#nobody else understands that. i can see past everything and i see the shape of allof us and i want to talk to people about it so they

[itsalwaysdark]

my entire family thinks im crazy now . god . ok . anyways

[vidalsbeloved]

fly little bird, fly

Warnings: Reader gets injured, (that’s all I can think of lol)

Rio Vidal x Female reader

Words written: 2.2k

Chapter 1 : The Bird Flew Astray

1680

Darting through the woods away from Witch Hunters was the last thing you thought you’d be doing on a day like this, but alas you had to settle for it. You didn’t mean for this to happen, but someone from the village had caught you shapeshifting and reported it.

You had managed to escape your home through the window in your bedroom— but that didn’t last long, being as one of the townspeople had been walking around the outback. It was right there that you bolted, your navy dress rippling in the wind behind you.

You mutated yourself into a deer, your hooves thudding against the earth as you drove deeper and faster. It was an integral choice, better to help you drive further away than to draw back. Gunshots wrung the air around you, your heart pounding in your ears.

Of course, they knew it was you, the only deer out this time and day. There was no going back now, you couldn’t relive the moment, so you drove onward. Hoping that god or satin save your soul. Another gunshot wrung out, this time accompanied by arrows that flung past and overhead— and then, just as you focused your attention back on the path you were taking, a cobblestone wall, could be made out. You took your chance at the last second and before you could do so much as run into it, you shape-shifted into a bird— more specifically, the only bird you could think of at the moment. A swan. And flew upwards, into the sky, your wings working hard and overtime.

You could already feel the drastic change the shifting was taking on your body, the strain in your muscles. The way your wings began to quiver, but you pushed on. Flying higher and higher into the sky, over trees and land.

But still, the hunters pursued you— because you were a witch and they wanted you dead. You had known of the hunters close by, but you had never feared them, not until now. You could hear them from below, shooting up into the sky, calling out ‘Come back here, you devil.’ But you ignored them.

You knew you were a mistake— a mismatch in the very existence. You were never meant to be on earth or anywhere really, but here you were. It had taken you years to understand that, but no less did it ache your heart. Nobody wanted you, because you were everything that wasn’t human and everything that wasn’t human, didn’t want you.

You were not supposed to be here, walking the earth like it owed you when all you did was disguise yourself into something you weren’t. But that’s all you knew, you weren’t made, you were forged. You were a child of the devil, and someone had raised you from the fiery pit of hell.

You swiveled around arrows, dodging bullets and trying everything in your power to survive. One strike and that’s all it took to send you right back to your home away from home, one piercing bullet that would kill you in an instant. You may have been a shapeshifter, but that did not make you immortal. You would die one day just like everyone else, it just may take a little longer than most average human life. Being a shapeshifter meant you outlived your offspring, like you did. You had a sister once, but she had gotten herself killed. She was a witch, not you, but different. The hunters burned her at the stake. You weren’t close to her, so seeing her die didn’t have much of an effect on you.

Though you later mourned her, that was because you realized how utterly alone in the world you were. You got used to the feeling, but still every once in a while you felt an ache. A yearning to be seen, to be wanted. To feel an embrace so warm and welcoming— to understand that being different was okay and not wrong.

A sudden movement from below shooting up at you and piercing your skin grasps your attention. Being all caught up in your head had caused exactly what you feared, and now you were paying the price. Your wings twinged and then you were falling, panic gripped you suddenly and you desperately tried to get a grip and stop yourself from hitting the ground, but your wings wouldn’t budge, the pain shooting a hot shard of white pain down your back.

You heard the sound of cheering a distance away from the hunters and you were met with the sight of trees. The air shifting around you, suddenly to cool and dank. When your body collided with the ground, the pain only seemed to grow and suddenly you heard a tree branch snap and the sound of footprints. You tried to move, but your body hurt all over. You tried again, getting ahold of yourself, still in bird form, and managed to flip up onto your palmates, gripping the ground from falling over and looking around you for a hiding place. A sigh of relief washed over you when your eyes made contact with an underbrush— you bolted for it and tangled yourself with the plants surrounding it— taking advantage of your size to better hide yourself.

The hunters walked down the path and stopped, looking around for you. When they didn’t see any sight of you, they continued walking along. You stayed where you were for a few minutes longer, scared that if you made any noise, they would come back.

You slowly came out but stayed close enough to the underbrush in case the hunters came back. You don’t know how long you stayed there for when you heard a door opening in the distance, you looked up, and a green hooded figure came into view. You scrambled back into the underbrush, but not before her voice boomed out.

“Who’s there?”

Before you could so much as move to hide, the woman rounds a tree and locks eyes with your swan. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the mysterious green-clothed woman. She asses you, then cocks her head to one side, squinting, and looks to your injured wing.

“I know you’re not a sawn,” she says. “So you can turn back.”

You hesitate— how did she know? She rolls her eyes at you. Then adds, “There not going to see you, there’s a rune around this house that makes you invisible to the human eye.”

You ever so slowly allow yourself to come back to your human form and when you do, you realize that you are naked. You go to cover yourself with your arms, only to remember one of your arms is injured. You look down at your injured arm, you have an arrow between your ulna and radius. You feel sick looking at the sight and swallow, looking away and back to the woman.

She’s looking at you with peculiar interest as if she’s trying to figure you out. You look away again, shivering, your dark messy hair coming out of its bun and spilling over your shoulders.

She breaks the silence with an aggravated huff, “Are you mute?”

You shake your head and whisper, “I….” but nothing comes out.

“You’re an interesting, little thing, aren’t you?” she says quietly, then comes closer.

You tense as she nears. She must sense your uneasiness because she’s whispering next, “I won’t hurt you, I just want to see.”

She looks you in the eyes as she squats down in front of you and asks softly again, “Can I?”

She motions her head to your injured arm, you nod and release a shaky breath when her hands gently come to yours, lifting it to inspect the damage, you whimper in pain.

“You took quite the fall back there baby, I’m honestly surprised you’re still alive,” she says, looking back up to your face.

A hand comes up to brush away the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of your bun, her eyes tracing every curve she can find on your face.

“How did this happen?” she asks.

You swallow and stutter, “S— Someone from my village caught me changing form.”

The woman scowls gently, “You’ve got to be careful, sweetheart. These people could kill you.”

“You think?” You snap, then look away, ashamed of your outburst.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Her lips twitch up into a sly grin, “No need. You’ve been through a lot today, how about I take care of your little…” she ponders on her words. “misfortunate run in.”

Your lips quirk up at that— you nod and she pulls back just enough to remove her cape from her body and pull around your shivering form. When her skin makes contact with yours though, a jolt of energy runs down your back, gripping at the very essence of your life. You lock eyes with her and for a second you see her eyes flicker with something that you don’t understand until she moves to help you stand.

You get up onto your feet and wince as the blood rushes down into your toes, every fiber of your being aching from driving yourself too hard. She grips your shoulder tightly, steadying you as you move to take the first step— you feel yourself falling before your brain manages to catch up, but luckily for you, the woman catches you before you can hit the ground.

“Careful,”

You take in a shaking breath, nodding your head, and move to walk again. This time though one of her hands is holding your waist.

She leads you slowly to her little cobblestone house and opens the door— and you are grateful for the heat that clashes with your shivering cold form. You take in your surroundings as she moves to shut the door after getting you inside.

The space is small, the ceiling overhead, whirling with moss, that seems to grow with the exterior of the cobblestone. You bring your head down to look around your surroundings, between the space of her kitchen is a rocking chair by the fire and a bed settling up against the wall in the corner closest to a fireplace.

She leads you to the bed, settling you down before heading for the kitchen. She grabs a basin filled with water and a rag, turns back to you, and walks the distance to you. She settles down and moves to dig the rag into the water.

She looks back up to you and reaches for your arm. You flinch when the cool water touches your skin, but her grip seems to tighten.

“You’re a rare kind of witch, you know?” she says. “I’ve never seen or met a shapeshifter before.”

You swallow, “There aren’t any others out there.”

She locks eyes with yours, “What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one.”

She snorts. “Everyone’s got a story.”

You hesitate and look away. “There’s nothing much about me.”

Sympathy flashes in the woman’s eyes before she diverts her attention to the wound. “Can I at least get a name?”

“It’s Y\N,”

“Hmmmmm…. makes sense for such a pretty girl.” she winks at you.

You blush and look down at your lap, “What’s yours?”

“I’m Rio,” she says.

“Thank you, Rio,” you say softly. “For helping me. Rarely, I’m ever given such attention.”

For a moment, she pauses her work on your arm and looks back up at you. Her eyes squinted, studying you, but there was also a familiarity within them— an understanding. You feel suddenly drawn to her. You think that it’s because you’ve been alone for so long that now, potentially, you could just be desperate. But you then realize it’s something deeper, something so warm and fuzzy, you wish to know what the feeling is, you try to pinpoint it on every map in your head, only to come back empty.

It’s gone just as fast as it appeared, she looks back down to your arm and shifts it to get a better angle, propping it up with some pillows.

“I have an idea, do you trust me?” she asked.

You squinted, but replied wearily, “Yes.”

She smiled softly and lifted her hands. In a circular motion over the arrow, you see it begin to glow a dark green. Though it was still in your skin, you could almost feel as if it was shifting, but oddly enough, it wasn’t hurting.

“It’s a healing spell,” Rio says before you can ask. “Most witches use them with injuries. It mends skin and fights infection. In your case, it’s dissolving the metal.”

Your eyes widen and you look back up at her, “How is that even possible?”

She smirks at you and replies wittily, “Magic, baby.”

When you look back down, the arrow is gone. You turned your arm over and back in pure shock. You glance back up to Rio and she watches you with curiosity.

“You haven’t practiced much magic, haven’t you?”

You sigh. “I’ve had nobody to teach me, I’ve only ever had myself.”

“I can teach you.”

Your eyes widen, “Ooh no, you don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

You clamp your mouth shut.

“—But,” Rio started up, “it’ll cost you.”

You furrow your brows and ask, “What?”

“I’ll need something from you, something only you can give me.”

You swallow, your breath catching in your throat. “What do I give?”

“Yourself.”

“What?”

“Be mine.”

You contemplated her offer— you had been alone for years, and now here came Rio asking you to be hers. But at what cost? And why? You suppose it didn’t matter, after all, you were desperate.

She wanted you.

She wanted you.

“I give myself to you, Rio.”

She smiles slightly, “Please, call me, Lady Death.”

[bouncybongfairy]

Stress Relief

Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Aizawa offers you extra credit to tutor Bakugou for an upcoming test. Need I say more?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Oral Female & Male Receiving, Facial.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Sitting in your room and dissociating never felt so good. It was finally the end of the week and you felt properly chewed up and spit out. Muscles were sore and brain was fried, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. Emptying out your backpack and organizing everything on to your desk. The stress you were under was slowly chipping away at you. Hearing a knock at the door made your eyes roll, the last thing you wanted was to interact with anyone. Wiping the scowl off your face, you go to greet the unwanted guest. The feelings of annoyance quickly turned into insecurity once you saw it was Aizawa and Bakugou. Trying to casually fix your appearance as he began speaking in his monotone voice. 

“Hello, sorry I didn’t mean to come to your dorm directly but this is a time sensitive matter. Bakugou needs a passing grade on this next test, I’m willing to bump your grade up 5% if you agree to help,” he explains, making Bakugou’s frown deepen. 

“Oh of course, we can start right now,” you said, practically beaming. Having your grade pushed up five percent was a God sent gift at this point in the semester. 

