#people are free to like them. I just don't

[pawberri]

People will miss the ugly tacky aesthetics of the past and attribute them to people feeling more "free to be cringe" or it being "a simpler time" but i think actually you just don't realize you currently hate the ugly tacky aesthetics of the modern day bc you think they're ugly. Like there is no difference between the scene or emo anime girl from google and the modern Vtuber with 100 things on their design for no reason except that one of them represents how stupid and aesthetically bankrupt the modern day is in your mind

[grinly]

It's blatantly not.

It's a slur to call any Romani that is not a wanderer gypsy, but it isn't and it never has been a slur.

It's the equivelent of calling a black office worker a cotton picker. That's VERY racist. But there are still people who work picking cotton out there and people who picked cotton historically.

I get why if you were a settled Romani you'd be over the word though. And modern gypsies aren't what they used to be in a way that makes me... Sad after getting to hang with my best friends grandpa as a youth and hearing about the life. It made me want to live it until I found out that modern travelers are all on the government take and so entitled when it comes to leaving messes at rest areas that they're actively changing the laws just to stop them from ruining public spaces and moving on without even tossing their dirty nappies in the nearest bin.

Maybe things change. Maybe it is a slur now because the people it refers to stopped making bueatiful things, doing silverwork and tanning. Entertaining. Playing tricks to get just a few more coins to survive. Idk, forgive an old man's nostalgia about stories he heard as a boy.

The Romani used to be proud of being gypsies, maybe it stopped being something that had a kind of nobility to it and that's why so many settled down. Maybe that makes the word a slur now? I like to picture the way they used to be though, the way I heard about. I even used some of those tricks when I was homeless, ate a few times when I wouldn't have.

The train kids still seem to have that old spirit though. I don't know if they have a name for themselves, they just need to be fast enough to hop onto a train car during a curve and off before the station man can catch them and give them a whipping. They did some beautiful graffiti to memorialize a friend that died overlooking the train lines near me. City painted over it, of course.

Anyways I hope there are always people out there who are free the way the gypsies used to be, but don't drop that shit on a settled Rom because it's very racist. Context matters.

G*PSY IS AN ETHNIC SLUR. G*PSY IS AN ETHNIC SLUR. G*SPY IS AN ETHNIC SLUR. STOP USING “G*PSY” IN YOUR URLS AND PROMOS G*PSY IS AN ETHNIC SLUR.

[dc-fanfic-sideblog]

you’ve got me hooked onto your series girl 😖 i will take any crumbs you have available

The crumbs that are invading my brain rn is the relationship between the Batfam and reader

So like reader is on a full ride scholarship to Gotham University for costume design, on a special program for the arts created by Bruce Wayne

I like to think he gets to meet all the scholarship winners in person either before they get to University to ask about their degree plan or during the first few weeks to see how they're settling in.

Reader isn't from Gotham, so Bruce meets them at the Gotham airport (does Gotham have an airport?? I just looked it up and the fandom wiki says its called the Archie Goodwin international airport so that's what you're getting.)

and obviously this gains a lot of press attention because its not often that Bruce Wayne picks up someone from the airport. like sure he meets most, if not all, his scholarship students but up until this point he's never picked them up in person.

His security people are making sure you get to his limo safe and during the ride over to whatever restaurant he reserved for your first day at Gotham, he asks about your major and the decision to apply to his scholarship out there in Gotham and it's a little awkward because how're you supposed to act sitting in a limo with a billionaire asking you about theatre??

Anyways you get to some high end restaurant and end up meeting a few of his kids: Dick, Tim, and Damian. so you're not just alone with a grown ass man.

Dick and Tim are civil, polite, but Damian isn't holding anything back. Making snide remarks and just generally judging your ability to even survive in Gotham as a theatre major of all things

but honestly you're not hurt because dude you're like 11 years old, shouldn't you be reading Warrior Cats (because you don't know he's literally trained by assassins)

but you don't actually say that to him because you're not gonna mouth off the kid of the man that gave you a free ride to college, so you just humor him with semi serious answers

"Theatre major... really?"

"yup"

"How do you expect to survive in Gotham as a Theatre Major"

"Spite, obviously you've never experienced tech week while in the middle of finals"

"...hmm"

silly guy

dinner ends and they drop you off at your pre arranged apartment you managed to rent

Jason watches from afar as Red Hood to check out the new student Bruce met during dinner. Dropping in back at the manor to talk to his brothers about their impressions

They obviously don't think much about you because Bruce's met so many students over the years so they kinda forget about you until your proposal of interviewing villains in Arkham reaches their ears and now suddenly they're on high alert because what kinda plan is that are you stupid??

thats about all i got, hope you enjoyed!!

[this-is-exorsexism]

this isn't something that exclusively affects nonbinary people, but for reasons i'm gonna get into, we're disproportionately and the most obviously affected by this.

whether we'd like to admit it or not: the trans community has a problem with bioessentialism and is at times just as obsessed over genitals at birth as cis people are.

it becomes really obvious when you look at how nonbinary people are grouped into amab and afab, transmasc or transfem. for trans men, everyone assumes they were born with a vagina, for trans women, everyone assumes they were born with a penis. with those terms, it's easy for people to make assumptions about "where they came from", i.e. what genitals they were born with. of course in these ideas, there is no room for intersex experiences.

nonbinary is more vague and doesn't have "built-in" assumptions about AGAB or genitals at birth. and people hate that. i believe it's one of the main reasons why people are obsessed with dividing us into amab and afab.

but many people have realised that this isn't a good look, so instead they divide us into transmasc and transfem. if trans men are assumed to all be afab and have vaginas at birth, then so are all transmascs. of transfems are assumed to all be amab and have penises at birth, then so are all transfems. (note: this is not at all about people self-identifying as transmasc or transfem, but rather about people using them as collective descriptors.) nonbinary people are constantly confronted with questions like "are you transmasc or transfem?" by other trans people, trying to figure out "where we came from". nonbinary people confuse most people, and most people can't sit with that at all. transmasc and transfem as collective terms like this are considered less bad than amab and afab, because at least they don't refer to agab anymore, so we're not allowed to say anything. ignore the fact that these terms are misgendering many of us and painting a linear picture of the gender spectrum.

i'm very sure that this is also why people hate afab transfems and amab transmascs so much. if transmasc no longer automatically means afab, and transfem no longer automatically means amab, then these terms have supposedly "lost all meaning", because whatever will i do if i don't know what genitals someone was born with.

because let's be real, that's what the obsession with AGAB comes down to. you were born with either a vagina or a penis and that will shape all of your trans experiences. once again ignoring intersex people or any sort of diversity in people's upbringing. it's bioessentialism.

and because nonbinary as a label is free from agab assumptions, we're called by these extra terms that we may or may not identify with way more often. not only are we reduced to our bodies, we're also misgendered and/or consistently related back to our agab in the process.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Collision

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, blood, injury, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you find yourself in the hands of unexpected saviours after an accident.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Helmut Zemo

Note: Ugh, here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

A loud bang awakes you.

You're not in your bed. Not sleeping. That cloudy feeling in your head combines with the haze of dust across your vision. The same ash coats your skin, suffocating as you writhe beneath the weight that pins you.

You moan and cough, dizzy and dazed as your mind turns slowly. You reach up instinctively to drag yourself free of whatever is on you. The effort does little more than pull more scraps of plaster towards you.

You fall flat and wheeze. What the heck happened? You blink and try to wipe the grime from your face.

It comes in patches. The big building, the interview, your borrowed heels. The desperation that's now turned dire as you stare at the singed ceiling.

"Dammit," a voice snarls as there's a clatter. Some metal thumps and there's a hiss. "You goddamn--" the man stops himself. "I said no bombs."

"You said you wanted a way in, soldat," the lilted slither returns.

"Don't call me that. I'll break your jaw," the deeper voice warns. "I doubt that thing you're wearing will protect you. You look stupid."

"Well, forgive me for having taste," the other man snickers. "You got what you needed--"

"I don't need all this. Do you have any idea the kinda shit that's gonna rain down on me. You're lucky this place was as shell--"

Your throat clogs with ash and you cough again. You try to wet your lips but even your tongue is pasty with the stuff. Their voices silence. You listen but only hear one pair of steps.

A shadow appears on the other side of the lumber and metal that traps you. Another from your other side you don't hear. You raise your palm helplessly to shield yourself. Blood covers your fingers, one of them bent to the side. You whimper and choke again.

"Shit, I told you--" The bare-faced man snarls at the one in the strange purple mask.

"She was not in my calculations," the other rebuffs.

"Not in your--" the other huffs and stops himself. He drops to one knee over you. "Miss, miss, can you hear me?"

You try to answer and your voice comes out like a fizzle. He shakes his head and turns to sneer at the other man. He stands and lifts the thick pillar from over you, clearing away the rest of the mess.

"Little help," he snips at the other.

"I think you got it," the other pulls a thin thread free of his glove.

"Miss," the other man kneels again, feeling around his belt. He frees a canteen and searches his pockets. He shrugs and pours the water over your face. He wipes the dust away with his hand then put the neck above your lips. "Don't swallow, you gotta rinse this stuff out."

He fills your mouth and you gag. He hurriedly sits you up and you hack out the liquid with a rattle. Your arms hangs at your left side and you grunt at the pang in your bones.

"Zemo! You just gonna watch."

"Yes," the other man answers smugly. "What are we going to do with the creature?"

"You're serious?"

"I am... on the lamb, as you say," the other shrugs.

"Get the car," the man holding you up growls.

"Wh-what..." you can barely speak for the pain. Your head droops as the room tilts in your vision and you stare down at the red stain across your pressed blouse. Blood. Your blood.

