#these are all the comparisons i can think of for now........

[dduane]

Hi! I'd love to hear ur take on the whole Spirk Canon discussion going on right now as someone who's written licensed Trek books. Like besides the whole "did Unification 765874 make spirk canon" thing, is it even fair to talk about spirk being canon or not? What would it take for spirk to "be canon"? It strikes me as a very fandom-y (positive) way to interact with media, which is funny since k/s invented fandom culture. But at the same time ur Supernatural comparison was right on the money and paramount has been VERY weird about addressing their relationship in nutrek. What are ur thoughts??

First of all: Despite the excitement of any given moment, people need to be careful about mistaking anything I reblog without further-amplifying comment, on any subject, as necessarily implying agreement or approval. Lots of times I reblog things just to direct attention to them (and sometimes because I think they're funny).

"ur Supernatural comparison" was not mine. It was somebody else's. I reblogged it to direct attention to it. (And maybe I thought it was funny.)

...Also, wut iz dis "nutrek" u speak of? When you've been working in this universe for long enough, with the necessary perspective to look up and down the length of it without idiosyncratically-added heat... then all Trek is Trek. The spectrum along which its varying species all coexist is ever more complexly and interestingly braided than it once was, sure. But that's all. I've got enough on my plate at the moment not to have time to waste trying to force different aspects of Trek into cage fights with each other.

And: "Paramount"? Who is that, exactly? At the pointy end, all corporations are made up of people. Which ones are we talking about? Which production entities? Which creative teams? Which execs, working under whose supervising auspices, and when? Working with whose (character/worldview/policy) decisions, and for how long?

None of this stuff is simple to work out, and it's not helpful to try to come at it as if it's necessarily going to be easy to tease out who's doing what to whom. Briefly: it's normal for it to look weird. But don’t mistake a Big Corporate Monolith for something actually monolithic.

Also, for the moment, ffs, let's all just step away from the business of defining what K/S and/or Spirk actually involves. Enough ink and electrons have been spilled over this whole spectrum of character relationship since the 1960s, and frankly, life's too short. Definitely too short to be trying to resolve it all in terms of something that dropped...when? About this time last night, or the night before? :) Jeeeez, people. Take a breath or three and let things settle.

So I don't think anybody needs to be hearing my deep cogitations about the new short film right now... because there aren't any. No question, Unification's beautiful to look at—and I've told Dave Blass he did nice work, about which i don't think there can be any possible doubt. (Not to mention the high-end technical aspects dealt with so seamlessly in such a small tight package, which have left my jaw on the floor.) The Giacchino score's also quite lovely, but that also is more or less a given.

As for everything else: I decline to spew opinion all over the joint until I've had a chance to assimilate what I've seen, and actually acquire a useful opinion from somewhere or other. Meanwhile, y'all just keep doing what you're all doing, and I'll go make some more tea. :)

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss it Better Pt:3

Curly x Reader

AN: I am just speechless. All this support is making me tear up. Like holy shit. Thank you. Don’t worry! When this finishes(god idk how it will I’m making up as I go since yall want more chapters) I’ll make sure to post it to AO3 for easier access! Just thank you again! And uh. Don’t forget I have a Kofi and Wishlist if you wanna like tip or something. NO PRESSURE! Just a reminder to anyone who WANTS and CAN! You come first! Just. Thank you again!

SUM: You couldn’t sleep, so you try and remember things with Curly to lull you to sleep. As you do, you remember things that are important for a captain to have. Very important, and you are gonna be certain to find them

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, mentions of abortion (it’s a rather calm chapter really. Take it as a pallet cleanser because the next chapter imma really show you how fucked up Jimmy is))

You just couldn’t sleep. It felt criminal to right now. So much was going through your head. So much has happened and now you had time to let it all soak in. The crash, Anya, why there was a crash, Curly’s condition, it made sleep impossible. Especially alone in that big bed that was meant for you and your husband.

You tried to take in deep breaths, and just let the thoughts wash over you. There was responsibility as the Captains Spouse. You weren’t just ‘eye candy’ like Jimmy said. You had worth, and were just as much important to the team as everyone else.

Such as learning a thing or two about what Captain should do in case of an emergency.