“Wonderful, Bakugou, please try to be open to the tutoring,” Aizawa said before walking away. 

You gestured for him to come in, made you feel nervous watching him take in the room. All your posters and collectables are now starting to feel a little dorky. Not really sure what to say, you just sat in silence as he took in your room. You were pretty soft spoken and he was anything but that. It often worried you seeing how dark he was. It was so apparent that his anger issues were coming from a deep wound from the past. When all your friends would gossip, they talked about him with such vascularity and objectification was quite sad. As much as you tried to discourage this, there were times you agreed. The intimidating look he always had written across his face. The way his pent up rage came out during combat training. 

It frustrated you knowing that he could overpower you. Any time you were paired to spar, he always managed to out maneuver you. Pinning you to the ground or wall. As much as it affected the confidence you had in your combat abilities, it made you feel warm and fuzzy. The last time the two of you were sparing, he grabbed your forearm so hard it left a bruise in the shape of his hand. You stared at it in the mirror for a while, confused why you liked it so much. Running your fingertips over the purple and brown blotches. Thinking about the way he looked into your eyes when throwing you to the ground. Walking away with no care or regard for you physically or mentally. It made you melt even though you’d never admit it. The two of you were sitting at your desk, helping him with his English assignment; he was getting frustrated and you were enjoying it a little too much.

“That just doesn’t make any fucking sense. The assignment was to summarize the fucking article. I don’t have to talk about my feelings about it, it’s not even specified!” he said, raising his voice. 

“I could understand you don’t want to give your opinion on it but the teacher isn’t going to accept it until you do. You’re being ridiculous,” you huffed the last part under your breath. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, folding his arms. 

“Nothing, i’m just saying the assignment-” you started but became interrupted. 

“No, go on. Explain why I’m ridiculous, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows and grinding his teeth. 

“You are ridiculous. Are you so ignorant that you don’t understand how lazy you are? You act like academics is optional and that you can rely solely on your combat. Nobody else will, so I'll be the first to tell you: Thinking physical prowess will get you where you wanna be is stupid and delusional,” you say, starting to pack his papers up. 

“If anyone is stupid and delusional it’s you, we both know the real reason you accepted this little study session,” he scoffs standing up. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was implying. 

“Do you think I don’t notice you staring at me? Finding any opportunity to throw yourself at me. I can only imagine what runs through your head while you watch me. I have an idea by the way your cheeks flush and your pupils get wide. The way your body shakes when we spar. It’s stupid and delusional for you to think I'd ever want anything more than your body,” he said, now backing you against the wall.

You weren’t sure what to think, part of you felt like this was him showing his interest in you. Another part of you was worried he was just being cruel. Like he was stringing you along, trying to make you look desperate just to pull away.

“Interesting way to say you want my body, if you wanted me that bad you could just ask,” you patronize. 

“I wouldn’t have too,” he said, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you against the desk. 

You were now halfway sitting on the edge of the desk. Legs dangling off, separated by him grinding against you. Letting go of your hair, holding your face in his hands. The kiss was sloppy and wet, not being able to get enough of each other’s touch. You reached down and ran your hands up his back towards his shoulder. Lightly scratching down as he started kissing your neck. Nipping and sucking hickies on you, his heavy breathing giving your body goosebumps. Your hands begin to wander, fingers dipping into the back of his pants. Tracing all the way around, stopping when you felt his happy trail. He sits back on the office chair and stares you down. This makes you blush, sliding off  and onto your knees. Your body was slightly under the desk, he took your glasses off and set them down.. 

Genuinely being gentle, which made you feel more safe to be vulnerable and vulgar. Taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. He moaned softly as he collected your hair in his hand. Using the other to stroke your cheek and face. Eventually you start bobbing your head up and down. Looking up and watching his reaction, he huffs and grunts that pour out of his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed together and sweat started to bead on his forehead. Feeling him get harder and harder as things started getting more sloppy. His hands were getting rougher, both of them now laced in your hair. Helping fuck your head down on his shaft faster. Cursing and moaning, starting to buck his hips. Making you gag around and spit around his cock. He pulls you by the hair off him with a loud pop sound. Grabbing himself to smack and rub his tip against your lips as he tips over the edge. Covering your mouth and chin with his cum. 

Expecting him to be done but being taken off guard when he grabs your jaw. Bringing you to his level and smashes his lips against yours. Moaning into the kiss, being taken completely by surprise from how brazen he was being. He pulls away, a mix of saliva and his cum dripping down both your mouths. Standing up, he grabs your waist and lifts you on the desk. Sitting back down and spreading your legs, using his fingers to massage your clit. Moving down and eventually pushing a finger inside you. Bringing his lips down and starting to eat you out. Flicking his tongue, moaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers. Increasing the speed of both his hands and mouth. Stroking himself off, seeing you in so much pleasure was making his cock feel touch starved. Reaching your hands down and pulling and yanking. His hair was sweaty and you could feel him breathing hard against your core. 

You tried holding back your orgasm as long as possible, wanting to enjoy the pleasure before becoming overly sensitive. He pushes a third finger which makes you fall  over the edge. Feeling the walls of your cunt spasm and tighten makes him cum for a second time. Standing from his chair, rubbing his tip against your clit while continuing to finger you. Making eye contact as his warm cum covers your lower stomach. Resting your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath. He almost dozed off but eventually realized it was getting late. You were passed out, not wanting to wake you up, he carries you to the bed. Grabbing a towel and wiping you down. He didn’t want to go through your clothes, so he slipped his tee-shirt over you. Walking out in his tanktop, Kirishima gave him a side eye as he left your room.

[dragonologist-phd]

Six-Song Soundtrack

tagged by @herearedragons!! tysm, this was so much fun- i love playlist games, the hardest part is narrowing it down to just one song for each!

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following:

An event that defines your character's past

How your character sees themselves

How others view them

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

A major fight scene

End credits song

And since it's a playlist game, i gotta do it for my lovely beautiful bard!

Piper Soundtrack:

Blush - Dessa

Metaphor - The Crane Wives

Feeling Good - Nina Simone

All I've Ever Known - Hadestown Soundtrack // You're Not Going Alone - The rough & Tumble

Shatter Me - Lindsey Stirling, Lizzy Hale

Free - Florence + The Machine

(rambling about song choices below)

Blush - Dessa

I'll be Your favorite me Mostly carefree Laughs easily But what you can't see In my routine Is how hard it gets to keep the heartbeat clean ... I think I'm done up on the tight rope I want a love that feels like more than just survival

As a young woman, Piper possessed beauty, grace, and a gift for music. This combination drew the attention of Eliyen Ivaris, an elegant noblewoman who hired on the tiefling bard as a court performer, and soon became her lover.

Eliyen treasured Piper's music and beauty, but it soon became clear she wasn't interested in much beyond. Piper knew this yet stayed, nervous about leaving the security of her position. Finally, the day came when she could not stand to be stifled any longer, and she disappeared with a small fortune in stolen treasures. This relationship- and the consequences of her thievery- stayed with her for some time.

Metaphor - The Crane Wives

I've gotten good at making up metaphors I've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape And all these words are sweet and meaningless You can't trust a single thing I say

We know her as Piper, but before the Crusades she was Lark. Lyra. Cantrelle. Aria. She was an endless supply of names and stories, and she knew how to get by on nothing more than her golden voice and silver tongue. It was easy- she just had to become what people wanted, until the winds changed and it was time for her to disappear into another mask.

Feeling Good - Nina Simone

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel River running free, you know how I feel Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life for me And I'm feeling good

And speaking of masks- a song for the valiant Knight-Commander! The beautiful, free-spirited Azata, full of confidence and joy, bringing hope to the people and new life to the blighted lands!

The picture she paints isn't false... but very few people know just how much she's making this all up as she goes

All I've Ever Known - Hadestown Soundtrack

You take me in your arms And suddenly there's sunlight all around me Everything bright and warm And shining like it never did before And for a moment I forget Just how dark and cold it gets All I've ever known is how to hold my own All I've ever known is how to hold my own But now I wanna hold you

You're Not Going Alone - The rough & Tumble

You can stand there stricken at your old front door, Or shake the dust you swore you’d hold You may not belong here, anymore, But you’re not going alone

ok i did do two for this one! had to, sorry

First one is for Arue- her sunshine in the storm, the gentle, brave woman who fills Piper's life with love. She's still amazed they get to be together, and she wouldn't trade their love for the world

And one for Woljif! Piper's best friend; they understand each other on a level nobody else does, and they accidentally help each other become better just by being there

For someone who's been alone so much of her life, Piper can't help but feel blessed to have those two in her life

Shatter Me - Lindsey Stirling, Lizzy Hale

If I break the glass then I'll have to fly There's no one to catch me if I take a dive

This song specifically makes me think of Piper in the Abyss, storming the Fleshmarkets and freeing everyone she can, solidifying the change in her alignment from Chaotic Neutral to Chaotic Good. It's suitably dramatic and the violin here makes for some great bard battle music!

Free - Florence + The Machine

Is this how it is? Is this how it's always been? To exist in the face of suffering and death And somehow still keep singing? ... 'Cause I hear the music, I feel the beat And for a moment, when I'm dancing I am free

And this one just seems like a nice closing song! Very suited for Piper, especially as she embraces herself and her life, with all the good and bad that comes with it

if you actually read through all that, god bless. thanks for sticking around!

tagging:

@bugdotpng @dujour13 @camelliagwerm @mordred9971 @orime-stories

@first-talon @miseryscrowned @bladesmitten @big-cheesy-productions @arendaes

@bezelusbubulez @starlightcleric @vigilskept @thesolemnhour @ampleappleamble

@rollofleaf @adozentothedawn @undyingembers @thefathersbride @milesmentis

@serenbach86 @jean-dieu @daisymeade @kaleido-scope-lady

tag list here!

[nomoreusername]

The Bare Minimum

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:As other girls keep giving Aris a rough time you do everything you can to comfort him.

“You’re okay now,”I repeated, stroking his hair. He didn't say anything as more tears fell from his eyes. Despite it being hours since they had pushed him into the lake I could still feel him shaking and hear his teeth chattering.

“I don't know what I did,”He said through hiccuped sobs.

“You didn't do anything,”I promised, wrapping my blanket a little tighter around him as we stayed in the corner of my hut.

“I didn't even see what they looked like.”

“I know, love. I know.”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone, and I haven't done anything wrong,”He uttered, his voice straining from the past three hours of crying his heart and soul out, until there was nothing that he had left to give.

“I know.”

“Why doesn't anyone else then?”He mumbled.

“I don't know, but it's not your fault. Okay? Nobody chose to be here. You didn't choose to be here.”

“I can't take this anymore. I’m sick of them. I'm sick of everyone but you,”He whispered as I traced shapes on his shoulders.

“That’s not true. You’ve got Sonya and Harriet, right?”I reminded him. He didn't say anything as he pulled his knees to his chest while keeping his head on my lap.

“This place isn't my home. Not the way it's yours, and it never will be,”He murmured, resting his hands on my knee while remaining curled up in a ball.

“I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I’ll find us a way through the Maze. I don't know how long it will take, but it will happen,”I promised.

“Unless they kill me by then,”He mumbled.

“I won't let anyone hurt you.”

“You can't be in the Maze and in the Spring with me. Even if you could, you can't be there every second of the day,”He reminded me.

“Aris, I will be by your side every minute that I can. I won't let something happen to you. Do you understand?”