"Go!" The man yells.

The footsteps of the other scamper off beneath his grumble. The man lifts you as you put your head back and scream in horror. You feel the blood draining out of you.

"Shh, stop," he hisses as he walks over the piles of rubble. "Don't do that, alright? You gotta calm down."

"B-b-but..." you babble and put your hands to your side, feeling the warm stickiness.

"That's it, doll, put pressure on it." He girds as he nears the blown-out wall.

You whine and quake as you obey him. You tuck your chin down and focus on containing the flow. An engine whirs up and he angles you around to open the door. He slides you into the backset and follows you.

"Go," he orders the driver.

"Oh, Barnes," the man he called Zemo tuts. "Not such a cold heart after all."

"Be quiet," he snips. Barnes?

He slides something free of the pocket in the door and opens the small chest. He takes out gauze and folds it in layers.

"Let me get a look," he touches your hand with his. His fingers are forged in metal. Huh?

Your hand slips and he wipes with the gauze. He hums as he leans in, parting the torn fabric around the gash.

"Not awful," her mutters.

"Dying," you murmur.

"No," he insists. "Zemo, what are you doing? Taking in the sights?"

"Be calm. It wouldn't do to draw attention," he insists.

The other man growls again but keeps tending to you. He tugs your shirt up above your chest and wraps your middle, padding around the cut with a thick layer of cotton. He knots it tight then puts his fingers to your neck.

"Pulse is strong," he says then feels along your arm. You cry out as he touches left. "Can you move it?"

You try and shriek again.

"Dear man, her screams are rather distracting."

"Shut up." Barnes' lips thin. "Alright, uh," he unzips his jacket and slips his hand under, fishing around. "Just relax, doll. I got something will help you until we get you fixed up."

He slides out a metal tube. You squint, your lashes still covered in dust. A sharp point pops out the end. Before you can react, he jabs it into your upper arm. A coolness spreads through your vein and tingles over you, washing out the agony.

"Zemo..." Barnes hisses as your eyes drift upward into the sockets. "... you goddamn idiot."

💞

Swaths of black and grey fold into each other in the abstraction of your subconscious. You forget the ruin, the blood, the fear. You forget yourself as you sink into the pit.

A glimmer of light breaks the void. A thin line between your eyelids. Your skull pulses and you feel as if you're moving. You open your eyes completely. You're still. Laying on your back, propped up slightly, in a king bed.

Where are you? The world around you is unfamiliar. The tall posts of the bed frame, the canopy pinned back behind them, the silky duvet and sheets. For all the comfort, you are entirely uncomfortable.

Your shoulder hurts, your ribs and side too, your face is thrumming, and your finger is on fire. You look down at your right hand. Your pink is wrapped and splinted. Your left shoulder is achy, your arm bent into a sling. The blankets are folded right beneath your elbow, hiding the rest of your injuries.

You remember the earth shaking, the dust, the voices. Those men...

You peer around as slowly the edges of your vision sharpen. There's a large painting showing a scene of ribaldry, men and women from another era sloshing wine without modesty. The furniture is antique and polished, well-kept, the wall-paper vintage but not gauche.

Next to you is a folded paper standing like a pyramid. Next to it, a golden bell. The card reads; ring me.

You whimper at just the thought of moving. You don't even try your left arm. You reach and grab the handle, your pinky kept straight in the splint. You tinkle the bell and the noise rattles in your head. You put it down to quiet the sharp noise.

You wait. You don't hear anything. Nothing changes.

You close your eyes and ease against the pillows. You hurt so bad. You wish you could just go back to sleep but the pain keeps you restless.

There's a creak. You look out from beneath your lashes as the door opens. A man enters. Brown hair, browner eyes, and a permanent smirk written into his thin lips.

"Darling, you are alive!" He raises his glass of dark liquid and slurps bawdily. "Cheers to you."

You blink. You know that voice. The buzzing in your ears clears.

"Zemo?"

"You remember!" He winks triumphantly. "Ah, but you must be miserable. Scotch?"

He comes closer and offers the glass. He wears a silken robe that gives a peek at his fluffy chest hair. You frown and shake your head, grimacing at the ripples of pain.

"I do recommend it. In your state, especially."

"Zemo," his voice rolls like silt in the air. He backs away and turns to watch the other man enter. The one with the metal arm.

"Barnes," you croak.

He stops short and looks at Zemo. "Bucky," he corrects you.

You can only nod. Just once before you moan and quiver against the pillows.

"It must be wearing off," he shakes his head and approaches. He opens the drawer of the nightstand. He takes out another metal tube. "Half-dose this time. Don't wanna make a habit."

He pokes your arm again. Too quick for you to react. You sigh as the soothing floe overrides your pain.

"You do like them sedated, eh?" The other man teases.

"Why are you in here?" Bucky spins on his cohort. "Hm? And why aren't you dressed?"

"You should be praising me. I was quick to respond for her call for help. I did not even fully draw my bath. I came at once."

"With scotch?"

"Well, forgive me for enjoying the finer things."

"You are unbelievable."

"Me? You are the one who absconded with a casualty."

"I did not--"

"You should've taken her to hospital."

"You said--"

"You don't usually listen to me," Zemo counters coyly. Your eyelids droop as their argument turns to low drones in your itchy ears.

"Doll," Bucky startles you as suddenly he's beside you, sat on the edge of the bed with a glowing glass of water. "You need to drink some. Eat too."

You gurgle senselessly. He leans the brim on your lips and slowly tips it into your mouth. He gentle rubs your throat to make your swallow. It's almost soothing.

"We're just gonna get you back to new then..." he trails off into a sigh. "Wasn't supposed to happen." He trades the glass for a bowl. "Soup."

He offers the spoon. You bat your lashes and open your mouth numbly. He feeds you the warm broth. You close your mouth and gulp with effort.

"Sorry, ya know? It's not-- not what I'm doing-- I thought--" he shakes his head. "Does it matter what I say? Look at you."

You don't say anything. You can't. He feeds you another bite and you shakily move your right hand towards him. You touch the hem of his shirt. He looks down in confusion.

"What?" He furrows his brow, blue eyes swimming like water sparkling over the coast.

"Know... you." You utter as your brain flickers.

He shrugs and scoops up more soup. As he hovers it before you, you groan and lift your hand to touch his. You brush the metal plates of the heel cradling the bowl.

"Hero." You say as the thoughts slowly piece together.

He sighs and looks down. His jaw clenches and his nose flares. He glances over his shoulder.

"Trying," he utters.

You keep your hand up, shifting it to look at your pinky. You frown. He does too. He rests the spoon in the bowl and gently guides your hand down.

"Tried to fix you up," he spoons up more soup. "Gonna be a bit."

You take another bite. It's better the more you eat. Not as stringent. Your stomach slowly adjusts.

You watch him as you eat. That seems to make him nervous. You remember him from pictures and videos. On the news. In history books.

"Bucky," you say.

"Just like I said, doll," he affirms.

You nod and open your mouth again. He puts the spoon in and you suck it clean. Now he watches you.

"Sorry about my... about Zemo."

You shake your head and wave weakly. You push your hand on the bed and try to sit up. His eyes flash.

"Woah, don't-- you gotta take it easy."

You fall back and whine. He sets the bowl down and turns to help you, sitting you up higher as he adjusts the pillows. He draws back, his hands brushing your sides and he sits again.

"Doll, you need anything, you say so." He eyes you with concern. "Already did enough damage."

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

What's frustrating in all this is that Jenni's life is ruined and all that for a 10,000 slap on the wrist.

yes, i think what people don't understand is that there are those who view this as a victory for rubiales. €10.800 is pocket change to a man like rubiales and there's no prison time associated. and given that he was acquitted for coercion, it was simply an expensive "stolen kiss" and nothing more.

meanwhile, yes, jenni's life is effectively ruined. she is done with the national team, and realistically cannot come back to play in spain. she'll continue to receive harassment. (i mean just go on social media and see the messages mocking the trial 🙃) it's incredibly unfair to her and her family.

and finally, if you think a conviction for sexual assault will mean anything in this country, then you are incredibly naive. rather, when this act was fully televised with multiple camera angles in front of the entire world, and the final result was a €10.800 slap on the wrist, do people not realise how this emboldens others? and for the coercion allegations, it means that the judge did not believe the players' testimony. do you see how that puts the players in an uncomfortable position as not credible?

personally, i think we all need to be vigilant. rubiales will take some time away and then will come back to the world of football. and the snakes vilda, luque, and rivera? they are free to continue with impunity.

i feel more for our players and above all, jenni hermoso, more than anything else. it's about to get a lot more worse for them! 🙏

[missunsympathetic]

Conclave fandom has gotten too big so now I have to read "why do people stan tedesco he is facist" takes every day on my timelines.

There is a very simple answer btw: he is fictional. He is a character, he is a tool in a story to play with and do with whatever you want. Yes, if he was real, I'd also like to punch him in the face, but he isn't. He is a character in a story and you can play with him, you can give him redemption, you can make him worse, you can make him have gay sex. Whatever you want.

I genuinely thought we left the "people who like morally reprehensible characters are bad people" takes behind.

[writinginatree]

Jealous Little Puppy

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sibling!reader, Bodhi Durran & Riorson!reader, background Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Summary: You feel neglected because your brother spends every free minute with Violet and has no time left for you.

Warnings: Jealousy, low self-worth, abandonment issues, implied depression. Set in Aretia during Iron Flame.

