#not that I want the people I cared about to be miserable

[my-castles-crumbling]

fire - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 1367 (whoops)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest.

Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Not only was the whole thing infuriating, but to make matters worse, it was also freezing outside. The September air was chilling him to his bones, and he could feel his body screaming for shut-eye. It was his definition of hell.

As he stood shivering, a tall, dark-haired, tan-skinned, hazel-eyed boy walked up to him and offered him his coat with the most obnoxiously beautiful grin he’d ever seen.

Too cold to play stupid games, he just hissed, “Fuck off,” and turned away.

As soon as they were all allowed back inside, Regulus curled under his blanket and fell asleep, keen to put the whole miserable experience behind him.

-

No such luck.

It took one week before the alarm went off again. This time at 1:19am on a Thursday, he found himself trudging down the stairs and into the cold, cursing himself for once again being too sleepy to remember a coat.

So furious that he was about to scream, he didn’t see the same boy walk up to him right away, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“I brought you an extra,” the boy grinned, making Regulus’s frozen knees melt as he offered him the jacket.

“Do you make a habit of giving your clothing to strangers?” he bit out, giving in and grabbing the offending garment, immediately throwing it over his shoulders. He figured if he was going to be harassed, he might as well be warm while it happened.

“Only the pretty ones,” the boy said with a wink, walking off and leaving Regulus both pissed off and flustered.

-

The third time happened only three days after the second, and Regulus bit back a scream when the alarm roused him from his slumber. At this point, it felt like a pattern, and he was at least smart enough to grab the oversized, frayed, horrifyingly maroon, disgustingly warm jacket he’d thrown over his desk chair three days ago.

He was only outside for a few minutes before the boy walked up to him again, looking completely comfortable in the frigid night.

“So, do I get to know your name?” he asked, sending Regulus the same stunning smile.

Frowning, at both his current whereabouts and the way his stomach flip-flopped, Regulus scoffed. “I don’t know yours.”

“James,” he answered easily, kicking at a random rock on the pavement. “Now, I’ve given you two things. It makes sense that you should give me one, yeah? Only fair.” And he batted his long eyelashes, making Regulus nearly choke on his spit.

He pretended to ponder for a moment, getting ahold of himself, before rolling his eyes. “No,” he said shortly. And he walked off.

-

“What about your major, then?”

Ten days. It took ten days before the alarm was pulled again, and the school had started sending out cryptic notices threatening consequences for the party responsible. But still, Regulus was here, in the parking lot in the middle of the night, sending a death glare at James.

“Why does it matter?” he asked with a huff.

“Because people tend to care about their majors,” the taller boy shrugged. “And I want to know what you care about. Mine’s education, by the way.”

Education. It fit, strangely. James’s sunshiny disposition warmed the surrounding air even during the cold night, and his smile seemed like the type of thing that would put kids at-ease.

Regulus sighed, giving in. “English. With a minor in creative writing,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Hmm. That suits you,” James replied vaguely, smiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “And your name?”

He thought about it for a moment, but at this point, it almost felt like he would be giving in to some sort of weird, unspoken battle if he shared his name. And he had to admit, talking with James passed the time during these stupid evacuations. “No,” he answered, sending the boy a smirk, heart skipping a beat at his own nerve, and turning to find someone else to speak with.

-

It became a game. Every time the alarm was pulled, James found him. He asked him questions, and Regulus answered every one, shocked at the way James listened. It was actually nice to talk to someone who seemed genuinely interested. He hadn’t made a lot of friends on campus, yet, and James felt…safe. But every time James asked his name, he refused, grinning as much as James did, before sauntering away.

-

One cold night in November, though, he couldn’t sleep. Stress about classes had his mind going wild, and anxious energy flooded his body. So, he decided to take a walk through the dorm, to clear his head. He drifted through the floors and halls, no destination in mind, when he happened across one of the more-quiet areas of the building. This area happened to have a fire alarm in a dark corner of the hall, almost hidden in shadows. It was as he turned a corner to this spot that Regulus saw a hooded figure slowly approach the alarm, arm outstretched, intentions clear. 

Eyes wide, Regulus watched as the figure pulled the latch and began to run, turning and smacking right into Regulus.

“Ouch!” He cried out, nearly falling over.

“Fuck!” The person yelled, losing their balance as well.

And then the hood fell. And Regulus would have recognized those hazel eyes and that beautiful hair anywhere.

“James!?!”

The other boy looked terrified, mouth open, his body frozen in place. He uttered a few syllables as if he was trying to form words, but no sound came out. Scoffing, Regulus grabbed his hand and led him down some nearby stairs and out the emergency exit, alarm still blaring overhead.

When they got into the quiet, freezing air, he turned to the taller boy. “It was you?” he hissed, resisting the urge to slap him across the shoulder. The amount of sleep he’d lost in the past two months was abhorrent. “Why?”

James grimaced. “Well…the first two times, it wasn’t! But, y’know, the first time you didn’t have a coat…”

“I remember,” Regulus frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. And…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So the second time, I just…grabbed my old one. And when you took it and you looked so…” James gestured to Regulus, eyes wide, cheeks pink. Regulus blinked, trying to understand. Was James saying he looked good in his jacket? “…I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I just…”

Regulus gaped. “You’ve been pulling the fire alarm to see me?”

“It was only supposed to be a one-time thing! Just to get your name!” James defended himself, looking almost scared. “I didn’t know how to find you, and I just….you have to understand, you’re fucking stunning, you know?”

Blushing furiously, Regulus sputtered, “That’s…well, that’s not…”

“But then you wouldn’t tell me your name! So I had to keep pulling it, you know?” James explained, a desperate look on his face. Like it obviously made sense why he’d been breaking the law for two months. “...Just until I found out.”

He blinked several times before biting his lip. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to get to know him before. It was stupid, and risky, and idiotic, and so damn romantic.

“My name is Regulus,” he sighed, wondering if he’d regret this. “I live in room 743. And if you ever pull that damn alarm again, and wake me up, I will never speak to you again. Understood?”

James grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Your name is as beautiful as you are, by the way.”

Regulus could only sigh. What had he gotten himself into?

I also posted this here if you want to go give it some love!

[velvetvexations]

It's amazing how quickly I've started seeing triggering shit. I thought it would take a little while for things to really start moving, like, that it'd take a bit of time for them to cut the ribbon on the first death camp, but no immediately it's this and this and this. Truly inescapable now.

If you ever said the words "99% Hitler" unironically I hate you worse than the fascists themselves, honestly. Fucking rich idiots living in your safe blue states. Virtue signaling clout-obsessed motherfuckers. Vapid superficial morons who couldn't care about a single other person in their life depended on it. You will always be more personally offensive to me than than any MAGA guy because they're the way they are and there's very little we can do about that, but when did you become this miserable, disgusting thing you are? Were you always just wearing the skin of progressive values or did the light in your eyes go out when you realized how popular contrarian politics are? Tankie motherfuckers want so badly to be the ones cannibalizing their neighbors like in the Cultural Revolution but they know that's never happening and are just grifting to fuel their endless egos.

I'm sorry, this is just going to make my life like, a regular hell, and I already struggled so badly with depression and a million other things, it was so hard just dealing with things on the state level. I saw something about Meta's new hateful content policy* and I'm kinna going insane at the level of dystopia we're entering when things looked so bright and hopeful just ten years ago. I want to compare this to the past and how we lived through that, but even back when I was a kid and queers were outsiders we weren't being targeted this extensively. Being on the margins was better than being dragged out into the town square and publicly executed.

And already people are like..."well Trump only mentioned trans women" like hey does it...does it feel good to see something like that and then immediately run to your favorite dying social media website to weaponize it against other queers? Do you realize that's what you're doing? You're using the brutalization of your "sisters" as a cudgel because you've decided other trans people are a good target to soothe your insecurity and puff yourself up, and when you do talk about stuff that actually harms us it's purely to use as a sword in that bullshit crusade.

I don't know how to end this post. I'm scared and exhausted. I want to die but I'm just going to go back to bed instead and listen to this six hour Signalis video and pretend that nothing else exists.