“You can't do that. You're just one person, Y/N,”He sighed as I pressed my hand to his cheek. Taking it, he fidgeted with my fingers, tracing his between mine and on my palm.

“I can try,”I repeated.

“I know you will, but that doesn't mean it will work.”

“Then, I’ll have to try harder,”I stated simply.

“Just don't blame yourself if it's not enough,”He whispered.

“You know me better than that,”I sighed.

“I do, but it was worth a shot,”He mumbled, still keeping my hand in his. Looking down at him, I let him go deep into his mind as I kept thinking about how I would handle this.

Right now though, wasn't the time to actually go into detail. He's here, and he's alright. A little shaken up, but he's alive. He's breathing and not covered in blood.

It may be the bare minimum, but right now it would have to be enough.

[linkspooky]

hello♥ I loved your and psycho's recent analysis posts about gojo after 236 because they made me realize I've kinda misunderstood him as a character for awhile. one thing I was wondering : how would you explain gojo's line about "nobody will have to be alone again" in the context of gojo consciously choosing to put a degree of separation between himself and others? and if he only fights for himself, why does he care about saving the youth of kids or raising the next gen of sorcs?

The answer to this question, like most questions with Gojo is "it's complicated."

Gojo himself says that he chose to draw a line between himself and others as living beings, and even if they loved him he never expected them to understand him. Yet, when talking with Shoko he says that he's doing all this so no one will ever be left alone again. If Gojo was the one who decided to separate himself from others then why phrase it like he was the one being left in the dust?

In this scene he's likely referring to Geto as the one who was "left alone" rather than himself. We know almost nothing about Gojo's childhood except for the three years of his youth in high school, because in story those are the only backstory details that matter to his present motivation. We're shown his high school days because his present motivation as an adult is all about what happened to him in his youth, that's what shaped him the most as a character. That's also what informs the audience about his character.

If Gojo's own springtime of youth had not been ruined, it's likely Gojo would never have worried about students or gone into teaching, if only because Gojo is not like Geto. He doesn't worry about ideology or right and wrong the way that Geto does. The purpose of Nanami's statement saying that Gojo only ever wielded Jujutsu for himself not to protect anything else, is to point out the fact Gojo enjoys being a sorcerer. It's the hardest job on earth for everyone else, but because Gojo is so untoucahbly strong for him it's a chance to flex his ability at the thing he's best at. Gojo enjoys being a sorcerer, and besides being dragged down by the burden of protecting weak people he likely would never have noticed what was wrong with society as a whole had it not impacted him and Geto.

As for his statement about never leaving anyone else alone, it's likely Gojo's attempt to try to understand what went wrong with Geto and the reasons for why Geto defected. Gojo doesn't worry about ideals after all so he can understand there is something wrong with the sorcery world, but not why Geto would risk his life for a completely impossible ideal. He just knows that something went wrong with Geto and in a year of Geto spiraling he didn't notice until it was too late.

Gojo's understanding of the situation is likely that the reason he wasn't able to notice what went wrong with his best friend was because of the sudden power difference between them. Geto even lambasts him for this, calling him arrogant for calling killing humans impossible when it's something that someone at Gojo's power level could currently do. Gojo therefore accidentally calling attention to the fact that him and Geto are on different levels now by pointing out that Gojo isn't strong enough to carry out his ideal of a world of only sorcerers.

Gojo seems to think where his friendship went wrong with Geto was when Gojo became so powerful that Geto could no longer keep up with him anymore. In general because Gojo has always been so powerful that being a sorcerer doesn't wear down on him like it does other people, he probably thinks something along the lines of if Geto had siply been stronger in the past then Geto never would have been worn down and snapped as hard as he did. It's Gojo misunderstanding a relationship built on empathy and understanding because he sees everything through the lens of being a sorcerer. At some point Geto stopped being someone constantly around him and started being alone, and Gojo's trying to rationalize why that happened through the way he sees the world.

I think Gojo cares about the youth for multiple reasons, number one he genuinely does believe in his ideal of protecting children because the three years of his schooldays were the only time he felt like a human being. Number two, a more pragmatic execution of his desire to change the world of sorcery. It's easier for him to start from the bottom up by changing the next generation. If he just slaughters everyone on top he'll be viewed as a tyrant and they might even team up against him and fight back against him. It's easier for Gojo who wants to exist in the world of sorcery, to try to work from inside. Youths are also easier to make as his political allies because (this is Gojo being really pragmatic here) they're more impressionable.

The last part is where he projects both himself and his failures in his youth onto the next generation, and is trying to correct those things. He had a year to seek out Megumi after hearing Toji's dying request and only did so after Geto's defection. Gege's word of god confirms he only took an interest in Megumi because he was a strong student with potential, but I believe he saw a lot of Geto in Megumi.

Before this Gojo says "but... it looks like me being strong isn't enough, I can only save those who are prepared to be saved." Gojo likely intervened earlier with Megumi, because he thought there was nothing he could do for Geto who had already reached what Gojo dubbed beyond a point of no return. However, he could still help someone who was in Megumi's stage who wouldn't refuse any help like Geto did.

However, Gojo's way of helping Megumi is misguided formed by Gojo's own misunderstanding. He tells Megumi to get strong otherwise he'll be left behind, because he believes part of the problem with Geto is that he simply wasn't strong enough to keep up with Gojo.

It's Gojo's central misunderstanding, he wants to have equals but he doesn't want to have to stoop down to other people's level or get off his pedestal so instead he seeks to bring people up to his level. If he could create a group of intelligent allies who were on his level, not only would he finally have someone on his level but it's in their best interest too because they wouldn't suffer Geto's fate.

If Geto had simply been able to keep up with him, Geto never would have gotten lost and his friend would still be here.

[raccoonfallsharder]

blackmail material (almost-smut for your monday ♡)

part three is so close to being done and i’m actually really happy with it. just had to shake off my commitment to my original concept/opening (will recycle that later or share as-is here).

⭑ read parts 1 & 2 (18+ only & mind the ao3 tags)

⭑ part 3 will be posted on monday, october 23

see behind the cut for a little taste though because mondays are rough and you deserve something nice.

“I wish everyone was nice to you,” you tell him frankly.

Rocket makes a scoffing noise, and then goes quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is measured. Careful. “Quill’s been getting on my last frickin’ nerve this past cycle.”

Since the Night of the Vibrator, you think. Your brow creases. “At least nobody else has said anything. Or have they? To you?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think they know. But Quill - he’s been giving me dirty looks for rotations now.”

You scowl. “I want dirty looks,” you say. “He’s been giving me these wounded-puppy stares and lecturing me.”

He snickers. “I was thinkin’.”

“Oh no,” you say lightly, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes. When he doesn’t go on, you prompt him with another little bump to his shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

You hear him make a sound with his tongue on his teeth, like he’s almost regretting saying anything at all. But then he speaks: a study in forced casualness. The words grind softly against the night-cold air, leaving little bits of gravel and frost-chips in their wake.

“Might as well do something to deserve ‘em.”

You grow still. It’s not so much a freezing - it’s just that the movement evaporates off your skin and everything inside you goes very quiet, like the wind dropped out of a blossoming branch. Slowly - carefully - you turn to face him. Your eyes strain through the darkness, searching, trying to find something in his face that you can read in the shadows. A moth floats between you and the passing light sweeps over him. His face is all carelessness - on the surface. You think, if you could see him more clearly, you’d be able to tell how much of it is a sham.

You hear him swallow, and yeah, that confirms it. Your heart aches a little for his uncertainty. You tuck your knees in and roll onto your hip. His face snaps toward you. This close, you can see him a little more clearly: soft and shadowed, but features visible. Eyes wide. You wait for a heartbeat - a pulse - then continue your path: slowly slinging one leg up and over his lap, giving him time to change his mind or shove you away. But he doesn’t, and you carefully rest your wrists on his shoulders: twisting one hand sideways so you can card through the fur on the back of his neck, and flexing the other one downward so you can slip your fingertips delicately under the collar of his jumpsuit. You avoid the metal buttons and bolts on his back, just stroking the top of his shoulderblade delicately. Your weight is balanced on your knees and shins, and from this angle, he’s eye-level with your breasts, their shape muffled by the soft folds of your loose sweatshirt.

His hands come up instinctively. You feel them fumble at your waist - then grip the folds of your sweatshirt at your hips, like he’s not sure what to do with them. Not for any lack of appetite or direction, you think. No - it feels like he’s still uncertain what he’s allowed to do.

If Rocket could see inside your pretty head, he’d be able to tell you that you’re right. Not that he would tell you that. But of course you’re right, he’d think. You’ve made it your silly mission to know him so well, to understand as many little pieces as he’s given you, and even more he’d never meant to drop along the way. And no matter how blind you are in the moment, Rocket can see you perfectly well. He knows exactly where he wants his hands: digging his fingers deep into the plush curve of your ass, getting his palms full of you and squeezing ‘til you whine. He’d already filed his claws two rotations ago, just in case he got fuckin’ lucky enough to get his hands on you again. A pipe dream, he’d thought at the time - but here he frickin’ is, grateful he’d done it anyway.

And now you’ve got your pretty tits in his face, just a layer of fabric away - maybe one of those pathetic little bras underneath, like it could protect you from his teeth if he wanted to get at ‘em. He can hear your heartbeat: a little throbbing thud drumming against your breastbone, picking up speed.

You tilt into him, pressing your soft mouth to the crown of his head, then curl at your waist and dip your face so you can drop another kiss at the corner of his mouth. He shudders. You reach into that glowing space above your solar plexus, and draw up all your courage like a shimmery champagne-silver filament of light. You spool it into the base of your throat and then thread it into your words, your voice.

“Okay,” you tell him. “Let’s do something to deserve them.” You fight to keep your breath steady, but it’s already shivering and silvered, soft as moth wings. You try to mask it with a wink. “All the dirty looks and woeful lectures.”

@evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

[open-hangar]

New Akkadian Lore Yushamin Ep. 22

SABBI VOLUNTEER RECORDS

باسم الحياة العظيم، عندما نجتمع معًا تحت النجوم اللامتناهية بأيدٍ وقلوبٍ مفتوحة

Name: Ahmad Dawoud

Place of Origin: [REDACTED]

Birth Date: [REDACTED]

Height and Weight: [UNIMPORTANT]

Assignment: Ashurbanipal Special Protection Unit [WHY ARE YOU ASKING] Unit Gim or anything else it’s fine

Etc.: Access is not limited. He’s good at his job, don’t worry about it.

Ahmad was always disappointed that the elevator didn’t have music. Elevators are supposed to have music, right? Cute, inoffensive songs that go in and out of your head while you’re not paying attention. Slipping through your mind while you assume it was always supposed to. He always appreciated that.

“Hey, computer?”

As the elevator the teen boy was riding slid ever downward, the computer that tracked everything gave a slight “beep” to acknowledge him.

“Can I get a little tune?”

“Invalid command.”

“Maybe ‘Spanish Flea’ by Herb Alpert.”

“Invalid command.”

“But not their version, a version with the lyrics. I always liked the lyrics.”

“Invalid command.”

“Gosh, you’re no fun. It goes like, ‘There was a little Spanish flea, a record star he thought he’d be,’ you know the rest, right?”

“Invalid command. Now arriving at [REDACTED BY SABBI]”

“Wow, they even redact the announcements. Oh well, open up please.”

The standard laser light show flashes through the inside of the elevator, and the computer claims, “One occupant detected. Provide identification.”

