#people trying to rationalize what happened to them.

[lynnlovesthestars]

Mending.

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook x Spite (gender-neutral) Genre: hurt/ comfort, protective Lucanis, protective Spite, Smitten Lucanis, Lucanis personal quest spoilers, Bisexual disaster Lucanis, first kisses, spite being spite, wingman spite, angst with a dash of fluff. Synopsis: in the aftermath of the fight with Illario, something doesn't go as expected. WC: 2k~ Ao3 link AN: is this me finally getting out of my writer's block again?

Lucanis’ eyes darted around the opera house, something was missing. So much had happened so quickly: the fight, deciding what to do with Illario, being announced as the new First Talon, that once he was handed the glass of celebratory wine and had a moment to think, he realized that he had lost sight of Rook.

He was so absorbed by this family drama that he didn’t ever realize when the room had been cleaned up from the bodies and guests started crowding the lower level of the theatre.

“Can’t believe. You lost Rook” Spite shook his head as he glanced around the room, pacing between the Crows and the guests, looking for the missing one.

He wanted to follow Spite so bad, abandon the glass of champagne and focus on Rook.

He was not quick enough though. One at a time the guests started approaching him. Some with compliments, and some already trying to get in his graces.

He hated every second of it. He wished Caterina had not pushed all this on him, had not forced him to take the mantle of First Talon, had not shoved on him all these expectations. He didn’t want to play the part.

He just wanted to look for Rook and leave.

Yet he had little choice, he just hoped Rook would find him, that the feeling that was harbored in his guts was just a fiction of his mind, one of the many attempts of his brain to let him cave in.

Minutes passed quickly, and of Rook there was no trace. He had prayed Rook would show up between the guests stopping him over and over again, looking for them in every interaction, in every greeting, in every congratulations. Of all the people crowding the room, the only one he wanted to see, it was Rook,

There was nothing to worry about, right? He thought as he followed the demon around the opera house with his eyes.

“Smells like blood” Spite walked past another small gathering of people, approaching one of the corners of the room and disappearing behind the throng.

Rationally he knew that it was normal for the opera theater to smell like blood. At the end of the day there had just been a bloody fight right there where a small horde of Venatori was taken down, but nothing stopped Lucanis from overthinking and wondering if the smell of blood belonged to Rook.

Dread filled his lungs as he excused himself, leaving one person after the other behind himself, following Spite’s taunting voice as he sniffed around. “Found Rook” The demon hummed as he stopped on his tracks and kneeled down. “Rook hurt” He hissed as he leaned forward, inching closer to their face.

They were sitting on the floor, their head lolling to the side as one arm was holding their abdomen tightly.

“Mierda” He swore under his breath as the view solidified in Lucanis’ eyes, the glass he was holding was quickly abandoned, shattered on the floor as he rushed by Rook’s side.

He could feel everyone’s disapproving gaze falling on him as he kneeled down, his composure down the drain as Caterina’s eyes burned holes in his back. “House Dellamorte never kneels” Her voice echoed in his brain, yet for once all he cared was beyond her opinion. All that mattered to him was Rook.

“Rook, you alright?” He murmured the futile question as he cupped their cheek, his palm gently turning their head towards them to take a better look. Blood was dripping down their nose, their eyes were half closed while their mouth hung slack, trying to catch their breath. 

“Yeah” They mumbled under their breath, leaning in the touch carelessly. “Feeling dizzy” Their beautiful complexion was slowly drained of color, and yet even on the brink of exsanguination they were stunning. 

“Gonna kill Illario” Spite hissed; he could feel the demon’s anger rising in his stomach and mixing with his own worry, a deadly concoction that was not going to bring anything good if Spite was not kept in check.

“Let’s get you out of here” He whispered as he sneaked his arms around Rook’s waist and brought them to his chest. He had to be quick, looking for a safe spot to mend whatever nasty wound Rook had and make sure they were okay.

The halls of Villa Dellamorte were home to him, so much that sneaking past the hidden corridors to his room was kid’s play, and there he was going to be unbothered, focusing on Rook only.