Anonymous requested: I want to ask something for Xaden where the reader is jealous and feels like she's in second place to Violet? Maybe because Violet and Xaden's dragons are mate, and they spend a lot of time together, the reader is jealous, but she gets all grumpy, glaring at Xaden, refusing his touch... but deep down she's a little lost puppy who just wants to be loved and protected🥹🤍

You sit on the bottom stair in the foyer of Riorson House, watching your brother across the room. The physical distance is nothing compared to how far away he's felt emotionally ever since you saw him again after entering the Riders Quadrant a few months ago. You were hoping he would have a few minutes to come to the gym and help you with a move you have trouble mastering, but, as usual, he's otherwise occupied.

He and Violet are locked in one of their silent conversations. You don't understand how, but you've been watching them enough to be sure they have some strange way of communicating without anyone else being any the wiser. It has to be part of the whole mated dragons thing somehow, you suppose. Maybe because of it, they can talk the same way riders and dragons talk. However it works, you hate when they do that. It always makes you paranoid, wondering if you did something wrong, if they're talking about you. Of course they aren't; you're not so self-important to truly believe they are. Nonetheless, that prickle of anxiety never fades. Maybe you did do something wrong and that's why Xaden's been so closed off from you?

He never has time for you these days. You'd thought maybe that would change now that you're back home in Aretia, but honestly, you should have known better. Every free second he has is dedicated to Violet, regardless of where you are and how often he's there.

Starting the quadrant, you'd been thrilled to learn that Xaden would be returning to Basgiath every two weeks due to his dragon being mated to that of a second-year, thinking you would get to see him on those occasions. And yes, the first time he'd visited, he had used the chance to check on you. Briefly. After that, nothing. You didn't get to talk to him again until after he showed up to save Violet and you all defected. According to Bodhi, it had been because you were safer that way. As if people weren't perfectly aware of who you are regardless of whether or not your brother payed any attention to you.

And while you do get to see a little more of him now, he never actually spends time with you. It hurts more than you care to admit. After lonely years stuck in a foster home, counting the days until you'd get to see your family again, it now feels a lot like your family doesn't want you anymore. You've been spending time with Bodhi whenever possible, but he doesn't have much time for you either, and, as much as you love your cousin, he simply can't make up for your brother's unavailability.

What little free time Xaden has, he spends with Violet. It's been going on like this for months. You try not to be jealous of all the attention Xaden gives her, but it's hard. They're so close, blind to anything except each other.

At first, it was nice to see them so obviously in love. Gods know Xaden deserves to finally have some happiness in his life. Things have been rough for all of you since the apostasy, but for him especially. And you're glad he has Violet to take care of him now, you really are.

It's just that most of these days, it feels as though you've turned invisible.

You know you're being unreasonable. You're an adult and should be fine on your own. But after having your mother abandon you, and your father die for a failed rebellion and leaving you behind, being constantly ignored by your brother in favor of his girlfriend is simply too much. It's like there's no space left for you in Xaden's life now that he has her.

The worst part is that you actually like Violet. It would be easier if you could hate her for stealing your brother from you, but you admire her. You're even friends — or as close to being friends as a measly first-year like you can get with a powerful second-year like her.

She never has time for you, either. You can't blame her. She's busy — as is Xaden, you know that. But that's different. Violet has no obligation to waste her time on you, but Xaden is your damned brother. He could at least say hi when he's home, ask how you're doing once in a while.

Instead, he only pays attention to you when you're in trouble, like is the case a few days later.

It wasn't even your fault this time. Your squadmate had gotten into a fight with one of the fliers; all you had done was try to make peace between them. Things escalated into a fist fight despite your efforts, and when the professors broke it up, no one asked who'd started it or gave you a chance to explain. After a whole fifteen minutes of Ulices yelling at the lot of you, you were sentenced to breakfast duty along with those who'd actually been involved in the fight.

And of course some asshole immediately informed Xaden about it when he returned from a long patrol later that afternoon, so now you're stuck getting another lecture, this time from your brother dearest.

"I hear you got into a fight with the fliers," he starts, glaring at you like you're the biggest disappointment he's ever seen.

All hopes that he might listen to your side of the incident evaporate, but you try anyway. "I—"

"I didn't think I had to tell you this," he goes on, "but you're supposed to be a good example for the others. We cannot have fliers and riders turn on each other, or everything will fall apart."

"It wasn't—"

"I expect you to be on your best behavior from now on. If I hear about any more incidents like this, the punishment your professors come up with will be the least of your worries. Is that clear?"

It's an effort to swallow your anger and the bitter feeling of betrayal. You've never felt so unwelcome in your own home. Somehow, you manage to keep your voice steady and void of emotion when you answer. "Yes, sir."

Bodhi finds you crying in your room that night.

"Hey, what's wrong? If it's because of that fight you got into—"

You can't take it anymore. "I didn't!" you shout, shooting to your feet. "I was just in the middle of it because I tried to make them stop, but no one ever fucking listens to anything I say!"

Bodhi raises his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. Sorry. I can take it up with leadership for you. I'm sure they'll exclude you from the punishment if I explain that you—"

"Nevermind. I don't care about breakfast duty."

"But?"

You sit back down on the edge of your bed, wipe the tears from your face and shake your head. You don't look at him. "Nothing. It's nothing."

He wouldn't understand. He's never been needy for attention like you, is happy to do his duty without expecting thanks or acknowledgement. Oh, he would be sympathetic if you told him. Would let you pour your heart out about how unimportant you feel, how lonely you are because Violet is Xaden's number one priority and no one has time for you. Would hold you and stroke your hair, give you all the attention you so desperately crave. He'd sit with you and dry your tears until you fell peacefully asleep instead of crying yourself to sleep like you'd done so often lately.

But he would not understand. And once you were soundly asleep, he would tell Xaden.

And while Bodhi would certainly be doing so for your own good, you would rather let your dragon bite your arm off than talk to your brother about this. At best, Xaden would think you're being annoying, clingy, and childish. At worst... well, you're not sure. It doesn't matter. Talking about it would not improve the situation, that much you're sure of.

Therefore, you keep your mouth shut and your eyes glued to the floor until Bodhi finally decides to leave you be. He has homework and section leader stuff to do, after all. As soon as you're certain he's gone, you let the calm facade crack again and flop down on the bed, sobbing into your pillow.

Almost two weeks pass before Xaden deigns to talk to you again. You see him in the hall a few times, but he doesn't pay you any mind. Maybe he just doesn't notice you, or maybe he's doing it on purpose to punish you for your perceived misbehaviour. You don't know and it doesn't matter. Of course you could always greet him first, but you're tired of begging for his attention, so you convince yourself you don't want or need it anymore.

You're sitting at lunch when Xaden walks past behind you, reaching out to muss up your hair in passing as he's done thousands of times before, though not in a while. For the first time in your life, you swat his hand away.

He freezes, and you can practically feel his bewildered gaze boring into the back of your head. You continue eating like he isn't there.

For a moment he just stands there, trying to figure you out. When he speaks, his voice has an annoyed edge to it, but beneath that, there's a hint of what almost sounds like worry. "You're not still mad because I believed that you were involved in that brawl with the fliers, are you? Bodhi told me it wasn't your fault you got dragged into—"

"No," you cut him off, sparing him a glance over your shoulder after all. "No, everything is fine."

"Right..."

Though he clearly doesn't believe you, he leaves it be, walking off to find his own lunch. You knew he would. You don't matter enough for him to make a scene in front of your squad.

To your surprise, Xaden intercepts you outside your room that evening. Maybe Violet is still busy in the library; he sure as hell wouldn't be bothering with you if she had time for him.

"Okay, what's wrong?" he demands without preamble. "And don't you dare say it's nothing. You're skulking around like an abandoned puppy."

You bite your tongue to keep from retorting that that's exactly how you feel. Like he put you in a crate and left you in some dark alley because you're not worth taking care of anymore, and so far, no passerbys have bothered to stop and take you in. Unloved and unwanted, just like you felt when your mother left all those years ago. Maybe that's how it's supposed to feel, growing up. You've always been a little behind, so you wouldn't know.

Xaden nudges you, a reminder that he's still waiting for an answer.

You decide to give him a half-truth. "It just feels weird to be home after so long. Wherever I look there's something bringing back old memories." You let your eyes flick to his for a second. "I miss Dad."

"Me too," he quietly admits, which is the closest thing to vulnerability he's allowed himself in your presence since the execution. "But that's not all, is it?"

You shrug, opening your door in hopes he'll drop the matter, but he follows into your room. Fine. If you really can't avoid talking about it, you'd rather do it here than in the hall where gods know who might listen in.

Standing at the window, you look out over Aretia, all too aware of Xaden's presence at your back.

"Come on, kid. Talk to me."

You scoff. You can't help it. For months you've wanted to talk to him, to spend just a little bit of time with him, but he couldn't be bothered. And now that you've all but given it up he comes and demands you pay attention to him. Gods beware you have the audacity to turn things around and ignore him for a few minutes. Maybe you should have slammed the door in his face and refused the conversation altogether, given him a taste of his own medicine.

You don't have the energy to fight with him, though, so you do the next best thing and feign ignorance. "Talk about what?"

"About whatever is bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me," you claim. "Like I said, it's just strange to be back—"

"Bullshit. You really think I can't tell you're mad at me? Because I absolutely can. I just can't figure out why."

"That's not— I'm not mad at you!"

It's the truth. You're jealous, lonely, feeling neglected, maybe even a little disappointed in him, but not mad. There's no point; being angry with him wouldn't change a thing. It's true you've been acting moody lately, pulling away from everyone and Xaden especially, deciding that if you are that unimportant to him, you won't bother him anymore. It was an act of acceptance, rather than anger. You didn't think he would notice.

"What is it, then?"