Ahmad playfully gives a show of patting his pockets and trying to find his ID lanyard before shrugging. “Oops, guess I forgot it in my other pants.”

A click. A whir. Another click. A few beeps that nobody has ever heard that computer make before. And then, suddenly,

“Khamala Habib confirmed.”

The teen snaps his fingers as he leaves the elevator, and makes a clicking sound with his mouth. “Thanks, baby doll. Stay sexy.”

“Invalid command.”

Ahmad had arrived on a section of the Library that a very small select few knows exists, and even fewer have clearance for. It is primarily an empty space which was once shaped like a massive egg, but now has been rebuilt and repurposed. Its sole use is to now hold the glass dome that contains what Ahmad only knows is referred to as the PCB, and must be eliminated for the good of the true inheritors of the planet. He, however, is interrupted by a loud gunshot.

Ahmad reaches around to his back, and feels the burning hole in the back of his shirt, and then sticks a finger into the new hole where his spine would be. He then checks his front to see if there’s an exit wound. Nope, the bullet’s still in there. “Well, now, that’s just rude.” He turns around to face his attacker and sees Rami in a cleansuit, holding a pistol pointed at him. “You’re not taking another step closer to that dome.”

“Rami, my man! My guy! You know I’d love to play those little adult games you like to play, but unfortunately I-”

Another gunshot, this time in Ahmad’s chest. The bullet slips past where his sternum would be and cleanly wedges somewhere where a lung would be expected.

The teen’s look of understanding, like most of his expressions, carries a bit of irony behind it, but this time it also carries a small hint of anger. “Yeah, I get it, okay? You’re angry that I seduced Waheeda when you had a thing for her. She’s way too young for you, but you know, feelings are feelings, right? So how about you quit wasting my time with those bullets.”

Rami’s bloated figure walks towards Ahmad, unafraid. “The bullets are laced with weaponized chargon. You’ll be dead soon.”

“No, they aren’t,” Ahmad replied with zero hesitation. “I know you ran out of weaponized chargon with Ptahil. Even if you brought in every Lanzer in the solar system and had them fart on me simultaneously, it wouldn’t stop me.”

Walking backwards with his eyes still on his former handler, he explains, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my genetic coding is telling me to let whatever’s in this glass dome out. Toodles!”

Rami’s mind raced. He had to find a way to stall him for a little longer, no matter what. “Wait, you don’t even know? You’re just going off instinct?”

“Heh, yeah! Duh, same as you, same as everyone. We all work our asses off to stay alive. It’s all to eat healthy food, sleep in a safe space, meet a good mate.” He then smirks. “Although in your case, that last one has some unique caveats.”

Another gunshot.

“Okay, okay, I’m done with the age difference jokes. Look, my point is that it doesn’t matter why I know that breaking your little glass dome is better for the planet. I just do. I’m sure you think it sucks for your little dead-end species, but it’s better for everyone else. Just lay back and let it happen.”

Rami continues to follow the boy. “But how do you know? What if what’s in there spells the end for you, too?”

Ahmad squints. “You’re funny. You think you can trick me with words. Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what’s in there.”

The adult sighs. This might be the only way to stop him. “Computer. Disable outer film.”

A loud beep cuts through the stale, empty air, followed by a curt “Confirmed.”

The glass dome’s glossy exterior shimmers and disappears, showing its contents. A single vaguely humanoid figure, glowing bright green with a purple interior. With the film gone, the entire room seems to fill with a burning radiation, and the walls glow bright with prismatic paint and etchings, filling the space with a blinding light.

“There it is. The Primordial Chargon Being. The origin of all life on our planet. And now that the film is gone, I can’t step any closer without throwing years of my life away, even in this cleansuit. Have at it.”

Ahmad could only look with astonishment. “Adam…” The figure seems afraid, almost cowering from him. It’s impossible to view any sort of emotion on the figure, but it definitely is afraid. The teen presses his hands against the glass, and begins to pound on it, weaker and weaker as his energy is drained away. He is rightfully confused, a simple manmade structure should crumple under the strength of any Uthra. “But…” He slides to the ground, tired.

The teen lifts his shirt, and sees his torso liquidizing. If one were to squint, they would likely see the squirming mass carrying his consciousness wither and die as they turn into puddles of waste chargon. With every death, Ahmad can feel it becoming harder to think, to focus, to understand what’s going on around him.

“We extracted the weaponized chargon from Aleph’s blood. We can rebuild everything, no matter how many of you keep coming. Mankind cannot, will not let you win.”

The dying Uthra could only chuckle as he coughed up what was blood to him. “Yeah, but I know how you are. Even if we give up, you can’t keep sleeping dogs lie. You’re sitting on a ticking time bomb… and you know it.”

His eyes close and open slowly, his breaths slow.

“One more thing, though… Do me a favor… Tell Waheeda… I really did want to try her cookies.”

Art by @nebularobo

[queermania]

I think you don't really understand what it's like to be an adult that grew up with your bodily autonomy repeatedly violated and in a situation of extreme psychological abuse. Those types of things warp your experiences when you're an adult. Sam had his autonomy violated as an infant and it colors everything that happens to him after. He spends the rest of his life trying to regain his autonomy and it's understandable that there are times he would want to give-up because that's how that kind of abuse warps your brain. He should be able to be open about that without having his autonomy taken away.

1. you are making assumptions about my life and my experiences simply because i have not come to the same conclusion about something as you have. but you have no idea what experiences have shaped the way i approach this issue. and frankly, it's a little insulting that you think you do.

2. your experiences and your feelings about those experiences do not change what is actually happening to you. they influence how you react to what is happening to you. the fact that sam had his autonomy violated at any given point in time does not mean that it's happening again every single time something bad happens to him.

3. there's this concerning view that a lot of sam stans seem to have that because sam was a victim when he was a baby, he is now and forevermore a victim in perpetuity. he has no personhood and it's not possible for him to ever have any agency. he is tainted and he's going to spend the rest of his life repenting for something that happened to him. and you know, i kind of get it, because that is clearly how sam feels about the situation. but that doesn't make it the truth.

and if that's something you relate to, that's great! it's wonderful to find characters and stories that we see pieces of ourselves in. but i hope one day you're in a safe enough place, both mentally and materially, that you are able to accept that a.) you don't need to repent for the things that were done to you b.) no matter what's been done to you (or even what you've done), you are still a person deserving of all the love and respect that everyone else is and c.) your past traumas do not absolve you from your current and/or future choices.

4. it sounds like you're implying that sam should be able to follow through on suicidal thoughts and it's a violation of his autonomy that other people (usually dean) prevent that. this is a very complex issue in the real world where a lot of people feel like they can't be open about their struggles for fear of being locked up (in places that absolutely do violate your autonomy) and i sympathize with that. but we're talking about a fantasy show where sam's suicidal ideations were the effects of what was more or less a supernatural curse.

and even if that wasn't true, i still don't think letting someone die because they think it's the only way they can ever make up for the things that have happened to them (or even the things they've done) is... okay? people deserve the chance to get better, even when that seems like an impossibility, and not letting someone take that chance away from themselves is not a bad thing.

now, if you want to talk about the state of mental health care in the world, let's talk about that. but you're never going to convince me that letting someone give in to their most self-destructive impulses is how you respect their agency.

5. i just want to reiterate that nobody is saying that sam's autonomy isn't violated at various points throughout the show. the argument was that it's not violated any more than any of the other main characters, despite the fandom treating it as a sam-specific issue. that's literally it.

[killuachii]

The fleeting feeling of unreached happiness.

Keita's pov

I was happy once. I was the happiest person that has ever existed. I was so happy that I couldn't feel any other emotion. But that feeling went away. Now I am nothing more than a shadow of the past. A faint memory. And if I'm being honest, it will stay like that for a while.

I don't understand who friend or foe is. I don't understand who my loved ones are. I don't understand anything anymore. The moment I trust, I will get hurt. But at the same time, the moment I don't trust, I hurt others. I can never win in a life like this. Are the feelings of others justified? Or are they just going with what the masses say? I can't help but put my words to pen and dedicate letters to each and one of my feelings.

To the happiness I have loved

I have always seen myself as someone that doesn't look good with sadness on them, so I tried my best to show people my happy sides. Maybe they will get happy too once they see me? I love to make others happy but would there be someone out there who would want to make me happy? That's what I have been wondering. Everyone deserves happiness and it shouldn't be something that you should earn first. I want to wake up with a smile and go to sleep with it. I want to live with that smile and die with it.

I got lost on the tracks and finally lost something that was very dear to me - the happiness I have loved so dearly. Now every moment I live is not livable anymore. Now everything has turned grey for me and I don't know if I'll be able to see the colours of life again. Right now I am just a waste of space. A waste of potential and a wasted life.

My loved ones are turning to shapes. I can't recognize them anymore. This is why I lost my trust.

To the trust that got away

Living a life for your own sounded great at first but soon I realised I needed people around me. People who I could trust, that I could love and support and do anything for them. But once my beloved happiness slipped through my hands, I let go of my trust.

I didn't know who I was and I didn't know who they were. Did they want to hurt me? Or did they really care about me? Everything in me is a riddle. There is no key for the lock in my heart. There is no sunshines and clear skies in my head. All that consumes me now are dark skies and chains. I feel captured. Captured by my inability to trust. Captured by all these thoughts that are mocking me. Mocking my being and anything related to it. I don't feel human anymore. When I look in the mirror I see nothing. There is no person looking at me anymore. I am met with words of disgust, words I never wished to hear.

This is when the fear in me started. A fear that is too heavy to put into words.

To the fear that consumes me

When I stopped being human, that's when the fear took over me. I can't recognize anything anymore. Who loves me and who hates me? Who will be there for me and who will just point and laugh? When times get rough who is the person I can count on? When I don't want to exist, who will tell me they need my light? These are the thoughts that hinder me from realising who is my friend and who wants me dead.

Would you miss me if I disappear? Or were you waiting for it to happen? Do you see me as a loved one or do you think of me as disposable? The fear won't let me think straight. I started to become afraid of everything. I am afraid of people, afraid of objects, afraid of myself. I am just a wasted human, I have no use in this life anymore and that's what I fear the most. As a wasted life it's easier to end it all - nobody would care regardless.

But could I ever do something like this to myself? Could I just end it all and release this damned existence?

To myself

I have loved you. I have always loved you and still do. Please never forget that. You are my light and my darkness. If you die, I won't exist anymore. I love you more than anything else and I am so sorry to you. When people don't see the wars you have fought, I do. When you start crying, I will wipe your tears away. Nobody knows your pain, but I do. And I love you for your pain, your fear and your happiness. Please don't kill the light that lights me up. I know it's hard but you are not alone. If no one is there, I will and I'll do anything for you.

I have loved you through so many years and many years to come. I will love you in your life and your death. Don't worry about things that lay out of your control. If they refuse to understand your feelings, I always will. I will wait for you happily. I will care for you. Just please never forget that if the world decides to hate you, I will always love you. The journeys we had, the fights we had, the pain we shared and the happiness we shared will always be embedded in our history together.

I believe that with you I can make a change. With you I will find happiness.

To the future

The future seems so distant but yet I can grasp it. I am sure that there will be good things ahead, I have someone I can trust again, someone I can love again, someone that makes me human. The world doesn't stop for me, it goes on and so will my life. If I keep spiraling in thoughts of unhappiness I will never be happy. I want to make a change. I deserve the life that has been taken away from me. I deserve to be happy.