“You still with me, Rook?” He asked as he gently laid them on the softness of his bed, their head falling back against the pillows as he realized no answer was going to come from them any time soon. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I’m sorry” Lucanis mumbled to himself as he quickly undid the buttons of Rook’s vest, discarding the ruined clothes to the floor and exposing the wound.

“Why are you apologizing.” Spite asked, his head tilting to the side as he stared at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

“I suppose you don’t understand” He held his breath as he carefully threaded the needle, battling with himself to keep his hands steady, something that should have been normal to him. 

“Explain”

“I undressed them, without their knowledge. That’s..” He weighted the words on his tongue, hoping they’d make sense for the demon, ‘cause of all things, he was not going to sit there and overexplain himself when his.. lover could have been on the brink of death. “...Disrespectful”

“Disrespectful” Spite repeated, letting the word linger on his tongue as he stared at Lucanis carefully.

“Now if you’ll stay silent, I’ll patch them up” Lucanis turned resolute towards the demon, pointing the sharp needle his way and earning a groan and a nod.

“Be quick” He sat at the edge of the bed, next to Rook’s feet. “Miss Rook already” Spite mumbled as he crossed his arms, and for once, they were on the same page.

Lucanis was quick to focus again on Rook, his eyes tracing the countless scars on their exposed chest; he wanted to know their story, how Rook got them, how many they had to patch alone at the edge of consciousness, how many carried regret. He wanted to trace them with his lips as they got to learn about each other. He would have torn down walls for them, even if just for a moment.

Lucanis reached over for the folded towel, the gushing wound oozed so heavily that he wondered for a moment if Illario had pierced something vital.

He tried his best to steady his hands, pressing the cloth against the open skin to take away as much blood as possible before starting to stitch it up.

How long had Rook sat there bleeding out before being found? He wondered. 

Why had they not asked for help? Question over question flooded his mind as he stopped just a moment to take a better look at Rook.

He expected to see some sort of reaction, to see their face contorted in a painful scowl, anything to remind himself that he was not going to lose them anytime soon, yet even while they were unconscious they tried their best to look calm.

It was something he admired about Rook. They always seemed in control even when things were slipping between their fingers. Even when the worst outcome was at their door, they always knew what to say. And yet, when they needed help, no one was there to see them, to notice the bloodstain growing on the fabric of their shirt.

What a fool Lucanis Dellamorte was for such oversight. Especially when he wanted to be around Rook all the time, when he wanted to pluck the stars from the sky for them, and  when he wanted to protect them with every fiber of his being, despite the fear of uncovering the monsters hidden in his closet.

“Lucanis’ a sap” Spite rolled his eyes as he climbed completely on the bed, laying next to Rook. Lucanis hated sometimes how loudly Spite could read him. Even when he didn’t understand humanity, and when Lucanis couldn’t properly process his feelings, he was always asking those uncomfortable questions, leaving him questioning.

“I told you to-” 

“Tell them” Spite stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “You want to. I don’t understand why you don’t”

“It’s..” He let out a groan as he looked down again, the wound already covered in blood once more. “Let me do this” Lucanis quickly dismissed Spite.

“I don’t get you” Spite shook his head, returning to his own thinking. He ghosted his hand over Rook’s itching to feel what Lucanis felt whenever his hand met with theirs, wondering if it would feel the same way. It was all futile wondering in the end.

The downsides of having a personal demon included hearing all their thoughts all the time, and he hated that his demon was just a mirror of his own feelings, so loud in his head it was impossible to drown him out.

The moon was shining high in the sky when Lucanis finally dropped the needle, a sigh of relief followed the clunk of hitting wood as he closed the little box and pushed it back under his nightstand and looked up at Rook.

He itched to touch them, to glide their fingers through their hair, to caress their cheek, to lean in and steal a kiss.

“Do it” Spite taunted.

“I’m not listening to you” Lucanis rebutted without a second thought.

Rook was still dazed, the sunlight shining through the blinds waking every nerve in their body as they adjusted to the unfamiliar environment.