Curly was in no state to help, and Jimmy sure as fuck won’t help either. He was the reason everyone crashed after all. He’s a loose cannon and you needed to tip toe around him. Who knows what he might do next. You weren’t even sure if telling Swansea and Daisuke about what’s going on was smart.

Swansea has little girls of his own after all. He won’t react well at all. Then there’s Daisuke. Barely nineteen and thrown into this mess. He might panic or maybe even do something crazy like confront Jimmy. There was just to many what ifs.

So you were left on your own.

You would wrap yourself up in what was once Curly’s sleep robe and grab his spare ID card. The very thing that can unlock any door, and be the one thing that can lock your bedroom door. Definitely should have Anya sleep in here for a while. She deserves to be able to sleep soundly.

While you were waiting for everyone to sleep as well you would explore the bedroom. Looking into nook and cranny to see if there was anything of use. The Captains always were given a bunch of extra shit after all. Even Pony Express had to meet some safety protocols. Curly was their best after all. Even went as far as to try and help him fine work else where. That’s what he explained to you.

Shame. Was just a normal bedroom. The only thing that made it special was it was bigger, and had a lock. Dammit all to hell.

That’s when you tried to think back on past memories of you and your husband. To try and recall any kind of special thing the ships carry. Oh how you felt so guilty for never paying enough attention. Made you feel stupid and useless, but you weren’t.

At least not in comparison to Jimmy.

With a deep breath, you managed to recall something. Something not long before the crash even. You had knocked on the cockpit door to enter it, and was greeted to your husband and Jimmy working. Curly was rambling on about something, while Jimmy kept eyeing the locker suspiciously. As if he wanted to get inside of it for some reason.

That’s your best lead now. God dammit was it a shitty one. The cockpit was stuffed to the brim with foam. But then again that’s the front of the cockpit. If you were careful, and cut the right spot, maybe you can access the locker.

It’s something. Something is better than nothing.

With the robe tossed aside, a change into your jump suit, gloves slipped on, and beanie pulled on to keep your head safe you would make your way to the kitchen. Card key tucked securely inside of your jumpsuit compared to a pocket.

Jimmy can’t know.

Can’t know that you were stealing the only knife that the ship had.

Was going to be a pain in the ass to cut that foam but you really had nothing better to do. So, you unlocked the cock pit and focused on remembering its layout.

“For Anya, for Curly, for Swansea, for Daisuke, and all our families back home.”

You would start the slow and agonizing cutting. Little by little. Just chopping away to try and reach the right side of the pit. To get to that locker and see what was inside. That locker was in the cockpit for a reason. It can only be accessed by the pilots for a reason. There was a reason.

Any time you felt like your arms would give out you thought back to Curly. How he didn’t really have arms anymore to begin with. How Anya was busy throwing up right now. How they needed you. They both needed you.

It had been well over a hour, but you managed to reach the locker. You allowed yourself a breather at the sight of it. Damn was that a pain, but it’ll be worth it. Right?

With your breather over you would use the key card to access the locker. Inside was….Honestly junk. That had you very disappointed. You were honestly ready to cry out of frustration, only to see there were a few locked cabinets inside.

Ones that needed codes.

Codes you knew.

Curly made you memorize them in case of an emergency. He just said to memorize them. That it’s meant to just unlock pin pads. That Pony Express never bothered to change them.

You went to the lower locker and typed it in.

Strange, there was nothing inside. Suppose whatever was inside was taken out. You wondered what could have been in there. Was a very small locker so maybe it was some code scanner or universal unlocking device. Just wasn’t big enough for something you hoped for.

A transmitter.

He prayed it was near the front of the ship. That a transmitter would stuck in the heart of the foam, or as far as just shatter on contact. They had to have a spare communicator. Pony Express had to follow SOME rules after all. Imagine the ship being discovered and the people who found it saw it was missing something as important as that.

So you typed in the code for the larger locker. You were kinda afraid of opening it. To be met with another empty void of metal and dust.

You took a deep breath, and opened.

There really was a god.

There was what you were looking for. A real deal communicator. It was real, it looked untouched and even had dust on it to show that Jimmy never reached it.

