#once u see it u can't unsee it

[candicewright]

Transphobes pretending to make good faith criticism of a trans woman when they're actually just bigoted

[crakcoon]

Ok so Gojo looks a bit like a frog, like in a cute way u know, my cute little frog man 😌

Once u see it u can't unsee it

[peachjagiya]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/749976642163769344/httpsxcomtkscheristatus1788142165723648303s

idk if i will get hate for this but hear me out, there is something abt taekook that is soooo awkward, i dont wanna use this word bc antis use it but i dont know how else to describe it. they are very very weird around each other. their relationship is so obviously different from their relationships with other members. like u just need that one moment of clarity and u will see bc once u see it, u can't unsee the fact that it is painfully obvious they are dating. all of their interactions are laced with this sort of fear?? are they doing too much? are they doing too little? its like i can see their struggle. on one hand, they wanna show that they have a good relationship bc duh all of bts are besties but at the same time, they don't wanna do too much to expose themselves. do you get what i mean or do i sound crazy

At first I wasn't sure I did get what you mean but actually... I do think you have a point!

It's not fact-based this next bit so forgive me for going on vibes alone: I simply get a feeling that there are walls up with them that don't exist with other pairs (even pairings that also include them.)

BUT I often feel like they're together behind that wall, if that makes sense. I don't feel they're awkward between each other really because they have moments of over-comfort. But they're awkward if you're looking in? Again, I don't know if that makes sense.

It's kind of like... Ok, so you know when you hug your friends and you do like that silly side to side swaying thing, all bouncy and enthusiastic? It's genuine but it's a tiny bit performative. That's how the affection between a lot of the pairings feels to me.

Then you hug your partner in that same crowd of people. The person you're in love with. But maybe you don't want to be that PDA couple so you hold back what might come naturally (especially notable when you're a same sex couple because of societal nonsense)

Sometimes, looking in, that can look awkward. But the affection you do end up showing, like little touches and strokes, are quieter and calmer and smaller because the feelings are bone deep and the physicality between you is well worn like your comfiest sweater.

That's what I get from their interactions! Awkward in that kind of trying not to be loud way. Ok do I sound crazy now? 😭😂

The only time I've ever felt like that watching another pairing was, controversially, when Namjoon runs his hand down Hobi's back at the JITB album party and that was a one off (and I suspect more to do with it being a side of Namjoon I hadn't seen much of.)

Thanks anon. Let's be crazy about it together. 💜

[infiniteko]

do you still use pointers to return to yourSelf? Or is it not required anymore for u

Once you see it, you can't unsee it

[natashasbitxh]

this is gonna be long, but,

i used to be into youtube fandoms alot but the only ones ive retained are dan and phil and smosh. i was big on phan but i fell out of it years ago, i still like them but im more of a causal viewer than a rabid racoon frothing at the mouth every time some content drops.

(and also realised, as im no longer a teenager anymore, how shipping real people together is tricky and there are boundaries you dont cross and should be handled a particular way)

smosh ships were cute but nothing really stuck to me. don't get me wrong they all have chemistry but GOD DOES SHAYNSE GIVE!!?? IM A RACOON ONCE AGAIN

oh my god the way ive been sucked into shanyse. the smosh pit theatre was my awakening LIKE WTF THERE'S CHEMISTRY?? then i did the customary tumblr tag search and now im re-watching every video shayne and chanse has appeared together.

im sorry for all this but i gathered you were sort of a pioneer for the ship, so it felt right to confess on here

I relate so hard with ur comment on phan, I feel the fandom has gone thru a massive transformation and feels so much for chill now! Ppl have grown and are taking into account Phil and Dan a lot more!

Yes! Rpf is a tough area! I've said it before but the most important thing is the ppl themselves and their feelings! If Shayne or Chanse (or anybody from Smosh or that knows them tbh) asked me to stop, I would in a heartbeat! I, of course, would never intend any harm! And we see such a small snippet of their lives, its truly just based off their internet personas. My one rule is that u shouldn't go out of ur way to shove rpf into the ppl's faces unless they've said their okay with it! (Example: Them finding a fic by themselves is not the fault of the author, but the author sending it to them constantly crosses some boundaries)

Okay sorry, just wanted to make my thoughts clear!! Back to shaynse!!

OMG I'M SO HAPPY U FEEL THAT WAY!! I have felt that way since I thought of the ship but back then there was NO content for them!! Not even a ship name! (@jovenshires came up with the ship name). So it almost made me feel crazy or wrong for thinking of it, I'm so happy it's been well received!!