The coffee aroma lingered in the air as they slowly opened their eyes. The last they remembered was gripping Lucanis' shirt and rushing through corridors. 

Lucanis was near, sitting on a chair right next to the bed, one hand wrapped around Rook’s and the other holding a cup of coffee.

“What happened? Where are we?” Rook murmured, their voice still laced with the weight of sleep.

“I had to stitch you up” He smiled as he rested the cup on the nightstand and leaned forward. His free hand gently reached forward, cupping Rook’s cheek and caressing the soft skin. “I brought you to my room” 

“Ah”

“How do you feel? Does the wound hurt?” He asked, leaving no time for Rook to think, his voice barely a whisper. He itched to lift the blanket, to ghost his fingers over their chest- and check the wound himself, obviously.

“I’ve seen better days” Rook slowly tried sitting up before being hit by a wave of pain, betraying his words right away. 

Lucanis was quick, his arm was quickly wrapped around their waist. “Careful..” He cooed as he guided the other to sit up, trying his best to ease the pain of movement. He couldn't miss how Rook's cheeks ignited, their beautiful complexion shining with warmth at the small care.

“But thank you, if it wasn’t for you…” Rook resumed despite the itching pain, a soft smile spreading upon their lips. 

They were so close as Lucanis still held his arm around their waist. Their warm breath mixing in the middle, as if to torture him, reminding him that they were just inches away from each other, so close yet so far.

“You should have told me Illario wounded you, you know?” His voice lowered as he sat at the edge of the bed, his arm not yielding from the new spot it occupied. He liked the way they felt in his arms.

“You found me, didn’t you?” Rook matched his tone, as if they were whispering secrets and the walls of Villa Dellamorte had ears to steal them away.

“Yeah”

Silence filled the room as Rook’s eyes fell on their intertwined fingers. Their heart leaping in their chest as they committed to memory the way his hand felt in theirs, the way his arm held them up protectively.

They felt safe, right there. Despite the wound on their abdomen, despite the world as they knew it about to fall apart. 

“Kiss them. Kiss them” Spite chanted as they still laid near Rook, propping up only to meet his host’s eyes with a smirk plastered on his lips. Lucanis wanted to kiss them, to steal just one moment, but was it fair? Was it fair to selfishly graze their skin one more time and press their lips together just like that? Many times he had thought of it, daydreaming of the moment before his eyes, yet he had wanted their first kiss to be different.

He savored the idea on his lips, wondering if they'd taste as sweet as the words that came from their mouth. He wondered if they'd feel the same way he did.

One moment he was deep in his thoughts, and the following he couldn’t hold himself back. His lips gently crushed with Rook’s, and the stars he wanted to give them were around him; the universe he wanted to fight was in his palm.

He swore everything around him disappeared. Worries, thoughts, responsibilities. Vanquished.

There was just Lucanis and Rook and nothing else mattered.

[radmutantninjatriangle]

I accidentally found a post on reddit, which criticised DITF, and most of the comments were disagreeing and blaming Jason for his death.

And like... what...

I love DITF, but I will always blame Bruce for Jason's death.

Jason was 15. Bruce is his father (not even a foster father, he actually adopted Jason). It was his responsibility to protect Jason, even if he did something stupid.

The moment he learnt Jason left the country, he should either go after him right away or inform the authorities so they could stop him.

He didn't know why Jason was in Israel (his first destination), and tbh for all he knew, Jason could have been kidnapped and made to buy the tickets there. Bruce didn't know what was happening with Jason and still prioritised looking for Joker.

Joker IS dangerous, but being a father should be a priority, especially when his son might be endangered.

And people who say, "But it was Jason's decision to look for his mother." Yeah, and he's 15. 15 is the dangerous age when kids (Yes, KIDS) think they are adults and do a lot of stupid things. They try drinking, smoking, jumping from high places, etc. And it's their parent responsibility to explain what is dangerous and why. And to stop them.

Bruce should have prioritised Jason, sent him home, and then he should have promised he would help him find his mother after stopping Joker. Or maybe take him along to help him stop Joker so Jason would never leave his sight. A lot of different ways to be a parent AND Batman.