"I'm just..." You shake your head. "I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

You sigh. Why does he care all of the sudden? Part of you wishes he'd just leave you alone, even as the rest of you longs for the comfort his company used to bring. You're so fucking tired of this.

"You're away all the time. And when you are here you never have time for me." You didn't mean for it to come out like an accusation, but it does. And since there's no taking it back now you add, "It's like I don't even matter anymore. If I disappeared, you probably wouldn't even notice."

When he doesn't answer, you chance a look at your brother's face. He looks stricken, shock mixing with the guilt of the realization of how distant he's been.

"I didn't realize," he says finally, startling you with the uncharacteristically soft tone he uses. "I know I haven't really had time for you, but I didn't realize it made you feel so..."

"Neglected?"

"Yeah."

You shrug. "It's fine. I'm not a little kid you need to dote on anymore. You've got other priorities. I get it."

Xaden shakes his head. "That's not the point. I don't ever want you to doubt how important you are to me. All I did, the deal to let us into the quadrant, continuing what Dad started, it was all for you. All I wanted was to keep you safe, for you to have a better life. And just because Violet is my biggest priority now doesn't mean you're not important too. You and Bodhi are the only family I have. You'll always matter, you hear me? You matter so fucking much."

He takes you by the shoulders like he wants to shake you to make sure the words sink in, but refrains from actually doing it.

"I'm sorry," he adds, which feels even more surreal than everything else he's said so far. "I promised Dad I'd take good care of you, but I guess I fucked it up. I was so focused on just keeping us alive that I forgot about actually being there for you. And I know I've been... cold, but that has nothing to do with you. I just... kind of forgot how to do feelings, I guess. Not that I was ever much good at that stuff. But I still care. I promise I do, and I'm so fucking sorry for making you feel like I don't."

"It's okay," you say, and this time, you really mean it. He hasn't forgotten about you. He's trying. You're not abandoned after all, merely temporarily left behind. "You've done so much for all of us. It's not your fault I'm so sensitive."

"No, but I know damn well how easily you let things like this get to you. I should have noticed sooner. Next time you convince yourself you don't matter just do us both a favor and say something, okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Now, are we okay again?"

"Yeah."

"Good. And I'll try to have more time for you," Xaden promises, ruffling your hair. This time, you let him. "I can't help how busy I am, but I'll try to include you more when I'm here. I'll see if I have a moment to join you in the gym tomorrow, how does that sound?"

"Perfect."

[somelonelywordmonger]

New Formalism Link with Definition and Photo Example

Another New Formalism Definition if you don't like the first one Link

A fascinating, informative, and relatively quick read on the history of the towers and their architect, Minoru Yamasaki

From the above article, "Ultimately, Yamasaki believed, what would be important was not how the buildings met the sky but how they met the ground: 'I had long felt that it doesn’t really matter in Manhattan how high you go up; what really matters to people using buildings is their scale at or near the ground.'

With that in mind, the team also began to work on the public space at the base of the towers, with Rockefeller Center and Venice’s Piazza San Marco in mind. Versions from 1964 show two-story galleries or arcades with shops and restaurants ringing the open plaza between the two towers and lower, L-shaped buildings. One version of the plaza has it set off from the buildings by a moat, to be crossed by bridges; another shows a Dan Kiley-like nine-square grid, with trees in all four corners. In the end, none of these designs came to fruition: As the Port Authority cut costs, the trees, pools and arcades were eliminated. The shops, catering to commuters coming off the three subway lines below, were moved underground, and the five-acre plaza got barer and barer: just pavement, with a single circular fountain aligned with the north tower."

Also, this bit on the structure of the towers that includes the insult of them being dainty: "The “daintiness” of the column-to-column span, as revealed on the façade by the narrow windows, was the source of their power, not ornamental filigree. The Twin Towers were both structurally daring and strong, if not strong enough to withstand catastrophic damage and uncontrollable fire. Their structure, developed by engineer Leslie E. Robertson, was intended to free the floors of unnecessary columns: the perimeter of the building was designed as a giant steel tube, stiffened by the exterior columns spaced just over two feet apart. The cores of the buildings, made of steel columns, carried the rest of the weight, with steel trusses spanning between the outer and inner tubes."

Since the towers had some "flare" that from afar made them look like massive steel columns, and since they were constructed with steel, I feel like they are a strange toss between New Formalist and Brutalist architecture. But I don't know much about architecture to have a solid opinion.

But how the fuck do you see two steel columns from a distance with a strange sort of ridge-like pattern to them, two iconic towers mind you, and think "oh those are effeminate" jfc. (This isn't directed at OP or the commenter, this is directed at the early critics of the Twin Towers which you read about in the article I linked.) I personally don't think they are pretty, but a glance at them every now and then is cool.

i feel like we don't appreciate these days how much the twin towers sucked, like, design-wise

they were contemporarily hated for just being these giant grey monoliths

like there probably could've been an easier way to get rid of them, but they probably needed to go either way

[carisc4pshaw]

When the Music Fades

In which Autistic Spencer Reid and Neurodivergent Reader go to a Easter Party hosted by Penelope Garcia and end up having to share a bed at the end of the night where Spencer confesses his feelings. (Fluff!)

word count: 3.6k

tags: one bed trope, fake relationship/ fake boyfriend trope for a minute, autistic spencer reid, neurodivergent reader, anxiety, overwhelmed, easter, party, mentions of jelle, mentions of morcia, spring, dealing with mental health, love confession, first kiss, sharing clothes. Mentions of Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Elle Greenaway, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi.

No warnings

notes: This fic is a request from @dearreidr I hope you enjoy this! If you have any requests feel free to leave them below or dm me!

—————————︎🩵————————-

For easter Penelope was hosting a party at her apartment. She did this for every holiday and just like every other party she had to practically beg Spencer to attend. He was shy and didn’t like drinking and something about Penelope’s parties was that there were always multiple people just as full of colour as she was which was slightly overwhelming and there was always a themed punch with way too much alcohol mixed together. 

This was the first party that you were attending, for the last one, the Christmas party, you were only two weeks into working at the BAU and felt awkward turning up at Penelope’s place for a party when you barely knew anyone. But now, just over 4 months in, you have made friends and connections with the rest of the team. You were particularly close with Penelope, Spencer and Elle. The four of you hung out often outside of work if Penelope wasn’t with Derek, Elle wasn’t with JJ and if Spencer actually left the comfort of his apartment, although you didn’t mind going over to Spencer’s and spending time in his dimly lit living room with a book each just enjoying the quiet and each others company.

The day before the party they had been called in for a case luckily it was nearby and the police department already had a lead. You, Spencer, Elle and Hotch were in one of the SUVs heading to the crime scene when Elle brought up the party. 

“What are you wearing tomorrow?” Elle directed toward you.

You shrugged, “I haven’t thought about it, Penelope said something about costumes but I don’t have anything easter themed.”

“Oh don’t worry about that just pick out a pretty dress and be yourself. What about you Spence?” 

“I wasn’t going to go.”

“What? Penelope said she convinced you!” Elle spun around in the passenger seat to see you and Spencer in the back of the car.

“I’m just not feeling it,” Spencer shrugged it off.

You frowned and faced Spencer, “Please come, I don’t know what I’d do without you there. It’s my first Penelope Garcia party.” If Spencer wasn’t going you didn’t want to go either, you liked everyone else but you felt most comfortable with Spencer not to mention your small crush on him. 

“It’s just awkward, I'm not fun, it’s overwhelming and I don’t drink; that's the whole point of a party.”

“Not to me, it’s just a chance for us to hang out. I won’t drink and the minute we both get overwhelmed we can remove ourselves for a little while. Please?”

Spencer sighed, “I suppose so, you promise right? About the overwhelming thing, not drinking you can drink if you want to I am not going to stop you.”

“I don’t want to I just want to spend time with you, I promise.”

Elle smirked at the both of you, “Alright love birds. That didn’t take much persuading did it?” 

Spencer’s cheeks flushed red as he shrugged and turned to look out of the window so he was no longer a part of the conversation.

—--------------

You threw on one of the nicest dresses you could find in your closet since you don't own many but you wanted to look nice for Penelope’s party along with a pair of white kitten heels and a white bunny ears headband you figured that would be good enough for the costume requirement, it wasn't like you were expected to show up dressed as an easter egg right? 

Anxiety was already filling your chest with the fear of not knowing what to expect and knowing if Spencer didn’t usually like these parties there was a big chance that you wouldn't like it either. 

While you were adding a small amount of pink lip gloss to your lips to go with the small amount of subtle makeup on your face you had one message from Penelope and one message from Spencer come through on your phone.

“You’re staying the night. Bring PJs and snacks and whatever else you need! Maybe a blanket too if not I've got some. See you soon, Kisses XX” -Penelope.

And,

“Hi, I suppose you received a message from Penelope about a sleepover… Are you planning on staying?”

“Would you like me to pick you up? You do not live too far and I don’t mind driving.” - Spencer Reid

You giggled at Spencer signing his message off with his full name but then more nerves overtook you, Penelope’s message didn’t reveal who was staying, what time everyone was leaving in the morning, where you would be sleeping, if there would be breakfast, if you were going to have to stay in groups because surely she didn’t have enough beds for everyone. You caught yourself just before you bit off your nails that you had been growing and doing a good job of so far considering nail-biting was something you did unconsciously when you were anxious or stressed. 

You typed a reply back to Spencer, “Um, I suppose we don’t have a choice really so I guess I am. I would appreciate you picking me up if you really don’t mind thank you. And you don’t have to sign your name Spence, I have you saved.”

You weren't expecting him to reply again, you knew he would check the message and register it but it was unlikely he would reply however this time you were wrong he did reply.