*don't talk to me about it

[xjulixred45x]

Jjk yanderes (gojo, choso, Nanami.. etc) with darling who just doesn’t give a damn about them being a yan. Like the yandere can kill someone or be extremely clingy, and the darling is just like 🤷‍♀️ cool who cares. Like they just accept it and continue, not rlly caring about how bad of a person their yandere is to other people, as long as they’re good to darling. If yan is extremely clingy, or “nicely” pressure darling to move in with them, darling is just like “ah okay 🤷‍♀️ free rent ig”

I live for willing darling supremacy

Yandere Satoru Gojo/Kento Nanami/Choso Kamo x Darling who dosen't care that they are Yandere

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, unhealty mindset, overbearing behavior, overprotection, darling is willing and is totally okay with Yandere being Yandere

Choso Kamo

• AWWWW CHOSO IS DEFINITELY THE BEST YADERE ON THE LIST.

• Not only is he a respectful Yandere who won't do anything Darling isn't comfortable with, but he's so damn sweet it's almost diabetic.

• In general, Choso is the most likely to have a willing Darling, because Choso probably doesn't even fall in love with a “normal person” in the first place.

• Most likely a curse user, for example, or with a strange ability that makes them socially rejected. Precisely generating a mutual empathy that evolves into something more.

• In Choso's case, he has never seen REAL romantic relationships before, he has no idea how to approach his romantic interest, so he ends up showing his affection in unorthodox ways.

• Like, for example: watching them in the middle of the night as they arrive home safely and without problems (if so, he will happily get rid of the problem).

• Give very personal gifts or bizarre gifts (that may or may not be stained with something red).

• Even going so far as to kidnap the reader if things get bad with the Curse users and he needs to “protect” them more closely.

• Choso genuinely doesn't realize how creepy and unhealthy all of this is, he rationalizes and justifies it with his own young mentality. He does not do it out of malice, it is genuine love, but tainted with misdirected actions.

• For the same reason, he doesn't even see anything strange in the fact that the reader is chill with the whole kidnapping. Just because it's the first time he's done this, was they supposed to react differently?

• Choso is so hungry for acceptance and affection that when the reader gives it to him without reservation, he simply melts and can't handle himself anymore. He had wanted this for so long and he didn't even know it.

• Choso is loving, he respects his Darling's wishes and tries to get them to act like his version of a “normal” couple.

• Probably the only Yandere on this list who would listen to the reader's recommendations and ideas, precisely because he knows that they have no malice. And like I said before, Choso prioritizes his partner's comfort above everything else, so he takes their opinion very seriously (LEARN SOMETHING GOJO)

• The most emotionally intelligent of the three, ironically. He is the oldest of ten children and is definitely good at comforting Darling. Always with open arms and dry shoulders.

• Protective at lethal levels, he will not blink to kill large numbers of people if they come between him and Darling.

• In general, he doesn't realize it at first, but it doesn't like it affects him in the long term. He knows reader is his and he is of reader. Forever.

Kento Nanami

• He is suspicious, A LOT.

• Nanami is one of the few self-conscientious Yandere in JJK, who at the same time takes a RIDICULOUS amount of time to finally take the next step in approaching his Darling and hitting it off.

• And when he does, it takes a STUPID amount of willpower and conviction for him not to simply push reader out of their life, even though reader is clearly miserable, Kento knows they would be even more so if they lived with a monster like him.

• But to his surprise, it is READER who keeps looking for him, it is READER who wants to talk to him and stay in touch. It's like they completely ignore all the red flags that Nanami shows every time they are together (overprotection, jealousy, even violence)

• By the same token, he finds it difficult to believe that anyone GENUINELY is okay with the kind of attitudes he has proven to have OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

• When Nanami demands (politely) that the reader move in with him, he expected to have to resort to some manipulation tactic, to have to make the reader feel OBLIGED to do it, but the only thing he encountered was a “Okay, free rent”

• I MEAN???

• You can't blame the man for feeling confused.

• Nanami tries to give his Darling more space than Gojo, but at the same time he is so overprotective that it almost seems the opposite. He is able to put cameras in the house, have the reader wear an ankle bracelet when he is traveling, do regular medical checkups to ensure they are not sick, etc.

• Also Kento will not allow any item that could be useful for the reader to harm themself, putting a lock on the knife cabinet, putting razors out of service, even not allowing shoes with strings (in more extreme cases)

• HE DOES ALL THAT AND THEY HOPE HE'S NOT SUSPICIUOS???

• However, when Darling tells him why, it puts it a little more into perspective.

• Reader is not with Nanami because he is harsh and demanding with everyone, reader is with him because of how delicate and sweet Kento is with them, how he is patient with them, how he tries to improve their day, whether by bringing them food or trying to be emotional, how he cares for them.

• The reader doesn't care about others, they only cares about KENTO. And Kento doesn't care about others, he only cares about Darling.

• From here on, things improve, Nanami is no longer so paranoid, the reader gains certain freedoms by showing that they is genuinely voluntary (like being able to go out with Nanami, go shopping together, etc.)

• It is a new domestic environment, much calmer and happier.

• Nanami's Yandere tendencies are even taken down a notch. After all, why be jealous of someone who is already yours? Obviously he will take good care of them, but he knows he can trust them and they can trust him.

• They are a mutually twisted couple. But they love each other, at the end of the day. That's what's important.

Satoru Gojo

• Oh, he's ENJOYING this like you have no idea.

• I think the ideal Darling for this scenario would be someone who has had a bad time in life, someone who has hardly experienced love. Quite the opposite, Satoru, for the same reason he felt as attracted to the reader as he did.

• Some of them did it out of obligation, saving the weak, no matter how exhausting it may be, however, the reader ended up finding it more and more… more interesting. More intoxicating.

• He expected fighting, screaming and crying. But instead he was simply met with acceptance, resignation, indifference to his advances. Like they didn't care how obviously HARMFUL he was.

•Although, Gojo is self-centered enough to believe that his Darling loves him even if they doesn't, so by acting on his expectations they is only inflating his massive ego.

• I think he would be the only Yandere that no matter if the reader is voluntary or not, he is still one of the worst to have.

• Although of course, it's not so bad for a reader who is okay with it.

• Gojo is a very affectionate Yandere who is very erratic and definitely likes to have his “partner” around to ensure that they are within reach. Under His protection and control.

• With a willing reader, Satoru would be slightly softer, as he doesn't even think that this could be a trick, he can see through them after all.

• That means, more gifts, more pampering, and after a certain time, more freedoms. It's not a big deal, it's just walks to the park or in the car. But this reader has many more privileges, such as internet access, more space, etc.

• even Satoru tends to listen to them more because he knows that they do not “play”, because he respects them more than if they were involuntary (in that case he would probably look down on them to determine dominance, but here it is not even necessary!)

• As time goes by, Gojo would even start bringing Reader to his workplaces, simply because he can't keep his hands to himself, he is just confident enough that Reader isn't going to run away, and what do you think? They don't!

• If Satoru ever hears the reasoning behind why the reader stays with him, he would partly laugh, he honestly thinks it's funny that they only does it for the rent and being alone.

• However, this can quickly evolve into anger at whoever has hurt the reader in the past. With Gojo, no one gets away with it.

• He's a jealous Yandere, even if he's sweet and cuddly, he's always VERY close to just killing the entire mall every time they go shopping for new clothes. It's the custom.

• Fortunately, it seems that the reader knows what they've gotten themselves into, so I wouldn't worry about them, I'd worry about anyone who has done something to them in the past, because now they have some kind of nuclear bomb for a boyfriend.

• Good luck!

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

I'll update a little later bc i'm with a new medication for the Anemia thingy, but not worry! I'll still take Requests until about 10 of febraury.

I'm kind of missing taking Request of forgoten fandoms in the blog(like Voltron, Slugterra, Dororo(Tahomaru My Child), ahhhhh, the good Old days)

[noxturnalmoth]

Repentance

Summary: Repentance: n. the action of repenting, sincere regret or remorse.

Hurt, overworking and miserable, two souls find one another and fates intertwine even when they are worlds apart. How can one deal with the guilt of wanting something they cannot have? And why does going against the very principles you have imposed upon yourself feel so good?

Warnings: violence, crude language, themes of guilt, suicidal ideation, depression

Word Count: 5, 793

Masterlist: here

Chapter 1 - Erring in the City of Iron and Glass

Please gods above, don't take him away from me too.