I feel like once u see it, u can't unsee it! That theater vid has done sm for shaynse nation! However, its just below the love is blind vid because that is literally shaynse day🫶🫶

Never apologise!! I love hearing other ppls thoughts and discussing!! And thank u for calling me the pioneer for this ship, it truly is an honour! I've been called it a couple times now so I might add it to my blog, I just hope I don't look big-headed 😭

And just an overall message to anybody that sees this, I welcome conversation abt ANY smosh ship, as long as it's appropriate! (I'm not sure what to give as an example, but I'd let u know if it's not appropriate)

Thank you, anon!

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

everything i read in may!

it's that time of the month again! i didn't get to read as much as i wanted this month because unfortunately i have to write this stupid dissertation 😔 but i did also read some really good books SO let me tell u about them!!

The Sunshine Court by Nora Sakavic

I was actually on a book-buying ban and then this book came out and i blacked out and in a day it was in my hands and in another day i had finished it. So so good i absolutely loved it. Reawakened my long-dormant obsession with this series.

To be completely honest, i was never particularly interested in Jean in the original series, but i very quickly fell in love with him. I'm so honestly invested in his recovery and i cannot wait to find out what happens next. It was super interesting to see this world from two new perspectives. I also really enjoyed Jeremy!! Jeremy babe what are your secrets... i need to know... i also really liked that jean's relationship with renée wasn't retconned for the sake of jerejean. Even tho they're obviously not going to be endgame they still get to be really important to each other (and i can't wait for their inevitable reunion at the winter banquet with jealous jeremy 👀). Anyway i'll shut up now but. Thank you nora ❤️

Damascus by Christos Tsiolkas

This book billed itself as historical fiction focusing on early christianity, which is a historical period/topic that i've studied a lot so i was interested. However, the book in reality doesn't really fit that description in my opinion. Bear with me here because the only thing i can think of to compare it to is a modern take on a hagiography.

Hagiographies have this weird semi-fictional, semi-truthful quality about them. On the one hand, they consist of biographical information about a (usually) real person - who they were, how they became christian, what happened to them. On the other hand, they were meant to act as a guide to faith for their readers, and so also include much more abstract discussions of spiritual struggles/didacticism. Damascus really felt the same way, like it was telling a truthful story on one level but, on another, it was meant to be a much more timeless discussion of faith. I'm still not 100% sure if i enjoyed it or not, but it was certainly thought-provoking and really gave me some insight into the experience of being faithful (which i don't personally have).

The City & the City by China Miéville

I thought the concept of this book was really, really interesting and well executed, but the actual plot wasn't so well executed and kind of let the rest of the book down, imo. The concept is of two cities that exist on top of each other. Physically and geographically they are the same city, but political borders have been drawn through it that separates them - for instance, one side of a street could be in one city, and the other half in the other city. Citizens of one city are not allowed to acknowledge the existence of citizens of the other - if they walk past them on the street they must "unsee" them or risk being arrested by the supranational secret police that maintains the borders between the two. If you want to go to a location in the other city you have to pass through a central checkpoint border, and, once across, you must "unsee" your original city. It's a really compelling concept, and I think Miéville explains it really well (much better than me lmao).

The book follows a homicide detective investigating a murder, but when he discovers that the body was driven across the border between the cities it becomes an international case. Unfortunately I found the ultimate resolution of the mystery/story quite unsatisfying :( I would still recommend it but just with a bit of a warning.

The Crow Road by Ian Banks

My parents have been trying to get me to read Banks for ages, and I'm so glad I didn't listen and waited until now because I feel like this book came to me at the right time of my life. It's a coming of age story, essentially, with a surprise murder mystery element that really sneaks up on you towards the end. It is brilliantly written, very emotional in parts and also very funny at others. I also loved it because the protagonist is the same age as me, living in the same city as me, and facing similar feelings of existential dread about the future. Really, really brilliant!! Would highly highly recommend.

On my radar

And that's it! i'm currently about halfway through The Wall by Marlen Haushofer, which I am enjoying but I'm not really sure where it's going/where it can go from here. In June I really want to stick to my book-buying ban, and luckily I have a huge tbr pile to choose from. I'll probably read The Forgery by Ava Barrera next, and I also have a non-fiction book about utopianism/post-scarcity/univeral basic income that I really want to get to. And as always, if you read this far i love you ❤️ and tell me what you read this month/what you're reading now/want to read next month! talk books to me!!!!