“How are you feeling? I can come sooner if you need to talk about anything?”

You smiled, you had never told Spencer that you necessarily struggled with feeling anxious and overwhelmed but you assumed he had picked up on it due to him being autistic and feeling similar things about similar situations as you did and also with his IQ of 187. 

Y/N: “I'm a little anxious about what to expect but I’m okay, Please just turn up when you are ready. How are you feeling?”

Spencer: “The same as you. I know what to expect though. Do you want a run-through?”

Y/N: “That would be great, thank you.”

Spencer: “Usually, she plays pop music, so I have been told, I think JJ mentioned Taylor Swift. It’s quite loud and the colourful lights are not a great help when It comes to not being overwhelmed but there’s a small green space outside her apartment. It's nice to sit there or in one of the bedrooms when it is getting too much. She had a wide selection of finger foods, there’s a good selection for everyone there will definitely be something you like. There will be unfamiliar faces, she has a lot of friends most with bubbly personalities like hers but they leave at around midnight sometimes even before if there’s a club open.”

Y/N: “Thank you.”

Spencer picked you up at quarter to 9, as he walked to your door he wiped his palms against his brown slacks, he was nervous about the party but in all honestly, he was more nervous to see you. Derek had been telling him for a while now to make a move because he could tell you felt the same way but Spencer would never believe that, what would someone like you see in someone like him? Yes, you had similarities but he was different and you were gorgeous there were definitely prettier men than him out there.

 

He knocked twice on the door, the knock had a certain rhythm that you used when you knocked on his door, he didn't know if it was a signal that you were at his door or if it was just something you did unconsciously like biting your nails. 

You opened the door and stepped back to give a little distance between the two of you, it wasn’t because you didn’t want to be close to him because of course you did he was your favourite person, it was because you didn’t like the feel of people breathing on you for a little while after you had surrounded yourself with people. 

His mouth opened as his eyes ran up and down you, his cheeks also blushed at the same time. You couldn't help a little giggle that escaped your lips, “Hi Spence, You look nice.”

“Hi. You look… beautiful… gorgeous um really nice?” Spencer switched between words not knowing which one would sound best for someone he liked but didn’t want to reveal that he liked you in that way, but he also wanted to make you feel good about yourself because you deserved that and he never wanted you to doubt that you didn’t look good. 

“Thank you,” You grabbed your bag from the small table beside the front door. “Oh Penelope said about snacks and a blanket but I don’t want to take mine off my bed,” You bit your lip.

“She has so many snacks she won’t realise that you didn’t bring any. I didn’t either and she has blankets too.”

You nodded, “Okay, should we go?”

“Yes,” Spencer looked to the left down the hallway before turning back to you and whispering, “Someone is watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, “Probably Steven, he lives on the other end of the floor. He waits for me and Storm, my neighbour, to leave the apartment so he can ask us on dates, he’s a little creepy.”

“Can I hold your hand?” Spencer asked.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Why? I mean yes but why?”

“So he thinks I’m your boyfriend then he will leave you alone.”

“Oh,” You put your hand out allowing him to take it and thanking him before the thoughts started circulating in your brain. Spencer didn’t hold people’s hands, he didn’t like the amount of germs that could be transferred between people holding hands. But he would hold yours?

You locked your apartment with your free hand, your other hand still occupied by Spencer’s warm large hand. You could feel Steven approaching. 

“Hey man, is something wrong?” Spencer asked as he walked over.

“Who are you? Why are you bothering her?” Steven squinted at Spencer.

“He’s not bothering me, Spencer is my boyfriend,” You smiled with a small blush.

“But I’m your boyfriend?” Steven said.

“No, we talked about this, we just live on the same floor Steven, plus you’re a lot older than me.”

“Where are you going? You look nice.”

“We are going out for dinner,” Spencer said, moving his hand from yours to circle around your lower back and rest on your hip, which he regretted when he realised he hadn’t asked for permission to do that. Once Steven nodded and returned to his apartment and you along with Spencer entered the elevator he immediately apologised.

“You have nothing to apologise for, you were helping me out and it felt nice,” You subtly tried to flirt with him. 

“Really?” He asked, opening the car door for you.

“Really,” You smiled getting into the car.

—-----------------

As you both approached the door to Penelope’s apartment the booming music could already be heard. Before he opened the door for you he offered a warm, comforting smile which you returned to signal you were ready to go in if he was. He pushed open the door and immediately you were met with an obscene amount of colourful fairy lights, a disco ball, the even louder music but luckily only around 15 people which was a lot for a small apartment but you could work with that considering most of them probably wouldn’t talk to you anyway.

“Are you okay?” Spencer checked in with you.

You felt a little bad he had his own problems with overwhelming things and adding the worry of if you were okay was probably going to be too much for him and you didn’t want to be the reason why he felt uncomfortable or stressed, “Yes thank you, Spence. Are you okay?”

Spencer nodded, “For now.”

Penelope was the first to come over to the both of you yelling over the music in her usual joyful tone but with added giggles as she had already been drinking, “Finally, I thought you guys had ditched us. Elle and JJ are on the sofa, Emily is getting more punch, Derek is dancing with me obviously and well you have eyes you can find everyone. Make yourselves at home.”

You smiled at her, “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Duh! You're one of my favourites of course you were going to be invited, don’t tell the others though. That goes for you too Smartie Pants don’t tell anyone she’s my favourite,” Penelope rambled.

“Of course, she’s my favourite too,” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“Enough flattery. I’m going to get a drink if that’s okay?” You directed toward Penelope.

“Yes Doll, help yourself. Mi casa es tu casa,” Penelope replied in a very dodgy Spanish accent before returning to her makeshift dance floor.

You made your way through to the next room only having to weave through a few people before reaching the kitchen when you realised Spencer had followed you there, “Would you like something?”

“No, I’m good thank you, Um I don’t want to leave you but will you be okay if speak to Hotch for a bit?” Spencer asked as his left hand travelled to the back of his neck rubbing it.

“Spence you don’t need my permission you can do what you like,” You smiled picking up one of the blue plastic cups. 

“Oh okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” Spencer walked off leaving you in the kitchen alone for a couple of minutes while you poured your drink before spotting Emily and deciding to stick with her for a while. 

Around an hour later, your social battery was beginning to drain, maybe you needed another drink but you already had one and you didn’t want to risk drinking anymore and getting tipsy from god knows what was in that punch when you had promised Spencer you wouldn’t be drinking. 

A few times you had looked around the room trying to find him to remove yourself from the party for a little while since you were right in the middle of it all but he was nowhere to be seen. After finding Emily she had convinced you to go with her over to the dance floor since the majority of the team were over in that direction. 

A couple of minutes ago you had seen Hotch with Rossi but still no Spencer in sight. You looked at the time on your phone, surely Hotch would be leaving soon to get home to his wife and child and Rossi would probably be going home soon too, perhaps that would prompt other people to start leaving and everything would die down so you could find Spencer. The what-ifs and possible scenarios of how things could go started running through your brain which would cause a panic soon enough.

“Are you okay Sugar?” Penelope asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

You nodded, “Yeah, do you have somewhere I could go and sit for a little while?”

“Mhm, the spare bedroom or the green space outside but I think Spencer went into the spare bedroom not too long ago,” Penelope rubbed the side of your arm.

“Thank you,” You smiled at her and left the front room to search for the spare bedroom, you should have asked where it was, that was your fault but it wasn’t a big apartment it wouldn’t be too hard to find.

—-----------------

Once you had found the only room left with the door closed you knocked on the door lightly in the way that Spencer would recognise.

“Come in,” He called through the door before you pushed it open and closed it behind you.

“Hi, Are you okay?” You asked from the door, you didn’t want to go over to him and interfere in his personal space if he needed a break from social interaction. 

“Just needed a break,” Spencer gave you a soft smile.

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No, you’re fine here. Are you okay?” 

“Same as you, needed a break it was getting loud.” 

Spencer patted the space on the bed beside him, You perched on the edge of the bed not wanting to be too close to him because you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

“I won’t bite,” He laughed so you moved over a little move. 

“What do you like to do when you feel overwhelmed?” Spencer asked. 

“Listen to music usually but right now I definitely don’t want to, my ears need a break, what about you?” 

“Read, usually something with a lot of facts nothing fictional,” Spencer placed his hands on his stomach intertwining both of them. 

You looked down at his hands, “I didn’t think you’d be one for fiction ever.”

“I indulge every so often, it’s good to mix things up they are mostly classics though.”

“No modern romance novels in there Doctor Reid?” You teased. 

“Uhh, I’ve read a couple, they aren’t awful,” Spencer blushed a little which caught your attention. 

“Spencer Reid! What books have you been reading!” 

“Nothing nothing, just something I found at the library once… I should have been sceptical after the 20-something librarian told me it was one of her favourites.”

“I need you to lend me this book if it’s got you blushing like that,” You laugh.

“Um, I think I still have it if you actually do want it?” Spencer said not sure if you were joking or not. 

“Give it to me tomorrow,” You laid on your side facing him. 

“What books do you like to read? I see you with romance novels sometimes.”

“Yeah, mostly romance but also horror or maybe a thriller anything entertaining,” You shrug awkwardly due to how you were lying. 

“Maybe we could both swap books, I’d like to read something you like,” Spencer’s dimples showed through his smile. 

You nodded just before the door was swung open. 

“Hi lovebirds, we are wrapping things up, I just wanted to tell you we’ve agreed to let you two take this room, Derek and I are in my room and everyone else is in the living room,” Penelope said a lot louder than she had to speak considering she wasn’t near the loudspeakers anymore.