Please lords above stop this massacre, let my people live, haven't we gone through enough?

"Go! Leave!"

"I can't! We stay together!"

"Just fucking leave! You'll end up dead!"

"I'm not leaving without you!"

Your voice screams, the is air scarlet and heavy with smoke, the sky is painted with burning flames as the stone beneath your feet is stained blood red.

Littered with corpses.

Children, men, women. It didn't matter to Piltover, Zaun and its people didn't matter to Piltover.

You never did.

You run after Hekarim, your older brother, your only family. But he is so much faster and your strides could only hope to match his as he marches into the fray like a Noxian soldier into a battlefield.

Please gods above, don't take him away from me too.

Please lords above stop this massacre, let my people live, haven't we gone through enough?

The smell is enough to make you heave, burning flesh, gunpowder and chemicals, the smell of death.

"Don't leave me!"

"I need to, they need me!"

"You'll die! I don't want to be alone! Mom and dad said-"

He turns around, tears carving through the soot and blood marring his face. "Mom and dad are dead! They're gone! They have been for so long now!"

"You're all I have left! Please don't do this!" You cry out, finally catching up to him as he slows down, your knees giving up from under you as you hold him.

His arms wrap tightly around you, shielding you from the world crumbling around you. "If I don't fight for our freedom, then I don't fight for you. And I'll be damned if I can't strive for a better life, if not for me, if not for Zaun, then at least for you. Our people are fighting out there, and I can help, I need to do this little bird."

"I'm old enough Heka, I can fight!"

"If you don't survive, then I'd have fought for nothing. We finally have a chance at making a difference, I can't let it go to waste. As a Zaunite and as your brother."

Your shoulders shake, his do too. His hands cradle your face softly, his eyes raking over you as if to ingrain the sight in his memory before his forehead gently touches against yours.

The Zaunite symbol for love, a kiss shared to those you love most.

A goodbye.

Please gods above, don't take him away from me too.

Please lords above stop this massacre, let my people live, haven't we gone through enough?

You claw at him as he leaves but your body is too weak for you to rush after him like before, the smoke erasing his silhouette all too soon as you crawl. Bile rises in your throat as you scream for him, shadows of your people falling like flies illuminated by the flaming bridge.

The bodies are piling up, surrounding you in a grotesque painting of mangled body parts and broken spirits. Yells echo in the air, yours, theirs, the enforcers', all swirling into an unintelligible cacophony of hatred, pain, fear, disgust and..hope.

Hope for a better future for Zaun.

Hope for a better life.

"Please!" Your people echo. "We are as deserving of a good life as any of you!"

Yet the pleas of Zaunite souls are ignored by the gods, the deities looking down, mocking your pitiful attempt at fighting for freedom.

Your legs shake, your balance all too troubled by the overwhelming scenery.

There it was, the proof that the lords above didn't care.

No, they didn't give a shit about any of you.

Neither did Piltover.

Neither did the rest of Runeterra.

Zaun was alone in its fight.

And you are now alone too. The last of your family taken in a conflict that should have never been, in a situation that could have been avoided if not for the greed of those in blue and gold.

You are terrified and all you can do is stand straight as you quiver in fear, watching the massacre happen.

Yet a noise you don't recognize resounds in the loudness of the battle, your own. A war cry, choked by tears, making its way out of your throat, ripping it to shreds as you rip a metal pole from a brethren's corpse.

Please gods above, don't take him away from me too.

Please lords above stop this massacre, let my people live, haven't we gone through enough?

You run into the fray.

Fire burns your lungs, licks at your skin, and the blood covering you becomes wet again. The dried metallic essence fueled with life again as you bash an enforcer about to hurt a child.

"Run!"

And she does, her pink haired companion nodding at you in thanks.

You're gonna find your brother.

And if I don't then damn it all, I'll die here fighting too.

The gods don't hear you, they haven't for a long time. So you'll take the matter into your own hands and make them hear, make them see.

Bullets fly by you, piercing you with crimson lances of white hot pain, batons strike your young body, leaving trails of indigo while you soldier on. And you bash and bash, hiding behind the Piltovan forces before you skewer them, hiding between corpses so you can crack their skulls open, rage blinding your vision while you roar again. As loud and as hot as the flames that seemed to come from the river itself.

You have to.

Please gods above, don't take him away from me too.

Please lords above stop this massacre, let my people live, haven't we gone through enough?

This pain is nothing, it's nothing compared to what you're about to lose, compared too all that Zaun has lost at the hands of the ones topside.

As if hell had opened itself up and you were about to be swallowed.

It's unfair! Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why?!

Bomb explode as your eyes watch a life drain because of you. You're a murderer now, you haven been since you entered the fray to fight for your people.

But so were they. Them in their ivory towers, them in their navy uniforms, them from the other side of the river. Them, them, them.

It's all their fault.

The loud bangs sound closer, yet so move forward. Only stopping at the sight of your brother, the man that raised you for most of your life after your parents died in the god forsaken mines Piltover has caged many of your people in.

It seems as if he's dancing, dancing the dance of your people. A dance of rage, of hurt, of hope. Yet you know he's fighting, not for his own life but for your own.

So your dead vocal chords cant help but let out a pathetic sound as the enforcers surrounding him beat him into submission. His body crumples yet he remains straight, even when brought down to his knees.

"Hekarim!"

His head turns and his look of horror turns turns wide eyes as a bullet is shot through his head.

Please gods above, don't take him away from me too.

Please lords above stop this massacre, let my people live, haven't we gone through enough?

Then his body hits the ground, like many others around you. It ragdolls with a thud, crumpling to the ground lifeless.

Yet instead of the chaos you've been in for god knows how long since the revolt began, everything stops. Noises muffled, sight blurry and draining itself of every color. Every one of their eyes trail to you. Their filthy eyes, soulless and angry.

Then it all hits at once.

Kha nas xera.

I hate them. I hate them all.

Your throat doesn't make any noise when you yell and cry, stumbling over yourself as your rage moves your body like a puppeteer, pushing you to rush forward and attack. It doesn't make a sound as you're punched and kicked, as you claw at the men in navy blue.

It doesn't make a sound when they set off a grenade next to you.

Neither when your body is projected onto the stone fences bordering the bridge.

But your bones do.

A sickening crack overpowering every other unbearable noise when your back hits takes the blunt of the shock, a sharp breath burning your lungs with the flames surrounding you. Your mouth tasting blood, smoke and salty tears as you slump down with the other corpses.

You're gonna die. You're gonna die alone and you couldn't do anything else.

Hekarim had been right.

He'd fought for you and you've still gone and fucked it all up.

And now you'll be swallowed by the gaping maws of hell while the gods above get their entertainment.

You've been foolish, stupid, reckless.

You've been foolish and now you're paying the price.

"Wait for me in the abyss, Heka." Your soul calls out to one that has been long gone. "Mama, papa, I'm coming." One last tear escapes your eyes, the loud screeches surrounding you rolling over you one last time before they're drowned by the sound of your slowing heart while your eyes close.

Please gods above, take me away too.

But I beg of you let my people live.

"-llo?"

Janna, is that you?

"-ello?"

Have you finally come to protect us? After you've abandoned us to pain and misery?

"Hello?"

Wait, you're not-

____

"Hello! Runeterra to the bartender, anybody home?"

Your head snaps up.

You rub your blurry eyes, the first thing coming into view being a familiar mop of magenta hair, powder blue eyes concerned and gentle as you emerge from your thoughts. Warmth seeping through your shirt from the person's hand shaking your shoulder hurriedly.

Then comes in the cozy dark green wallpaper and mahogany hardwood floors that you've grown used to these past few years, scarlet curtains framing small booths carved into the walls. Chairs and tables arranged in a way you've memorized, carved in your mind's eye after years, and a cold, scratched, oak counter top beneath your arms contrasting with the warm touch nudging you awake. Next to the pink haired girl stands dark brown haired woman, her tan skin looking soft in the warm lights of the bar as her grey eyes observe you with worry.

Finally come in the rest, the smell of leather and alcohol, tobacco lingering at the forefront of it all. The sound of music emanating from a jukebox in the corner of the room.