[kylejsugarman]

baby witnesses jesse having a breakthrough seizure and it fucking Terrifies her. she's doing her homework at the kitchen table when there's suddenly a horrible loud thump in the den and when she peeks in, she sees him convulsing on the floor. his eyes are painfully wide and open but unseeing—just like her mom's were when baby pushed open the bathroom door and found her body on the tiles. she does exactly what she did that day: she goes to the phone, dials the vet office's phone number (it used to be written down and taped next to the phone but baby has it memorized by now), and tells demi. this time, demi doesn't sound as scared and reassures baby that it's okay, she's leaving work right now but j will be okay. baby doesn't believe her and stays in the kitchen even after the sound of his limbs hitting the floor stops, too scared to go back in there and see his body. she feels awful and ashamed for not going to try to help j, but she's so terrified that she can't move. she's so afraid that she'll walk in there and he'll be dead. finally, demi comes home and stops to give baby a hug and a "it's okay, honey, u did so good" before hurrying into the den. baby hears demi's voice, then j's voice (alive), and is briefly overwhelmed by incredible relief before being crushed by shame. she stood here and did nothing all because she was scared. demi steps back into the kitchen and gently invites baby into the den, taking hold of her hand as baby looks up at her with the same dazed, distraught expression that she'd worn during the weeks after her mom's death. once baby sees him though—sitting on the floor and looking a little dazed himself, but ostensibly Alive—she immediately crumples and runs over to hug his neck, sobbing. "im sorry, j, im sorry for leaving u alone. i wanted to come help but i got scared and im sorry." he wraps his own arms around her shaky little body, holding on tight like they'll both fall apart without it. "dont be sorry, baby. u didnt leave me alone, u were right here. u got help. do u know how brave that is??" baby doesn't feel brave right now, crying into his hair and afraid to let go because letting go always equals death, and she doesn't believe him. she won't ever believe him, honestly. but hearing his voice and feeling his warmth and smelling his familiar scent of fresh-cut pine is all she needs in the moment. she needs to know that it won't happen again, not now that she has something special.

[manbearbitchie]

What are your favorite dynamics for Kyman? Or situations you've been wanting to see in fics :)

AHHHH OK thank u for asking this I love kyman.

One of my favorite things with them is like... the epiphany moment, the moment of them first realizing they have feelings for each other and being horrified. I like to think that Cartman definitely has had feelings for a loooong time but stays in denial about it until something actually happens between them, like in the heat of a fight or something they just kiss, and they'd both just snap, a light just switches on in their brains and they can't unsee their feelings for each other.

Once they start dating, I think they'd keep it a secret for a while and they're idiots and they'd equally love the "excitement" of sneaking around and hiding their relationship, but it would definitely cause a lot of fights about getting caught.

Once they do come out about their relationship tho I think they'd be an atrocious mushy PDA couple. They are the couple that sucks to hang out with bc they'll start an argument in front of everyone but then you'd find them making out in the corner.

This is another dynamic thing I like but also a thing I'd like to see in more fics is like... hurt/comfort I guess? I think Kyle and Cartman being gentle and nurturing to each other is so... closeted weeb coming out here but for lack of a better term "moe"? like so the opposite of how they are outwardly that it's so fucking touching and cute and shwbxbdjdj and I eat that shit up.

I have a million more things I could say but that is enough for now thank u for coming to my ted talk

[sev-wildfang]

can i ask wut about parkinson-morgan's writing u dislike/ find wanting? (genuinely interested not tryn to burn u)

for referanc i have not read lancer have read icon nd have read sum of k6bd but stopped when white chain (tgrl angel) got a body bc i was sorely disappointed by that choice nd the choice of body he gave her(no dick imo convent atractiv)

it's the showmanship to wow people who dont read books, dont research topics, and dont engage with philosophies or religious practices beyond patting each other on the back on imageboards, that does it for me. it comes across as intellectual but if you dig even an inch deep, youre not finding anything substantial, youre finding pop culture impressions of what buddhism and hinduism are, a metatron ripped not from biblical studies but from his dark materials, and a sour undertone of unreflected western Tales of Great Men.

once you notice this you can't unsee it: the Great Man (or great woman, like Allison) steadily improves himself through facing adversity to perfect himself more and more, through sheer willpower. id hesitate to call it a "grindset" but it is a kind of philosophy birthed, cradled, and reared by western capitalism. it disgusts me, politically. hes not doing it on purpose, which may be even worse, that he doesnt put these convictions into his work on purpose. in fact if he was, he wouldnt contradict himself about his own work! he might genuinely not be aware of what his own magnum opus actually says! (and dresses it up in Orientalist drapery)

and finally, to talk about the tokenism of White Chain you brought up: seeing her immediately turned into a beautiful black cis woman and discarded from the plot after providing another stepping stone for the Randian protagonist is not a great look. it makes sense in the context of what the plot says (its not a story of unpredictable twists and turns) but in the end that whole sequence does culminate in the lower-class queer woman and the black girl being sacrificed to further the white woman's hero journey. theyre her deadwife motivations for the final act. theyre the Casca to her Guts. unoriginality proliferated, and not even in an interesting way.

it's even funnier because he did acknowledge that on twitter, if only to scream "no this isnt what im doing"; a writer worth my respect either writes their text to make such accusations baseless, or sticks to their guns until a twist absolves them. flailing about telling readers that they shouldnt engage with the plot at face value is spineless to me. thats all i have to say on that.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: drabble #6

merry christmas, u dirty ship whores. takes place after chapter fourteen. tagging @romeoandjulietyouwish of course!