“Are you comfortable with that?” Spencer asked you.

“Yeah that’s fine with me and you?” You asked in return out of respect.

“Fine by me, I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

“Okay great! If either of you needs anything the house is yours help yourself,” Penelope flashed a toothy smile, “Goodnight babies, no sex please,” she said as she left the room leaving you and Spencer blushing and stuttering for a response that never came. 

“That was weird,” Spencer’s cheeks were still a rosy red, “Do you want me to get your bag?” 

“No it’s okay, I forgot to pack pyjamas so I will sleep in this, I don’t know how I forgot,” You groaned. 

“Probably because you were anxious,” Spencer stated before adding, “You could borrow the shirt I brought for pyjamas, I could just wear the bottoms if you are comfortable with that?” 

“Really? Are you sure?” 

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and I doubt you’re comfy in that, although it’s very nice, you look pretty.”

“You told me earlier,” You giggled, “Thank you.”

Spencer got off the bed taking his shirt and plaid pyjama pants out of his usual go bag for work, “I’ll let you change first uh I’ll wait outside.”

“It’s okay you don’t have to go just turn around,” You smiled to which he nodded. 

Once you were in only his shirt and your underwear you felt a little exposed but luckily his shirt was long and covered everything. You had taken off the little makeup you had on which also made you feel a little bare.

He was in his pj pants with no shirt and he looked good, really good, you both got under the covers facing each other. 

“You look even more beautiful than earlier,” Spencer said before his eyes widened a little, “Wait you always look beautiful.” 

“It’s okay I know what you meant, thanks, Spence.” 

Spencer’s hand inched closer to you, “Maybe. No would it be okay if I kissed you? I have wanted to for a while and-“ 

You cut Spencer off, “You want to kiss me?”

“Um i-if you want?” 

“Yeah… I’d be okay with that.”

Spencer leaned closer to you placing a hand on the side of your face before his eyes fluttered shut while your lips connected. 

It was a soft kiss, slow. No tongue, but it was perfect. One of the best kisses you had ever had. 

When he pulled away he kept his hand on your face, “Was that okay?” 

“More than okay,” You smiled, your eyes crinkled at the sides. 

“Could we go on a date at some point?” Spencer asked with hope in his eyes. 

“Yeah I’d like that,” You placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist as it rested near your mouth. 

His smile grew, “Do you want to sleep?”

“Yeah I’m kinda tired… is that okay?” 

“Of course! I’m going to face the other because I have a thing about people breathing on me,” he said. 

“I have that too!” You laughed, “We will both face opposite ways.” 

After you turned around it didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep. 

———————-

9 am the next morning Penelope knocked quietly on the door, she assumed you’d be up by now and didn’t want to disturb you but wanted to make sure you were okay. 

When she didn’t get a response she quietly opened the door to see both you and Spencer cuddled together on one side of the bed and his arm draped over your waist. She snapped a picture to show you both later before calling the others who were already awake to see the adorable scene.

—————————🩵————————

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Please don't forget to fill in the survey, fellas!

As consumers — and as people who care about the longevity of this game — it is vital that we make ourselves heard whenever possible. And surveys like this one is one of the best ways of voicing our concerns and/or complaints.

(For anyone looking for a template, @/simp4liferz on Twitter has one that you are free to use and build upon as you wish)

Below are the requests I plan to put in my own survey, for anyone interested:

1. Release the rest of Sylus' standard content, increase his affinity cap, and update his orbits.

2. Give us roadmaps for future updates/additions to the game

3. Add more permanent ways to farm Diamonds and other resources.

-As currently is, it is incredibly difficult for end-gamers and F2Players to earn Diamonds outside of dailies and SHC, the latter of which requires a high number of high level 5 stars and protocores, and a variety of stellactrums. For Sylus mains, Caleb mains, low spenders, and F2Players it is near impossible to adequately meet these requirements.

4. Increase event rewards.

5. Increase droprates for bounty hunts.

6. Increase the rewards for awakening memories.

7. Lower the mats needed to level up memories.

8. We need better and clearer communication from the company.

- the total lack of response or communication from the company regarding the concerns we — your consumers — have repeatedly brought up through emails and social media during these last couple of months has been incredibly disheartening and disappointing. As customers, we deserve the bare minimum of communication from you. The lack of it causes uncertainty, as well as in some cases the spread of rumors and misinformation.

9. Add more regular updates to the main story.

10. Add more permanent and substantial features to the game, such as additional playtime minigames or new battle modes

11. Announce new banners at least a week before they are released so that every player has a chance to somewhat prepare for them.

12. Release reruns of past banners, particularly solar myths.

13. Fix the lighting for low light kindled scenes. At present, the lightning issues in said scenes make it difficult to see MCs with darker skin tones in them. We want this game to be equally inclusive for every player

14. Do not separate the outfits and hair/cosmetics in limited banners. Put them all in the same crate.

15. Do not put event outfits or hairstyles/cosmetics behind paywalls.

16. Do not put any of MCs non-combat outfits behind paywalls.

17. Make curly hair for MC an option in cutscenes and etc. Not just in glint photobooth.

18. Allow us the option to hear MCs voice during kindleds and Tender Moments.

19. Slow down the speed of MCs subtitles. They go by so fast that they are impossible to read without pausing the game and using the dialogue log, which breaks the immersion.

20. Sell LADS merch globally.

21. (during battle) Don't start the timer until the player has reached the checkpoint.

22. Release at least one 4 star with an illustration of Sylus and MC together. Every other LI has at least one each with MC. Fair treatment amongst all 5 LIs is important

[militaryapple]

I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.

synopsis. you go out to forget about your dead best friend, though its hard to forget when you miss him so much.

cw. mentions of death, reader has auditory and visual hallucinations, grief, sad like genuinely disheartening, angst. pure angst.

add ons. ok so what i was sad im allowed to take it out on caleb probably first fic out of a series idk anyways smut coming soon

wc. 3.1k

parties. you had a love and hate relationship with them. you loved them because of how free you felt. how reckless you could be without anyone telling you that its dangerous to drink so much with a low tolerance, or how you shouldn't wear such a revealing outfit knowing your job. fuck, you were.. free.

but that was the worst part about it.

you were free. you didn't have anyone holding you down. being your anchor. you didn't have anyone making sure if where you were going was safe, even going as far as to go with you. it was fine, you were used to this routine by now. you partied to deal with stress, problems, grief, him.

it was just the thought of him that haunted you. you knew that partying didn't change how you felt, how it couldn't make anything disappear. it did distract you though, even if it was just for a bit. it wasn't your first rodeo either. it was those tiny moments where you thought of him.

thought of caleb.

how when you get ready, you wondered if he would tell you that you looked pretty in the dress you wore. how he looked at how snug it fit you, or how caleb would clench his fist, telling you that you shouldn't go. how much of a bad idea it was. sometimes you imagine, what if he saw you? in the bar or club. how he would look at you with his eyes softening the moment he found you in the crowd of people.

time would move slower, his once worried expression now calming into a relieved one. how he looked at you like you were the world. his world. you imagine how he would squeeze his way through people, with murmurs of "excuse me" and "I need to get by, sorry". just to reach you. to hold you. to know that you were okay. the sight of his hands lingering over you, not quite touching you but enough to feel that he would be shaking, how he would cup your face and lean down. heads together while you could feel the steadying of his breath.

"you're okay."

it was one of the few sentences you could remember from him. the words echoing in your head so clearly it was like he had just said it. it was one of the many things that calmed you down. the only thing you thanked your brain for remembering that had actually made you feel soothed. it was just to help you calm down if you were having a panic attack, or if you were overwhelmed. how his voice and a couple of slow breaths made the fast-turning world suddenly slow down.

oh how you missed caleb.

this is why you needed to leave the house.

your therapist advises against you doing this. how dangerous it is for you to constantly go out whenever your mind was in a state of distress, but you've never gotten hurt. so it didn't matter right? it was the only thing that cleared your mind of him. that made you remember that you're still young, free. so what if you didn't have an anchor? someone helping you? you were a big fucking girl. you have a job, friends a life. he's been dead for a year. you need to get fucking over it.

and god did it hurt your heart to think that.

you can't be angry at a dead man. yet you somehow managed to be. why you were angry at him? you don't even know. maybe it was because when you last saw him, you didn't know it was going to be the last time you saw him. maybe it was because it was the only day you both were free, and how you missed seeing his face and eating his cooking after so long. maybe it was because you missed the dumb promises he made when he was younger, still managing to keep long after your adolescence. or maybe it was because of the argument you both had, before he was gone. right before your very eyes.

oh god. you really needed to leave the house, it was becoming a pity party. you grabbed your purse, and put on your pumps. walking to the door and grabbing your keys. "here we go" you sighed to yourself, opening the door and shutting it after walking out. once you locked your door you made your way to the elevator and down you went.

checking your phone, you looked for tara's location. it was one of the few weeks you two were able to meet up, and its not because it was caleb and gran's death anniversaries so you were told to take a week off because captain couldn't have her best hunter overworking herself again. seeing how tara was nearby, you shuffled to one side of the sidewalk. tara pulled to the side, stopping her car while you got inside in the passanger seat.

"I'm telling you," tara voiced "maybe your therapist is right, we shouldn't be going out on a day like this, no matter how much I would LOVE to be out dancing it doesn't seem right - and as your best friend.." tara trailed off, looking over at you. you trembled, hands clutched together. she couldn't help but sigh. "fine. lets just get some flowers to lay at their graves first at least. so you won't feel guilty about not going tomorrow." she said softly. her gazing shifting back to the road.

tara pulled over at a nearby flower shop. she got out, and you followed her actions. you went in saying "hello" to the shop-keeper. her face soft. she must've known you were here for a loved one. she didn't know, she couldn't know. your stomach bubbled. how would she know about him? did she know you were there? your heart ached. why did she look at you so pitifully? what if you were there for just flowers? what if you wanted to give them to someone alive, breathing? your hands clenched and your face started to boil.