"You're good, kiddo?"

A low feminine voice attributed to the older woman rings as you blink away the last of tears you haven't noticed were flowing freely from your eyes like rain from the heavens.

"Yeah, you've been staring at the wall, crying for the past ten minutes."

Only ten?

It felt like an eternity.

But then again, time is different in hell.

You shake your head with a drawn out sigh as your hands wipe at your face hurriedly, getting rid of the last of your daydream and its traces on your face.

"Oh yeah, my bad girls. What were we talking about again?"

"Oh hell no, we're not skimming past that dude." You groan at the scolding.

"Vi, really, I'm good. C'mon, you're gonna get on my ass for being distracted now Miss Darcy. I'm just a bit tired is all."

The girl looks at you unimpressed, her famous "shut up" look craving through her face like a chisel through marble. Yeah, she wasn't taking any of your usual deflection today. And Sevika neither by the looks of it.

"Really, I just think I've been working a little too much lately. I just need to rest."

"Bullshit, we both know you won't." Grumbles the taller lady, slipping behind the bar counter, next to you, before she cages you against the counter top.

"And that you're lying about being just a little tired."

Back groaning at standing for so long, hunched over in an uncomfortable position, you slump against the corner in resignation, grunting as your two friends corner you and hound you with care.

Undeserved.

Too much.

Yet always appreciated.

You've been working with them at The Last Drop for years, Violet recognizing you even years after the bridge "incident", as the Pilties called it, and offering you a spot at her godfather and uncle's bar. Not only to "repay a debt", which you insisted was non-existent in the first place, but also for friendship, wanting more people around her age in her life.

You didn't blame her, you were grateful in fact.

You were grateful to Sevika too, who endorsed Vi in her quest to get you in the staff due to seeing your teen self rushing into the fray thirteen years ago. Admiring your courage and scolding your foolishness, forcing you to promise never to put yourself in such danger ever again.

Back then you let out a bitter laugh, the promise easy enough to make from the traces the battle left for you.

Parts of your spine were broken to such an extent that you'd have to wear a brace for the rest of your life, limiting movement and straining you until the day you died.

Since that day you've been alone. Working shitty job after shitty job to sustain yourself while the Pilties seemed to go back to their peaceful lives. Your spine screaming louder after years of slaving away for your own safety and a life that was worth living.

Yet you persevered.

Clawed your way out of the pit that topside has dug for all of the children they ripped families away from.

And now here you are, working two jobs, having your small shoddy apartment and two friends you wonder if you truly deserve. They tell you that you do, yet it's hard to believe when every night is plagued with the same visions. Ghosts that seem to never want to let go of you, now even throughout the day. Clawing at you from the inside and screaming in your head, filling your eyes with sceneries straight from hell. Yet you know it to be far from the truth. Or hell is on Runeterra, and it likes your pain enough to rip you apart day after day.

You'd think you would have grown accustomed to them. Yet if anything, the constant reminders only make you grow more weary each day that passes.

"What's your schedule been like?" Violet slides next to you, her shoulder nudging yours softly to snap you out of your reverie.

"The usual? I don't know, I don't feel much has changed."

When you turn pain bites at your upper back and your hands grip the bar top, nails biting into the wood while you set your jaw to stop any noise of pain to escape you. Vi looks at you with the same expression she always has in moments like this, sisterly love. For being five years your junior, the girl surely know how to make you feel younger with her affections.

"Tell us, or we're gonna have to tell Silco and Vander about it."

"Yeah, can't have our bartender keeling over one night." Sevika sets herself on your other side and slides your stool under you, reserved for when your back gets too much. You nod your thanks and let out a groaned out breath at the feeling of your body not needing to hold itself up anymore.

"Just nine to five at the library and the usual seven to two in at night for the bar. Same as always."

"Same as always. Well seems like this isn't sustainable for you anymore. I don't even think it ever has been. You do know that working yourself to death is not gonna fix anything, right?"

"Have you been-"

"I have been, Vi. I've been journaling, I've been drinking less, I've been trying to get more than three hours of sleep per night. But I can't, nothing clears my head, I can't even afford a good therapist because they're so rare in Zaun it's like trying to find a unicorn, and like hell I'm going topside because they'll only extort me until I have nothing left."

The women at your sides nod in understanding. They've been trying to help yet nothing seems to soothe the storm of your soul, forever raging, ever restless, screaming from the depths of your very being and haunting you at every moment. Their support means the world to you though, and you feel like you never know how to show just how deeply important their presences are within the nightmare of your life. You feel like you're not grateful enough for all that they've done for you, not deserving enough. Like you're-

"You're not a lost case, Maestro."

You chuckle bitterly at the nickname, your two friends having nicknamed you as such because you were the "drink virtuoso" of The Last Drop. The young bartender that knew people's tastes like the back of her hand at first glance and who always knew which buttons to push to get clients to buy something more expensive if they could afford it.

"Sevika's right. She's doing better, Silco and Vander too, not to forget Powder and I. You'll make it. We just have to find the right coping mechanism, the right…thing."

Violet mumbles, cursing at herself for being bad with words compared to her more "proper" girlfriend Caitlyn, a Piltover enforcer born in one of the gilded city's most noble families.

"I know but I've tried so much. Many options I don't have the time for, others are too expensive, the rest just doesn't work. You two are keeping me afloat but I wonder if I'm just rotten work, like trying to help me or even simply being around me is just gonna end up wearing you down in the end."

The women chuckle and eye one another with a smile, one of their arms wrapping around your back in two half hugs.

"You? Wear us down? Now aren't you underestimating us?"

"I think you forgot who you're talking to so let's remind you. We're your best friends, and if you think you'll ever get rid of us because you're a mopey little shit then you clearly are overestimating yourself."

"Sev's right, you're a cocky bitch if you think you're so cool that you'll be able to push us away in any way, shape or form. We're the dirt under your nails, Maestro. Don't you dare forget that."

"Oh fuck off you two."

You chuckle along, the burning flames of the bridge cooled by the laughter of the women holding you.

"You know we're right."

"Yeah yeah, now stop being gay and help me cleaning. Butch one you take the booths, Butch two you take the floor. I'll take the tables and bar."

"Shut your trap, kid."

"Aye aye captain."

Are chuckled out as your two friends leave your side to get started on tidying up the bar, the soft notes of the jukebox rhythming the cleaning and softening the heaviness in the air while you stretch. Getting out of the stool feels like a ton of lead has been dropped onto your shoulders and pain fires through you like electrical current but you still pick up your rag, a bottle of cleaning product and make your way to the tables.

It's comfortably silent between the three of you from then on. Humming coming from your throat as you bend over, scrubbing away at the traces of alcohol and crumbs left by patrons on every table, placing the chairs upside down on each and every one of them after wiping them down too.

Vi taps your ass with the broom while passing by you and you slap her arm, the girl acting hurt and falling to the ground at the ministration.

"How could you hurt me so, dear friend?"

"You already got a fine piece of ass at home, don't be greedy Darcy."

And you offer your hand and Violet refuses before you grab hers anyways and drag her up, your body shaking in pain as you pick your friend from the floor. She pinches your hips with a softly scolding look before going back to cleaning the floor.

Time passes and the bar top is the last surface that needs cleaning, Sevika and Violet try to get you to stop but you push them away.

"My bar, my responsibility."

"Technically it's Vander and Silco's-"

"I'll rip your tits off Sev."

"Bite me."

"Nah, you'd like that. You whore." She barks out a laugh at that, "touché" escaping her painted lips as she gets out her pack of cigarettes, two little cylinders are pulled out from it and she places both in her mouth to light them. The flick of her lighter echoing through the now silent room before she gives you one of the smoking tubes.

You inhale, the smoke filling your lungs in an all too familiar way and nicotine rushing through you while you slump over the spotless oak with your arms crossed, your eyes softly closing to enjoy the taste of tobacco and the presence of the two women at your side.

Just a normal night, after a very usual day. You dread to think about your weekend, having nothing to do killed you a little every time it happened, the silence of your apartment too loud and only serving to fuel the maelstrom of feelings swirling within you at any moment. Anytime you try to sleep those days off you wake up sweaty and screaming like every night, unable and unwilling to fall back asleep.