Screaming. The screech of metal on metal. Booming echoes that rattle her ribcage. Keyleth's head whips in every direction, but all she can see is deep, pulsing, seething red. The air tastes of iron and salt, and she's choking on it. She stumbles forward into the red, trying to call out, but if she makes a sound, it is swallowed by the thunderous, sourceless chaos around. She presses on, and trips over something, which sends her toppling to the ground. She rights herself, confused, and sees her father, motionless, with unseeing eyes staring up into oblivion. Again, her scream is overwhelmed by the din in her ears, and she clutches at his chest, which is soaked in thick crimson.

She turns her head, desperately seeking help, and just a bit away, she sees something else. She crawls toward it on her hands and knees, which are slick with blood, and finds Percy, his glasses shattered, his white hair stained red. Looking around once more, she sees others, the scattered bodies of Pike, Allura, Master Gilmore, her mother, and she screams, and this time, instead of silence, she generates an electric crackle, low at first, simmering, before it crescendos into something terrifying, a cacophonous lightning strike.

For a moment, the pandemonium around her is frozen, the sounds of death and destruction faded beneath her own horrific explosion. The red flashes white, and in the cold light, she sees someone standing, just a few yards away. She can't focus, not in the brightness, but as the lightning ebbs away, she sees him, one hand outstretched toward her. She reaches out, but then he comes into sharp relief: Vax, wide-eyed, his body sizzling with the electricity she screamed into being. His eyes look straight through her, not seeing her stretch out toward him, before he slumps down to the ground, dead.

"No!" Keyleth shoots up, sweating and confused. Her eyes blink rapidly, trying to reorient themselves to this new darkness, but before they can, there are hands on her, and she yelps.

"Keyleth!" comes a whisper in the dark. "Kiki, it's me!"

And then hands—of course. She'd know them anywhere, will have the memory of them on her skin until her body has returned to the earth. She's gasping for breath, and she reaches a hand out. "Vax?"

His fingers lace with hers, and suddenly his face is swarming into her vision. "Keyleth, are you alright?"

She takes a few moments to bring her breath under control, squeezing his hand until she worries she'll break both of their fingers. "I...sorry. I'm sorry."

"Keyleth..." He perches on the edge of her bed and brings his free hand up to brush the sweat-slick hair out of her face. "Don't apologize. You had a nightmare, that's all. You're okay."

Yes. A nightmare. Of course. That makes sense. Her father is alive, as is Percy, and Pike and Allura, and here Vax sits, his hand in hers, eyes moving and heart beating, so brilliantly alive. She looks at him, the shifting of his skin, the pinprick reflections of starlight in his eyes, the points of his ears, and she thinks of all the ways she can ruin him.

"I'm sorry," she breathes again, and she's no longer referring to the nightmare.

He must be able to tell, because he tucks her hair behind one ear and leans in to brush his lips against her forehead. "You never have to apologize to me. Not for this."

But she does, because she is the one with the responsibility to walk away. If she truly loved him, she would send him on his way, secure him gainful employment in another kingdom, where his proximity to her won't get him killed. She is a blight on his life, on his sister's life, and every minute he spends in her company is a minute stolen from a life free from the shadows she casts.

"Hey." She blinks out of her reverie, and she can just make out the crescent of his lips, turned up in a small, sad smile. "Never trust the thoughts that come to you in the gloom of night. Not your sleeping nightmares, nor your waking fears."

"Vax." She puts a hand over their intertwined fingers. "Can you..." But she can't bring herself to say it, can't ask for what she needs because her needs are selfish, because she is selfish.

But Vax, a creature of the shadows, knows what hers crave. He pulls her in, tucking her head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms tightly around her. Finally, Keyleth can breathe again, can feel the shatters of herself start to come back together. He is solid and warm, a lighthouse for her to swim toward in the storming seas of her mind. She releases his hand to twist both of hers into the front of his nightshirt, breathing in the smell of him. She hasn't allowed herself to think about this, about what she's been missing, here in these ungodly hours, where she is just a girl, in the arms of the boy she would raze nations for. The rise and fall of his chest, the cascade of his hair around her shoulders, the way he can't seem to stop himself from whispering I've got you to her, like the words come as thoughtlessly as his next breath. When he surrounds her like this, the raging storm inside quiets to a spring shower, something she'd greet with her face turned up.