Before you grabbed it you made sure to close the door behind you. Just to be sure. Was the dead of night, well from what the clocks say, and everyone should be asleep. Even Jimmy had to sleep. You had to make you move now.

Remain calm, and focus.

You can’t fuck this up.

You snuggled yourself into the corner of the pit, with the communication device in your lap. You hooked the head phones onto your head, and turned it on.

As you waited for it to boot up you made sure you were positioned so that if anyone came through the door, for some reason, you’ll notice. As far as anyone was aware though this room was basically a wall. No purpose to enter. You should be safe, but you had to think ahead. Jimmy was unpredictable, and so full of himself.

Better to be over prepared than see what happens if Jimmy finds out what you are doing.

Couldn’t help but give a squeak of surprise when someone finally spoke to you.

“This is the Emergency Spaceship Retrieval Sector. What seems to be the problem?”

A woman, through the static, spoke to you. Tears of relief fell down your face but you forced yourself to remain focused. You can’t mess this up now. No way no how.

“This is Tulpar for Pony Express. We have suffered a crash about a month ago. From what I can recall we had been a little over four months into our twelve month journey-“ You immediately explained, as to best help them get an estimation on how far the ship had traveled.

“Alright, who may I be speaking to at this moment?”

Deep breaths.

“I am the Spouse to Captain Curly. It is me, Jimmy the co-pilot, Anya the nurse, Swansea the mechanic, and Daisuke our intern.” Deep breaths, keep things quick and to the point.

“Are you all in any immediate danger?”

You had to think about that a moment. Jimmy is a dangerous man. Who knows what he might do next if you don’t play along. So, you had to be honest. You felt guilty for telling the operator what happened. That Curly suffered greatly and needed immediate medical attention, how Anya was a victim of assault and required an abortion as soon as possible, and that the reason for it all was because of Jimmy. He crashed the ship, he raped Anya, he destroyed Curly, and god knows what he will do next.

“Estimated arrival time will be about a month. We have your exact location thanks to the communicator. Remain calm, and know that help is on the way. We have logged this down in the report. Take care of your crew the best you can, Captain.”

And she would log off. You would let your head thump back, and simply cried. Cried in pure relief and joy. That a real person heard you, and was aware of what’s going on. That if anything did go wrong that at least someone knows. Someone will know what happened.

There was hope.

Now was a matter of survival.

One month.

You all needed to survive one month.

One Month Until Rescue…

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[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: The Sower

Octavia Butler: Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the parable of the sower Butler: the parable of the tale of the sower Butler: the tale of the sower Butler: boy that's really not working

Butler: for this story, i think it's time to look to the future Poe: the future? Butler: yes the far distant future Butler: of 2024

Butler: so in the future of 2024 Butler: a christo-fascist government comes to power over a crumbling America bedeviled by climate change and wealth disparity King: Poe: Koontz: Barker: Butler: now you may be asking Butler: how did she know? Poe: how DID you know?

Butler: an America falling apart, states are their own military dictatorships, police are corrupt King: that's crazy that you're so good at predicting America's future King: it's like you live in America or something!

Poe: for real, how are you doing this? Barker: eh i'm not impressed Baker: i feel like predicting the rise of a christo-fascist government in a crumbling America bedeviled by climate change and wealth disparity is pretty much a gimmie

Butler: ok fine Butler: but what if this christo-fascist government comes to power using the slogan "make American great again" Barker: Barker: ok yeah that's impressive Poe: how ARE you doing this??

Butler: simple Butler: i simply looked at the America of the present day Butler: and asked myself what would the future look like King: that's good! i gotta make a note of that King: anyone got a pen? King: these writing tips are gold!

King: that is seriously incredible King: some scary accurate predictions! King: why is everyone always talking about Margaret atwood's predictions? these are way better! Barker: yeah these leave Margaret atwood in the dust! Barker: like, there's no comparison! Margaret Atwood [under cardboard box, through vocoder]: beep boop :(

Margaret Atwood: [under cardboard box, through vocoder] beep boop i am predict-o-tron, the robot that predicts the future Barker: oh we're not interested in that anymore Margaret Barker: your predictions are all so obvious Margaret Atwood: [under cardboard box, through vocoder] beep boop :(

Barker: but go ahead Barker: give us one now Barker: if it makes you feel better Atwood: [under cardboard box, through vocoder] beep boop reproductive health will be threatened by conservatives Barker: oh damn wow Barker: you must have fuckin crystal ball to come up with that one! Poe: clive Barker: oh come on edgar we all saw that one coming

Butler: anyway this christofash government in a collapsing dystopian America only lasts one term Butler: then they vote him out Barker: wait, they still have elections in this collapsing dystopian America? Butler: oh yeah Butler: yeah i mean why not?