And one can argue that the only time Bruce left Jason from his sight was when he left him with Sheila, who was Jason's bio mom; And Bruce could rationally think that Jason would be safe with her, right? But he didn't know Sheila. Had no idea who she is. He DID know she somehow left Jason. So Bruce left his child with a practically stranger in a dangerous foreign country. Great parenting, I guess.

I love DITF, mostly because it shows Bruce' faults. How he isn't an ideal father.

And one can argue how much of it was actually Bruce's fault, but no one can say that it's Jason's fault when he was still a child, come on.

[aleki-lives-here]

I'm making my way through System Collapse audiobook, and it's much easier both the second time around and than reading. This whole thing still feels too real too much, which makes me kinda passionately hate the book but in a way that I know isn't really hatred. I'm just experiencing a lot of emotions, okay. Listening to them create art, tell a story to make people see things from a new perspective is doing something to me.

I was ten when I decided I wanted to tell stories. I was thirteen when I figured out what kind of stories I wanted to tell, and yes the stories I wrote back then were kinda shitty but I reread half of those recently, at fourteen I already had the same kind of vibe that still appear in everything I ever created afterwards: shit happens, and people do mistakes, and it all just sucks, and you keep living, keep trying, keep holding on to hope.

I was a fucking teen and I knew I wanted to tell stories that would take the darkest most tragic situation and say: there's still kindness there. There's still hope. There's still future. I don't like whump or angst or anything just because I like to torture characters (tho I do, like to torture characters), but because shit sucks. shit sucks, and we keep living, and we keep finding joy in it all, and I want, always wanted, to have someone tell me -- to be the one to tell this to people, that yes. It sucks. It hurts. It's awful, and I see you, and I see the hopelessness, and it isn't hopeless anyway. It's all encompassing now and it's gonna change. If just one person read what I wrote and felt a little better, a little more seen, a little more hopeful, a little kinder -- that was all I wanted to achieve with my writing.

And the thing is: I feel like such a fucking failure.

Like okay. Objectively, rationally speaking, I'm twenty... right, twenty two as of now, which is young, but also it's fucking twenty two and it's longer than I expected myself to be alive, and it feels like I haven't done nothing. It feels like I'm never going to be able to do anything. It feels like it's ridiculous of me to even hope that I could do anything, especially with writing. Achieve something with my stories? Make someone think about new things? Make someone feel better? It's a ridiculous idea to aim for. That's what other people do, somehow, not me. The best I can settle is entertaining myself by torturing characters, which isn't gonna help anyone but hey if it entertains someone for five minutes it has to be worth something. It fucking has to be, I so honestly don't know why the hell I'm still alive, but it has to be worth something otherwise it's too depressing to consider.

But anyway. Then, there's System Collapse. There's this whole series, honestly, with the fairly background exploration of what media and art can mean to people, but here it's loud and impossible to ignore in the front of the narrative, and it resonates with me in ways I can't be comfortable with. It somehow fucking hurts to think about. Too many emotions and thoughts and just ugh. I'm not gonna be normal about this book any time soon, am I.

[gentrychild]

Anon who left a huge block of text talking about canon break differences here again real quick bc I just realized some of what I said may be a bit unclear:

When I said that Miles and Miguel aren't that alike I meant it in terms of canon breaking (assuming canon is, one spidey per universe and certain life path events must happen) since as a different anon pointed out, they are actually really similar people

And this is just an extra note of interest, but I find it kind of odd that everyone (or almost everyone) in the spider society was resigned to have their lives dictated by "canon". Like. The whole point of spiderman is having the will to go on even when all the cards are down and it's gone to hell. Does that mean that the ending will be happy? Hell no. A lot of times it isn't. But the point is getting up again and still fighting even if it seems utterly hopeless. Something they drove home really hard in the first movie, so it's. Just interesting I suppose

Hello again, chatty Anon! Don't worry, I completely understood what you meant about Miles and Miguel not being alike in how they broke canon.

