

It made you wonder if he'd remember anything once he woke up.

Outside of those thoughts, you were heavily caught off guard.

You didn't know if you wanted to comfortingly rub at his hair, continue holding his face, or try to hug him entirely.

Internally? You wanted to do all of those things, but it didn't feel right yet.

Despite all the deep talks you've had with Jamie on the drives and flights to missions together, you guys were still just friends at work, right?

Would it be weird to treat a friend as such? 

Did he think you two were even friends?

You always had a tendency to overthink the simplest of things.

Questions would fog your mind the split second a minor inconvenience popped up, you struggled to help that “problem” all your life.

Yet, your time spent with him so far made it feel like your questioning wasn't a problem at all. 

You always wanted to know the specifics and the “why” or “how” in anything that interested you.

Jamison was similar. He fed into your talks about figuring out what's after death, your master-list of alternatives to milk JUST for enjoying it with cereal. your wonders about what being an omnic felt like, and even your rambles about plants having feelings.

He was so invested into the plant talk that he now avoids stepping on anything green to show you that he cared about nature's heart too.

He admired your outlook on everything, the way you approach things by being your real self.

He also liked that you didn't look down on him for having an explosive personality. 

Everyone else at HQ had something against the lanky robber, but you didn't hate him at all. You two matched each other in the way that you were both transparent and almost always had a fixation or a story to share.

His eyes practically turned into sparkles whenever you two got into your deep conspiracy talks because no one else bothered to entertain his yappering about bombs, especially with mutual ranting about something else.

It was nice, soo..

You guys had to at least be friends, right?

“Mate! Earth’s waitin’ for your grand return! Ya aren’t dead yet.. Are ya, plant woman?”

Friends.. Yeah. You thought you two were cool buddies for all it’s worth.

“Aye! I knooow, me charmin’ physique’s too much to take in aaall at ooonce but-!”

It’s crazy how you were thinking about his eyes sparkling because.. Huh, how come they’re doing it right now?

“I can’t have ya dyin’ on me yet.. Ain’t no doctors around to come and shock ya awake!”

Gosh, who knew the local bombardier had such a twinkle to his eyes anyway?

“Is yer brain workin’? Want me to.. rewire it for ya?”

Twinkle.. twinkle.. twinkle..~

“Well, she’ll be apples! Ya goootta snap outta it mate! What is it ya want this time? An autograph? Some lollies? Aye! Aye..!”

You were so zoned out into the thought of his eyes, you didn’t even register that you were now actually looking at them; he had woken up.

Your hand was still on his face too, but he wasn’t hugging it anymore. 

His robotic right hand was knocking the top of your head lightly while his skinned left one was holding your cheek. 

His facial expression was one of concern despite his messy blonde hair and some drool glistening off the side of his mouth.

With the way he clearly scooted closer to you, you two were actually really close to each other this time.

“Woaahh.. Ooh.. Oh..? OH!!” You froze up again, covering your mouth and (almost literally) getting knocked out of your trance.

“Whew!” Jamison sighed in relief.

“There's me’ plant woman! Turns out me charm was too much for ya to handle afteraaalll!” He chuckled, quickly shifting into a lounging model pose and striking you a sly grin.

“O-Oh.. Oh my gosh! H-How long was I like that?” You panicked a little, wiping sweat from your forehead and quickly rubbing it into the tail of your shirt.

“Since me eyes opened up! Let's say.. ‘bout half a’ hour?”

“H-half an hour?!?”

“Yeah! Are ya alright? Did ya think me eyes were THAT gorgeous?” He chuckled, rubbing his chin. 

“Pshh..” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms once again.

“It’s alright if ya think so! I think so too! But, ya aren’t allowed to tell me fans that! Ehehe~!” He grinned, suddenly wrapping his arms around you and jokingly snuggling his head against the top of yours.

“E-eugh!! Fans my ass! Wait until they find out that you probably don't even wash yours, you stinky!” You exclaimed, trying to push your way out of his arms but to no avail.

“S-stinky?!?! Hey-! There's a’ supa’ top secret special essence in me junker way o’ livin..! T-the cleanest ya'd ever know!! How 'bout ya take a smell~!??” He challenged, immediately shoving his arm pits in your face and keeping you in his grasp.

“GOD! Quit it!! You smell terrible-! Ugh!!! Let me go right now!”

“Nuh-uh! Hatin’ on me wondrous magnificence ain't nice!”

“Your breath's gonna kill me, you bastard! Agh!! You literally need a bath!!!” You were muffling into his arms, trying to push him away even harder. 

You managed to push yourself upwards, but you still were trapped in his grasp as he giggled n’ snuggled away. 

As much as you hated to admit it, his silliness was really comforting, charming in it's own way even.

Yeah.. he didn't smell the best, but!!.. He was kind of fun to be around. It was hardly ever boring around the rat man.

“Fine, whatever,” You sighed, no longer fighting to leave his sweaty arms.

“Your eyes are.. nice to look at. Anyway, I'm tired and somehow comfortable in this position so if you move weirdly, I'm pushing you off the bed.”

He loudly gasped, his eyes widening and sparkling so much so that you could've sworn staring directly into them would've blinded you.

“Y-ya really m-mean it?!!?!! A-about.. me eyes?!? OoooOOoohh~! I.. H-How I could jus’ kis-”

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his head. His face was buried into your chest while his arms were still around you.

You felt him freeze, his immediate blush against your chest practically able to burn through you. He didn't scream or pull away, just sat there for a bit, shocked at someone hugging him back for once.

You sighed out again in content, now leaning your face on top of his head. His hair felt surprisingly soft against your cheek, but he still smelled bad.

“God, you smell so terrible.. but.. you're kinda.. comfy and..- Okay you're actually very comfy what the hell.” 

You gushed, your leaning turning into you practically snuggling against his hair.

The rat man stayed frozen in his position, shock taking over his body. For once, it wasn't one of those triggering shocks that turned his trauma into adrenaline; it was a.. refreshing kind of shock? The kind that was making him realize how starved from affection he really was for so long.

He felt like a deer mesmerized by headlights.

“If only you didn't move so much in your sleep, tsk tsk.. I can totally get over the strong burnt tire smell for how snuggly your hair is thoug-”

“Ihh shay..”

He suddenly muffled through your chest, but quieter than his normal tone.

“Eh?”

One of his fingers twitched.

“..Ihh shay shihh!”