She doesn't know how long they sit like this, his arms and her nightgown and their breath all becoming one, but eventually she pulls away. "Thank you, Vax." She's looking at his lips, the same ones that kissed her just a few short hours ago.

"Of course." Her eyes flick up to his, and they, too, are trained on her lips, which despite herself, curl up into a small smile.

They have to be better. "I think I'll be fine to sleep now."

"Of course." He doesn't make a move to leave the bed.

They need to be better. "You ought to go back to sleep yourself."

"Yes, Your Highness." Has his face gotten closer? It's so dark, with only the moon high in the sky to give any sort of light to see him by.

"Vax." She curls a hand along the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his hair, and brings his lips to hers. She kisses him hungrily, greedily, desperately, like this kiss is the thing that will keep him alive forever. She kisses him for so long her lungs scream for air, and she kisses him more. His hands find her waist, steadying her when she's so sure she's about to float up to disappear among the stars. When she breaks away, it is only by an instinctual need to breathe, and as she gasps, he continues to press his lips along her jawline up to her ears. "Vax," she sighs, and he knocks his forehead against hers.

"Yes, Your Highness." His voice is a rasp, breathy and rough.

"We must be better."

"Yes, Your Highness." He presses one delicate, feathery kiss to each of her closed eyelids, and when she opens them, he is gone, across the room, seated on his sleeping cot. Even in the dark, she can feel him staring at her, can imagine the way his pupils look blown wide, and she places a hand over her chest to calm her stampeding heart.

She doesn't say anything else. She lowers her head back down to her pillow, where she knows she will not sleep another wink tonight. She stares at the empty pillow beside her, where once, long, dark hair would spill around the contours of his face, the ones she's spent so many nights memorizing like a sailor knows by heart the stars he needs to navigate the seas. She closes her eyes, a single tear working its way down the curve of her nose, and resigns herself to the lonely hours left of this long night.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

if you still want to play that writers’ ask game, please consider 4, 36, and 40? for me? :3c

sweet rowan!! hello beloved i missed u 🥰😘

rowan is talking about this ask game (still open!)

4. What's a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

oh, just one?? there's so many!! well, if i can only have one, i guess it has to be darling - it's a bit of a cop out i suppose, but i find it to be incredibly versatile depending on context 🥰🥰 it can be incredibly personal and also enormously detached, genuine or sarcastic, soft or sharp or kind or cold..... there's something about the intimacy (real or not) of calling someone or being called darling that's really really appealing to me 🤩🤩

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice... what do you Know?

(....very little, i must confess......)

i know how to dance a little, and how to blag my way through school, and how to make chinese crispy pork, i know how to leave people on read, and do my laundry, and hide in my bed - i think if i wrote what i Know, i would write things that are scared and quite unfocused, and wishing to be extraordinary. i don't think they would be bad to read, but i don't think i would like them very much.

(in a much less metaphorical sense, you would get a lot of fics about dance class, robespierre, racial identity crises, and trying not to disappoint your parents. maybe not all at once, though - but i could certainly try 👀👀)

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

i tried to choose between them, but i can't, so i have two 🥳🥳

Hour, by Carol Ann Duffy

Love's time's beggar, but even a single hour,

bright as a dropped coin, makes love rich.

We find an hour together, spend it not on flowers

or wine, but the whole of the summer sky and a grass ditch.

For thousands of seconds we kiss; your hair

like treasure on the ground; the Midas light

turning your limbs to gold. Time slows, for here

we are millionaires, backhanding the night

so nothing dark will end our shining hour,

no jewel hold a candle to the cuckoo spit

hung from the blade of grass at your ear,

no chandelier or spotlight see you better lit

than here. Now. Time hates love, wants love poor,

but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.

and this is Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see by William Shakespeare (this should be familiar! 💕💕)

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,

For all the day they view things unrespected;

But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.

Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,

How would thy shadow's form form happy show

To the clear day with thy much clearer light,

When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!

How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made

By looking on thee in the living day,

When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade

Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!

All days are nights to see till I see thee,

And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

[lestweforget5]

Maybe one of Millie’s kids getting involved in like a Civil rights matter or feminism or maybe dating a POC and someone else having a preconceived idea about Millie’s opinion because army wife + southerner, but Millie being like ‘I fought against racist sexist arseholes! Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I am a racist sexist arsehole!’ But in a more Millie way of saying it.