"hey, are you okay?" for a moment you paused, feeling the sensation of someone resting their hands on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. was it? could it be? whipping your head around. caleb? was that really him? it sounded just like him. your illusion soon shattered with your view focusing on tara. ah, just another one of your imaginations. you sighed, nodding your head.

"you're okay." you silently reminded yourself, taking a deep breath. you looked at the flowers tara held up. smiling in approval, tara paid for them and you both started to return to the car. you couldn't help but look back at the woman behind the desk. she felt.. off. nonetheless you shook it off, it was just "grieving emotions" or whatever your therapist called it. she doesn't know you. she doesn't know caleb.

tara soon made another stop, your heart beating faster with each movement you pushed yourself to do. it's routine, you have to see them, see him. you walked behind tara, she didn't say anything. you felt like a ghost, mindlessly floating around whenever you go visit their graves. "we didn't have to do this now, tara." you forced yourself to say. your breath hitching and voice cracking. you just did your makeup so nice, it'd be a shame for you to ruin it with tears you could shed tomorrow.

"I know" Tara said with a faint smile. you two managing to reach the top of the hill as she got down to place the flowers. you stood next to her this time, closing your eyes and making a prayer before turning around and walking back to the car, now ahead of her. "but if i didn't come with you today, I don't think you'd ever come this week to see them." and she had a point. that's why tara was your best friend, she knew you so well. she knew this week, you wouldn't get up. wouldn't visit the graves of the most precious people who ever lived.

you could only huff as you both returned to the car.

it wasn't until soon after tara had gotten out the car, smiling brightly as she walked to the line of the bar. "okay," she said gleefully, turning her head to you. his face stern as she pinched your cheeks, you smiled hitting her hand away playfully. "you aren't getting black out drunk this time, you hear me? i'm making sure tonight you aren't being so reckless. i always think to let you have fun and when I turn around - it's chaos!" she huffed and scrutinized you.

it was sweet on how she attempted to be your anchor, but she didn't compare to him. she couldn't compare. god, it was even worse on how you were comparing your dead best friend to the one who had just visited his grave with you. your stomach did a twirl of uneasiness.

"okay okay tara" you said softly, "i get it, lets go in now." you nudged her into the bar. it was crowded. the lights flashing different variations of colors as you watched how people moved and wiggled. this is where you needed to be, this was your home, your safe place. no matter how bad that sounded, no matter how self destructive you were, this is what helped you.

you maneuvered your way towards the bar. ordering yourself a drink. "here's to the first drink of the night" you mumbled to yourself lightheartedly. you could hear another chuckle next to you, turning your head you saw a man. he looked about 3 years older than you, his hair ruffled and his eyes a hue of blue. if you were really desperate you could even say purple if the lights hit his face in a nicer view.

he looked like caleb. it could make you shiver.

"another one of those nights?" he nudged your arm. you nodded and chuckled in response, taking another sip of your drink. "can't help it." you joked. now's not the time to mention your dead best friend's anniversary. "shit happens." the man swallowed down his drink getting up. he moved towards the crowd watching to see if you'd followed.

you watched him. how he said "pardon me" and "gotta get through here." it was scary. you blinked, and instead of him, you saw caleb. please not right now. you had hoped not to see him. how he smiled waving you over. how easily you've given into this little mind illusion. he felt so real.

you leaned in closer to 'caleb' and your stomach did a leap. your face buzzed with heat washing over your cheek. you missed him, you missed his touch and his warmth.

it was like you could almost sob with how real this was. you looked up, and saw his beautiful eyes. the eyes that washed you in so deeply, that made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

so you couldn't help it if your hand moved to his neck, and the other moved to his face. how your eyes fluttered with utter love for the man standing in front of you. the man you've known your entire life, now here, dancing with you. you wanted to talk to him, hear his voice. you wanted to hear how much he missed you, and how he was holding you, how he was here, holding you.

"caleb," you said softly, placing your head back to his chest. it wasn't until you felt a sudden halt between you two. in confusion you looked up at caleb, before feeling a shove. your eyes blinking, brows furrowing. the illusion that long comforted you now slipping away as the man who once held you looked at you in pure disgust.

caleb's scent was no longer there, instead a heavy coat of musk and beer loomed over it instead. the once sugary dream you had was swiped away from you while another hand gave you licorice. it was sickening.

"the hell? the fuck's wrong with you?" he cursed under his breath storming away. "next time, you don't call a fucking guy another mans name when dancing with them." he spat at you before flipping you off. fuck. fuck fuck. did you really imagine caleb as this man? are you fucking insane?

you could only laugh at yourself to keep your composure. to keep yourself from bawling your eyes out. you moved back to the bar. ordering a new drink and sipping out of that. your eyes glazed around the bar, tara was dancing with some guy which meant you were either going home alone today or you could third wheel in the backseat, listening to the sounds of kissing and small moans.

you would take your chances walking home alone today.

tapping the bar counter, you asked for the tab and paid in full. mimicking the way caleb used to do it when you watched him order you both shirley temples when you were younger. yet there was no caleb, and instead of mocktail's there were full blown drinks made up of your own pity and guilt.

you walked outside, it was freezing and you could see the clouds beginning to brew. great, you'll just call a taxi instead. waving on the side of the road, you watched as a yellow car pulled over to you. getting in you told the driver your address and asked to get you there fast. you would even throw in a 15$ extra tip.

the ride was silent, and the rain began to pour. how cinematic. you thought to yourself. you've always hated the rain. the sounds of thunder and lightning that would be too close for your liking, alarmingly close. on those nights, you would walk to your door sniffling. opening it to find caleb, with his arms held out. instinctively you would rush in his arms as he coo'd you. bringing you back to bed and holding you.

"it's okay. you're okay." he'd say softly. rubbing the center of your back as he watched you trying to fight your eyelids open "i'll be here when you wake up. so sleep all you want, okay pip-squeak?" though this time it would be a lie. if you woke up tomorrow morning, he wouldn't be there anymore, and the day after that, and the day after that. repeating until you eventually took your last breath.

you sighed, before looking out the window. you thanked your taxi driver, paying him a 20$ tip instead. he tried to beat the rain, so A for effort. as you got out you looked up at your apartment, the sight of it looming over you. how you hated being here, hated the thought that again, tonight, you would be crying over the death of him.

closing the taxi door, you turned around to walk to your apartment, moving into a halt. there was a man. his frame was big and his size was taller than you. you looked closer at his back. he was in some sort of uniform. his hat hid his hair while the umbrella he held up kept him perfectly dry. he looked up at the apartment, like he was scanning in each and every window for something, or someone.

is he okay? does he need help? even though you were an average person, you were a hunter first still. you moved towards the man in black, placing your palm on his shoulder.

it probably wasn't a good idea to do this. he was probably a creep, and you were in a dress just returning from the bar you would no longer go to out of pure embarrassment. something in you tugged at the man though. you couldn't shake the feeling, and your heart skipped beats.

as the man turned you could catch a faint smell of vanilla. vanilla, apples and oak. it wasn't a heavy scent, but it was faint enough for you to swoon - oddly it reminded you of him. it was his scent. a scent you could recognize a thousand times in a thousand lives. your face shoved down. reluctant to look up, yet you forced yourself to.

no. you didn't want to imagine him again. not like this. it was new, you've never seen him like this. yet you couldn't deny yourself. you wanted to escape this illusion - this torture. yet you stood, looking.

the umbrella dropped, the sound of a small splash and thud could be heard as the man in front of you looked down at you.

it was caleb.

he was home.

your eyes fluttered, you wiped them as you stared at him. you dug your nail in your finger to make sure this was real. the pain confirming the actuality of the scenery. you couldn't help but sob. your hiccups matching the way your body huffed up and down. the way you hyperventilated as your lungs tried to clutch on as much air as they possibly could.

caleb looked down at you, his hands at his side while he stood in disbelief. emotions swirling in his chest. should he reach out to you? comfort you and hug you? tell you that it's okay, hes here now? caleb leaned into you. his hands finding their way to your back and he tugged you closer to him. it seemed all so natural for him, as he's done this countless times before.

you couldn't help but hold on to him, cling to him like he could disappear at any given moment. like if you let go, he'd leave you once more. caleb rubbed your back, holding you as close as he could. oh how he missed you, your skin and your beautiful eyes. he missed your scent and your voice. it pained him to know that just the mere sight of him made you burst out in tears.

it devoured him knowing that he caused all this anguish for you. you had already saw him, so there was no other way for him to make up the absolute torture he put you in the past year. caleb planted a small kiss on your head, his coo's soothing you as much as they could.

"I know pip-squeak, I know. its okay, I'm here, lets go inside okay? It's cold and wet out here. I promise I won't go anywhere." was what he had said to you, he wanted to calm you down. make sure you were okay, even if he would be making empty promises.

[tou-dai]

There are people who keep doing fucked up things

Like rape, abuse, being a nazi etc

If you want them to live among people "like normal", I totally respect that

I think everyone should be safe, healthy, and free

I don't remember what quote it was tho. Something like, "your freedom ends where mine begins"?