There are still some steps I have to take to truly be happy. But the most important thing is myself. There is no one that shares the same pains as me just like myself. So I have to take care of us. Both my physical self and my spiritual self deserve to see a life behind all the darkness. Behind the fog that has been suffocating me. Nobody can give me the life I yearn for but myself.

I am thankful for myself and the ones that didn't get away. The ones that after all the battles lost could still love me and care for me. If no one else is willing to love me, they will and I am thankful for all of them. Thank you for seeing my light and believing in it.

∆∆∆

Hello guys! In this story we follow Keita through his own battles with his mind. At first he seems to struggle with the image of himself and labeling him as "a waste", who is unable to feel loved but after a while Keita realizes that the only person that can make him feel the love that he deserves is himself! He starts realising that there always will be a person waiting for him at home, even if it's just himself!

Thank you for reading! o7

[graph100]

is it just me or does gamedev youtube kinda suck? like, its all the most generic sounding people making uninteresting indie games and having nothing super interesting to say. like idk, maybe its just me. the only people who i really like are randy and miziziziz, but even some of miziziziz's stuff leans toward generic indie stuff, hes just different enough in attitude and method that i can watch him. everyone else just feels so samey.

nobody's doing anything that feels original. like yeah they all have their great ideas and such, but theres nothing interesting going on.

i have this theory about how we think about our creative projects. as humans, we naturally make categories for things. we do it for everything. it helps us process things. when we make art, we either start with an idea from a category or genre and expand from there, for fit the idea into a category or make something specific of that category. it feels like gamedev youtube is just making things to fit the "game" shaped hole

I kinda feel this way with indie games as a whole. like in the 2000's and 2010's all of the sudden it became super easy for individuals and small teams to make games, and they fucking ran with that. then later on in the 2010's and 2020's we formed this idea of what "indie game" means and started making "indie games", and its dragged innovation to a halt.

maybe im just salty because im super picky with what i like but i seriously think that there is so much more that we could be doing as a whole that a lot of people dont see.

I was watching this video essay about detention (a game by the same people who made that game that got banned because it had whinnie the pooh as xi jinping) and the essayist was talking about games that have similar energy to silent hill. he brought up signalis, and admitted that he thought the game was similarly good, but said that it wasn't as great because it was clear that it was inspired by/a spiritual successor to silent hill, and that detention fit his criteria for "silent hill like game" not because it tried to be silent hill, but because it was just as good as doing the same things as silent hill

this is where i think indie games fall flat; it feels like everyone is trying to make something like another game, instead of doing something new that is also great. I understand that inspiration is one thing, and that not all spiritual successors are bad, but it really leaves a sour taste in my mouth when I can really easily tell what the a game wanted to be, but didnt end up being.

I tried to word that kind of broadly, because not all of the games i dislike try to emulate one game or a specific set of games, but some seem like they try to emulate a certain style of art or game that they cant do.

I just thing that we need to learn to move on from the past and make new things that are great.

Another gripe I have with gamedev youtube is that they come up with game ideas that fit labels. whenever i see a devlog video they always introduce their game as a set of itch.io tags. I know this is good for like publicity or whatever, but their game ideas are entirely based around these boxes that we need to think outside of; labels come second.

Look at doom for example. It's possibly the greatest game of all time. When it came out in 1993, nobody called it like we did now because they didn't have the term "first person shooter". In ahoy's video on what genre is doom, he shows that it was advertised as a virtual reality action game. That term is wayyy worse at describing what doom is, but thats because doom was so different than other games.

rant over (for now)

[alittlefrenchtree]

Do you think Taylor's acting is good?

Omg i’ve been dying to answer to this question since I got it and I’m so happy to finally have the time.

I think it’s very interesting and layered so I’m going to try to be as coherent as possible.

For reference, I’ve watched, The Kissing Booth 2, The Kissing Booth 3, 1Up and of course, Red White and Royal Blue. I don’t plan to watch anything else from his past filmography but I’m looking forward for what the future brings for him.

Sooooo where to start? 

I met him with Alex, so let’s start with Alex. Unlike many, I was more pulled in and hooked by his performance than I was with Nick’s one. (Not saying Taylor’s better than Nick (nor the other way around), let me finish) 

I very much agree with Matthew (one thing we agree on at least 🤓) when he said that Taylor became Alex when Nick was carefully holding Henry and protecting him. Taylor was so organic as Alex I was almost immediately on board with him. For me, it was everything to do with the sincerity and heart with which he played him, rather than being an award worthy performance or not. It wasn’t perfect but it was perfectly Alex so it was good. And I suspect the very few of my issues with it would fall on the directing and the editing of it rather than Taylor’s work.

To touch a bit on the subject of Henry and Nick. I’ve danced around Nick’s performance a little bit more (with ups and downs) and I’m starting to understand that it was more because of who Henry is as a character and less about Nick’s acting. The performance is growing on me (Nick is also grown on me, so it also helps) and I have good hope that, if when we get a sequel, it would be even better on my side.

Getting to know a bit more of Taylor after that, I wondered if, the reason why he was such a good Alex was because Alex was mainly… Taylor with a few additions. Part of that is true and even if it doesn’t made the job particularly easier, it still asks questions of his ability to play someone who isn’t him at all (even if imo everyone can find an angle to every character but it’s another debate for another time). But there are few details in his performance as Alex that gives a lot of hope about his ability to be subtle about things. Like Taylor and Alex have the same kind of energy but he has adjusted it to feel more young than his own. They’re both confident but in very different ways. So even the things that are him, he has shaped them to be right for Alex. 

Outside of Alex, I actually like him in TKB2 and TKB3. It helps that the main couple of the movie is so dumb and nobody is actually rooting for them but it was really easy to take Marco side (his character introduction was the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in a long time) and Taylor was a good Marco. But it’s kind of hard to see if an actor is good with a role like Marco. You can see if someone is bad (so you can see Taylor isn’t) but it’s hard to see how good he can be.

1UP was basically useless, so we can’t say anything about that. I hadn’t even planned to watched it but it was about esport (or at least it tried to be about esport) so it got me extra curious but it has nothing in it so 😂 Taylor was brought there to be gorgeous and intolerable and he was gorgeous and intolerable so job done I guess? 

All of that being said, I think the most important part of his answer is that Taylor is just starting. He has just started and he has so little worthy to be judged on, it’s almost too early to answer the question. Like I was saying in a previous ask, a lot of how he’s going to develop as an actor will be up to the people (directors, mostly) he’ll be working with and I’m impatient to see the choices he’ll make.

Thank you so much for asking this question, I had a good time digging into my thought about this :) 💜

[cr1mson5returns]

Unpublished Excerpt: Leaving Catholicism Over Identity

Consider that you have an immutable, inherent quality about you that impacts everything about how you see the world, how you relate to others, and even how you relate to yourself. It can’t be wished away, it can’t be ignored, and it comes out at the most inopportune times when others feel inclined to judge and ridicule and make light of you over it. When you think about the future, it’s shaped by this quality; when you think about the past, it’s always been there, even if you couldn’t see it at first. You never chose this quality–indeed, it came to you quite like a personality trait or a cat dander allergy–but people insist that you can just not do the thing and that you should, in fact, not do the thing so that your eternal soul doesn’t suffer in flames forever. In all of this, you’re left wondering why it had to be you when you tried so hard to be good, to be something else, and yet it never worked. You could never shake that quality that left you so outside the norm, so outcast and othered. You wonder, silently, sincerely, if God even hears you when you cry out. You wonder most of all if everyone else is right about you.

This is what it feels like to be gay in a non-affirming church community. This is what drove me away from the Catholic religion. It wasn’t a desire to do bad things with no consequences, or a desire to rebel against my family, or any of those tropes. It was a sincere search of my soul in which I realized that I couldn’t just not be a lesbian, that I couldn’t just wish away all the parts of me that longed for the touch of a woman. I had tried for so long to be interested in men, I had struggled for years to just fake it until I made it, and I had to realize that it just wasn’t possible. Maybe other people could find a way to ignore some piece of themselves, but for me, it was immutable. It was non-negotiable. It was also something that, evidently, qualified me as worthy of eternal damnation unless I followed a very specific set of rules that nobody else had to follow.

I understand very well that life isn’t fair. Two suicide attempts and many years of non-suicidal self-injury taught me that life doesn’t grind to a halt just because you want it to, just because you can’t take it anymore. But something in me protested at the thought of being celibate forever. I wanted companionship like everyone else had the opportunity to have, I wanted to be with someone I loved and who loved me in return, and I was supposed to believe that was…what, sinful? That it was a disordered desire in the eyes of the Catholic Church? I couldn’t hack it. It wasn’t an issue of sin; it was an issue of being able to live with myself.

I’m also quite familiar with the red letters in Matthew 16:24 that read, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” It seems pretty simple from the outside, doesn’t it? Every good Christian has to deny their flesh; every good Christian has to take up their cross, and homosexuality is yours! But the unfairness sunk in, and the lack of compassion, and the true misunderstanding. I could deny my flesh for things that actually hurt me–and I know that because I had done it every single time I ever thought about taking a razor to my skin just to prove how worthless I really was. But wanting to feel loved, wanting to give that love in every possible way, wanting to grow old with a woman who cared about me…did that hurt anyone, least of all me?

Sure, there’s also the whole thing about sexuality existing for procreation. But nobody was stopping infertile straight people from getting married. Nobody was revoking the marriage licenses of couples who sought out fertility treatment, or adopted, or went childless because of the struggle. Besides, why was the sex I was having or not having the dominant point of the conversation, anyway? The thing about being gay is that it’s not just about who you want to bang; it’s about who you want to spend your life with, who you love, who brings you joy and receives the joy you put out into the world.

I had tried so hard to be anything other than homosexual. I really did. But it wasn’t happening, and it wasn’t happening because it wasn’t possible. Maybe other people could watch a piece of themselves wither away in hopelessness and be fine with it, but I couldn’t. Is that so sinful in the end?

[startrekfangirl2233-fic-recs]

Hangster Recommended Fic Masterlist

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Key:

❤️‍🔥 - Smut

☁️ - Fluff

💢 - Angst

🍬 - Sweet

📚 - Multi-Chapter

Slow Ride by @beccaanne814 ❤️‍🔥☁️💢 🍬📚

There was no denying that Hangman and Rooster had a history after everyone witnessed them sniping at one another in the Hard Deck. But what exactly happened between them…and when?

Been You All Along by @ravens-words  ☁️ 🍬📚

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Somehow, in a truly horrifying twist of fate, Bradley's mortal enemy became his daughter's favorite person. Or Five times Jake was his daughter's favorite person, and the one time he was Bradley's too.

Fuck You (I'm flattered, really, but no thanks) by @lovelybucky1 ❤️‍🔥(alluded to, ends with a bruising kiss)

using the prompt "fuck you." / "i'm flattered, really, but no thanks."

Baby You Look Good by soisserieux (AO3) ❤️‍🔥☁️💢 🍬📚

He finds his name and desk number and heads in the direction of his seat, only to stop short when he sees the guy in the other chair.

The guy is sitting there comfortably, with all of his shit unpacked, like he’s been there for a while. He’s got this old-looking Hawaiian print shirt on, and this mustache that looks like it came straight out of a trashy porno. And the worst part is, Jake can’t tear his eyes away. It’s like everything else happening in the lab suddenly came to a screeching halt, and he can’t do anything but stare at this guy.