Just Millie biting back at southerner stereotypes in her very Millie way.

Hello, Nonnie! Thank you for the ask! This has given me some very interesting food for thought. And I already know my thoughts are going to be quite lengthy, so I'm adding in the cut.

Given the role that Millie and the other women played during the war, I definitely could see her being interested/involved in, more quietly, some activist roles. And where ill-health/PTSD might stand in the way of Millie at some points, Maggie, who never marries and was even more outspoken than Millie, would also be an influence, I'd expect, on the Brady children.

Re the feminism angle:

Fighting for your country in a front-line role and, especially, being a prisoner of war changes you; you just can't rebound to what you were before the war, even if society at that period tended to itself rebound in the roles it expected of/allowed women during and after a war. I just finished reading a book called A Game of Birds and Wolves, which details the involvement of the WRNS in the development of anti-U-Boat tactics for the Battle of the Atlantic in WW2, and several passages at the end of the book struck me hard, thinking about this sort of context. The quotes are from pages 259-60.

‘The end of the war was a blow in lots of ways,’ said Peggy Hill, a Wren based at Swansea naval base. ‘Everybody felt the same. It was the end of a completely different way of living, like coming back to earth again. The missing went on for years.’ None felt ‘the missing’ more keenly than the women who, via war’s arrival, had been given an unprecedented opportunity to occupy spaces and roles that had been closed off to them. They had entered the war as one thing and exited as quite another. ‘The Wrens have carried out duties once thought to be completely outside the scope of womenkind.’ ... For the Wrens, the arrival of peace meant somehow relinquishing a new-found identity.

... When they arrived home, however, many of the young women found it difficult to reintegrate with former contemporaries. ‘They didn’t know what my life had been,’ said Claire James, a plotter who became a leading Wren. ‘I’d led a totally different life to anybody at home. I’d gone through things people at home hadn’t. I found it very difficult, settling back.’ ... The fresh opportunities that the country had, for a moment, afforded women in war were widely rescinded.

The women of the 100th bled and died and suffered for their country and saw horrors that you can never ever unsee. You cannot just go back to the status quo ante, even if other people want you to. Life doesn't work like that. People don't work like that. And while Millie is not looking for personal recognition, she wants those sacrifices to be acknowledged and honored and for her and the others not to be pushed back into the boxes of other people's preconceived notions of what women of that era should be. Not to say that there's anything wrong with being a stay-at-home mother or a housewife, but war irrevocably changes you, and what you were before isn't the same as what you are now, and as difficult as some male veterans found it reintegrating, I think female veterans in this Integrated AU would have A LOT of problems, too, and those boxes could have made it harder.

Re one of her children dating a POC:

I think this is the area where people's preconceived notions could go the most awry. After being further north long enough, Millie's Arkansas twang might soften a bit, but it is still quite noticeable for her entire life and marks her as someone who was born and grew up in the Deep South. And, sadly, being from the Deep South, especially in that era, can come with preconceived notions/implications about what that person thinks about ... issues of ethnicity, one could say.

But here's where things get interesting. In Sunward I've Climbed, when Macon, Jefferson, and Daniels arrive, Millie doesn't quite know what to think about their presence, if only because

there were so few colored folk in Randolph County, Arkansas, that she had rarely ever interacted with them growing up. At the very least, in the middle of a POW camp in the depth of Hitler’s Reich was the last place where racial issues needed to be causing conflict. They had enough enemies and problems to deal with without causing conflict with fellow Americans.

So, while Murph, who was from Atlanta, as I recall, was quite uncomfortable off the bat, Millie just follows Brady's lead and Buck's, for lack of any other plan initially.

So her first real interactions with POC are with Macon and Jefferson, as they all share a bunk room, and that influences her entire perception of those issues for the rest of her life and how she talked to her children about those issues.

(This is me just spitballing here, too, but given their talents in engineering and math, I could see Millie and Macon having some interesting conversations when they're both laid up in the bunk room, although I'm not knowledgeable enough about either to write a credible scene of such. There's just room for so much character development between August and her sharing her aspirin with Macon, when neither of them basically talk to her at all, to January where she carries with her the special birthday drawing Alex made for her.)

But, all that being said, yeah, Millie would not be very patient with being judged by where she was born. She's her own person with her own experiences, and even if she didn't say anything at first, she would definitely be quietly judging you and probably freezing you out ... in a very polite southern way. And knowing Brady will back her up would definitely help her take a stand on some issues.