Life for Zaun has gotten better, sure. Access to topside was not as restrained, the city was given sovereignty after the complete hecatomb that happened thirteen years ago opened the eyes of many to the destiny of most Zaunites under Piltover's rule. It took about seven years for the gilded city to surrender Zaun and accept it as an equal, since then business had been booming, general health and education got much more advanced yet a lot was still a work in progress.

Progress that was not achieved with much help from Piltover, no, but by the blood, sweat and tears of the people from the Undercity. Who worked hard to make living here much more comfortable with the new influx of income and trades from all around the world.

And you were proud of your brethren for making it this far, you were proud to be part of such an enterprise to make Zaun a better place.

Yet no matter how much you worked then, how much you work now, how much you fought and still fight, you still can't find it within yourself to find forgiveness. Not after witnessing what you had, feeling what you did. Even if Vi's girlfriend was a kind girl and very involved with her family to help Zaun, the actions of one still didn't make the bile rising in your throat when thinking about Piltover subside.

You didn't necessarily hate everyone topside. The targets of your rage were their police force and their politicians who, for three hundred and fifteen years, cultivated a mentality of elitism and classism that was the flail used to whip your people into submission. To make Zaun into their own colony, providing for their every whims while they stood behind you, twiddling their thumbs and laughing at your misery. So you still had a hard time feeling comfortable or peaceful with the people that persecuted your own, directly or by proxy, many had let this happen even if they knew it was wrong and that was something else you could not forgive.

None of the rage you direct towards Piltover can truly fill the hole within you, though.

A hole that had been dug since you were born, the intrinsic Zaunite anger at the unfairness of others' treatments towards you ingrained within every part of your DNA. A hole that became a fissure, similar to those trencher miners would die in, when your parents died in a crumbling mine that was left operating even with the dangers its state was dismal. A fissure that became an unspeakable abyss the day of the bridge revolt when you lost Hekarim and so many of your own, nearly meeting your maker as well in the process.

An abyss that you've tried to fill with anger, with so much work that your body would crumble the second you reached your small apartment, with your two friends' presence that although helped you, never filled the tear in your soul. No, the abyss grew with time, no matter how many books you read, how much music you listened to, how many hobbies or coping mechanisms you tried.

It grew.

And grew.

And although you've ignored it, you're becoming unable to. The exhaustion. Setting deep within your bones from the sleepless nights, from the overworking, the constant reminders of vision's you'd rather forget. It's like no matter what you try, your symptoms only become worse.

And you feel so much guilt.

At not feeling well, at not being able to appreciate the simple pleasures of life, at not seeing how far you've come, at your friends not being nearly enough to fix the broken, ugly mess that you are.

You feel guilt for losing faith at everything in life that pertained to you. You are on survival mode, and you can't flip the switch off. But there's only so much you can do on survival mode before you shutdown.

And right now you were going down that slide at immense speed.

One where your thoughts would drag you to commit something that would never be able to be taken back.

And you hoped that if it ever came to that, you'd at least be missed.

snap

Your eyes swiftly get to Sevika who's snapping her fingers at you, her other hand holding the ashtray under the cigarette currently burning away between your lips.

"Yeah no, we're not taking I'm fine for an answer."

"Sev, c'mon."

"No, girl, c'mon. You're not okay."

"Vi." You whine, taking a deep inhale from your cigarette, the smoke escaping your nose in two streams. "Really, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl I can take it, you know me."

"Not anymore it seems." Inhale, Sevika gazes at you with a knowing look shining through her steel tinted eyes.

"You're trying to do all of this by yourself. And we get it, we really do, but you're just pulling yourself deeper." Exhale, Vi brushes her hand on your arm comfortingly.

"We love you, and all we want is your good health and for you to finally be able to rid yourself of whatever's going on in there. You don't tell us because you want us safe, yet what about you?" Inhale.

"We've thought of something, and we know you'll vehemently refuse at first, but it's free and many people find comfort in it. Especially here in Zaun."

You tilt your head, smoke held in your lungs as you look at your two friends inquisitively.

"So, would you be willing to go to church?" Exhale.

Stub.

"No."

They look at one another in a way you knew all too well. They knew of your stubborn streak, to anything related to Piltover. And to faith.

You had prayed everyday for your parents' safety. They died, alone, in the dark and ripped to shreds by rubble.

You had prayed everyday for your people's freedom. They kept on dying unjust deaths by the hand of their greedy, self-important jailers.

You had prayed for your brother to be alive that day. He was ripped away from you before your very eyes.

You had prayed for your own death, to stop the pain, to stop you from losing everything when nothing was left anymore. Yet you lived.

The lords above didn't exist.

And if they did they had abandoned Zaun.

And me.

So like hell you'd go to a place of worship to any one of them. That day you abandoned them just like they did you, mockingly watching from above as meaningless deaths happened beneath their almighty gazes once more.

"Listen. We know. But would you listen to us?"

You look at Violet with expectant eyes, exhaustion pulling your lids down into a glare that has been carved into your face, never to be erased.

"Powder has a tutor, she has for a while now, and turns out he's a priest for the local Jan'ahremite church. He seems like a good man and maybe he'd know how to help, it's his job to lead those who are lost and all that. You could go to mass, test the waters, you could even confess! It's like therapy, but free."

You exhale a sharp breath.

"Vi's right, but there's also the fact that you'd be surrounded by a community. It would do you good, go at least twice. Please? We know it's far from what you want but it could be what you need. You don't need to believe, just to be there."

"What do you have to lose, right?"

You pull away, slowly making your way to your coat hung behind the bottle filled shelves, your back screaming at you for rest as you cover yourself, slipping one arm after the other in the long sleeves. You pass by the counter where your two friends are, stopping at their level as Sevika calls out for you.

"You can't keep on going like this, kiddo. We may not know what's going on in that head of yours, but we know it's far from pretty. Everyone needs something to believe in, and as is, we know your faith is in nothing but your own fall."

You scoff. "Understatement of the century Sev."

"Even more of a reason to try! We don't ask you to pray, to beg for whatever god may listen, only to see if it'd help. I'd be more than reluctant to step a foot in a church myself, and I know that Sevika too." The older woman scoffs as she nods at Vi's words. "But we know that wherever your mind's headed right now could potentially take you from us, and we can't imagine Zaun without you. Neither can little man or Powder."

"Hell, Vander and Silco would hate to lose you too, every patron around here and everyone at the library too."

"You're worth so much more than you can imagine to so many of us. So, please, at the very least if not for yourself, do this for us."

Your hands grip tightly at the counter top, a lump forming in your throat at the very thought of stepping into a god's space. Wanting nothing more than spit and yell in rage at their pictures and statues, never to be vulnerable for them ever again.

"I'll think about it."

Is all you can manage to let out.

"And that's all we ask."

You nod, the three of you leaving the building and locking up behind yourselves and Vi nudging her forehead to yours as a loving goodbye before she hops on her motorcycle.

"Kid, you know we love you, right?"

You purse your lips, eyes looking down as your heart drops to your stomach. Feeling all too undeserving of the words.

"Yeah, I know Sev." Your gaze reaches hers, and you know she understands what you mean with it.

I love you too.

You sigh and softly place your forehead on hers.

"See you on Monday, kid." She ruffles your hair lightly and walks away, her body illuminated by the kaleidoscope of Zaun's neon signs.

You get in your car, the music not loud enough to drown your thoughts, the words and melodies jumbling in and all too familiar self-deprecating dance as you arrive home.

Your body drags and you step foot within the threshold of the building, it slumps against the elevator's walls as you wait for your floor and it drops onto your bed as you arrive at your bed.

Your phone is put to charge, your clothes and brace are taken off for the night and you refuse to get up for any food or water. The comfort of your mattress pulling you in like quicksand in the deserts of Shurima even if your mouth is pasty and your stomach grumbles.

Your eyes trail to your ceiling, tears rolling down like a waterfall before you even realize what's happening. No sob escapes you, you believe you've exhausted your capacity for them since hell opened its gaping maw and presented you what it had to offer.

Exhaustion, bone deep, was eating away at you like water erodes stone. Your soul was rotting and although you could always keep yourself together it seemed like your willpower was abandoning you.

Just like everything and everyone always did.