King: this is a real downer King: can we hear some future predictions that DON'T come true? Diane Duane: i have some stories about the utopian post-scarcity star trek future King: no i meant like King: bad things that don't come true King: not good ones :/

[copperhawks]

You're not the first person to make this comparison on this post, but when I wrote this, I hadn't done a re-read of SOTL yet (and the last time I'd read In the Hand of the Goddess was... a LONG time ago, so I couldn't really make a good comparison between these two scenes), but I have now and I've been sort-of thinking this over and have some thoughts on it.

For me, this isn't so much an indication of them being similar so much as it is just an unusually similar narrative beat. A character chooses to disobey an order about not crossing a border during a war in order to go save someone who has been captured and, in so doing, takes out a major antagonist that leads to the end of the war.

But the MOTIVES behind the two actions seem very different to me. Jon goes to save Alanna because he's in love with her and can't bear to lose her. Kel goes to save the refugees because she's responsible for them and takes that extremely seriously. She does CARE about the people, obviously, it's still being done out of love, but she's not doing it because she can't stand to live without them so much as that she's INSANELY duty-driven. She goes up to save Lalasa for similar reasons after being told that a noble's duty to their servants is basically sacrosanct. Kel goes across the border because she believes it's the honorable thing to do. Jon's motives aren't about honor and are, arguably, somewhat more selfish in origin.

So while this is obviously a very similar storyline, I don't find that it's an example of these two characters being similar to each other.

Kel is willing to give up EVERYTHING out of a sense of duty to the people she's responsible for. While Jon is someone who does a LOT of things for his people and spends a lot of his time and energy making life better for them, I can't recall a moment where Jon is ready to give up everything he wants and everything he's worked for just to save his people. Jon actually tells Kel in Squire that he and Thayet work pretty hard to keep themselves OUT of that kind of danger whenever possible, that's the point behind all of the compromises. All of the arranged marriages for his kids are to try to ensure peace through political connections and stop fighting in wars.

This is where they DO differ because Kel feels like someone who, at least at this point in her life, is willing to die to protect her people. But Jon is someone who will do whatever it takes to LIVE for his people for as long as possible. Jon understands that, in his position, it's more beneficial for everybody for him to make compromises in order to stay alive so he can keep making changes that will make people's lives better in the long run. This is a lesson that, while we do see Kel LEARNING it a little during Lady Knight, isn't one that really plays into the final conflict of the book. It's possible that Kel will end up being even more like Jon in this way as she gets older, more willing to stay back herself and trust others to do what needs to be done in her place, but by the end of Lady Knight, that just isn't who she is yet.

And maybe that's what's interesting about the comparison. Kel isn't all that much like Jon YET, and she's certainly not all that much like Jon when HE was 19, but Kel shows signs of being a lot more like Jon as he is during HER series as she gets older and gains more experience. Kel is very righteous, very inclined to just act and get things done, but over the 9 years we get to know her, she has to learn more and more about when to act and when to WAIT. She has to learn when to push and when to bend a little.

As a woman, she's going to be held to different standards than her male counterparts like Raoul or Wyldon, she'll be dealing with different limitations and setbacks than they ever did. And so her approach to leadership will, by necessity, have to be different than theirs was. She does look to them for inspiration, but in execution, I think she'll likely end up far more like Jon. Jon is obviously not a woman himself, but as King he's ALSO held to different higher standards than his compatriots and he was very young when he took the throne and has been very progressive throughout his reign which means he's dealing with certain limitations and setbacks that more conservative people might not.