“Fucking- Get out of there and spit it out!”

You pouted, pulling his face out of your chest’s cave to look him in the eyes and hear him properly.

“I-I’ll stay.. still! m-mighty still.. i-if ya keep on.. rubbin’ that pretty face on ma’ skull.. p-please? please mate!!”

‘Absolutely the fuck not!’ is what you almost instinctively said, but something about this weird man’s vulnerability around you gave you a feeling his request wasn’t ill intended. 

He nudged you into a softer tone towards him for the night, so you silently raised a brow. He kept pleading, his sparkling eyes bouncing between you and the rest of the room.

“I-I ain't had anyone.. touch me ‘air, l-let alone me whole body i-in years! Feels comfortin’- so- i- uh- p-please mate! i won't be buggin’ ya’ rest any longer i-if ya felt kind ‘nough to.. perhaps grant me thee honor-!?”

“I’m doing it, so hush up.”

“Y-yes m’lady”

He quickly blurted out, before burying his face back in-between your chest with a relieved giggle.

“Hah, for someone who goes by being a rat, you're sure acting like a puppy right now.”

“Y-ya really think so!?”

“Yeah sure, but- hmph, the ‘junk’ part still applies. I'm so close to dragging you into a bath myself..”

“>:(“

“Wait.. This kinda gives me an idea..” 

A mischievous grin growing on your face as you mumbled to yourself.

“Whaddya say?”

He grumbled, oblivious to your scheming. You slowly tried pulling away from him, but to no avail.. He unconsciously scooted closer into your arms with each pull.

“..nothing, ratty-poo.” 

You pushed him away quickly with your hands now gripping his shoulders.

“A-ay mate! W-whaddya push me away foorrr? I was enjoyin’ me time in there.. :(“

He yelped in response, his arms now crossing with a pout.

“No more snuggling until you take a bath!”

“W-whuh!?”

“I'm not cuddling your hair until you wash it.”

“..noooo :((“

“No shower, no snuggle!!”

“:(((... Fine..”

“W-wait- You're giving in that easil-?”

“JUNK ATTACK!!!!”

He yelled, diving back into your chest with his arms around your waist once again. You scoffed, not cuddling or holding him back.

“Rat-ass.”

“Y-yes m-m’lady..??”

“I'm giving you five seconds to get off of me, or I'll kick you off.-”

“N-no!! P-please mate!-”

“I'll go and grab a bucket of ice cold water to throw at you so help me you don't mov-”

You've never seen a tall grown man back up to the edge of a bed so quickly.

“GO.”

You yelled, pointing violently at the bathroom door.

“NEIN!”

“I SAID GO!”

“NO!”

“You want more cuddles from me, right, ratty-poo..?~”

Your tone softened as you twirled your hair and pleaded your eyes at him.

“I- u-uh- y-yes m-m'lady but-”

“THEN GO BATHE!”

He whined another ‘no’ in response, crossing his legs and arms while looking away.

You sighed, before crawling across the bed and hooking your arm around his.

“Lord.. What am I gonna do with you..”

“W-well I- AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!”

“GET YOUR ASS IN THAT SHOWER JAMIE!!”

You yelled again as you held him in a headlock position.

As he whined, you held him there for a bit, thinking.

“Hmm..”

“You l-let go of me t-this instant mate! T-the junkers back in me home town w-wont be pleased with how you're behavin’ towards me greatnes-”

“What if we took a bath together?”

“-and once they find out what you've- huh-!?!”

“You and me, we bathe together. I'll literally help you clean up if it means you won't stink in bed.”

You said casually as you quickly faced him towards you and dropped him onto the bed. He landed on his back with his arms above his head while you sat on top of him.

Questionable position if you may, but you dare not complain about the view.

He was too in shock to notice it either.

He stared at you wide eyed. 

He opened his mouth and put a finger up to say something multiple times, only to close it with more thought and look away, his finger curling up and down with each pause.

He thought about the offer for the long time.

Then, he rubbed his chin. You watched carefully, not letting your guard fall in case he felt like randomly wrapping himself around you again.

“Hmph.. if t-that’s what it'll take.. then I suppose a.. mighty handsome fella like me.. wouldn't mind bathin’ with a.. pretty.. f-flower woman like you!”

“Uh huh..-”

“B-but under one of me’ own conditions!”

“.. you're what now-”

“Bath cuddles?”

He clapped his hands together in a praying motion, pleading with those damn sparkly eyes again. It's like he just does it in command at this point..

“God, what are we, a couple?”

You yawned with closed eyes. 

“I-I.. W-well! Your one an’ only gentleman of’uh bombardier wouldn't complain!”

He nervously smiled and blushed, his gold tooth shining comically as he said that.

It earned a giggle out of you, followed with covered mouth mumbling.

‘You’re so silly, it's kind of attractive..’

“Whaddya say, me’ pretty plant-y mistress?”

“I said, you're so silly, it's kind of.. u-uh- cool-? I guess??!? I don't- Mistress!?- I- W-whatever- C’mon, let's go! Into the baaathh we goo..! C’mon c’moonn..”

You spurted out, getting up and dragging him by the arm into the bathroom. 

You didn't really think through the fact that.. this man would be so close to you while you two were undressed.

Oddly enough, he didn't give the vibe of someone who'd try anything, but it was still weird. 

One second you're forced to share a bed with this guy.. And the next? You've convinced him to take a shower with you??? Weird..-o!!

When you two made it, you both kind of just stared at the bathroom and each other for a minute. 

It was a decently sized room, but the entirety of it was a shower.. literal shower room?.. whatever.

There wasn't a sink or toilet like the bathrooms you were used to. 

Instead, there was just one large shower head in the center of the room, a drain in a corner, and tiles that patterned the floor and walls in a creamy gradient. The two handles for the shower were next to the doorway, labeled for their temperatures.

There were also two slim windows higher up on two walls facing each other, slightly cracked for the steam.

The only light you guys had came from either these windows, or from the doorway to the room you shared, so it was acceptably dim.

Some vines creeped through corners here and there, but it was surprisingly much cleaner than the rest of the hut you guys stayed in. The non-direct warm lighting really set the vibe.

As you turned both of the handles halfway, you watched in surprise as the rat man happily stripped at whatever he had on, going for a dive on the shower floor as if it were a kid’s waterslide with a ‘yippee!!’

It immediately followed with a groan of pain from him, and a reactive facepalm from you.

