#the thoughts in my head are LOUD

[battlekidx2]

“Do you like girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like boys?”

“I don’t know. I think I like TV shows.”

I remember when I was in middle school all the other girls were talking about the guys they liked and I said I didn’t like anyone. I just wanted to do my own thing.

I didn’t really get why I would want to date anyone. I understood friendship, companionship— having someone to share my interests and mutually info dump to sounded cool— but I struggled to understand the appeal of spending every day and every night with someone else. Of holding hands and going on dates. 

This led to a lot of homophobic bullying and a few of them would act disgusted that I might be into them. Constantly acting like I was looking at their boobs and sexualizing them (I never made eye contact with anyone and would frequently look at the wall or space out while looking in their general direction). Or make a big show of not being interested and many other things.

I didn’t get this either. I didn’t know why I would be interested in any of them. They treated me poorly and I thought attraction was something people made up and simply just claimed to feel towards other people.

Just like I never understood celebrity crushes. You don’t know the person so how could you possibly know you liked them? And I never understood how people “chose” who they dated. Did they just choose whoever they liked hanging out with the most?

But any time I voiced this it was always met with worse and worse reactions. It led to isolation among peers and my family. My parents made it pretty clear I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. That I wasn’t normal.

I soon learned to fake it. Pretend I understood it.

The idea of not being attracted to anyone seemed like a foreign idea to most people I met. Even when I branched out and moved away, I met a few people in the lgbt community who couldn’t grasp it either and reacted poorly and it made me feel stupid. Like maybe I wasn’t just screwed up to people who fit in the neat little box society wants you to fit in, but to everyone else as well.

Maybe I was wrong. If it’s an impossibility even in this community that champions diversity and acceptance then can that really be my reality?

I kept trying to force it. To date, but every time I did I always felt that same skin crawling discomfort and it always petered out. It didn’t matter who it was or what gender. It always felt wrong. It was suffocating.

I don’t think there’s a movie that better portrays that all consuming, suffocating stagnation of feeling so out of place– knowing you’re out of place compared to those around you– and in response forcing yourself to fit what other people expect of you than I Saw the TV Glow.

Whenever I think back to growing up or whenever I return home that same feeling this movie is centered around always drenches my experiences.

And even now it’s hard to put into words when I talk to other people what I’ve felt when it comes to this aspect of my life.

That comment from Owen about knowing there’s nothing there when talking about romance and attraction, but being too afraid to look and knowing that his parents know something is wrong with him hit harder than any other scene from a movie I’ve watched this year.

It’s that absence of something that is at the heart of asexuality that makes me always question what I choose to identify as when I have to explain it to someone. Because for the most part my explanation boils down to (in broad oversimplified terms): I’ve never felt attraction, I’m more interested in watching a Spider-Man movie than I’ve ever been into even just the idea of dating, every time I’ve attempted to date it’s been uncomfortable and I’ve actively dodged anything beyond friendship while in the “relationship”.

And when I try to voice that to another person it always feels like those experiences don’t hold water. That’s describing the absence of something. There’s no real proof of the identity.

With being bi or gay or lesbian there’s something you can I don’t know—point to?— that can help you know your identity.

And that’s the fact that you’ve experienced attraction towards one or more people of one or more genders.

It’s defined not by the lack of something but the presence of an experience.

And so every time I try and explain it I end up feeling stupid. Like I just haven’t tried hard enough to find someone compatible. That I need to get back into the proverbial saddle and try again. I always in some way feel ashamed and backtrack as a result.

This is in no way to say that it’s harder or easier to be one identity or the another. Everyone’s experiences are different and everyone experiences are valid. This is just a struggle I’ve found that’s unique to asexuality that many people I’ve talked to have also experienced.

I haven’t felt that part of my experience be seen in media until I saw this movie. Maybe I’m latching onto what I can get or maybe that was an intrinsic part of the movie. That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s something I felt seen in even if it was literally just one scene.

This is my really long winded and roundabout way of saying that I really think this movie is going to stick with me much longer than any other thing I’ve seen this year.