The spell is finally broken when the guy looks up at him. “Do you need something? Or…”

Jake regains his composure and plasters a well-practiced cocky smile on his face. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need you to help me pass this damn class… Partner.”

It’s kind of dumb and Jake almost wishes he didn’t say it, but it’s too late to take it back now. He’s stuck with it, just like he’s stuck with this guy as his lab partner. Fate has spoken.

One of the guy’s eyebrows shoots up. “You’re my lab partner?”

Jake sets his stuff down and sits down in the open chair, sidling up next to his new partner. “Lucky for you.”

Living after midnight, loving 'til the morning, then I'm gone. by WaffleToaster (AO3) ❤️‍🔥☁️💢 🍬📚

Nobody expected that their actions back in the winter of '85 and beyond would have these consequences. A story woven from past mistakes, indecisions and loss that had helped shape his world and upbringing. But one thing was certain, Jake Seresin was born to fly. He knew that was where he belonged.

A slightly altered kind of retelling that includes Jake 'Hangman' Seresin being Iceman’s lost son, a story about revelations, love, loss, friendship and most importantly family. Where two rivals figure out they may not be so different from one another and their journey to understanding, unity, serenity and care. First by hating, then by loving and finally understanding and helping one another find a place they both deserve. Just not in the same order.

The story says OC but that only counts for some of the past event chapters. Eventually sticks to Rooster/Hangman. Tags get updated as the story progresses in order to avoid spoilers. Characters added as time passes by.

A Spotify-Wrapped Ficlet by @floydsin ☁️💢 🍬

From an Ask: 3 & hangster for spotify wrapped ficlet (starryinspace)

The Love Chicken by @hangster-hangout ☁️🍬

“My dad said he knew my mom was the one over a bottle of wine and the best roast chicken he ever had.”

“And now you’re making it for Hangman. So he can figure out that you’re the one.”

“Something like that.”

Bradley cooks for Jake. It goes even better than expected. 

softest hands to hold you (AO3) by @floydsin (ginnydear on AO3) 💢 🍬

“You aren’t the first person to think I’m pathetic and weak, something to be used and not loved.” or - jake's had some bad past boyfriends.

Bi_e_ual by tempestbreak(AO3) ❤️‍🔥💢 🍬

Teeth clenched, Rooster leans his forearm across Hangman’s chest, looming, eyes searching eyes. “What’s your game?” If Hangman is intimidated, he gives no indication. In fact, he seems to grasp what Rooster is asking immediately; that stupid smirk curls the sides of his lips as he raises his chin in challenge. “This isn’t a game, Rooster. It’s just life.” The smirk widens. “Well, life and death.”

are you thinking about me too? ('cause i can't stop thinking about you) by @thestarlitnight (AO3) 💢 🍬☁️

Jake doesn’t have a chance to make things right with Bradley before they part ways. But with the mission still fresh in his memory, he decides to take the risk.

Or, Jake and Bradley’s love story told through letters.

Or, the love letters fic.

i was enchanted to meet you (please don't be in love with someone else) by @starryinspace (AO3)  ☁️ 💢 🍬

“Your date bailed? On Valentine's Day?”

Jake flashes Bradley a toothy grin but there’s no warmth behind it. “Broke up with me, actually. Five minutes ago.”

“Shit.”

-

or jake gets dumped on valentine's day & bradley comes to the rescue.

[homo-rashi]

Roommates (Original Work) Ch 3.

The Favor (contains Omorashi)

Read it on my Ao3 here: Link

“That is so totally unfair!” August lays his head back into the plush cushion of the green common room sectional,

“You're right! It's totally not fair! You try being woken up three times a night by fourteen-year-old freshman who can't sleep and still wet the be-” Rowans eyes widen when August visibly tenses at his words. August tries not to look uncomfortable at the mention of anyone wetting the bed but clearly, that didn't work. “Sorry, What I mean is, It's fair to whoever would have been my roommate! Since I'm bunking alone, nobody else has to be bothered by my duties as an RA.”

“But you have your own room! You don't have to deal with a Max…” August brushes past the awkwardness, his need to complain about his last few night living with what he can only describe as a ‘caricature of an American bad boy’

“I have to deal with all thirty of my freshmen dealing with their own ‘Max’. Do you know how many physical fights I’ve had to break up already?” August shrugs, thinking about Rowan having to pull two Freshman off each other like two chihuahuas.

“If Max tried to actually fight me, I'd be a goner.” August thinks out loud. Max is taller than him by a good few inches. He definitely seems like he has more experience, just from the way he talks and acts and looks…

“Well yeah, he’s a whole year older than-” Rowan pauses picking at the bowl of half eaten popcorn in his lap, “Fuck, pretend I didn't just say that.” August immediately cannot pretend he did not just say that.

“Am I the only sophomore rooming with a junior? Why? Would that be a good enough reason to put in a roommate change request?” August immediately has his mind racing with possibility. The faint dream he had in his head of getting a roommate who was a gentle, queer, sciency guy who really liked plants and made their dorm room feel alive and wears little patterned socks with corduroy overalls, flutters in his stomach. The exact opposite of Max. His wardrobe is seemingly all black beside his school uniform. The room is decorated with monster cans and vape residue rather than carefully tended to greenery, and instead of waking up to sunlight, August has woken up to the RGB lights on Max's computer cycling randomly through what he calls ‘disco mode.’

“Max is a sophomore…He just was held back in seventh grade.” August mouth falls into a little oh shape, that makes sense for some reason. He doesn't seem like the type to actually care about school, Not that August really cares all that much, He finds it easy and studying relaxing. A good combo generally when it comes to academics.

“How do you know this? Does being an RA give you like…access to our files???” August asks, suddenly worried that Rowan knows about his water issue and the fact that he has been seeing a shrink since he was 10. Not that either of those things are less embarrassing then everything else he knows at this point, but he would like to keep some things private if possible.

“Oh god, no no no! I wish! I just went to the same middle school as him. He transferred into the class above me in the middle of his seventh year. Everyone thought he was so cool because we were poor public school kids and he was this bad boy private school guy. My friends all had a big crush on him until the next year when we ended up in the same class as him because he flunked or something…I don't really- Listen we have an understanding with each other, I don't tell anyone about that and he doesn't tell anyone that before last year I was a girl called Riley.” Rowan says the last part under his breath, even though They are the only two people in the common room at the moment.

“Is he really holding up his end of the bargain if he called you ‘manboobs’ to my face?” August frowns slightly, feeling like Rowan is getting the short end of the stick in this situation. Trusting someone like Max to keep a secret so big, that you're trans, is way different than a nice person like Rowan keeping the lid on the fact he did bad at multiplication in middle school…

“You probably won't get this but at the end of the day, in my eyes,at least he is calling me a man. I have been called way worse things by way worse guys” That doesn't make August feel any better,

“I-yeah, I don't get it because I'm not out to anyone really, except my Dad and that's only a recent thing…” August wants to help, but has no idea how. He isn't trans. He has never questioned his gender, He has never had a reason too. Of course he knows Trans people exist, but he has never known a trans person on a personal level before, and heard first hand what their struggles are.

“Wait? Really! That's great August! When did you tell him, how did it go???” August smiles slightly at Rowan’s sudden excitement. Seeing him smile after talking about Max for the past hours makes him realize how hyper focused on the whole roommate situation he has been, and that possibly Max isn't a great topic for Rowan.

- Beeeeeeep -

“Well,” August gets up at the sound of the washer finishing its last spin cycle, Rowan idly follows him into the laundry room, “My Mom and Dad just got divorced, or are getting divorced and when my dad found out that my mom…Cheated, He sat me down and was telling me all about how when I get married, and find a wife, or when I get my first girlfriend, going on and on about How I should not let what my mom did affect how I see my relationships with women…So” August pauses to start the loud dryer he just shoved his sheets into, this time having washed them first, thankfully.

“I just nonchalauntly corrected him when he brought up my future wife, by saying ‘or husband.” August smiles recalling the interaction, how his dad mirrored his words ‘or husband’ to which August replied, "definitely husband.”

“And that was it? He took it well?” Rowan asks, smiling wide

“I mean, We didn't talk about it at all after…but he didn't get mad so, yeah I'd say he took it well. What about you? Are your parents cool with…?” August asks, keeping his question vague seeing a group of guys walk past the laundry room door.

“Wanna go to my room? I don't think anyone is gonna actually steal your stuff, for the record.” August nods, admittedly, he has been curious about what Rowan's room actually looks like, being a single and all.

* * * Rowan’s room isn't that different from August's room except for two things. The first being everything is more open and spacious. The bed isn't lofted, instead being at a normal height and the tall wardrobe is replaced with a long dresser with a mirror hanging above it.

The second difference August immediately noticed in the inconspicuous door on the far left of the room that's slightly ajar revealing a private en-suite bathroom.

“You have your own bathroom? What about the one the teachers let you use?” August looks at Rowan, who is leaning down and pulling out two bottles of water from their red retro looking mini fridge.

“That was last year, when I wasn't an RA…why do you think I even applied to be an RA in the first place.” Rowan quirks an eyebrow up with a smirk. August takes the water bottle from him and takes a seat in Rowan’s desk chair adorned with a fluffy blanket.

“You asked me about my parents…” Rowan gets the topic back on track. August set his attention back to Rowan and not how incredibly jealous he is about the room situation. “I don't like anyone knowing that I'm the way that I am…but of course they had to know because they are my parents. It's just-” Rowan hesitates, August feels like what he is trying to say is difficult, so he lets him take his time.

“You don't have to tell me if it's hard to talk about…I know these things can be tough.” August offers him an out,

“That's the thing. My parents were so supportive! They were perfect! I-I don't want to sound ungrateful because I know how privileged I am but my mom specifically made me being trans my everything…Every holiday, some gift is white, pink and blue. Every time she tells me she loves me she has to specify that I'm ‘so brave for doing this.’ That's half the reason I begged to go to boarding school, I just-”

“Wanted to be a guy, not a trans guy?” August caught onto what Rowan is saying, relating to it in a way. “I've felt that. Back home, I had some guy friends, We weren't like close, they didnt know Im gay obviously, but I always felt like they were the guys, so close with each other and I would always just be ‘the gay guy’ even if I didn't tell them, It was obvious i'm different and was treated as such even in small ways…” August doesnt know why he feels comfortable telling all of this to Rowan, but He does, so he is going with it. Anxiety be damned, opening up like this feels better than any of his therapists have ever made him feel.

“You get it. Fuck. You know, I don't feel like that with you. I don't feel like you're other-ing me.” August smiles at that. He honestly was worried he had been acting a bit weird, not fully because of the trans thing, but a little bit, mostly because of his own embarrassment. “I guess I'm glad your parents got divorced.” Rowan jokes, earning a punch in the arm from August. “It's lonely being here…or I guess, it's been lonely, maybe now it won't be.”

August mirrors the sentiment. The first few hours in his dorm alone with Max after the first day was jarring. The things he would say to whoever he was playing his online games with certainly didn't make August feel welcome And he could only hear half the conversation, He could only imagine what else was being said about ‘fags and trannys’ on the other end. Regret seeped deep into his bones regarding the decision to up and leave his Dad and come here. Not to mention waking up the next morning with wet sheets, having to deal with his mess alone with nobody to tell him they would handle it and to go take a bath, like his mom used to, Feeling for the first time since he found out what she did, the need to just have her by his side, was rough.