I think most of the spiders who are in the known were recruited at the lowest point in their lives. They just lost someone or went through a crushing defeat and someone tells them "Hey, you're not alone. They are other like you, who completely understand what you went through. And your grief? It exists for a reason. It made you stronger." So they jump into this society of likeminded people and they took comfort in thinking that there was a reason for their pain. What doesn't kill you make you stronger.

I think that Gwen is an exception in the sense that she was told about the canon events before she went through both of them. (Arguably, the death of someone close was her Peter.) But it's also telling that she was basically homeless, rejected by her father, and with only her work in the Spider society to keep her going. She accepted the canon events theory, the idea that her grief had a sense, and because of that... she accepted how things went.

There is no way Pavitr knew about the canon events at the time his girlfriend and her father almost died. And after it would have happened, the other Spidermen would have been here for him, explaining that there was nothing that could be done, because it happened to all of them. That losing people is inevitable, but that he will get stronger thanks to it. And with how aggrieved Pavitr would have been, it probably would have worked.

[crownedwille]

I've come to the conclusion that loving young royals doesn't mean I can't be critical about it, maybe especially bc I love the show so much I have such strong feelings about it, good and bad and I can love parts of canon and agree with it and appreciate it but I don't have to love it all. I have accepted that it's okay if I don't accept the ending and I don't have to force myself to support it. It's okay to not agree with all of canon and it's okay to not side with all of the creators' intentions/views. Loving a show doesn't mean you have to take everything the writers say on face value and that's the only version that is allowed to exist. Canon isn't everything and fandom is about curating your own experience that makes you happy and not miserable. You don't have to dismiss canon in every aspect and ignore it entirely, that's certainly not what I want but there is a fine line between being canon respectful, allowing some parts to exist and sometimes, yes, you just have to say "fuck canon" and move on for your own sanity and wellbeing

[triglycercule]

What do you think the types of drunk would the murder trio be? Im pretty sure ask dusttale already answered this question about dust but i have to ask the mtt expert

see now askdusttale DID answer the question. but they didn't ANSWER the question when asked what dust is like drunk. they just said that dust is the type to drink himself blackout drunk. so that mean i have total freedom on deciding what the mtt are like drunk hehehe (rubs hands together in a villanous way that you would imagine nightmare doing or something idk)

i already have an absolutely hilarious idea for horror and it might just because i'm on the guilt section of his character analysis but i could TOTALLY imagine him being an emotional drunk. like he CRIES. horror sans man known for being incredibly guarded and private with what he feels bawling his eye out. he gets mad he gets sad he does not get happy because horror doesn't have the right to be happy. he is too upset over the fact that he fucking DOOMED all of horrortale because of his selfishness and nothing can stop him from being incredibly vocal about that fact so much so that killer had to tape his mouth shut because he wouldn't stop crying so loud. and then he just silently cries until he passes out from exhaustion. the alcohol has an incredibly strong effect on him because i dont think he would drink regularly plus he definitely hasnt drinken anything in those 7 years of starvation. it hits like a fucking plane crashing into him. or like getting his eye taken out again. either one!

another funny idea i had for killer would be like the alcohol affecting him but he SWEARS that he's still sober. he is very confused when he starts stumbling because wtf he doesnt FEEL drunk??? why is he bumping into walls and tables HELP WHY DOES HE SOUND FUCKING STUPID???? the alcohol is definitely effecting him but he swears he swears he doesn't feel drunk. hes not drunk its just the damn body doing this stupid bullshit!!!! he's still very aware of what's going on and is basically the same as sober but just like. he's wiggly he's wobbly and oh shit he just fell head face first into a tv whoops. he'd also have a high tolerance because just because. he can drink without feeling like shit until he just blacks out mid conversation with someone because his body couldn't take the toll of all the beer or whatever. hilarious idea triglycercule thank you triglycercule i know

dust in the context that we already know that he drinks AND he can fight against the human while like partially drunk.... i feel it would be kinda like a giggly drunk situation. except dust doesn't laugh at anything that's funny he only laughs when someone gets hurt or something. SADISTIC giggly drunk. because i can already imagine a half drunk dust laughing his ass off after killing the human and its a beautiful sight to me.