Things can be hard to put into words and as a result I tend to keep things inside. I’m fairly certain I’m ace but it might turn out I’m on a different romantic spectrum then I thought or I fall somewhere different than I thought on the ace spectrum. I don’t know what I’ll discover in the future.

I’m likely not going to express my label out loud to anyone but a select few. I still can’t express this particular label out loud to many people. My family is definitely never going to hear it. A friend or two might.

It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. I’m fine with identifying with the label in my head—in a lot of ways it makes me feel comfortable and happy— but any time I try to voice it the words die in my throat and I can’t help but feel ashamed. It’s easier to just tell people I don’t want to date right now. That there are all these factors in the way (finances, time, jobs, etc) than it is to try and explain what I’ve just rambled about above.

I know many people have felt and understood that experience and I hope people know they’re valid. You can express your identity with your full chest, shout it from the rooftops and let people know, or you can keep it to yourself, identifying as your label solely in your head. Both experiences are valid. And if your label changes at some point in your life that doesn’t make what you chose to identify as at this point any less valid too. People are always learning and growing. You can gain a new understanding of yourself as time move forward.

Sorry for the way too long ramble. This movie made me feel things.

[judas-lover]

Oh god i need to rewatch this and look out for the lighting and stuff bc Pilate's Dream is filmed in more neutral light.

Trial Before Pilate is WARM LIGHT . WITHIN THE COLD LIGHT SETTING. this spotlight of golden light on pilate and jesus. And. Thats. Because um. Pilate tried so hard to save him. :):):):):)

This looks like the exact moment the first Act merges into the second.

The first Act is filmed with this warm light, a yellow hue to most scenes, the hope is there and most of all, there’s worry in Judas’ expression, desperation, but in a way that you see, he thinks a solution is still within reach.

The second Act is filmed in a colder light, everything is tinged blue, Gethsemane (for example) is entirely done in this blue light, as is the second half of the Temple (where Jesus is first faced with the dread that continues into the second Act). Judas’ face changes from yearning, sad, desperate to frightened, regretful, filled with the same dread as Jesus conveys.

[machveil]

trying to figure out when Simon “Ghost” Riley was born and possibly headcanoning an age for him is an amazing use of time

*Simon, in 2016, is killed in the Caucasus Mountains (full blown adult)

in 2003, Simon returns home on leave from service (in England, you can volunteer for service at 16)

just prior to joining service, Simon works as an apprentice butcher at a grocery (the minimum age for working is 13 - I would assume Simon starts working late 15 to early 16)

Simon returns home from service in 2003. Simon leaves his apprenticeship as a butcher and joins the army after Sept 11 (2001) - assuming Simon left home as soon as possible to join service at 16, Simon returns home age 18-19 possibly

taking the year he comes home and presumed age he could be (2003 - (18 or 19)), Simon could have been born 1984-1985

knowing the year Simon dies (2016), I would wager Simon is 31 or 32, thank you for listening to my theory on Simon’s headcanoned age

*it’s worth mentioning that I will write for all CoD characters as if they never die in-game. we’re happy and healthy here

[lord-of-the-ducks]

I don’t really give a shit about James Somerton, but apparently he claimed that he Did A Plagiarism because of a head injury he had as a kid + ADHD, so he would just copy and paste paragraphs and then forget to rewrite them.

And as someone who was ALSO hospitalized for a head injury as a child, and ALSO has ADHD (with one of my primary symptoms being memory loss), I feel uniquely qualified to fight him on this because I have never done a plagiarism.

[kacievvbbbb]

I know this isn’t a particularly common characterization of them (at least not what I’ve seen) but I personally think of the two;

Shanks rarely gets restless, he’s the one more content to just bask in a moment, it may not be in silence but he’s comfortable just doing nothing with his crew. As long as there’s alcohol, a hammock and the people he loves, Shanks is straight.

Contrary to that Mihawk is always itching to do something, entertain himself in some way. If he’s not dueling/training, he’s gardening if it’s not that then he’s cooking or he’s reading and if nothing else will do then he naps. but he’s always trying to occupy his time with something.