With a sigh of ‘Oh, what I'll even do with him..’ (ironic), you quickly undid your hair and stripped off your clothes while he wasn't looking.

He swiveled around right as you finished, watching in awe as you awkwardly shuffled onto the floor next to him with a travel sized bottle of soap and a mini loofa.

“S-ssheesh..” he gaped, “what a beautiful woman..”

“T-thanks, b-but don't look too hard, silly guy.” You joked lightheartedly and rolled your eyes, your initiative agenda from before going out of the window because of the attractive man in front of you.

The hot steamy water combined with how it washed away some of the rat man’s dirt made his revealed skin slightly harder to not drool over..

..but you fought any urges or sudden fantasies you had right then and there. 

‘It’s just the lack of sleep getting to me,’ you quickly scolded yourself in your head, ‘.. there's no way I shoul- COULD see him like that, yep..’

“You're.. not too shabby yourself..” You muttered to get it out of your system, painfully controlling your hands from wandering. Thankfully, he probablyyy didn't hear you. 

With that, you were getting to work with your soap on his arms, trying not to think too hard about the man before you.

“Caaan I have me cuddlin’ time with ya noooww, plant womaaan?”

“Noo! I just started with you and I'm not done yet, rat-head.. Be patient n’ be quiet.” You grumbled, finishing his arms and scrubbing his back like a concerned mother.

“Pleeeaaaaseeee…????” He covered his eyes and whined as you made way to his torso with your loofah. The scrubber was barely holding on and you weren't anywhere near finished..

“Don't make me tie you down in here just to get you clean, bastard..” You threatened, moving from his back to his front side. You held at one side of his torso, scrubbing away.

He moved his hands from his face to his sides, looking down at you with that puzzled gaze once again. You glanced up at him with a raised brow before looking back down at your work.

You weren't actually all too irritated. Tired, yes, but it was actually kind of destressing being able to work your hands at something like this. 

You were also literally.. bathing a grown ass man, but you'd be lying if you said anything about preferring to be at home, bored and alone.

At least this mission gave you some kind of purpose, and alongside an entertaining goofball as well. It could be much worse, but it really wasn't bad at all which you liked.

Suddenly, he started patting your head, a close eyed grin on his face.

“Oouuhh… M-mate, ya know.. Thanks a lot for this! I appreciate ya’, I really do!”

“Don't sweat it, poo-face, you were already sweating enough in bed anyway..” You chuckled with another playful eye roll.

“If you weren't gonna bathe yourself, something had to be done for BOTH OF us to catch some rest for the mission, and goddess KNOWS I can't sleep with a loud stinky man..” You responded mindlessly, gently grabbing his face by his jaw and scrubbing his neck.

“It gets.. hard sometimes,” he threw his head back with a sigh, “I know I'm supposed ‘tuh.. do it all me’ self but, I lose me’ mind to the world o’ bombs!” He chuckled.

“You don't say…” You coughed with sarcasm, still listening and cleaning. He's used to your personality by now, and he knows you never really mean any harm.

“Oh, but I do! Even with me’ prosthetics, it jus’ makes it harder n’.. I could never fancy the time to.. uh.. keep takin’ em’ on n’ off..”

“..It bugs me, the pain, it's a reeaall.. buggin' feeling, both in me’ arms n’ legs.. n’.. the mind. It does somethin’ to ya, makes people call ya crazy!” He gestured by wiggling his normal arm, then his robotic one in comparison. 

You put his arms down like an annoyed cat, but you weren't actually annoyed, just trying to reach over him to attempt washing his hair.

“..but really ‘m not.. I.. I just resort to.. expressin’ what takes it all away.. and uh! bein’ me!, ya’ kno- Aauh.. T-that feels.. holy..” He cut himself off, sighing in relief. You had bowed his head under the running water for you to better reach him, unknowingly giving him a more direct view of your bare chest. 

“A-Anything to take me’ mind off the.. A-ahem-.. the uh.. rot.. the distinct feelin’ of not bein’ the same as everyone else.. anymore.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly trying not to stare as he spoke, but you didn't think much about it.

“People stay clear of me all the time! N’ they think I don't be noticin’ b-but I do!” He ran a hand through his hair after you moved down to his legs.

“It hurts, but.. I just keep doin’ me’, I try not to stay in me’ past, live for me’ mum, n’ keep it movin’!”

“Oh! That's also why I like ya’ mate!” He smiled, throwing up finger guns.

“Whuh- Really?” You looked at him.

“Yeah! You don't treat me funny for me’ quirks! You always seemed like.. a couple screws loose in somebody’s noggin never bothered ya’! Me’ motors don't drive ya’ wild, do I?” 

“Pshhh… You definitely drive me crazy, but that doesn't mean I'm never down for a wild adventure with you, rat-ass.”

“See? Ya’ get me! I know your tired n’ all, n’ I'm sorry for takin’ away from your beauty rest like this but..” He scratched his chin and sighed, looking to the side.

“Thanks mate, r-really..” He mumbled, shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around you for a genuine hug.

“I- U-uh-.. Your.. welcome? All I've done was treat you like.. a normal human being? As you.. should be?” You awkwardly hugged him back, confused.

You pulled away, your hands on his shoulders.

“Despite our friendship, I don't know what it is you've REALLY really been through, but no matter how tired or over it I may seem, I still think you're hella cool of a guy.” You warmed up to his hug, patting his back.

“Whenever you wanna chat about.. literally anything in the world, you know who to come to, silly.. Seriously, don't ever sweat it.” You smiled and yawned, going back to washing his upper body off for a second, more gentler time. 

You were surprised he didn't question the hot water in hot weather or how quickly it managed to cool you guys off. It was definitely making you more sleepy though.

“T-thanks, plant woman..” He wiped away a tear, sighing with a contentful “aah” as you tended to him. He leaned back, taking in the feeling of your care.

“Ya know, you're reeaaal good at this.. are ya’, perhaps, experienced ‘n bathing other people?” 

“Wh- This is.. how baths are meant to be taken, no?”

“T-together??!? Mate, I’d kill to have this luxury of bein’ cleaned by ya’ like this all the time!!”

“Whuh- No! I m-meant.. the soap and water, you fucking peanut.”

“Ooh.. W-well!” he pointed a finger up, “I don't care ‘bout standin’ under some lousy water for a’ hour! But.. ya’ make me want to if it means you'll be the one cleanin’ me!”