Were Violet and Sevika right? Could going to this place of worship work, even with your hatred of those sitting on their golden thrones up above? Could this be it, the one last thing that could help you from drowning further in the dark tar possessing every inch of your heart?

I don't think so.

Yet as much as the thought of standing before the eyes of a deity makes you sick, you make yourself sicker. A hateful, pained and pathetic little thing you are, filled to the brim with so much sadness that no good can truly reach you and pull away the black veil blinding your soul. A disappointment, a failure.

And yet your two friends still remained by you.

You could wallow all you want, but bile rises in your throat at the thought of hurting the girls that stand by your side even after everything.

Even if respite in death is all you crave now.

Maybe you could try one last time. To make them proud more than to save yourself. Although if the latter came with the former you would accept it with open arms.

Yet I still find myself unable to believe that the broken mess that I am can be fixed.

I am beyond saving.

But for them you'll try. Your final attempt at piecing yourself back together.

Your eyes close, the last of your tears contained beneath the dam of your lids. Images quickly flickering from the bridge to Sevika and Violet standing next to a grave, their gazes a storm of regret and pain as they cry and call out to you softly. Praising you even after you took the cowardly way out, even after you abandoned them.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

Yes, for them you'll try anything.

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[ewingstan]

First off Holy shit.

Secondly, the striking thing about this is that Victoria's getting an understanding of who Lisa at her vulnerable core, just like she did when she saw her trigger. But rather than lashing out at Vicky, she's meeting her with the most patience we've seen her give anyone since.... hell, since Worm ended.

Part of it is probably due to how Vicky isn't trying to connect with Lisa. She's just trying to use Lisa's power, and getting miserable because of it, essentially self-harming each time she asks for information. Lisa's found herself in the ideal situation to explain why she's suffering without needing to feel condescended to: explaining herself indirectly, in order to try and steer someone else from suffering the same way.

At her core, Tattletale is who she is because she hated that she didn't know enough to help someone. Here, without her use of her power, her experiences have still given her info needed to guide someone away from a ledge. That ledge being where she's at on a daily basis.

....

The other big thing though. She obviously doesn't only let herself care about the people she makes that assumption of goodness about. She probably didn't do that for Victoria, at least not at first. She certainly didn't choose to see Kenzie that way. No, she essentially was unable to help herself after Kenzie found herself in a situation much like Victoria's: wanting a bit of information and getting blasted with only the stuff that will hurt her. Again, what Lisa has to constantly deal with.

I don't think its that Lisa chooses to stop looking for things that will hurt her in people she wants to help. It might be that her aspect presents her with information that will hurt her by giving her reasons to care about them. That would go against my earlier assumption that her power only gives her info that drives her away from others, but if shards steer their users into situations like their triggers, well. Maybe she's part of the reason Lisa keeps finding losing dogs to bet on.

[darkstarofchaos]

Thank you for fighting the good fight for Prowl. I just joined the fandom this year, and honestly, I love him so much, and you’ve already put into words exactly how I feel about him. Also, thank you for validating my hatred for Megatron. Between TF One and IDW, I’ve gone from meh to straight-up loathing his entire existence. Like, why is his redemption arc so wacky? It genuinely felt like he got off scot-free so easily, with no one holding any real bad blood against him unlike Prowl. Everyone was just like, “uwu poor Megatron” or whatever, and it drove me insane. It felt like IDW was written just to create more Megatron simps. I don’t even care if I’m wrong about his redemption or IDW as a whole—if the fandom can misinterpret Prowl to death, then I can yap about how much I hate Megatron’s redemption arc and whole existence, lmao. I’ll never get over how a literal genocidal warlord somehow got more support and sympathy points than Prowl. Please, give me a Megatron redemption where he actually has to work for it—not one handed to him on a silver platter by an idiotic fool. it feels so undeserved. I want MEGATRON to be punched by many of his victims. Even Starscream, his number one punching bag lived a miserable life in Cybertron. I’ll never agree that IDW was a masterpiece. I hate that shit so much, lol. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right—just wanted to say how much I love reading your posts about Prowl. Keep doing what you’re doing. :)

You're very welcome! Prowl is easily my favorite Autobot, and the way he's treated by both the fandom and the IDW narrative makes me want to bite people. Especially when compared to other characters who are just as bad if not worse (I saw a post when Prowl was confirmed for EarthSpark that said not making him a cop would be bad because it would be ignoring his history of police brutality, and I was just like. Prowl and Orion worked together as cops for a while, guess which one of them repeatedly yelled at the other for using violence. Not that Prowl's record is completely clean, but the hero cop who advocates for violence is a way bigger problem than the social outcast who looked at the system and saw corruption).

Anyway.

I must admit that I actually like Megatron in general, but I really hate this recent trend of Megatron being the only Decepticon canon cares about. TF One could have given us two Bots and two Cons, but not a single other Decepticon got more than maybe five minutes of screentime. EarthSpark made him the only Decepticon who changed sides, then doubled down on the worst elements of his "redemption" by making him the only Decepticon who's allowed to be sympathetic. Every crossover I've seen between Transformers and various video games only includes Megatron as the Decepticon representation.

(Also, unpopular opinion, but I feel like Megatron having a history with Optimus is the weakest part of his character in almost every continuity. Especially in IDW, where it's literally a Get Out of Jail Free card).

And of course, as soon as Prowl shows up in EarthSpark, people are complaining about him getting on Megatron's case. Even though he was actually really open-minded about Megatron's presence, and just accepted that he'd truly changed sides even if he didn't personally trust him. I was over here expecting an entire episode based around Prowl fighting with others about Megatron's trustworthiness, and people had a problem with a couple openly antagonistic comments.

Primus forbid a mech do anything, I guess.

[elcrdi]

Animals are clearly better than people and I'm glad our friendship is cemented on that fact. That's the only downside about puppies is that they can be a handful and get into literally everything. Have you thought about crate training her? When Layla was a pup, that was one thing that helped keep her from getting into everything when I wasn't around. She actually loves her crate and willingly goes inside for naps and just to chill. It's like her little safe haven. It's something I can just tell from the way she acts around me, I don't know. I care about her a lot and the last thing I want to do is lose her. So even if that means being miserable but keeping her as a friend, that's the choice I'm going to have to make.

this is why we're besties, jake - i heavily agree on that. animals over people. she's a lot like layla by the sounds of it. precious, adorable, but a total handful. i'm honestly a little worried about how glen's trailer is going to survive. but we'll see how we go. how do you know you're not what she wants ? are you assuming, or has she said that to you ? i get it and i think it says a lot about how much you care for her that you're willing to push it all down to keep her as a friend.

[blainehasregrets]

Red and Blue in Glee

Of course red and blue is the Most obvious symbolism in the world, but this is something I think gives a lot of insight to the character’s motivations in Glee that not a lot of people point out!

Glee often used these two colors to show opposing forces, or when used together, a character being conflicted/in the middle of something. This concept is introduced in the Pilot, with Vocal Adrenaline performing in all blue during Rehab, while the New Directions are dressed in red during Don’t Stop Believing (and okay yes that’s a picture of Vocal Adrenaline from Theatricality, it was impossible to get a good screenshot of Rehab. Same thing.). And though I’m not sure it was always the case, I feel like blue was occasionally used to symbolize a sense of teamwork and “sameness” (as Vocal Adrenaline were a well oiled, well choreographed show choir machine in matching competition outfits) while red was meant to convey a sense of individuality (a small group of outcasts/underdogs coming together in different outfits that reflect each of their personalities).

And of course this isn’t like…a constant rule throughout the show either, because blue and red are just a striking combination in general, so of course sometimes its just used because it looks good together! Like they all pretty much wear red during Valentine's episodes just because it's Valentine's day lol and after all, red is just a part of McKinley’s school colors, and the football team and Cheerios aren’t exactly shining examples of individuality.

I explained a little here how blue and red could be used in cases whether the characters understand each other and if the character’s are on the same page or not, for example, here with Quinn and Rachel during I Feel Pretty/Unpretty.