I think a lot of people don’t notice it because it’s not the jittery hyperactivity that people associate with it. But Mihawk is restless, endlessly so. He’s in a never ending fight with his boredom but it’s all internal.(except when he decides to make it someone else’s problem ala Don Krieg)

Mihawk’s the type of dude to implode instead of explode so it makes sense that things like restlessness don’t really show themselves in an outwardly physical way. Instead it’s more of an internal pressure and incessant need to stave off boredom. But because of his preference for being alone and the fact that the activities he chooses aren’t ones usually associated with restlessness. It goes unnoticed.

Except by Shanks who’s always going out of his way to make the life of a pretty little birdie a litte more interesting.

[fluffyfangirl]

[mintjeru]

sometimes i make myself sad thinking about the kvthm fallout text is lyrics from "who knew" by p!nk

open for better quality | no reposts

[bulbabutt]

thing that i learned about mirage tmnt that made me wanna give up: april is a drawing come to life and not a real person at all, this fact is presented as bad to her because it means she cannot give casey babies

thing that i learned about transformers that made me wanna give up: the first female prime is the only girl because her type of transformer is girl (other types include: beast, combiner, minicon) and also she was killed by her lover (classic penetration style) just to become the literal BIRTH CANAL of the planet cybertron, where all life that grows will pass through

anyway. can all male writers like. stop. just... stop. what if you imagined woman outside of having womb? what if??

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

You wanna know something I headcanon about Dazai so aggressively that I have never seen anyone else talk about?

I bet you that he talks to himself. I bet you that spending most of his days in his teen years alone, socially and physically without anyone has probably affected him in some way. I bet that he’d spend all day in that shipping container and he’d talk to himself. He’d narrate what he’s doing, sing little songs, probably fuck up the lyrics or just trail off and come up with his own thing, he came ip with his double suicide song doing this.

I bet he still does this when he’s alone.

[13eyond13]

underrated funny thing about lawlight is they never actually did get to confirm that 100% of the time they were basically thinking exactly what the other person thought they were thinking every single time

[scullysexual]

We'll Meet Beyond The Shore.

Somewhere beyond the sea, she’s there watching for me, and if I could fly like a bird on high, then straight into her arms I’d go sailing.

Tags and Warnings: Major character death, enemies to friends (to lovers), doomed lovers.

n/a: People seemed interested in this so I thought I would make this official and give it a go writing it. I have four chapters written already so hopefully I'll stay on top and keep writing more. Please read the warnings and tags carefully; you'll probably hate me for this (and this fic) so I'm very sorry in advance but I'm evil and this is literally my playground. Anyway I hope you read and enjoy :)

Chapter One: The Reaping.

Fox Mulder awakens from his nightmare in the dank, dark basement he has called home for the last year. Skin clammy, heart hammering against his rib cage, he swings his legs off the bed and breaths in and out slowly, counting to 10 each time, willing his heart to slow down.

It was just a nightmare, he repeats to himself.

But it wasn’t just a nightmare.

A memory. Old but still as fresh in his mind as it was two years ago. District Seven’s town square, the smell of wood and sweat as the sun beamed down on him, a bowl full of names- girl names- and one called out.

Samantha Mulder.

In his dream he teleported, in the way one does in a dream, and he was right there, helpless, watching as his 12 year old sister was bludgeoned to death. She didn’t even make it past day one’s bloodbath.

He watched as his mother sunk away, a shell of herself, his father leave not 3 weeks later.

Mulder left himself, eventually, vowed to kill the Capital as they had killed his sister but he was just one boy, grief-stricken and angry, and his cries for an uprising went unheard. Mostly. The Peacekeeper’s had come down on him hard, punished him severely for it, but not executed, not as Mulder wished to be, his father’s influence was far too strong.

So Mulder left completely, snuck away in the dead of night with a band of merrymen. They had a boat and a dream to get far away from Panem as they could.

Their boat and their dream capsized on day 5, a strong wave knocking their tiny boat to pieces. Only Mulder survived, clinging on to a plank of wood, drifting unconscious for 3 days, into the territory of District Four.