Today though, he had Rowan who happened to stumble upon him in the laundry room, on the brink of tears because he forgot his student card that he had just loaded with money, the last of his pocket money his dad sent him for the month, in his room. Not the end of the world, but it was just building and building. Rowan offered to pay for it and for him to go shower while everyone was still asleep, without asking any questions or giving any signs of judgment. They sat and watched a movie on mute as the sun came up waiting for the laundry to finish, picking on a bowl of popcorn somebody left in the lounge last night.

“I gotta get back before Max wakes up, I don't want to have to explain why I was doing laundry in the middle of the night.” August jumps off the bed, not really wanting to leave the safe feeling of this room.

“Do you…? have an explanation, I mean? I-I don't want to pry like it's totally none of my business but if you're sick I can help you see the nurse.”

“It's not usually this bad!…I'm just stressed. It's an anxiety thing.” August says honestly. Because it usually isn't every single night, just once or twice a week. Usually. Sometimes…if he is lucky.

“Good ole’ mental health, Anxiety, gotta love her.” Rowan says, lightening the moon. August smiles and leaves, gathering his sheets and making sure the coast is clear before darting up the stairs as quickly as possible. He can now skip two stairs if he concertrains on not falling, greatly improving his travel time.

His dorm is just as quiet and peaceful as when he left it. The one redeeming quality of Max is that he is a very sound sleeper. August manages to make his bed without Max even stirring. He jumps back into bed with no intention of falling back asleep. The quiet of the room is interrupted not even a few minutes later by a harsh vibration against the wooden desk across the room.

August watches threw half open lids Max jumping from his bed and grabbing his phone, still pretending to be asleep.

“Yo-” Max's voice sounds different, deeper and laced with concern, “no. Fuck! I thought-” August is startled by the sudden yelling, He sits up and pretends to rub his eyes, making eye contact with Max instantly. “Just stay there! Don’t move. I have a plan.” Max hangs up the phone and immediately starts rummaging through his wardrobe, shedding his Pajamas without a care in the world that another person is in the room, August looks away out of respect anyways.

“I'm calling in that favor…” Max says sliding a backpack over his left shoulder, slipping his shoes on as he speaks. “I'll explain when I'm back but you just have to go with it.” August just nods, not wanting to protest considering a. Max seems pissed and b. He does owe him for saving his ass on his first day here. Max makes his leave quickly and August is left to worry the entire morning what exactly Max is going to have him do.

* * *

It’s dark by the time Max reappears in the dorm. August had given up waiting for him and spent his day organizing his things and finally calling his dad to tell him all about how wonderful boarding school is. The lingering thought of what he was gonna have to do for Max hung over his head all day. His imagination running wild. Thought of becoming a drug mule, causing his family even more shame then his mother has when he inevitably gets caught or worse, Having to fight someone for him. He would lose instantly. He would only hope he would come out of it alive thanks to modern medicine.

So when Max walks in the door with a second backpack on his shoulder, and a short, brown haired kid holding onto his arm. August was more than a little confused.

“Go. but be quiet and don't touch anything on my friend's side.” Friend? August quirks an eyebrow at Max who motions for him to come over. “You can use my computer but don't message any of my friends.” Max says before pushing August out the door and gently closing it behind them.

“Who is that?” August asks, seriously wondering if the kid is young enough to in fact be Max’s but deciding the math just doesn't add up, even knowing he is a year older.

“What does it look like, Its my fucking little brother.” Max sounds angry, But August can see the dark circles under his eyes and smells something strange on this breath, something he recognizes-

“Are you drunk?” He asks, pulling Max closer and smelling, And yes, He reeks of booze.

“Dont fucking smell me! What the fuck! And yes but- Fuck! Just Shut up and don't ask questions. You have to let him stay here.” For being drunk, Max seems to have a grasp on what he wants, August sighs,

“Why, What happened? Why are you drunk?” August is more than a little concerned. This is not what he signed up for, nor what he expected.

“Wait till the kid falls asleep, then we can talk- He needs food.” Max shoves his hands into his pocket and pulls out a wad of crumpled up dollar bills, shoving them into August's hands.

“Go to the vending machine. It's outside by the teachers' dorms and you can get whatever would be a good dinner for a thirteen-year-old boy.” August stairs down at his hands, then at his shoeless feet. Max must notice because he quickly shoves off his sneakers before returning to the room, August hears a click of the lock.

He slides on Max’s shoes cringing at how warm and sweaty they are on his sockless feet. He makes quick work at getting to the vending machine. Of course once he gets there he realizes it only takes student cards. Luckily after this morning, he is trying to make a habit of always having it on his person. He picks out some mini pretzels and cranberry juice. It was either that or Mini Oreos and a Diet Coke and that didn't seem like all the healthy of a dinner. He hides them in his pockets and stealthily makes his way back into the dorms.

He tries the handle and of course, it's locked. He knocks gently and hears nothing behind the door. He instantly worries that this was some sort of prank and Max just wanted to lock him out so his Brother would have his bed for the night, instantly he panics at that thought, because his brother might notice his special sheet. His worry is dampened when he door clicks open, and a small head peeks out the door.

“You’re Max's friend.” The tired voice says,

“I am, Can I come back inside? I'm not supposed to be out here.” The door swings open and moments later and August walks in, kicking the foul sneaks off into Max’s side of the room, just missing a bundled up pile of blankets and his stuffed shark on the ground.

“Is that your bed?” August asks, taking the food out from his pocket and handing it to the kid, who instantly lights up and grabs at the bag of pretzels.

“Yeah, I think this is yours, Max said you wouldn't mind if I borrowed him for the night.” August smiles at the boy holding the shark in his arms as he takes a large handful of the snack, August realizes the kid is small, for being thirteen. He would have thought he was seven or eight at most. August realizes he needs to know more and since Max, who he has since realized is passed out from the snoring filling the room, might not get a chance to talk to him without his older brother interfering.

“What's your name?” August asks quietly,

“Gray.” The kid answers casually, August is grateful Max did not swear him to secrecy as to not reveal anything to anyone, August sits down on the floor next to him.

“Gray, Can I ask why you are sleeping on our floor?” August asks, holding his tongue as the kid looks up, clearly deep in thought.

“Father was up all night again, so this morning he started early.” Gray says yawning into his drink,

“Started what, Work?” August asks, ignoring the weird feeling he gets from Gray addressing his dad as ‘father’. Gray nods his head,

“Drinking.” Augusts stomach drops slightly, thinking the dad must have a drinking problem, even though he shouldn't, his worry turn to the drunk roomates sleeping in his bed,

“And your brother…does he often drink like your father…?” August asks, but feel slightly guilty using this tired, clearly starving kid for this kind of information.

“No!” Gray suddenly yells, August lunges forward and puts his finger to his lips, pointing at Max, “Max doesn't drink! He hates alcohol, says it tastes like butthole. H-He had to drink with Father today, just this once. Father drinks more in company then goes to sleep, that's when he was able to sneak me out.” Gray says, August feels like more of the pieces have clicked into place.

“Why did you need to sneak out of the house?” August asks,

“Mom has been away for weeks at a conference in Europe, and Father doesn't like to cook or clean or help me with my homework when mom isn't here, so I called Max and he said I could stay here until mom gets back.” Gray says, crumpling up the empty back of pretzels and putting his hand out. August accepted the garbage and got up from the floor, throwing it into the garbage and getting into bed. * * *

“Hey, Pssst! Hey” August was awakened by the feeling of something pointy repeatedly jabbing into his back, “Psssst.” He rolled over at the persistent noise, to find himself face to face with a shaggy mop of brown hair.

“Gray?” August groaned, remembering the child that fell asleep on his floor, looking over at the windows behind his bed, it's still dark outside. “What's up?” August asks, sitting up from bed.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Gray said, in a whisper, August rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, Max was still sleeping face down in his bed, snoring.

“Did you try to ask your brother?” August asks, sleepy,

“Yes, but he won't get up, he is really tired.” August takes a moment for his brain to wake up, remembering Max’s toxic stench last night, he suspects he is even heavier of a sleeper because of the alcohol. August gives in, realizing Max isn't gonna be of any help, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, When he realizes, his pants are dry. Suddenly he is wade awake, patting the sheets as he scoots forward. He confidently jumps off of the lofted bed, feeling relieved, except, the hard wood floors sending a cold sensation up his body forces him to cross his legs.

“Are you okay?” Gray asks, already standing by the door with a pair of Max's slides slipped onto his small feet.

“Uh huh,” August says quietly, waiting for the sudden intense desperation to fade. He didn't wake up in wet sheets, because he hasn't pissed himself, yet…but he was close to doing it now. August looks to Gray, who was shifting slightly where he was sitting and decided he needed to pull himself together and get them both to the bathroom.

“Let's go, and remember to be quiet, everyones sleeping.” August said, pulling his thighs as far apart as needed to walk. Forgoing shoes all together because bending down to grab his slippers from his wardrobe would not end well with the current state of his bladder.

Thankfully, their hallways are empty. August can't imagine its past four in the morning. August can't imagine anything except for walking up to the urinal, pulling himself out just above his sweatpants and releasing the nights worth of pee that was once destined to be in his sheets. How amazing it will feel to have his pee go where it belongs, the warm liquid running down his leg- August brain lost if though is suddenly jolted to his current predicament, from a warm drop of pee running down the inside of his sweatpants as his foot took its first step down the stairs.

Immediately, August stopped. Throwing both his hands between his legs, letting out a painful whine, practically feeling his pee go back up inside of him. He would have let go completely if he didn't snap back to reality.

“Do you have to go pee?” August turns his head to see Gray standing behind him on the stairs with a confused look on his face.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” August could almost laugh if he didnt think it would cause him to lose the battle. A battle he is determined to not lose in front of his scary roommate's younger brother.

“Come on, let's hurry then. It's not good to wait till the last second. Father always yelled at me and Max for doing that when we were little.” August doesnt have time to react before Gray is grabbing his arm at the elbow, forcing him to keep walking down the many flights of stairs.

August is grateful while cleaning earlier he decided to put on his darkest pair of gray sweatpants because by the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs going at Gray's pace, a wet patch the size of a grapefruit is under his hands, but it's not that noticeable. August takes over leading the way, making the fastest turn of his life and walking his way down to the bathroom, hunched over, just trying to make the final stretch.

August goes in and Gray turns right, towards where the showers are. August wants to just ignore him, run to the urinals and then help the kid find his way, but he decides against it,

“Gray! The stalls are over here.” August yells, and waits a few seconds. Gray comes running back,

“Oops,” He says, walking fastly past August and going into the first stall that comes into view. August thanks every god imaginable he chose a stall and not the urinal. The door at least will create some sense of privacy.

August walks up to the urinal and relives his earlier fantasy, pulling himself out, although it's not exactly the same considering everything down there is a lot wetter than he was imagining it. He waits a few seconds and nothing happens. He can hear the sound of Gray fussing about with something in the stall and he can feel his body wanting to lock up, but he pushes down on all his muscles. He was about to piss his pants walking here and now his body won't go? He won't allow it.

“Please?” August begs under his breath, a small trickle erupts into the urinal, but it doesn't continue. “Come on.” August says to himself, a little louder.

“I'm almost done, sorry…” He hears Gray yell from the stall, immediately, he feels a sharp pain in his stomach, A cramp, his body is fully locked up.

“It's okay, I mean, Take your time.” August yells back, pulling himself away from the Urinal and turning around. The sight of it makes his insides feel like they are twisting. He shoves his hands back between his legs, tears coming to his eyes. It's painful. He almost just wishes he could lay in bed and fall asleep, if it meant he could pee.