An episode that uses this to aide the story visually is The Rhodes Not Taken. During Maybe This time, Rachel, in an outfit completely opposite of April’s to highlight the differences between them, performs the song against red and blue lights/curtains. While she initially believes Sandy's play is her chance to shine after being denied a solo in the New Directions, it's a decision she quickly regrets because of how miserable and isolating it is. Her conflicting thoughts continue to be illustrated both in the bowling scene with Finn where she wears a blue and red sailor collar t-shirt as Finn tries to convince her to come back to the club, and in the bathroom scene with April, where she is again their differences are highlighted.

Eventually, Rachel does end up going back to the New Directions, because she does value the group (and I think, despite popular opinion that Rachel is "the most selfish person in the show", she spends all of season 1 proving how much she cares about and wants the group to succeed) and she wants to find a place where she belongs. It's not even that Sandy was just an asshole director, she felt incredibly lonely. In Mattress, Rachel tries to comfort herself by telling herself it's lonely at the top and she has to expect to be disappointed, but it's obviously not something she actually wants for herself and it comes from a naive place that she still needs to unlearn. Rachel, along with the fact that she is incredibly ambitious, is also a person who needs people, and the end of this episode is her taking one more step towards realizing that as she joins the New Directions, dressed in blue during Somebody To Love. Both to contrast the pink of April's outfit with the New Directions dressed in black as her glorified backup dancers, and to show them coming together as a group of people who want the same thing.

In Preggers, Kurt wears a red sweater with a blue tank top and sweatband to tryout for the football team. It’s not that Kurt is necessarily conflicted about who he is, but in this episode he blends who he is (the Single Ladies dance), and who he thinks his dad wants him to be (Football player).

The most obvious example of the red and blue being used as a halfway point is in the Dalton uniform. Even though I could explain the reasons why Blaine (and Kurt) leaving Dalton was inevitable, but! -> 👔 Their ties tell you everything you need to know! “It makes no sense Blaine left his rich private school for his high school boyfriend” but the symbolism spells it out for you! Dalton, with its red and blue tie, is a temporary place for Kurt and Blaine.

In Duets, as Kurt makes the final decision of whether or not he should duet with Sam, he’s wearing a blue sweater since he ultimately decides to put the team’s needs above his own wants. Sam, on the other hand, after telling Finn he’s going through with the duet with Kurt, wears a blue shirt with a blue and red target on it. When he’s splattered with a red slushie that Quinn helps him clean up immediately after, it represents his new choice for a duet partner. So, besides the obvious meaning behind the target on Sam's shirt being used to show he'll be harassed if he duets with Kurt, the print takes on a new meaning as his character is now inbetween Kurt and Quinn. (Even their outfits! Kurt’s sweater is blue and Quinn’s cheerio uniform is red.)

Though I’m sure he would have gone through with the duet with Kurt had Kurt not “set him free” since Sam said himself he had no intention to back out, the slushie itself shows this is something beyond his control. Both because of interference from Finn and because of the societal pressures that are going to put a stop to this duet between him and Kurt. (also I just made that up right now)

He continues to wear red and blue plaid when he tries to convince Quinn to duet with him, and for most of their relationship, Sam wears blue because 1) it just looks nice next to Quinn’s red uniform 2) I personally felt they were never really on the same page in their relationship as early as Duets. This is evident when Sam points to a planet and says it’s Venus, the planet of love, which Quinn corrects to tell him it's Mars, planet of war.

In The Purple Piano Project, Blaine comes to school in bright red pants, and his first solo at McKinley as a student is backed up by the Cheerios in their bright red uniform. Blaine’s now officially a member of the New Directions, his red pants representing that new sense of individuality as he’s finally becoming a character of his own, rather than an almost representation of Dalton from season 2. (I also think his striped bow tie’s a nod to the Dalton tie, but obviously more “him”.)

Anyways, what's the point of this post? Though glee is not the most thought provoking show in the world for most people (unless you’re insane like me), I do think some level of effort was put into it, and maybe something like this could help give a better understanding to a character's thought process when it's conveyed visually through the color of their clothes. For instance, related to the above paragraph, I think there’s a misconception that Blaine’s character solely revolved around Kurt, as if that was a writing mistake. While it isn’t totally untrue that Blaine had many plots with Kurt (after all every character serves its purpose, and Blaine’s was to be Kurt’s boyfriend), I also believe that line of thinking misses the times Blaine is so obviously shown to be a character of his own, making decisions of his own. For instance, transferring to McKinley is something he chose to do and was set up in the very episode we met him when he tells Kurt he felt as if he ran away from his problems (and that itself is a consistent trait of Blaine's, he tends to run away from his problems) Similarly to how he says he's “100% gay” in Blame It On The Alcohol, that is something he alone decided, given he ends his previous conversation with Kurt earnestly telling him that Kurt can't control him (something that was also consistent with Kurt’s character) and that whatever happens (which in the end, it's him confidently declaring he's gay when Rachel kisses him sober), it's because he came to that conclusion solely on his own.

These things are reflected in the writing, the framing, and even sometimes the wardrobe. And so, when Blaine chooses to change schools to be with Kurt, when he’s wearing pants that symbolize his independence as a character of his own, I think the fact that his first choice of song to sing towards Kurt, It's Not Unusual whose lyrics are basically “if I see you with anyone else, I’ll DIE :)” tells us something about who his character is. Whether you want to take it at face value that Blaine is someone who’s incredibly driven by love, to the point of possessiveness (which we see in Dance With Somebody or New New York) and willing to transfer from a prestigious private school to a shitty public one, or to show he can be oblivious and often times picks a song with lyrics that are hilariously over the top or inappropriate for the situation (like When I Get You Alone. I love both interpretations and think both apply to his character) maybe it just means…that stuff is a part of his character and personality! Blaine being obsessed with Kurt and love to the point of changing schools for him (along with the fact that it’s something he had already stated he wanted to do) isn't a writing flaw, it's apart of his personality!

Finally, a couple more examples that I feel like don’t need explanations. Though you can always argue that all of these are simply because red and blue are just a visually pleasing color combination (I especially think the Born This Way screenshot was done more out of cohesion than anything, though Rachel is in between trying to figure out if she should have plastic surgery or not), I think you can still make the case that these are ways to show the character’s thoughts and emotions.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

https://www.tumblr.com/anarchy-and-piglins/772595793282711552/anything-u-post-in-relation-to-fireworksduo-haunts?source=share

I am begging you to tell me more (whenever ur feeling up to it). I will offer you my bones and third born in exchange.

Keep your bones and children, I need no payment to yap about AU ideas!

Okay so the original AU is called 'Empty Vessel AU', trigger warning for suicidal ideation as part of the premise.

The base idea is that Phil does not stay on the server.

After killing Wilbur, Phil - caught in grief and hurt - takes off basically just as quickly as he arrived. Maybe he doesn't even realize Techno is there too, or maybe he's too caught up in it all to really mind. Phil fully leaves the server. This means Techno does not have Phil's support in the initial fallout of November 16th, which is a negative for his mental health (think the angst arc ccTechno wanted for his character before ccPhil ruined it by being like "hi m8, let's build a house :D" /lh).

Techno does not build the cabins in the Arctic, his base is more like a ravine/hole somewhere. He's miserable, but he stays trucking. At least until the Butcher Army happens - because it still does happen in this AU, just slightly differently than in canon since Phil isn't around. When returning to his 'base', Techno also doesn't find Tommy living there (because Tommy in this AU did not stumble upon Techno when he ran away from exile, since the cabins don't exist).

Now, Techno is the Blood God's conduit, as well all know. The Blood God is basically parasitic in nature, latching onto a mortal to serve as its conduit until they die and it must find a new vessel. The Blood God can control its conduit's body only with consent.

Techno, who is not doing too well mentally after everything that's happened, being treated as a disposable weapon or active threat by everybody, having no friends and only Chat around, etc, decides he doesn't care anymore. He'd do anything to just... not have to think for a bit. Not have to deal with all that's happened. So if the Blood God wants to use its vessel, it can.

Techno 'dies' in a sense.

More accurately, his consciousness goes into a sort of coma - completely senseless and all - while the body is left behind as an empty vessel the Blood God can puppeteer around. This is Not Good because a mortal body is not meant to contain a god so there are some negative effects. Including that the Blood God does not experience hunger, exhaustion, or pain, and it damages Techno's body by being in it. It's a ticking time bomb situation. If it stays inside Techno for long enough, Techno's body will also die.