[thyandrawrites]

Bnha AU in which everything is the same except Natsuo’s girlfriend is Camie

[mazqueen]

How can you tell which twin says what?

because i’ve rewatched petra’s scenes and gifed jane the virgin and single parents enough to know the difference between mia and ella :)) most of the time i can tell them apart in a glance at this point (and idk if you know identical twins irl but i do, and it’s actually pretty easy to tell them apart once you’re familiar with them) ie. their voices aren’t the same (anna’s is more high pitched, ellie’s more raspy), their face shapes aren’t the same (anna’s rounder than ellie’s), their height isn’t the same either (ellie’s just a little bit taller). 

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we get a dpwyf dabble where koo is in heat and u know namjoon kind of sees them at it and koo gets possessive😣. PS bonny drink lots of water

Jungkook and his heats were.. a lot to handle.

It was easier when he didn't hit the proper age for a hybrid his kind; but once he'd turned 21, things became a lot kore complicated. Medications didn't work any longer, his heats got stronger, and the side effects even worse. Namjoon regularly scheduled partners for him, but while he accepted it years ago, nowadays, he had become increasingly picky with whom he'd like to spend it with.

Even going as far as to refuse anyone.

And through the whole adoption process and stress, namjoon had honestly completely forgotten about it; but it's evident what's going on behind the door that's not even fully closed, your whimpers not ones of pain but pleasure. The wooden bedframe jungkook holds onto with one hand creaks in protest; noises in sync with every snap of his hips into yours, as he mounts you from behind.

It's an obscene sight, forbidden almost; but namjoon can't rip his gaze away for a good moment.

Your toes are curling, naked body squirming underneath jungkooks way broader frame, front down on the bed while your behind stays perched up, eagerly accepting jungkooks rather rough pace. Your eyes are glossy, hazy with lust, an expression he won't be able to ever unsee now that he'd witnessed it.

And then Jungkooks head snaps to the door, gazes locking as if he's looking right down his owner's very soul.

But he simply leans over you, handeaving the bedframe as he pulls you close to his front with his arms wrapped around you; your back now arching into him as your ears flop lazily. You're completely and happily at his mercy, tail all messy with both your arousal and his past release- but happily wiggling about, while jungkooks own tail whips from side to side in excitement.

He doesn't even break eye contact when he leans down to bite your neck, Cumming deep inside with one last thrust, pressure of his seed inside you making you shiver and come undone as well, going limp in his arms, before he carefully let's you lay down. His cock slips out easily; your core still clenching around nothing, pushing out his seed as if to make space for more.

Namjoon finally breaks away, closing the door behind him before he runs a hand over his face.

He really needs a cold shower now.

[wh6res]

spectator | jeno

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet." — ljn

TW mafia au, blood, violence, mentions of prostitution and brothels, mentions of past torture, extreme power imbalance, dumbification, they used a tranquilizer

A/N first half is told in renjun's pov also this is for dino anon hehe thank u for the inspo babes!!

DISC i don't condone anything. this isn't love.

WC 1.4k

renjun was fairly new to the mafia but it didn't take him long to realize the outrageous things they considered are the norms here. one of the first things he noticed is a cute little bunny dressed in scraps that always seemed to tail jeno wherever he went. jeno was his superior, albeit they were the same age, so it sucked that renjun had to use honorifics.

oftentimes he ignores you when jeno stands before him giving orders, or when they pass by each other in the hallways and stop to exchange pleasantries.

as renjun quickly climbed the ranks thanks to his agility and cunning mind, you, unfortunately, remained in the same position—always sitting by jeno's feet like a puppy, a body, a plaything, a whore. there were rumors that the boss gave his executives a chance to pick from the litters before they're shipped off to brothels, kind of like peace offerings in exchange for their compliance.

people said the stoic, muscular young man never really indulged himself in such temporary matters. until probably two years ago, until jeno first laid his eyes on you and decided then and there you were too pretty to become a random whore in the chain of brothels the mafia owned. the petite boy believes maybe it's a disguised blessing on your part, at least you'd only have to deal with one man every night, right?

renjun can only look at you from afar, keeping in mind not to stare too openly nor too intrusively that your owner notices. he's seen the bruises. the purple and black patches of your skin and renjun never gets used to it. his stomach turning at the idea of jeno deliberately marking your skin where the oversized shirt you wear won't be able to cover. the chinese immigrant would be stupid not to notice what that meant—it's jeno's clear sign of dominance, of the severe power imbalance, and not a single man in this building can stop him from doing whatever he wants to you.

renjun managed to piece things together thanks to his naturally observant nature. jeno never punished you for what you did, he punished you because he knows he can't touch his subordinates for something measly such as bumping or staring at his whore. the young mafia executive decides to take it out on you instead, albeit the flawed logic and unfairness of it all—proof that every person in this criminal organization is fucked up in the head.