“You're an adult, Jamie.”

“Don't forget me’ prosthetics-”

“They're literally waterproof sealed..”

“How would ya’ even know that!?”

“You told me this in our past rant sessions, twice I might add.. Something about avoiding radiactiv-”

“Screw you, mate! ( ` ﾛ ´ )”

“..You probably would though. (>ᴗ•)”

☆ if anyone actually makes it this far, tysm for reading!! feedback is 100% welcomed and appreciated <33

☆ i promise ill get the smut out for this eventually.. ill also make a pinned request post soon!! with graduation coming up, im a bit busy :((.. BUT ITLL ALL COME!

☆ ^^ update, here it is!!

☆ enjoy ur day/night yall! eat, stay hydrated, and keep loving junkrat fr ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey Maya, I got into the void using the method @gorgeouslypink and you talked about so thank you so much.

I had a gaming chair in my room with a reclining chair so I just used that for my method. I went to bed and like the method instructed I woke up 3.5 hours after falling asleep! I woke up and went to my chair which I angled to 130 degrees. Well idk how exact I was, but I tried my best lol. I went to bed after 15 minutes and i had so many weird experiences ranging from hypnagogic state awareness, three false awakenings, sleep paralysis, and lucid dreaming. All within around one hour it was very confusing but I took it as a good sign because I have never experienced any of those things. I just kept going back to bed expecting to wake up in the void and I did!!!!!!!! After one year or over consuming and victimizing myself, I’m leaving my dream life.

I manifested

✨master of the void state and I can get in by just saying I am void 3x. Plus shifting for the future. Harry Potter here I come

✨revising my age from 24-> 18 to relive the childhood I missed from toxic family, abuse, depression

✨revising my family in every aspect. We went from poor, toxic, classless, uneducated, fat ugly looking, conservative… to a respected, wealthy, gorgeous, socialite loving and educated family that is loved and known by the people in my state.

✨for myself I manifested being super gorgeous. (Void came clutch i look like a fucking model) being skinny and never gaining weight, having my desires hourglass body with big boobs and a perky butt, being extremely intelligent and innovative,being an influencer, beginning my acting career, making one million dollars a year, perfect college life at USC, having a wattpadd life, so many different hobbies like singing, playing multiple instruments, pottery, drawing, writing, and so much more. My list was 10 pages long.

✨dream sp, that’s like all my favorite actors, wattpadd men, and has all my dream traits. I am beyond bless. I’m every aspect of my relationship though no one loved it even talked to me two days ago. I was always the ugly duckling, the girl people made fun of, the fatty taking up to much space. Now I have everything because of the law. It feels normal, and I’ll finally start living my life.

I’m super proud of you. Have fun living your dream life, you deserve it, and thank you for sharing your experience 💕

[slocumjoe]

I've said before that the synth thing would work better with a McCarthyism allegory, but for Danse specifically, its so similar to autism that it has to be intentional??

Like. The thing that really solidified that Danse in particular is just straight up about autism is Piper's line in Blind Betrayal. Paraphrased, it goes something like, "I mean...yeah, of course he's a synth. It was kind of obvious, wasn't it? I mean, have you heard him talk?"

The autism accent is a concept that seems to be popping up more recently, but its a real thing, and in my own experience, everyone in my life has been able to clock that there was something different about me from my speech. People thought it was weird that I used "adult" words as a kid, and was very technical and exact when speaking. I was often mistaken as being from places like Brooklyn because I had a weird affectation to my voice.

And there's just. This fucking line. "Have you heard him talk?". Piper is also the person who clicked McDonough as a synth. It's worth noting that McDonough and Danse both use words like "rabble".

But seriously.

Danse goes through his life being respected for his work ethic, intelligence, and strong sense of duty and morals, but he never really bonds with anyone, he doesn't make friends. He's respected, not liked. People want to work with him, but the best they have to say about him is about his work. He makes one single friend in his entire life, and never tries again after that guy dies. And no one tries to befriend him. He's their brother. He's not their friend. And he takes his job too seriously as a commanding officer to attempt emotional connection. He apologizes for overstepping on the few occasions he does.

He talks like a thesaurus, and no one is sure if its to sound smarter, or if that's just genuinely how he thinks. It's strongly implied to be the latter. He's incredibly knowledgeable and passionate about various topics. He sounds like a kid on Christmas when you risk life and limb cracking open a vault that's supposed to have riches, but instead, just has some historical items. He throws his Brotherhood prejudice away the moment he finds a farm run by ghouls that uses pre-war structures in a creative way, and scolds you if you do the Brotherhood thing and insult them. He also seemingly forgets that he's in the Brotherhood when meeting a child ghoul, that kid's parents, a shy, insecure ghoul who clings to children's media (despite Danse finding children's entertainment stupid and a waste of time), and Daisy.

And then there's the synth thing.

Danse has always been Danse, but one little word gets attached to him and his life turns upside down. His work ethic is no longer a work ethic, it's viewed as a perversion. His intelligence and manner of speech are no longer of his own merit and education he had to have given himself, they become inevitable, things he had no say in. His existence is both erased and explained by one word, and anything else is irrelevant or in question. People who once respected him want nothing to do with him, because this one word puts him in a context they find unnatural, corrupted, inhuman. There's even something there with the Institute. Autism is (incorrectly) associated with vaccines, the government, science gone wrong. It's a man-made horror.

And then you have the people he gets lumped in with, after being thrown out for this one word. They take schadenfreude in it. This is comeuppance, this is deserved. This one word, something they take pride in or have sympathy for and want to protect, suddenly becomes weaponized. It's a source of pride for others, but for this one person, we're going to use it as punishment. You weren't with us from the start, so now you really are on your own. It's not that there isn't a right way to be this one word, it's just that there's a wrong way, and even if you change accordingly, you will never belong with the rest of us.

Its. Autism is about exclusion, from everyone and everything. Always being an outsider, often too polite or nervous or jaded to even bother looking in. And at every point in Danse's life he didn't belong. He was a rogue synth, so he didn't belong in the Institute. He naturally thrives as a soldier, so he didn't belong as a junk seller in Rivet City. He was a synth and considerably more kind and compassionate than the rest of the BOS, so he didn't belong there. And because he was a BOS soldier and is still working out some bad traits after his exile, he isn't welcomed by the people who he was thrown to. Everywhere he goes, there's a big neon sign over his head that changes to whatever word will ward off everyone around him and he's so used to it, the thing that makes him angriest about being a synth is that he doesn't even have parents. He doesn't even have that connection to the world, of being born into it. There is nothing he can connect himself to beyond the Institute (which he hates) and the Brotherhood (which, if he continues to connect himself to, will drive him to suicide out of sense of duty, and he already agreed to not do that)

Its just. His entire story is one of absolute isolation and the final dickpunch of "You've always hated yourself, right? Good news, here's a reason to kill yourself that's professional and won't illicit pity from your peers, so no one will judge you for doing it or grieve you."