A ship found him.

At first Mulder thought they were Peacekeepers but upon closer inspection he found they were dressed as simple fishermen. He was pulled aboard, introduced to the captain, the father of the boy who helped him up, who introduced himself as William Scully and his son, Bill.

Captain Scully took him to a pub, fed and watered him, and didn’t ask where Mulder had come from.

The pub became his job, the basement his bedroom. A week later he registered as a resident of District Four and his name was entered five times.

He hadn’t escaped. The hadn’t destroyed the Capitol. He never would.

Mulder shakes the dream, and memories of another life, from his brain. He puts on the clothes he wore yesterday and climbs the staircase leading to the pub.

He finds Wade at the bar, pouring drinks for the old sailors who have nowhere better to be. Mulder nods once at Wade who nods once back, a mutual good luck said between them. Wade is 18- the same age as Mulder- but his name sits waiting in that bowl 35 times to Mulder’s meagre 5.

Mulder bypasses the bar and heads towards the kitchen. He almost smacks into Kehlani, hands and arms full carrying three plates food. She knows exactly what he is here for.

“You’ll have to get in line, Mel’s backed up and it’s only half 7,” she tells him before she’s rushing towards her table. Mulder looks around the near-empty pub before he pushes on the kitchen door.

Melvin is frying fish in a pan. It stinks and Mulder resists the urge to cover his nose.

He really, really hates fish.

“Get lost 7,” Melvin shouts over his shoulder. “I’m backed up in here, you’re gonna have to wait.”

“Yeah, Kehlani said,” says Mulder. He throws the fish in the pan a distasteful look. “You got anything other than fish on the menu?”

Melvin smiles at him and Mulder counts one less tooth from yesterday. “This your first time in Fish District?” He cocks his head towards the door. “Saw a tree on my way in, maybe you can eat some bark?”

“Ha-ha maybe you should’ve been a comedian, Frohike,” Mulder says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He nabs the bowl of fruit sitting on the counter and leans against it.

Frohike and Kehlani were the only ones who knew where Mulder came from. Sat in the basement, the expensive bottle of whiskey between the three of them, Mulder finally told them he had been born in District Seven after their constant prodding. More questions and he told them what it’d been like living there. They stared at him in awe, soaking in every bit of information. They’d asked him which he preferred, Mulder hadn’t answered, keeping that one to himself.

“Hey,” Melvin calls, a sudden seriousness looming over them. “How’re you feeling today?”

Today.

“I’m good. One more year, right?”

Melvin nods. “One more year.” Then. “I found Kehlani crying this morning. I didn’t know what to say to her.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. What do I say to her? This shit’s fucked.”

Mulder looks towards the door, conscious of who could hear them, then quietly whispers. “Yeah…”

Kehlani bursts in then and looks at the two of them.

“Slacking off, Mel?” she admonishes , hands of her hips, the perfect imitation of Laguna the landlady.

“No!” yells Frohike turning bright red. “Just waiting for the fish to fry.”

Kehlani turns her attention onto Mulder and her eyes narrow, staring at the bowl of fruit.

“That was my fruit Mulder,” she tells him with a pout, dropping the imitation.

“Shit, sorry Lani.” Mulder holds the fruit bowl out to her. As her hands touch it to take it, Mulder says, “Good luck today, yeah?”

Kehlani looks to Frohike who quickly casts his eyes away. She turns back to Mulder and gives him a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, you too.” Mulder lets go of the bowl and she steps back. “I’m gonna go eat this,” she says to Melvin. “Mulder can be a waitress for a bit.” Then with a smile backed by a memory. “Don’t drop the plates this time, yeah?”

“I’d forgotten about that,” says Frohike with a laugh.

Mulder tosses him a glare and watches Kehlani leave wondering if this could be the last time he ever sees her.

.:.:.:.:.:.

The gulls caw, flying overhead. Dana watches them, committing them to memory. Her bare foot grazes the water, committing that to memory also, along with the breeze and the smell of seawater and sand. A ritual each year because what if it’s the last?

“Dana!”