despite jeno's maltreatment, renjun never heard a single complaint from you nor can he detect a feeling of rebellion out of you. you were so eerily compliant that the chinese can't help but think of what other horrible means jeno did for you to become so broken. renjun tried thinking about it, once, but never again. he can be cruel if he wants to be, but not without purpose. not because he gets a kick out of seeing a face twisted in terror. he wasn't like jeno, who smiled and laghed after blowing someone's brain up in the mafia's torture rooms.

this is why jeno is the only man fit for the job, the reason he became an executive at such a young age—there's no man he can't break for information. renjun doesn't know what jeno does to the poor people in the torture rooms but the piercing screams are enough to decide never to go against his superior.

renjun never thought he'll live the day to hear your screams coming from one of those rooms.

"what?" he does a double-take, eyes wide and unbelieving. "what do you mean she's in there? that's her, right now?"

haechan shrugs, wincing when he hears another scream coming from inside the room. he'll never know why these rooms aren't soundproof, maybe it was a way for jeno to keep his subordinates in line—"hear that? just be grateful that's not you."—you wouldn't want to cross a man who has no moral compass. "yeah. i heard she tried to escape."

renjun doesn't like the cool, amused smirk on haechan's face as he leaned back against the door, looking like everything is okay when it's not. "heard she got like… what, ten feet? give or take—yeah, i think ten feet out the door before jaemin's men tranqed her so much she would have slept for a week."

it was easy for renjun to detach himself, disregard his own set of beliefs and sweep them all under the pretense of "it's just work, nothing personal" but with you, it felt different. he knows you. well, knows of you. it's different, personal even, when he can match a face to those gruesome, ear-shattering screams that wracked through his bones.

he wanted to help you.

renjun wanted to help you.

but no, he didn't want to get shot in the head for insubordination.

jeno manually props you against the wall, cringing at the trail of blood that stains the tiles and pools underneath you. your shirt—rather, jeno's—was soaked through with the crimson liquid, your hair sticking to the side of your head. it feels like you were burning from the inside with every breath you take.

maybe months, years, of compliance made you forgetful. after all, jeno is a man of his word, through and through. he can only threaten you so much until he snaps. maybe he deemed the swift punishments and his harsh words insufficient. but who were you kidding? with the stunt you pulled… fuck, why did you even think of making a run for it? you should've known you won't even make it across the street! stupid. stupid. stupid.

you swore never to make him angry enough to bring you back down here in the torture chambers—this is his domain, and you shivered in fear with every fleeting thought you have about what he does behind those cement walls.

the first time jeno took you down here had been granted by the boss himself (see, the man running the mafia has favorites). jeno's men held you by the arms and made you watch as he killed a poor guy with his bare hands. slowly, excruciatingly, bleeding out because of the wounds jeno inflicted with his fists alone.

the second time was because of your first escape attempt. ah, you had been so energetic back then. always talking back, snarling and cursing him out. after that second time, you've become more compliant and have thoroughly embodied whatever sick fantasy jeno had of you. his broken doll, unseeing, unthinking, who breathes and lives only because he wanted her to.

you've heard him countless times say how much he missed that energetic personality you had. but only because you knew at least then he'd think the cruel punishments are justified.

oftentimes, he'll say it when you two are alone, in his room at headquarters, too disgustingly intimate like lovers and not a whore and her owner. his cold lips leavees a sweet trail on your neck, blood-stained hands soiling your skin underneath the dirty shirt, before finally slotting himself next to you as the cot creaks with the extra weight. he reeked of sweat and metallic and his eyes hazy from that post-bloodlust high.

jeno's boots squelch when he steps closer. never crouching, he wanted you to feel that severe power imbalance between the two of you.

"i won't ask you to apologize. not when i know you don't mean it."

you don't bother to reply. not because you don't want to but because you can't, voice utterly hoarse and scratchy from screaming while jeno breaks and tears you down as if he doesn't whisper the words i love you at night. you're his lover only when he needs you to be. sad, that he rarely felt the need of a lover and more so needed a cunny to fuck.

finally, he crouches. slow and never breaking eye contact. he raises a hand to push a strand of hair away from your face probably. you flinch. he doesn't care. "jeno, please don't touch me." but he touches you anyway.

you feel the callouses in his palms as he caresses your face. the calm before the storm. the deep inhale before the plunge. jeno grabs your chin and tilts your head up, a serene smile ghosting his lips. he looked at peace. satisfied. and you have never been more scared of him than you ever did in the last four years.

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet."

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