[dufferpuffer]

It's really unfortunate that people look at Lycanthropy in Harry Potter and go "It's super yucky the author said she based it on HIV"... ...and then that's the extent they consider it as disability representation: A failure. An insult. The HIV shoe doesn't fit, so it's bad and should be ignored.

A comment from the Author outside of the books has so thoroughly coloured what is seen inside of the books in the dumbest way. When has a fantasy illness EVER worn the shoe of a real disability and had it fit...? Just because authors can be dumb idiot fucks doesn't mean the depth of experience they write doesn't have any merit, consciously or subconsciously - for better or for worse.

It's our job to be smart enough to pick the bones from the blorbo's we are fed - and to be delusional enough to treat them as if they are analogous to real experience, to chew out as much as we can from his narrative. That's the point of fiction. B^)

+ Remus has an invisible disability. (That alone is rare to see) + For multiple days a month he gets visibly unwell - Pale, peaky, weary... he feels off-colour. It heralds his worst symptoms. + Every month he experiences excruciating pain, the humiliation of losing control of his body, the terror of losing grip on his thoughts. Sometimes he self harms in this state. + For multiple days after - he is fatigued. All day laying down. Can't even sit at the table for Christmas lunch or do things he enjoys. + He struggles to keep weight on because of it. Any weight be puts on through the month is lost, leaving him thin and ragged again. ~~~ + The only treatment for his symptoms doesn't help much - and is deeply unpleasant (and a bit degrading) to take. + It's also expensive and difficult to get - he has to see very particular practitioners and jump through hoops to even have a chance for it, in a society that is hostile to his disability. + Even when treated - his condition prevents him from working to a schedule. He needs special facilities and support just to manage. + His poor health may lead him to run late on his work tasks, even when treated and supported adequately. + His disability makes him unemployable. He will not be hired BECAUSE of stigma against his specific condition. + His illness is contagious, which complicates how he lives his life and how he see's himself - as well as how others treat him. + There is rampant misinformation on his condition, probably equal or more than accurate education. Everyone has wrong assumptions and will cling to them tooth and nail.

Like this is is GOOD!!! These symptoms and situations aren't representative of any one disability but I bet most disabled people have at least SOMETHING they will strongly resonate with.

That's not even getting into the fact his mental health is bad BECAUSE of having to live with a disability without support - in rich ways that are allowed to be messy and complicated, that aren't trying to pander to able-bodied people so they don't feel uncomfortable... that don't smooth over the horrors of being unwell and knowing you will never get better and nobody will understand you.

Disability in media most of the time is just "This person lost an arm and the memories make him sad :^( don't worry though his robot arm is better than a normal one :^)" and "I use a wheelchair, and sometimes it can be hard - but all my friends don't mind :^) It rarely ever gets in the way, and when it does, everyone comes together to help me! btw I play a sport" And that's it. Oh sorry I forgot "Blind person but they have super senses"

Those tropes can be done well. But to get anything outside of them is so, SO fucking rare... so it is weird that when Remus has existed for over two decades as a disabled character with depth and nuance... He isn't discussed as he is a poor representation of a single diagnosis.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Teaching anon here ✨

I’d like to apologise for how weird my last ask sounded, words aren’t my friends today 🥲

I’d love to hear your rant on academisation because the schools I went to have now become academy’s and I’m only hearing the positive which is concerning in itself. (You seem to be a good source)

Your writing is 🤭🤭, keep it up!!

Mate, don't worry about it. I was more amused that I am ATAB - assigned teacher at birth. You're not the only one to have said it. ❤️

Academies were a way to introduce the business world into the education system. Everything needs to be measured, weighed, there's endless paperwork, and most Academies suffer from "initiative-itis" (introducing a new initiative every five minutes to show evidence of innovation and progress against targets) and "throw money at it that we definitely don't really have". Like paying for "consultants" to come in and give "guidance". Really it's just their mates looking for a few grand.

They're riddled with career climbers (people who want an office with their name on the door) and then you have fuckin' Trust CEOs. There's a CEO of a multi-academy trust in my county who earns £310,000 a year. Our Prime Minister earns £164,000. I know I'm basically now a Commie when it comes to the British political spectrum, but to earn twice as much as our prime minister in a glorified civil servant role... It's obscene. (I actually took over this man's Politics class eleven years ago when he was a Principal. He was a dog shit teacher and the kids knew nothing.) This is at a time when teachers wages were actually falling due to inflation.

It's a corrupt as fuck system. Schools don't need CEOs, they don't need businessmen, they don't need piles and piles of pointless paperwork and accountability measures. They need decent bloody teachers... but Academies have driven them all away. Devaluing and defunding education is part of the fascist playbook though.

(And thanks for the writing compliment - I love Nikprice Army very much.)

Edit: oh, and I forgot to mention, the plaza school experiment imported from Singapore wasted MILLIONS. New Academies built with the idea of teaching 60-90 kids in a classroom. Horrific.

[gamerboy56]

DISCLAIMER ‼️⚠️ : Not intended to fully hate on the hardcore Adamil shippers , this is purely educational and opinion-based ( a little)

.

.

My opinion on the Adamil realtionship lore , since i got into a tiktok fight like a month ago BECAUSE NOBODY reads the wiki, and likes romantisizing their clearly fucked up relationship (i dont care if its canon)

From what ive read and comprehended from Ada's backstory is that she was doing a research on hypnotherapy/looking for a subject ''willing" to be tested on , since her ways of hypnotherapy put the patients thru a lot of pain.. anyhow

She somehow ends up in the asylum that Emil was currently being treated in , she decides to try her little experiments on Emil since he was one of the "most obedient ones" in the asylum..

He surprisingly endures the pain, thankfully gets a bit better too until his health starts regressing again

She "helps" him escape ? Which im not even sure he wanted to do himself , since he is very mentally deranged and suffers from amnesia?