Kel has strong opinions and firm ideas of what the world SHOULD be like, and that's going to lead her down a similar path of trying to CHANGE things, but she'll be dealing with all of the same limitations that Jon is, which will force her to approach things the way he does. She's going to have to compromise, she's going to have to bend, she's going to have to learn when a fight is worth having, she's going to have to learn to give a little in order to get a little later.

Kel would probably not have crossed the border for just one person. If it had been Neal, for example, and Neal alone, she may not have decided to take that risk. Neal is a trained knight like herself and probably won't thank her for giving up everything to come save him. Kel could probably have been convinced not to cross the border for him, as much as it would've pained her. And Jon I think would not necessarily give up everything to save a few hundred people the way Kel did, even though it would pain him to have to make that choice.

Kel IS like Jon and will likely become even more so as she ages, but crossing the border just isn't one of those places where their similarities are showcased to me.

The funniest thing to me about Kel, and maybe one of the most interesting because of how understated it is, is that Kel becomes a good commander in the end, not by emulating Wyldon who was cold and implacable and insensitive, or by emulating Raoul who mostly only disobeys orders out of principle or because he has an issue with what the order says about his personal relationship with Jon, but by emulating JON.

Kel doesn't even LIKE Jon, she BARELY respects him as a person. He's a good enough ruler that she's willing to fight for him and swear loyalty to him and to at least mostly believe that he wouldn't work with Blayce to make his own killing monsters, but that's as far as it goes for Kel. If he's kind to her, she finds it uncomfortable and almost untrustworthy because she assumes he doesn't care about her and so his kindness and respect towards her must be fake.

But from the outside, as readers, we know just how much Jon fought for Kel. We know how much he does respect her right to be a knight. Jon is the sole reason that Kel DID get the opportunity to prove herself, if he'd capitulated to Wyldon completely, she just wouldn't have ever been allowed to join. Kel doesn't KNOW THAT, obviously, but we do. We know that Jon did everything he could to find a way to convince Wyldon to let Kel become a page. While Wyldon claims later that the reason he chose to let her stay at the end of the probation year was because his better judgment convinced him she'd earned it, I'd be willing to bet that part of that better judgment also included knowing if he couldn't prove to JON that she needed to go, then he'd be in trouble. Kel was training and working in front of plenty of other trainers and teachers who could easily contradict Wyldon's lies if he'd tried it, many of whom are closer to Jon than they are to Wyldon.

Kel's experiences and feelings about that experience are entirely valid, and she doesn't have the knowledge we do about how hard Jon fought for her, so it's not shocking that she's upset with him for a good portion of her series. She never even discovers this truth by the end of her series, even though she does get a lesson from Jon and Thayet (and Raoul to some degree) about how politics and compromises work in order to make changes happen. So her opinion of him by the end is boiled down to the quote from Squire: "good kings weren't always good men." It makes sense for her to think this, but because Kel's knowledge base is so limited (and her worldview so black and white for much of her series), it makes her an EXTREMELY unreliable narrator about this particular issue.

Kel believes that while Jon generally does his duty and keeps the peace, he doesn't actually care all that much about his people as individuals. But in their only meaningful conversation in Squire, Jon is able to point out that he (and Thayet, who is actually equal to Jon in power, something Kel either doesn't know which would be a failure in her education or just tends to ignore so she can focus her ire on Jon) has to make a LOT of compromises in order to get ANYTHING useful done at all. Sometimes, often, it means making deals with people he doesn't like or people he just fundamentally disagrees with, because it's the first step in a multi-step plan to help more people in the long run. He also points out that just throwing his weight and authority around in order to be able to change everything he wants to change immediately regardless of what anyone else thinks about it is a great way to get himself and his family killed. Because even if he had good intentions, that would be tyranny. It does make Kel think a little, but she doesn't tend to like him much still afterwards, her resentment from her page years will always color her opinion of him a little.

However, then she gets to Haven and she's suddenly tossed into a position of leadership over a lot of other people, many of whom disagree with each other or disagree with her or both. And all of the sudden, Kel has to make compromises. She doesn't LIKE the way the sergeants often treat their men, especially the sergeants whose men are convicts, but there's very very little she can do about it without really pissing off those same sergeants and that's not something she can afford to do. There's a moment when Neal starts getting frustrated about the treatment of the convicts and she takes him out to vent to her so he doesn't vent to the sergeants, something that the sergeants would then take out on their men. Kel's reasoning as she does this is that she "preferred to avoid battles with them now so she would have authority with them later if she needed to use it." Later, Kel is talking to Daine and she says "That's all this job is... Trying to please everyone and pleasing no one. And it will only get worse, not better."