Dana sighs and turns her head down the pier. Melissa approaches slightly out of breath.

“Mom’s looking for you. She wants us to eat before we go.”

Dana turns away to look back out into the ocean. “I’m not hungry,” she says.

Missy sits down opposite her. They used to do this all the time, sit out here together. Dana found her one time, when Missy had just turned 12 two days before the reaping, her eyes red from crying. It became tradition, each year 11 and 13, 12 and 14, 15 and 16…all the way up to last year when they were 17 and 19, when Melissa was free but Dana was still stuck with her name in the bowl 14 times, double the amount it should be.

“You have to eat,” says Melissa with concern.

“I’ll eat after the reaping.”

“Dana—”

“I’ll eat after the reaping,” Dana repeats louder and harsher. If she eats now she’ll throw up and that’ll be a waste, not when Melissa, Charlie, their mother can have more servings.

Melissa sighs, resigning herself. She looks out towards the ocean.

“I hate it,” she says.

“What?” asks Dana.

She points to beyond them. “That. The ocean. I’ve hated it for 3 years.”

“I love it.”

Melissa looks at her. “Only because Dad loved it.”

Dana shrugs. “You should come out with me and Billy on a ship some day.”

Missy shakes her head. “I’d just get in the way.”

That was true, Melissa wasn’t made for ships. But still…Dana smiles at her.

“What are you smiling at?” Melissa asks her, weary.

“If I’m not reaped, you have to join us on the ship.”

Melissa looks at her, aghast. She frowns, conflicted, and then relents.

“Fine…” And Dana smiles some more. “But only because I really don’t want to wish you were reaped.”

They both look out towards the ocean again, their smiles fading.

“I’ll see it again, won’t I?” Dana asks quietly.

“Yeah,” says Melissa with so much confidence Dana actually believes her. “And who knows, maybe Isla will finally be reaped.” Missy’s smile is cruel.

“You’re really going to hold that grudge forever, aren’t you?” Dana asks, shaking her head.

Melissa nods. “Yep, never letting it go.”

They smile at each other once more before movement on the other side catches their attention, hoards of people making their way towards the town square.

Dana’s stomach twists. It is time.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

People flood in like waves. Mulder navigates his way to where the cluster of 18 year olds stand. He finds himself next to Wade who’s eyes are down and he is white as a conch shell. His eyes meet Kehlani’s across the way standing with the other 15 year old girl’s. He smiles, she smiles back. He pulls his eyes away and looks down.

One more year.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She holds onto Charlie’s hand for as long as she can, until the Peacekeeper blocks their path and pulls them apart. She watches as Charlie walks towards the other boys before she is gently shoved towards the direction of the girl’s. Dana glances at them only briefly before she is staring straight ahead, eyes on the bowl, a bowl that holds 14 pieces of Dana Scullys.

One more year.

.:.:.:.:.:.

The Mayor, Walter Skinner, Monica Reyes.

The Mayor, Walter Skinner, Monica Reyes.

The Mayor, Water Skinner, Mon—

“The boys!” Monica Reyes calls out, as she does every year. She always starts with the boys. Mulder clenches his fists, tries to tamper down his nerves. Wade is shaking beside him, Mulder can feel it rolling over him in waves. Reyes places her hand into the bowl, searches around. Mulder glances at Wade, the other boy is…crying? Reyes pulls her hand out, unfolds the piece of paper. It’s Wade, Mulder thinks. That piece of paper has Wade’s name written on it.

“Fox Mulder!”

It’s Wade Firth—Wait. Mulder freezes. All eyes on are him.

Did she just say Fox Mulder?

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It’s not Charlie. Thank god it isn’t Charlie.

Dana releases her breath, one of two she holds.

It isn’t Charlie.

Instead it is Fox Mulder.

Dana had heard of him, a strange boy. It was rumoured he was the boy her father had found out at sea the year before, the boy from another place. His surname was familiar. 6 years ago a girl with the same last name had been pulled from the bowl, 12 years old, she had died almost immediately, everyone around her was just thankful it wasn’t their own.

Fox Mulder was the boy tribute but who would the girl be?