That brings me to another point - Ada treats him as her personal possession, much like a bag or a puppy...

Im so sick and tired of people saying that their relationship is sweet and not totally twisted and weird?

She has just made use of Emil as a test subject and the fact that he's an amnesiac , then she "falls in love" with him, because he responds well to her hypnotherapy.

Another thing that i want to quickly mention is the fact that Emil doesn't really know what love is, to him it's just being treated right, like a human being and not a dog (referring to his past)

Im not saying it can't work out , but it's just really twisted and not a 100% secure relationship, due to his DEPENDENCE on her and her POSSESSIVENESS

Can everybody stop calling it cute and sweet, its really not

The fact that her traits include being "extreme, possesive and stubborn" only prove that the only interest she had in him was testing and just because he ended up enduring it she took him with her, to "escape"

Had he not remained quiet and obedient, their story wouldn't have even happened..

The point of this whole yapsession is to let everybody know how they're not your average cute , non-tragic couple, but actually quite the opposite.

I enjoy their lore a lot, can't wait to find out more in the next part of the recent animated and interractable lore events!!!

P.S.

this was written at 4:56 am

[queenlua]

what podcasts have you listened to?

good question because I'M IN THE MARKET FOR PODCAST RECS. please. i hate almost everything on this list

S Tier (i listen to new episodes the second they drop)

Know Your Enemy. look Matt and Sam just have such an exceedingly good vibe. when they talk about something i actually know they never feel like they're doing an unfair or one-sided treatment of it. they're both massive intellectual history nerds. and they do that without, y'know, sacrificing Principles and Taking A Stand in the name of pseudointellectual fairness. occasionally they bring on a guest that pisses me off but that's fine. good things for this podcast forever

A Tier (i'm excited when i have new episodes to listen to)

Normal Gossip. quality varies a decent amount season-to-season but at its heart, it's some bitches Talking Shit about some people you'll never meet in an entertaining way. entirely my jam. hell yeah

The Recipe with Kenji and Deb. good vibes, i learn a couple things about food usually, i am really dumb about cooking so it's not hard for me to learn new things but i sure do learn

The Bonhoeffer Podcast. my current listen. egregiously niche subject. clearly run in a no-frills low-production-value by some random academic. and it rules. tell me the niche internecine theological conflict random dudes with shitty internet connections I Need To Know

Drive to Work with Mark Rosewater. he gets repetitive if you listen to too many episodes at once. but. the head designer of Magic: the Gathering is just as compelling in podcast form as he is in his writing. love that shit

B Tier (i'll go to these reasonably-frequently)

Odd Lots. episodes are rarely standouts but rarely uninteresting either. vibe between the hosts is good

Designer Notes. pros: did a 3hr interview with Cole Wehrle who i do have a brain-crush on. cons: most guests aren't Cole Wehrle

The Kongversation. look it's just some guys nostalgia'ing hard over ye olde Rare/Nintendo games but they're oddly fun/compelling about it

BS-Free Witchcraft Podcast. i have an affection for tetchy neopagans who are somewhat grounded about it and this dude's pretty solid on that front

C Tier (fine, if i must. OR, yes i listen but i feel guilty about it)

If Books Could Kill. ok so the problem with Michael Hobbes is that he's not particularly intellectually honest. the problem with Peter Shamshiri is that he's definitely not intellectually honest and also a dick about it. unfortunately they are both very ENTERTAINING.

i feel a little less guilty listening to them in this format because like. dunking on The Secret is just having a good time, it's a sporking, everyone already knows the book sucks.

it's still unvirtuous that i listen to this one but sometimes i need to listen to familiar stupid dunks as i fall asleep yaknow

And Also With You. episcopalianism 101; i have a Pet Research Project atm & while these ppl aren't as deeply NERD as i desire they make up for it with vibes & pleasantness

D Tier (if i'm desperate. and on a road trip. i'll listen. i guess)

Ezra Klein: my husband absolutely bodied me the other day when i listened to Joe Rogan for the first time, for Civic Education Reasons™, and before i could begin to describe the experience he was like "let me guess, it's like Ezra Klein but for center-right gym bros." and fuck me if that's not egregiously accurate. they share a certain combo of "weirdly credulous" + "have a few specific Weird Anxieties they're fixated on." in Klein's case that anxiety is focused on factory farming & in Rogan's case it's focused on like weird AI conspiracies. in both cases they are aggressively vanilla and mid but sometimes Klein gets an okayish guest. Klein's REALLY had a lot of anxiety lately tho so i've found him harder to take, cannot be part of your secondhand anxiety bro

Time To Say Good Bye! rank punditry but i kinda like Jay Caspian Kang's vibe

Limited Resources. listened way more when i was drafting MtG competitively. but episodes are LONG and that's absolutely an asset when e.g. you're on a long drive to Whistler & you and your husband already nearly came to blows over What To Listen To & you remember Oh Shit Right We're Both Going To A Prerelease Next Weekend

You Have Permission. podcast by a chill sort-of-intellectually-marshmallow-esque liberal christian guy. there are a LOT of episodes which is useful if you're trying to set time on fire. some of his guests are FASCINATING; some less so. averages out to "fine"? random episodes are Not Good but if you skim in advance you'll get e.g. a really cool Quaker guy, some hypernerd theologian, etc

Podcasts That Are So Good But Sadly I Have Already Listened To Every Episode And They Aren't Making More

Every Day's Great! nerds replay Persona 4 and yap about it

The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill. watch an evangelical megachurch implode

Stuff I've Guiltily Carried Around With A Vague Intention Of Actually Listening For A While Now

No Proscenium. all the LARP news that's fit to print. haven't taken a dive yet tho

The Blood Zone. i really like liz ryerson's other work but only listened to the ocremix episode of this one so far oops

The Age of Napoleon & History of Africa. i was enjoying Napoleon for a while but my old car didn't have bluetooth and the podcast was just too QUIET to hear even at the loudest volume. history of africa i was enjoying but got distracted and now i'm like oh fuck i don't remember where i was guess i'll die

Security. Cryptography. Whatever. i should be listening to this for professional reasons

.....

i'm aware there's weightier/better podcasts out there, but i'm mostly listening to podcasts while driving or doing chores, so i need podcasts to hit this weird sweet spot of "intellectually serious enough i don't turn the thing off" but also "well-produced / attention-grabbing enough that it's entertaining even if i can only devote half my brain to it (because, y'know, driving/cleaning)." so most podcast recs don't work on me. and for some reason a lot of popular podcasts (planet money, most NPR ones, etc) are like nails-on-chalkboard for me. maybe i just need to get into audiobooks or something lol but yeah that's what i'm relying on for now

[rzyraffek]

Could you please do headcanons Slashers (like Michael, Brahms, Billy, The Sinclair brothers) as caregivers for their S/O who is an age regressor

Or headcanons for those Slashers when they find out their s/o is an age regressor?