To make matters worse he feels ridiculous. He can't pee because a single person is in the bathroom? That single person being a kid who isn't even paying attention to him? He wants to scream but he doesn't, seeing as a toilet flushing filled his ears, followed by Gray, emerging from the stall, adjusting his basketball shorts. He turns on the water to wash his hands and August has to bend forward again, to keep it all inside, He knows he is losing time, but he can't go here, his body has made up its mind and it would take way too long to take a shower and try to make his body go from the water. August realizes he has one choice but he doesn't like it.

“Why do you look like you still need to pee?” Gray asks, August didn't even realize the water had shut off,

“I-uh, Can you stay here, I need to go get something in the common room. Don't move. I'll come back and we can-'' August cant even finish his sentence, He is bolting out the bathroom door. He feels himself leak the second he is out of there, his anxious brain already feeling safer outside of the deemed unsafe to pee room that you're supposed to pee in. Within seconds he finds himself in front of Rowans door, frantically knocking and dancing where he stands.

“Hello, what's the problem?” Rowan says sleepy, August cant even feel bad for waking him up,

“Please!” August says through his teeth,

“August?” Roman finally opens his eyes slightly, “What's wrong? Did you forget your student card again?”

“No, I-Can I use your, ah, Im- Oh-” August cant even speak. He can only dance, with both his hands between his legs,

“Oh my god, Yes, wait!? Is there something wrong with the main bathroom? Oh god, it didn't flood again did it?” Rowan looks out past August down the hallway, blocking his way into the room.

“Rowannnn!” August groans, feeling a large, uncontrollable jet of piss slip past his iron tight grip. “Oh- I'm peeing!” August screeches, pushing past Rowan, It's not stopping, He can feel it running down his legs, He feels it on his feet, knowing its leaving a train behind him as he finally makes it into the bathroom. He doesn't see a urinal, but a toilet with the seat down. Not having time to put it up, not trusting his ability to aim when he has to go so badly, He rushes over, pulls down his pants and slams himself down on the toilet.

“Fuck.” He feels tears fall from his eyes as his body fully unlocks, warm piss pooling around his ass- “Oh no, no no no.” August looks down to reveal his blue and green plaid boxers, still on as he is viciously peeing through them.

“Uh, Everything okay in there?” August looks up to see Rowan, standing at the open door with his hand over his eyes. Still peeing, knowing the mess he made outside, leading all the way to the toilet, there is no hiding this one.

“No. uh ... I might need your help, give me a second though.” August cringes as he says it, feeling like a little kid who didn't make it to the potty on time. He slowly lets his body empty at its own pace, not watching to risk using any of his muscles down there to speed things up, in case they get the wrong signal again and lock up. When he finally finishes he stands up and awkwards pulls his sweatpants off of his feet, feeling how wet they are. “You can come in.” August says quietly, the slow creak of the door hinges follows.

“What happened?” Rowan says, walready grabbing a hand towel from the rack by the sink and throwing it onto the ground, dragging it with his feet to sop up the pale yellow trail of piss on the tiles leading up to August.

“It's a long story.” August says, not wanting to look Rowan in the eyes.

“Does it start with why there is a small child sitting on my bed?” Rowan asks, and August immediately looks at him, Eyes wide, all embarrassment temporarily forgotten.

“I-He, its- I can explain!” August says, His life flashing before his eyes. How Max is going to kill him for getting his stowaway caught.

“You can explain after you get changed, You can borrow some of my sweatpants, do you need boxers too?” August looks down, then back at Rowan,

“I'll go commando, but uh, a laundry bin for my..” August points to his lower half. Rowan nods and disappears into his bedroom before reappearing with a pair of black sweat pants and a plastic hamper.

“Take you time. I'll take care of the kid.” Rowan says, closing the door. August breaks the second he is alone. Thinking how this was far worse than being caught with wet sheets...

[000life-is-meaningless000]

Society is Dead, in the past

life was sacred but in the modern day era life is not sacred and humanity is wild completely obsessed and insane with lust.

you can go anywhere on the internet human beings have lost their collective minds and see nothing wrong with lust if nothing wrong with it and pedophilia is starting to tick up and popularity some way somehow ?

🙁

I don't understand, it . . .

😡

we no longer have a society of human beings we have a collection of mass.

they may have human Souls but they're so riding so corrupted and so corroded those that the vast majority of people on this planet Are Not Human they're humanoid they're so fucking corrupted they're not human anymore they like these fucking monsters they know they've lost their Humanity long time ago I wonder if they were even human most are fucking life they could have been human for just a couple of decades or a decade and a half and then after that they turn into fucking monster's, when a human becomes that fucking corrupted they're no longer human they lost their Humanity they still they still reside and have the shape and the image of a human being but have no Humanity not everything that looks human is human.

they are monsters, they're obsessed with sex they're obsessed with lost they're obsessed with greed they're obsessed with envy they're obsessed with every deadly sin existence they're obsessed with everything they're all so obsessed with twisting all truths taking everything out of context, obsessed with fighting & pinning as many red flags on other people as possible & people have Gone batshit crazy for Pride !

people are egotistical as fuck and proud I'm not even a fucking Christian and I can see this shit everywhere people have lost or collect a fucking minds and many people actively worship the Beast !

in the past worshiping the Beast was just a rebellious thing to the church because they were insufferable pricks and they were everywhere

they did everything they could to control your fucking life they were horrible they suppressed everything in culture and they try to do everything they can to take control of your life seeing you and attack you as much as possible but then again they were that also would Cause so many Denominations of Christianity to splinter off from each other !

another thing I want to let you know is that, ever notice how truth and intelligence is never popular in society only the stupid shit I'm not even saying conspiracy theories because they're not necessarily A Bad Thing conspiracy theories often are proven right it's always the dumbest shit that is popular with the masses which always proves that the masses are fucking stupid !

the Earth is fucking flat is so fucking popular it just proves that Humanity has lost their mind both insanity and intelligence and in wisdom

the vast majority of humanity no longer has any three of those things and now they don't even have fucking dignity or honor

Society is dead and the reason the faculty that that the humanity keeps speeding up constantly polluting the Earth and in massively all the companies every one of the obsessed when chasing an artificial resource called money nobody cares about anybody else love is 100% fucking dead nobody gets a fuck about anybody else people are doing ungodly things that children all the fucking time

children die in a record rate now not because of thickness or disease or famine but because of people wanting to kill children sacrifice them throw them in the fucking ovens stab them with knives experiment them with with drugs they go Missing 411 they get killed and organ harvested & Andrea Chrome !

we don't live in a society anymore I don't even want to call it a mental asylum we live in hell I mean we quite literally live in hell

Earth has become Tartarus there is no more Society Society died a long time ago it died around the time when the internet was being created

people do drugs and massive people have no shame people are proud people are boastful people are this people are that people scoff of God people are atheist people are profane people look at all things spiritual and stupidity people look at the intelligent the wise they look down upon that piece of shit and treat them as so

people constantly tell the intelligent to kill themselves the wise to kill themselves the religious to kill themselves and anybody who's who's actually a decent person they just trashed them as much as possible people hit them with paragraphs of literal pure insults

shit talking as much as possible hitting them with much hate mankind no longer has love in their heart all they have is hate

the entertainment of mankind is not telling stories bonding over a campfire watching TV the entertainment of Monday era is virtually murdering each other in Mortal Kombat or some kind of PVP player versus player which is really just violence against another person and the person who kills the more people in the video game is the winner

😡

HOW THE FUCK IS THAT ENTERTAINMENT !?

we live in a society that really loves to play as much player versus player content in front of you they want to make you as competitive as possible to attack other people there's no more love there's no more Bob there's no more uniting among mankind there's no honor in society is no sanity there's no respect and there's no fucking shame

but then again people will love to shame normal everyday things people love to shame constantly though people have no shame for acting bad but those that act bad have no problem with shaming it when I was around them for everyday normal fucking things

if all societies corrupted all the corporations are corrupted all the government's corrupted it's not that the government is evil is that humanity is corrupted

Humanity has gone bad, JUST LIKE THE FUCKING BIBLE WARNED US

I'm not a Christian but the Bible is right I'm not a Catholic and I still know the Bible is ironically right I didn't think the Bible was anything more than a stupid book of fables and hear the Bible is completely right constantly I never understood the Bible and now I can see the Bible was telling the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth

🙁

most of my life I knew the Bible is bullshit now I know I was full of shit and the Bible with nothing but true shit

Real Shit, the Bible never spoke no bullshit

🙁 . . . . . 🙏🏻

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I RAN OUT A LINK SPACE

😡

So, Now !

I'm just going to fucking post that damn thing from the Bible !

Zephaniah 1:15

That day will be a day of wrath— a day of distress and anguish, a day of trouble and ruin, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and blackness—

Zephaniah 1:17 

New International Version

“I will bring such distress on all people that they will grope about like those who are blind, because they have sinned against the LORD. Their blood will be poured out like dust and their entrails like dung.

THERE ARE MANY OTHER VERSIONS OF THE SAME TEXT ! ! !

New Living Translation

“Because you have sinned against the LORD, I will make you grope around like the blind. Your blood will be poured into the dust, and your bodies will lie rotting on the ground.”

English Standard Version

I will bring distress on mankind, so that they shall walk like the blind, because they have sinned against the LORD; their blood shall be poured out like dust, and their flesh like dung.

Berean Standard Bible

I will bring such distress on mankind that they will walk like the blind, because they have sinned against the LORD. Their blood will be poured out like dust and their flesh like dung.

King James Bible

And I will bring distress upon men, that they shall walk like blind men, because they have sinned against the LORD: and their blood shall be poured out as dust, and their flesh as the dung.

New King James Version

“I will bring distress upon men, And they shall walk like blind men, Because they have sinned against the LORD; Their blood shall be poured out like dust, And their flesh like refuse.”

😐 - Humanity, You Fucking Deserve it !

I post this picture here just in case you don't fucking believe me

😡 - THE PROPHECY IS NOT DONE, READ THE REST OF THE PASSAGES !

Zephaniah 1:18 

New International Version

Neither their silver nor their gold will be able to save them on the day of the LORD’s wrath.” In the fire of his jealousy the whole earth will be consumed, for he will make a sudden end of all who live on the earth.

New Living Translation

Your silver and gold will not save you on that day of the LORD’s anger. For the whole land will be devoured by the fire of his jealousy. He will make a terrifying end of all the people on earth.

English Standard Version

Neither their silver nor their gold shall be able to deliver them on the day of the wrath of the LORD. In the fire of his jealousy, all the earth shall be consumed; for a full and sudden end he will make of all the inhabitants of the earth.

Berean Standard Bible

Neither their silver nor their gold will be able to deliver them on the Day of the LORD’s wrath. The whole earth will be consumed by the fire of His jealousy.” For indeed, He will make a sudden end of all who dwell on the earth.

King James Bible

Neither their silver nor their gold shall be able to deliver them in the day of the LORD'S wrath; but the whole land shall be devoured by the fire of his jealousy: for he shall make even a speedy riddance of all them that dwell in the land.

New King James Version

Neither their silver nor their gold Shall be able to deliver them In the day of the LORD’s wrath; But the whole land shall be devoured By the fire of His jealousy, For He will make speedy riddance Of all those who dwell in the land.

😡 - GOD IS, NOT ! ! !

FUCKING AROUND ! ! ! ! !

😡 - THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT THE EARTH IS GOING TO END UP LOOKING LIKE, LITERALLY !