Monica Reyes places her hand in the right-hand bowl. Dana holds her breath, watching. She wants to close her eyes, hold her hands over her ears and be anywhere but here; sat on the pier watching the waves in the water, sailing on the ship pulling up nets of a hundred fishes, anywhere but where she was standing right now.

Monica pulls her hand out, unfolds the piece of paper. The name is said crisp and clear, there was no mistaking it. Somebody familiar cries out just as it all sinks in.

Dana Scully is the girl tribute.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Fox Mulder and Dana Scully stand on the stage. Mulder looks towards Dana, she can feel his eyes on her, she stares ahead. Scully, is all Mulder can think as he stands there, like William Scully? He wants to know but Dana gives him nothing, she can’t.

Reyes tries to get the crowd to clap but there is nothing but dead faces staring back at them. This isn’t District 1 or 2 where celebrations are held. District Four might not be the worst of the Districts but one will still find no jumps for joy here. All are still scared. All are still angry.

The doors close and they are all submerged in darkness.

[justice-artblog]

Rekindle anew au and something that struck me a little late-

The difference of Motto bettwen Saiki and Mob's ethical standpoints.

Saiki's "unwilling" standpoint to not help others if it doesnt directly affect him and Mob's want to help other's because they're all the same.

Just the initial argument of "They can handle it themselves," and "They don't have too, we can help." Sort of back and forth

Mob's steady realization that Saiki's "Ironclad" rule isn't so much a rule and more of a Mantra that doesn't work.

Saiki can say that he isn't willing to help others, and then turn around and help in some way anyway. But he's more likely to help for the people he knows than strangers.

I just need that little fight before something dumb happens. Probably with the Telepathy club, it just needs to be something a little more minor and less stress inducing.

Idk it just, Im chewing on this idea of them arguing about it and having Reigen eventually come at Saiki with his speech about everyone being the same, regardless of abilities or not.

Cause Saiki needs to hear it.

[isamovingon]

MYUNG JAEHYUN 'Dangerous' @ Performance37

[hazeldough]

two sides of the same coin

[kacievvbbbb]

Look Challengers is very mishanks coded I don't know what to tell you, but it is. And you might say Kacie; Which homoerotic boy is Shanks? Who is the third person in the relationship (buggy maybe)? Would Mihawk need to have an injury? Isn't it a little more nuanced than that? All very important questions, all very valid points but all totally irrelevant.

Because Mihawk is very Tashi Duncan coded and this scene

is very young MiShanks coded.

While this scene is very after breakup but before make up coded.

And that my friends, that's what really matters

[midnightcaptions]

frothing as I think about them BiG AU is like....everything's the same as in my fic Bad is Good and Good is Bad, but Shilo's a liiiitle older and it's not connected to the rest of TCYK.

In gist, after injuring Drew, she started life on the lam a little bit as an unwilling partner in crime, robbing places and driving without a license, but the injury gets infected and he won't see a doctor about it so she abducts him with his own car to go stay at her grandparents' house in "Backwater."

Shilo steals Drew's keys while he's recovering so he can't leave. Drew has disagreements with a rooster. Attempts to intimidate her into giving him his keys back so he can leave lead to learning a little more about her and realizing she's been outcasted from her own family due to their belief she died in the comet accident and further due to her new power. NSFW hilarity and stuff as they ignore cope with their individual pains and find comfort in each other as rebelliously as possible. Soon they start to have conflicting interests, Drew fantasizing about settling down and maybe he doesn't want to be such a bad boy after all, but Shilo...she's not sold on that.

I was always stuck with how the heck to end it. I know I wanted them get separated somehow, and always figured Shilo would get caught by Global Justice eventually and made to join Team Go. Now I'm like....I'm thinking. Maybe she just didn't want to settle down. Maybe she left willingly. She's barely an adult and been in a GJ institution for years, she wants to live a little. It just...seems so in character for Shego to go out and find her kicks first before going back later to Dr. Drakken once they're older and eviller to not work out that dysfunctional relationship later during canon time.

anyway that's enough of that tonight