I've had 8 concussions so you'll have to excuse me (one of them being from my abusive ex wife, a relationship in which i was .. damn. Only a victim of a crime/series of crimes)

Anyway

Point is i think people saying "separate these people from us in a humane a way as possible" is very reasonable

Considering some of these people do not want to be reformed

I think anyone who is compassionate and considerate of the consequences -- one way or another -- would much rather these people (no matter their demographic) be treated kindly

To be given what they need

But also: do not allow them to hurt others!!!

This is harm reduction!

I think the issue people have

Why they clutch their pearls

Is because we've all done fucked up things

Perhaps for extended periods, knowing, being in our emotions or whatever

Maybe just being ignorant and/or unwell

So we don't want to be exiled or put in jail!

And no one should have their safety, health, and freedom fucked with!!!

But now what?? It's 2025 and you have some of the worst human beings to have existed to be at the helm

Why?

Not only that: but there are people who support and relate to them, no matter what evil shit they do!!

Yall

We need to have a truly real conversation about our acceptance of intolerance and fucked up behavior in various forms

And where we draw the line

Because humanity is going to keep having this happen until we do

Edit bc I think this needs to be said, too:

There are people who want to abuse and people who want to be abused

Just like that old song (which i love ngl)

And i think everyone has a place or inherent worth

It's just our world is not designed to bring the best out of people or nurture them well

But people are also disingenuous about stuff -- they lie to themselves and others about things

Like how good or bad they are. Whether there is such a thing. Where the bar is. When it's appropriate to talk about it etc

Like many many people would say Elon/Trump need to just die

But there are many others who support them and fascism

Exactly what do you propose we do with such people?

With their votes?

How can we help them?

There are disabled minorities, like myself, who are seen as degenerates or useless

But we have many talents and ideas which are amazing

We are not afforded the opportunity to be who and what we are

Yet these assholes are at the helm

What to make of this?

We are fighting.

Who is fighting and how hard? Doesn't that depend on circumstances and constitution?

If you gave me 1 million dollars, I'd keep 100k and give the rest away.

How many could say that?

But people would judge those like me, who have destroyed themselves, body mind and soul

Just to survive

Or to be seen as human

..

I guess we'll have to see how this goes

venmo: @torchport

cashapp: $onepeaceman

"so youre saying we should just allow rapists and abusers to remain in society?" where else would they go ⁉️😭🙏 so confused can you show me this place outside of society

[canine-witch]

What is your shadow side?

The Shadow Side is a piece of ourselves that we do not wish to accept, for a multitude of reasons. They could be social reasons, religious reasons, past experiences, ect. Originated in Jungian psychology, the theory is you can begin to grow and become more happy when you face your shadows and accept them.

My intention today is to help the collective find a place to start doing shadow work on this aspect of themselves, if they so choose.

Drink some water, pick a pile, and feel free to discard what does not resonate

🌧️ personalized readings avaliable on kofi 🌧️

─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile One ~ The Roses

Your shadow is isolation. You may have had an experience in your life, that made you think you could do it all alone. It is a toxic independent and individualistic mindset. You may struggle with materialsim or a sense of constant lack. You may see your medical issues as something you can easily overcome. You don't want to rely on others, because others have dissapointed you far too much.

"I can do it all alone."

No one human can fight all their battles alone. There may be manifestations or blessings coming in through people, which you are blocking by thinking you can make it all on your own. You need to cease isolating yourself. Seek medical and professional help as you need it. Slowly begin to trust humanity again, there is good and bad, and dark and light, like anywhere. Stop thinking you are alone, no person is ever alone.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Two ~ The Angel

Your shadow is combativeness. You are always the first on one the battlefield, and the last one to leave the war. Defending what you love and experiencing riteous justice is not a bad thing, but you can hurt yourself with your anger. You aren't fighting wisely, nor very effectively. You end up not understanding when the time is to drop people, arguements, and swords. You have healing to do, and fighting like this is just a toxic outlet.

"My anger consumes me; I can't not fight."

You may have a lot of pent up frustrations collected over years of injustice. Something that may be benefical is volunteering in your community. Maybe even seeking a career path which allows you to do good for others. If you are angry over the treatment of animals, perhaps you could volunteer at shelters or advocate for adoption agencies. If you are angry at the justice system in your country, perhaps seeking the ability to control some part of it by pursuing a career would help. Look inwards and see what you care the most about, and put the energy into helping directly. Your anger is justified and right, but it need to go somewhere else.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Three ~ The Jellyfish

Your shadow is obsession. This may be varying levels of obsession, but you lean into them heavily depending on the day. This may be a concept, person, or place that you associate heavily to childhood or a past wound you cannot release. It is misery manifesting as a fixation. It may have a grip on anything, from your heart to your financials, and you need to accept that this is not joy, it is sadness.

"This reminds me of what I have lost."

You may be fighting the concept that you are sad. That whatever happened is something that hurts you to this day, and shows up in your life as vices. You shouldn't feel shame or feel guilt about these emotions or wanting to process them without pain. But, pain can lead towards transformation, and you are stuck in a spiral. You do have the strength to persevere and face whatever you need to. You do not have to cling to this energy, for your own sake.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Four ~ The Beach

Your shadow is your broken heart. You may have been heartbroken by a past lover, or someone who you were close to betrayed you, and perhaps used you. This left you with a flurry of emotions, each one swirling and chaotic. You reflect this energy outwards, and can't seem to catch a break or be able to slow down. Or when you do, you procrastinate.

"My heart is broken, and I will never love again."

The only way to mend your own heart is through yourself. You need to find peace and prosperity from the inside, outwards. You need to change your mindframe, release the pain that others gave you, and redefine your life. It may be difficult, and the work may be hard, even excruciating. But you can, and will, save yourself. You are a dedicated person, but you need to learn loyalty to yourself first, before you can mend your broken heart. Do shadow work, affirmations, and spells that will bring you self love. Do mirror affirmations and try to change your mindset. You will be okay again, but it is up to you and nobody else to decide that.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Thank you for trusting me with your time and energy! If you want a more in depth reading, my comprehensive readings listing is 🌧️ here, through kofi. I'd appreciate the help!

Have a wonderful day, and I hope this helped you! 🌧️

[creatingblackcharacters]

A few months ago I reached out to a fic author, whose writing I liked but I kept being frustrated by them making white the default, and their descriptions of Black people being always lacking...it was always just the color of their skin, clothes, and hair style, compared to their descriptions of white people which often included everything from eye color, hair texture and color, nose shape, jaw shape. Even other people of color got more attention to detail than Black people.

I emailed them a link to Lesson 3 and politely explained my frustrations with their writing, and how their Black characters' descriptions were lacking. They were pretty pissy about it...which like, I get, no one likes being called out. They're offering free stories, but also their Black characters were otherwise well written! Enjoyable characters. It took me weeks just to figure out how to word my email and be as nice as possible, but I still got the, "if you don't like it, don't read it," and, "no one asked you," type response. So I did stop reading because I mean, I was equally salty about their response.

But wait!!! Outta curiosity checked out some of their recent chapters and they've absolutely improved! Rather than saying, "the brunette," to refer to a white character with brown hair, they actually mentioned that she was white and no longer are making it the default. They're now describing the texture of Black characters' hair, the shade of their skin, giving them freckles, mentioning face shape and hair style! It's a huge improvement!

It sucks that most people can't just accept being called out on racism in their writing without becoming defensive, but it's always worthwhile to try! Thank you for your lessons and the work you put into these resources!

The audacity to be pissy about it, fix it, and then never reach out to apologize to you for both their rudeness and what was clearly advice they took is crazy work... Nonetheless, I'm proud of you for speaking up, offering a resource, and standing your ground! And you're welcome 👍🏾

[kidneybones]

My thoughts on sonamy, shadamy, sonadow that No one asked for

I do like Sonamy when it's done with genuine respect and that deep feeling of love for each other. They've been through it all and stuck up for each other. I really like Amy's new outlook on spreading love to the world, by being herself and the most supportive friend you know. And having that replace the overbearing obsession personality they made her have for like, too long. And Sonic now shows and even voices how he respects and even admires her. No longer actively avoiding her when their paths cross. When I see them shipped that's what I like to see.

Ok anyway they wouldn't be my preferred ship anyway. In like a totally fandom/fanfiction way their ideals on relationships just don't match. Sonic is not going to slow down even for Amy, and I just don't like versions of her that will "wait for him". She deserves better!! 😭😭😭 She deserves the love and attention she yearns and I can only imagine neither of them betraying their ideals like that. So... Sonamy.... Very cute but not the best and wouldnt last.

Now when you have Shadow. Here's the thing. I see him as truly, undoubtedly, able to be in either situation.

With Sonic, Shadow is the only person that would ever be able to keep up with him. And have no need to "slow down". In the version where he loves Sonic I don't even think he'd have that thought . Why would he. They are perfectly able to be free together. The witty banter, the competitiveness, the one upping. Just their way of flirting and showing love.

And if it's Amy he's in love with, Shadow is 💯% able and willing to stay in place just for her. He can't believe someone has that genuine kindness, along with her fierceness when she's ready to bring it on! Amy could be her loving self, and Shadow would take it all in. Her ability to be compassionate and understanding, we know are traits Shadow admires the way we know he is able to stay by someone's side. I can see Amy so happy with someone she can spend time with, share her hobbies with, and gets along with so well. She already sees the side of Shadow many people don't, even when he's trying to hide it. But the way his walls can fall just around her I just know they could find love and happiness together.

I hope you can tell my bias and I absolutely have 0 expectations of any Shadamy and Sonadow actual cannon happening. This is like, specifically what these ships would be like in the stage play my brain makes up.

And of course, you can't leave out polycule shipping. Personally it's not a ship I have specific interests in, but the ensuing hijinks that come from it are so sweet/hilarious I openly welcome seeing.