Also, other people have to deal with an eldritch god so that's fun kekw. The Blood God is a bit of weirdo, but it does latch onto people around it as long as they promise to let it shed blood for them.

The original version of the AU was rivalsduo-centric as mentioned. Dream would have been the first person who ran into 'Techno' and clocked pretty quickly what's going on (it's not exactly subtle) and initially he thinks it's something he can exploit maybe, but then over time he realizes how dire it is and he does care enough about Techno to try and undo what's been done.

Now I'm just thinking of an alternative where it's Tubbo or Quackity (or both?) who encounter the vessel first and have to deal with that whole thing. Would they also be happy at first? Disturbed? Would they feel guilty or nah? And ofc how different it would be for them to try and get Techno back. Throw in other L'manburg members maybe and Tommy? I can assume stuff like the Green Festival would also go very differently in these circumstances.

[wheredowegotosleep]

I'd like to give my opinion, just this once.

I am not American, but I am autistic and so is my brother. I, for as long as I can remember, have wanted to visit the United States. I've admired and looked up to the Americans. I learned their history, their language, watched their movies and eventually interacted with them on here. I am terrified for The United States of America's future.

During President Trump's ceremony Yesterday, Elon Musk did a gesture which I can verify is NOT the Roman salute, for my country's army does it and it is nothing like that. As someone born here in the South of Chile, you can admire whatever culture you can, yes even German culture, but do it respectfully. We have German people here, we have the last Prussian army, yet we condemn Nazis. We don't take away the educational deparment, we teach our kids the horror of the Holocaust, we teach them how a group as despicable as the Nazis came to power, so it never happens again.

We have immigrant Jews, Palestinians, Germans, and from many other places. We don't correct them on their history, as they know better than us their own stories. We witness, don't intervene, for we don't want more trouble from the ones we already have. But we look in horror for what's to come.

I am autistic, so is my brother. We've both been interested in ww2 at some point. Never have we been so naive to do a gesture like that one Elon did, we could never do something like that and not think it is horrible. And I know Elon knows because he finances a political party in Germany. Do not blame this on his Aspergers, as someone with that former diagnosis (which no longer exists by the way), do not think of us so naively. We are not children.

Lastly, for those in support of these men, they do not care about you. They see you as a pawn, a number, for their own gain. If America fully falls to fascism, then in the future you will live to regret it. Many nazis escaped here. Many took a new name, formed a new family and spent the rest of their lives miserable and running. They had to hide from their kids what they had done and the question of "how could you?" forever hunted them. Do not play into their games.

Many think Germany fell to Nazism because they were inherently evil, but this is not the case. They were foolish to trust a leader who promised salvation, groomed into the hatred and told there was an enemy to hunt down or they would do it first. But truth always comes out and eventually it will come back to bite you.

This is a picture of Nazi soldiers reacting to footage of the Holocaust. You can see it in their faces, those who knew and those who believed the lies. Remember it.

[verdantwyrm]

i feel like its so funny that the mouthwashing fandom calls curly an enabler without even knowing the actual definition of the word 💀

"he didn't do anything about jimmy assaulting anya" he literally didnt know until two days before the crash??? tf was he supposed to do??? gain precognition???

even if he tried to do something (which he did try to do but failed at miserably) the conditions they were in were so dogshit that most options would have had bad outcomes(cough the games plot cough), and thats not something you want for yourself and your crew

sure anya did say jimmys been saying weird shit to her but like...no normal person will hear it and think "this guys secretly a rapist"

i do think curly couldve at least told jimmy to not be weird to anya before they did the psych eval but be sooo fr the chances of people telling their long time friends to stop doing this shit is verrryyy low

anyways yeah curly sucked ass at helping but there was an attempt, even if it ended catastrophically, he still tried to fix things (and thats not what being an enabler is)

Literally! Like yes, okay his comment towards Anya should have been taken seriously but if Curly didn't care about that, he would have just made Anya do Jimmy's eval anyway. He really does care about Anya, he just couldn't do much!!! In that exact situation!!!!!

[listofwhyyouloveher]

HAI >_<

could you do one with the gang where reader had parents with a scary, but kind reputation? like they were known to be kind but can be very brutal/cold-hearted when approached wrong?

THANK U I LOVE UR WRITITNG

- 🦭 (idk if this empji is taken)

Summary: The gang w a reader with reputable parents

Warnings: nonne

Authors note: welcome to the clerb 🦭 <3

PONYBOY CURTIS tries to steer clear of you at first because he's under the impression that your parents are tough and radical. He met you without knowing who you are and later discovered that the sweet thing he talked to was actually the daughter of Tulsa's own "mob" family (of course, that is just a rumor). He loved your family now. He's sometimes shocked when he reminds himself that your parents are the toughest in Tulsa, and now they're making spaghetti for his dinner.

JOHNNY CADE hates intimidating people. The only reason he's friends with Dally is because he was introduced to him through the gang. Otherwise, they might have never interacted. He doesn't want anything to do with your family. He has enough parental problems to not want to involve himself. Except for the fact you're the cutest person he's seen in a long time, and he secretly heads over heels. He tries to get along with your parents, but the trauma from his own makes it hard. Your parents, however, are very patient with him.

SODAPOP CURTIS has no problems with your family, and he's not eager to start one. He recognizes their intimidating personalities and just tries his vest not to get in trouble around them. He's hesitant to date you at first because he's afraid of your dad, but you convince them to talk, and now they get along like father and son. Your mother thinks of him the same way, too.

STEVE RANDLE is generally out of the loop when it comes to social hierarchies in Tulsa. He doesn't know about your families affluence, but he thinks you're a sweet girl, so he's made multiple crude attempts at picking you up. It wasn't until Soda smacked him upside the head and explained your family to him that he actually pursued you correctly, out of both respect and fear.

TWO BIT generally doesn't care about the social status of others. He finds that as long as he doesn't bother them and they don't bother him, it's a win-win for both! It wasn't until you started appearing near a place that he went to a lot that he started to swerve away from the norm. He's extremely nervous meeting your parents. He doesn't want it to fail miserably and be banned from seeing you. His nerves help him, and your mother thinks it's cute that he's all jittery and your father finds it respectable. Your family loved him!

DARRY CURTIS is not super intimidated by your parents. He figures they have no need to meddle with him, so he doesn't find them alarming. However, as soon as you start daring, he whips himself into shape. He's very meticulous in planning his lifestyle around a way that your parents wouldn't mind you eventually marrying into. It's hard, especially at first, because of their class, but he gets there with your support. Your parents think he's a great man and a solid future for you, even if you won't be the wealthiest.

DALLAS WINSTON doesn't give two shits about your parents' influence. In his head, he's got twice the amount of influence, and he even acts a little cocky in front of them. Nonetheless, your parents believed in your ability to choose who you wanted to date, and you slowly introduced Dallas to their more intimidating side. He stopped acting cocky around them after that.

[lesbiansanemi]

My job is confusing me so fucking bad rn

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I am blocking jikookers everyday now ever since AYS aired. I don't care if someone wants to answer all the trolls, akgaes, ex-jikookers. Whatever, do what you want. But keep it on your blog and don't clog the jikook tag with all the bullshit. And for what? For a snarky remark as a reply? As if that actually puts the anons in place? They achieved their purpose, you gave a platform to trolls. Well done.

[zorishy]

I feel like most of the fandom doesn’t give Ghostbur credit for how mature and complex he is. Like- he’s cute and optimistic but that doesn’t mean innocent baby.

Every time I watch the scene where Ghostbur gets pissed at phil for blowing up L’Manberg I wanna shove it in the face of people who infantilize him and say: look. LOOK! He’s an adult with emotional depth! Also his optimism is like- a coping mechanism/an act to keep everyone happy. I’m not very good at explaining.

[galpalaven]

i think the fact that veilguard removed all interest in anything for me is insane. i dont even want to play final fantasy. do you know how fucking messed up i have to be to not have the energy or will to sit at my desk and be mentally ill about final fantasy??

ive never had finishing a game give me idk. sub/dom drop after finishing it to the point that i lose all interest in creative or fun things in general. its absolutely wild in the worst possible way