anyways imagine how it goes when you pair this sadistic giggly drunk with another that wont stop going through the 5 stages of grief and another that keeps on fucking falling over for no reason in his eyes. dream blunt rotation but the blunt is a bottle of vodka. i can already imagine it in my head and its fucking HILARIOUS. horror going on about how he caused the deaths of others and manipulated and tricked papyrus while killer is just trying his best to keep his eyes open because for some reason they won't stop trying to close. he is surprisingly getting frustated. dust has long since lost his voice laughing at this and he's just silent wheezing at everything. also phantom papyrus is only making the laughter worse because he keeps on making rude comments towards horror and killer and only he can hear him and its guffaw inducing. mtt amazing friend group you dont get shit like this anywhere else

[savage-rhi]

🫂

[transgaysex]

i got hit with like. nauseating anxiety a couple hours ago and i dont know how to make it stop

[sigmundthesorcerer]

M would be obsessed with the fact that vault-tec dropped the bombs bc she's a paranoid freak who's been running off a conspiracy theory that america nuked itself as a population control tactic and the rest of the world is doing fine

but the point is that she's supposed to be wrong!!!!!

[luvsavos]

(AA) hey, Mr. Martin, if you’re still doing oc asks, you mind if I ask some more? I literally know nothing (or, if I do, it’s very little) about them, and I figured you’d like to talk about them more too! So…for Lord Naasfilrah, 23? (As a god, I imagine he’s above our morals) and 29 for Shara? (What does a Shara Ishvalada even EAT?…I wonder…🤔)

i WILL get to the rest of my asks either later tonight or sometime tomorrow BUT i am in an oc mood so this one gets a special exception jgjgjv

oc ask meme!

23: Is your character morally gray or black or white?

naas is.... pretty damn morally gray; he definitely isn't as "true evil" as his brother, but he also sure as fuck isn't a saint by any means. he's very much the type that he WILL get done what he wants to by any means, no matter the consequences---though he is acutely aware of his role as destroyer, and he doesn't take nearly as much twisted pride in it as alaakiilah does; destruction as a necessary evil, is the way he sees himself. while he absolutely does not care about mortal life being caught in the crossfire of his actions, he is mindful of the world itself and tries to limit the amount of damage done to it.

29: What would be your character's favorite food?

you have NO idea how excited this specific question makes me because it's actually one of my favourite aspects of shara; hot chocolate! while their natural diet would probably be something more like absorbing energy from the earth itself via their wings (and maybe tail), they've taken a liking to hot chocolate specifically thanks to my friend @wolfoflyngvi 's oc, fenrir, who's one of the few people to genuinely consider shara a friend<3 they can fairly frequently be seen with some when in their mortal form, and they especially like it with marshmallows. they also just like marshmallows in general a lot too, they're especially fascinated by the tiny ones

[elytrafemme]

long theoretical post about my friend hugging me

like. to dissect a matter that none of you are involved in and then i'll delete in the morning: my friend in college hugged me about ten minutes ago and i don't understand why. he's a physically affectionate person so we knew it was bound to happen, it was a running joke between us that we'd like schedule our hug to happen. nothing extraordinary happened tonight. in the second half -- which is when i spent the most time with him -- i was so fucked up that i barely processed what was going on? i was listening to what he was telling me, he just rambled about stuff, and it's interesting and i could recite all of it if asked and the expression he made at each part, but there was absolutely nothing in my head. and he never asked if i was okay which i think he would have if he thought something was wrong, because he's done that before. and we were alone so he could have and there would have been zero consequences. but he didn't ask me what was wrong, so it's hard to assume that the hug was for emotional consolation reasons. he wouldn't have noticed me on the brink of tears, either, he's not that observant. i would have known if he had. and i didn't do anything truly kind to him today, i listened to him talk about his interests and we hung out for a while, but that's what we do all the time. nothing happened. there was the chair thing but i thought i played that off well, i tried to have a coherent narrative about it an hour later too so he would guess what i had hoped, and i think i was successful. he wasn't distressed, i would have known. and he was tired but he's been tired a lot before and he's never acted like this. so he had zero reason to hug me unless he maybe sensed that this entire time i just really fucking wanted him to hug me, but he wouldn't have, and i would never have voiced that, because i don't want him to see me at that level. but i needed that hug badly. and i don't understand why i received it.