Okay I acually went and educated myself on this topic for you my dear anon🥰🌼

if your uncomfortable with topic of age regression pls dont read that😭

So basically as far as I understand age regression means that somone acts like child due to some traumatic event??? And like they act childlike and participate in child typical activies (such as drawing with crayons, speaking like a toddler, drinking from bottles ect) if i make headcanon that don't make any sense im sorry! I have no experience with this topic! ALSO this is pure platonic! Age regression isn't a kink or a fetish!!

Slashers with age regressor y/n

Brahms Heelshire

Tbh y/n acting childish kinda woke up his inner child, CUZ HE LITTERALY GOT LOCKED IN WALLS IN AGE OF LIKE 10 so he kinda missed out on some fun stuff

100% plays hide and seek! Or tag! My man loves some good round of hide and seek, this place is huge! *insert british accent* "oh you little scallop... if I find you I will tickle you so hard..."

Question: age regression is like temporary or like forever thing? Like regressor acts like that when they are in bad metal state or just always? Bcs if always then it might be hard with Brahms, see he kinda.... has mommy's issues has huge need to be taken care of, probably similar to y/n's, he kinda wants a person who will just pamper him and make him feel like he's the single child yknow? All the attention on him? Yknow what i mean??

If y/n draws him something nice, dude will put it on a fridge with a magnet and be proud

If thats like temporary thing, he acaully will ask a lot of questions: how should he act? Do you remember anything? How does it work? Can he get some cuddles? Do you still love him while regressing? (Ofc you do, but he doest understand)

Billy Lenz

You guys vibe

Dude won't see any difrence😭

Yay one more reason to watch cartoons together! (His favorite ponny is rarity and fluttershy)

If y/n babytalks and uses toddler-like vocabulary... dude will mimic it😭 he just thinks that will help with communication😭 its not like you guys struggle with it or anything, Billy is just build like that

Yall draw together, his artstyle already looks like toddler drew it (not in cute way)

Plays dolls with y/n (but he acually makes it interesting! Like he makes it all dramatic and the tea is just jawdropping)

Also don't bother explaining what is age regression, just say "sometimes I act like kid to cope"😭

Micheal Myers

Judges

But kinda likes it, not in weird way! He enjoys taking care of y/n, but he has his own ways of doing so

He won't play with them or let them cuddle him too much

But he accepts little drawings and stickers that y/n gives him

He is still stalking them, making sure noone tries to bully them or anything

He is very protective, for example if y/n cuts their finger while making food, dude is all over them: Oh no no dont cry! Uhhh.... uhhh oh! See a pretty bandage? With puppies! Pls dont cry...

On rare days he is acually around (phicially i mean, cuz hes always around just not interacting with y/n) and it happens for him to be in good mood too, he will let y/n nap on him or put some stickers on his outfit- he never takes them of btw, the only reason that stickers wash of is the field he 'works' in? Yknow a lot of mud blood and water. He also holds y/n hand if they are spooked

And he fucking loves fluttershy and applejack

Steals some cute shirts and socks for them!

Sinclair Bros

Bo is the least understanding, tbh he will lisen to y/n only if they have very good relationship

Vince is just 👍

And Lester is acually very open to the idea

Drawing and playing dolls with Vincent

Going on cool drives with Lester

And napping with Bo

Whole fridge is covered in drawings and cute magnets

All Vincent's notebooks and Lester truck covered in stickers

Even Bo gun didnt escape the sticker apocalypse

Vince made special wax figurines for y/n

Lester calls them "kiddo" 😭😭

Bo puts his hand on their head and rubs it till their hair goes all puffy

They all act like older brothers who have to take care of younger siblings while perents are away😭😭

Vince acually vents to regressing y/n and they are just like: "man I just wanna pet the dog"

Bonus round! Added few more!!

Bubba Sawyer

Bestie vibes

Yall just spend time playing with dolls and drawing together

Absolutely lets y/n nap on him

He totally combs their hair and puts them in nice bun (or if y/n has short hair he will just brush it)

He kinda sees age regression as lil break from reality? Like you two can just vibe and act they way you want to😊 he enjoys, cuz tbh he do be acting like child(not in bad way!) And his happy that you both can do all those child-like activities without being judged by other person

Bit y/n once

Asa Emory

Ew a child

I mean

Idk he gives me "the dad that never has time for u cuz he has too much work"

Like yep he will read y/n a bed time story and he will tell them all about bugs and nature. But hes busy most of time

OMG ABOUT BED TIME STORIES Asa will read you one but he is so exhausted that he acually falls asleep first

He trusts them and knows that even whilr regressing they wont do anything dumb, but he still bans them from his 'workroom' theres... well some photos and drawings of victims and i doubt y/n wants to see it

Lets them sit on his lap while he reads newspaper like middle-aged man he is

Gives lil head kisses before sleep

Bug themed plushies and figures

Makes y/n watch animal planet and bbc nature with him

When he's out for longer periods of time he will buy them McDonald's as an apology

Welp

Done. I hope it makes sense! I never witnessed anyone age regress so idk how relatable it is!! I used x reader tags only to reach bigger audience

[beesmygod]

What are some of your favorite pieces of art/ art that has made you think a lot?

this is such a cheesy cop-out answer, but there's a lot of things that im going to struggle remembering because of 1. how situational the experience was (as in, the context in which i experienced the piece) 2. how wide the word "art piece" is. 3. the great fortune to have been born to parents with strong artistic sensibilities and a love of travel/education. so these are like. really weird and specific but maybe thats the way it should be:

let's start with the most overly dramatic: st. paul's cathedral in london has guided tours where they take you into rooms and let you mill around before moving to the next one. my family took a trip overseas as a really, really big special vacation to celebrate my sister and i graduating from high school (we're not twins, we just combo'd it after she graduated) that i was too brain-broken and teenage to fully appreciate. its a beautiful cathedral but i was in my edgy internet atheist stage and refused to be impressed by it until i stood over a grate in the floor. through the grates you can see the crypt that you visit next. but standing over the grate, someone below started to sing something hymnal and very catholic. and i realized i was the only one who could hear it because of the crowd chatter. and it made me feel, in the moment, so special and so lonely in a way that i still think about, a lot. it was for me only. divine providence.