[tabbytiger]

Having the profound realization that, yes, I am indeed psychotic. I also have adhd so they are holding hands. Think I’ve been in a psychotic episode since the last months of 2023 and I’m just now realizing it. 😭 I wrote it off as just my paranoid anxiety but like gorly those are symptoms of Psychosis.

Umm anyways who wants to perform a ritual to rid me of this ailment.

[nikkisticki]

Mostly correct, but at the same time I find there's a mistaken belief that holding any form of anger or hatred will corrupt you, which I think is technically true if you take it to it's natural extreme, but once again I have to make the argument of self-responsibility.

Anger is a very valuable tool when applied correctly (a lengthy topic I won't go into but if you learn to use your emotional bursts rationally it can be very useful in various ways), and it's appropriate to get mad at fools for being fools. I'm not speaking towards actively attacking them, obviously, but when it comes to my blog where I'm not in the process of trying to talk to these people and actively attempting to avoid them, I don't think it matters as much as the joy I feel stringing together a fun insult (Although as my sweet ferny friend has pointed out, my angle of attack was a bit ableist and not really against the substance of their flaws.)

I entirely agree that being hateful directly towards them is entirely pointless with few exceptions (If you're in a situation where someone isn't ever going to change, what you say only matters to those viewing the conversation that's opinion will be potentially up for change. In that case, there is value in lowering yourself to their level and responding to their lukewarm insults with some spicy retort once you've already given them the chance(s) to be civil in scenarios where onlookers would respond positively to that), because ultimately the only way you'll ever convince them of anything is to make them ask the questions themselves.

As I said, I think you're right, but people choose to believe the things they are told. I believe it's ultimately just as dehumanizing to consider them as simply being "unable to see the propaganda for what it is because of a lack of education and active malice towards them" as to call them a pile of spare parts.

There is value in peace, but it is better to be a warrior in a garden then a gardener in a war, and I'm telling you for sure that these people aren't going to de-radicalize. The best option we have for the future is that they spend their whole lives hating imaginary enemies so they don't have to change and then die quietly, having only harmed people psychologically with their words and actions.

Edit: Which, when you consider they elected the people currently doing massive damage to people on the basis of wanting them to do damage to those people, it sort of strikes me that it's already long past that point.

At the very least, making people hate bigots isn't a problem that I see as being as problematic as the bigots themselves.

You know Elon probably saw this and was super mad he still can't fire Halli.

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

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SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

[bogleech]

Suddenly hit with the vivid memory of when a cat had kittens and I was maybe four years old, and an older kid (I think a cousin?) kept saying with disgust and horror that she was "eating the afterbirth" (as mammals do), but I didn't know what that meant and started asking, only to be ignored or dismissed by the adults, who also wouldn't let me see no matter how FRANTIC I got with my questions, even when I started bawling my eyes out. Because, see, my interpretation of that sentence was that she was eating the kittens. What else would you conclude if you don't know the word "afterbirth," you're too little to know anything else comes out with the babies, and everyone is acting like it's something too nasty to explain to you in words? I don't remember when I figured out that they meant something else but I remember four-year-old me being devastated all day and terrified the next morning that all the kittens would be gone. All they had to say was "it's yucky stuff that was on the kittens, so she's cleaning up!" but no they could evidently not come up with anything more creative than just "it's nothing!" And worse yet my questions made them laugh. They LAUGHED at the unfathomable violence I was sure had happened in that cardboard box. Can you even imagine how demented I thought these people were. I was four years old already thinking I was the only rational compassionate being in a house full of sick sadists. Please try to entertain the questions of children, especially if they seem upset. You never know when they just think you're a fucked up asshole hiding a kitten massacre.

[s0urte3th]

i wish it were that easy, or a situation like that, but its not