a date with adam to a place i had no idea existed but he had been to before: the bad art museum, which is split over like 3 different buildings in a bizarre way. we only went to the one where you have to buy a ticket to a movie as entry and it was some truly lovely bad art and made me sad how inaccessible it was but resolute about my love of the nuances of uncelebrated anti-art masterpieces. then we watched "assassination nation" and it was fucking terrible. great date.

reading the theory regarding the "venus of willendorf" being a self portrait as a 20-something year old and running into the bathroom to take my clothes off and look down at myself and having my mind blown. not just by how much i instantly understood it, but because of the tugging feeling on my heart when i feel that strand of history connecting women artists driven by that unknown compulsion to create for creations sake!

similarly, seeing artemisia gentileschi's work next to her fathers and realizing how much she outclassed him in every single way and feeling the tugging feeling again, but this time with a dark woe of realization of how history minimizes achievement and talent when it eases a narrative

reading jane erye's descriptions of herself and her approaches to her plights and for the first time feeling like someone had walked a path that i currently found myself lost on.

reading 1984 as a middle schooler and becoming so angry at the ending i threw the book across the room (something i had never done before and never did again in my life) and stormed out of my room to complain to my mom lol. IT REALLY UPSET ME!!!

reading les miserables for the first time and weeping piteously for days after the ending and having it impact my brain so hard it re-wired how i think about the concept of "legacy" and what it means to matter in the world and how love is nothing without the courage to stand up for it. and that mercy should, and will, always supersede unwavering justice (hard lesson to remember, maybe im due for a re-read)

sneaking into my parents room to read the books i wasnt supposed to yet as a really little kid lol. my mom used to get "dykes to watch out for" in a newsletter she was subscribed to! but i didnt read those bc they were dumb relationship comics for grown-ups. i wanted to read about opus the penguin and lee iacocca, as if i knew who that was. my mother's comic collection was the single most influential constant in my life. knowing that i was exposed to bill watterson's commentary about his own work via the big collections my mom owned probably explains a lot about what's wrong with me. but she also had a lot of berke breathed before he fully wussed out

the general experience of playing a video game that you arent supposed to/when you arent supposed to is probably one of the most freeing means of meaningless rebellion as a kid that everyone should experience. i used to be up playing pokemon past my bedtime under my covers with a huge heavy rubber flashlight i stole from the kitchen and had to replace every morning without getting caught once i was done with it. god, the days before backlit screens we had to get really fucking wild with it. in high school i would wake up at 5:00am, sneak into the computer room where the ps2 was and play an hour of FFX bc its the longest fucking non-persona game in the world, stop playing before my mom woke up at 6:00am and sneak back into bed. if i hit a part where i couldnt save i would just turn the screen off and come back to it tomorrow lol. secrets......

reading the "pictures for sad children" arc about paul, who is a ghost, finally losing it and going on a rant about how it has never mattered how thin a computer screen is. they were right and reading it helped me articulate and understand a growing feeling of restless frustration at the world around me that i felt singular and alone in. im glad that last i heard that artist is doing ok. i hope they recognize the incredible value in their work as imperfect as they perceived it to be. i do not think they would be happy to know that their old work was impactful, but i hope they realize that what people are able to tease out of their work is meaningful, at least to me it is. ill transcribe the comic rather than repost it i think: paul [while smashing electronics]: "have i told you about [bam] how nerds destroy the world take conspicuous consumption as a lifestyle choice and combine it with early hardware adoption and you have great swaths of gadgetry out of stock because they're incrementally better than the last model and there are landfills full of functioning electronics wasted time, resources, money, etc. the best part is that these things were never necessary it has never mattered how thing a computer is." [smash]

this is too long. i like art.

[hiiragi7]

Saw your post on "casual intersexism", and while they're all good points, I did have questions about one- the "casual use of the word hermaphrodite". I know that calling a human person that is both wrong and rude, but is it a word that should be avoided entirely, including in scientific/nonhuman context? IE, talking about hermaphroditic snails, made up alien species, etc. This is a genuine question, because I know any word can be used offensively in the right context... but is this one of those, or one that just shouldnt be used..?

It's... complicated. Everyone in the intersex community has a different opinion on this.

My thoughts are that if a species is actually hermaphroditic and that is the most accurate terminology, then in a strictly biological context it may be fine and I do not consider that to be "casual use" as it is used in a scientific context. However, there are also more specific biological words that may be both more accurate and more specific to what is being talked about, so be sure you're saying what you think you are saying and using the proper terminology if it's actually a conversation about biology. Too many people I see will claim they are using the word hermaphrodite to talk about biological features and then just use it completely wrong anyway. Due to this, in my opinion, the use of the word in this context should probably just mainly be left to biologists or people who are otherwise very educated in this area...

Also, if we are talking biology, hermaphrodite is not a "more scientific term" for intersex, they are not interchangeable and in a biological sense they are completely different concepts altogether, so please keep this in mind too. Way too often I will see the furry community or fanfiction writers who do not know this and will just throw around the word hermaphrodite as if it is just a biological term to describe sex similar to how female or male is used when it is not.

Related to that, I do not believe it is appropriate to call OCs or characters hermaphrodites. These are characters/species created from the mind of a human being and therefore are subject to human biases and stereotypes, and I have never in my life seen "hermaphrodite OCs" done respectfully, if they even can be. This may be related to how the character's entire biology is based off of a fetishized slur, but in my experience they are always stereotypes and always fetishizing. These characters are also anthropomorphic in a way in which calling them hermaphrodites is... extremely uncomfortable and absolutely fuels intersexism.

I am strongly of the opinion that anyone who is so drawn to the label of hermaphrodite as to use it in this way has some shit to unpack, because it is admittedly fucking weird to use a slur to define your character's biology or species.

This is just my thoughts as a singular intersex person, also. Again, this topic is one that nobody in the intersex community fully agrees on and you'll find a lot of different people with a lot of different opinions and it is worth listening to what they have to say. Don't just listen to me alone, I'm just a random asshole on the internet, find what other intersex people have to say too. We aren't a monolith and all that.