Both of these moments showcase Kel choosing to make compromises. She may not like the way the sergeants treat the convicts, but she needs to stay on the sergeants' good sides because she doesn't have enough resources to butt heads with them nor enough authority to just force the issue, and even if she DID, it could cause the sergeants to become troublesome or take out their frustration with her on the men in ways she can't see as well. But staying on the sergeants' good sides might mean letting some of their maltreatment slide if it's not physically harming the convicts. And even setting that aside, she's dealing with nearly 500 refugees eventually, all of which are from different towns in the area and have different needs, not all of which she can accommodate. This requires compromise. Sometimes she can please some of them and not others, but mostly she probably just ends up not pleasing anybody because that's often how compromises WORK.

She never makes the active connection to Jon and his lesson on leadership from Squire while she's in Haven, but that quote up there about how this job (aka being a commander) is all about trying to please everyone and pleasing no one? It sounds a HECK of a lot like "good kings weren't always good men." You can try your best to help others, but often doing the right thing can involve making everyone unhappy. You can't be everybody's friend if you're going to get anything done.

Some of this she might've learned from Raoul's style of command, but Raoul commands a fairly small amount of people (at least in comparison to a King), and so we see him able to be pretty friendly to the people he commands in a way that Jon is perhaps unable to do. And she might believe that she learned some of this from Wyldon, but Wyldon had a tendency to be very unfair and biased due to his raging bigotry and conservative values, as well as the fact that he doesn't actually even LIKE being a training master and that likely impacted the way he treated the pages (he's almost never that kind to the pages, whereas we see him capable of being quite kind with the refugees later, which is where Kel comes to the conclusion that he hadn't enjoyed being a training master).

But Jon makes an entire speech about how he (and Thayet) have been working THEIR ENTIRE REIGN to change laws that help people. He explains how they have to consider the needs of merchants, nobles, farmers, street people, priests/priestesses, and mages. They have to consider not only what these people might need or want, but also what they could do when they feel sufficiently offended and how that could impact not just the royal family or the nobility but the realm as a whole. Jon points out that they HAVE made changes, for the better, and that just because they don't always succeed at everything or because they have to compromise sometimes, doesn't mean they aren't working at making changes or that they don't care about helping people. Not everyone you have power over is going to be your friend, they might not even be someone you like. But if you're going to take on the job of leadership, that's something you have to be willing to accept and work with, which often means making compromises with people whose needs and values are contradictory to your own.

Jon probably knows when he makes the compromise with Wyldon that it will likely impact a lot of people's good opinion of him. Alanna is right there and clearly angry, and we know Thayet doesn't like the decision, either. And it's entirely possible that Jon knows in the moment that Kel herself will put the blame on him because he's the King. But he also knows that if he insists on Kel being allowed to be a page without trying to compromise with Wyldon, Wyldon will quit over it and he'll end up with ten DIFFERENT problems that could cause a lot bigger issues to far more people than just one girl. So he makes the compromise. He sacrifices Alanna and Thayet and even Kel's good opinion of him in order to ensure that Kel gets the opportunity to become a Knight without turning all of his nobles against him which could ultimately lead to a civil war. Is it fair? No, and he knows it. But it's the best option he has in order to get the outcome they all actually want which is just for Kel to have the chance to prove herself.

Kel has to make similar choices once she's finally in a position of leadership of her own. And whether she realizes it or not, without ever even spending more than a few minutes with Jon, she ends up emulating his leadership style more than anybody else's because it WORKS and it works WELL. She'll probably never admit it, she might never even realize it herself, but she's so much more like Jon than any of the other men she sees as role models. And I love that. I love the dramatic irony of that, that the one person Kel only barely respects because of a compromise he made on her behalf that she'll never even know about, is the person Kel ends up most resembling. Jon is the reason she has the opportunity to become the Protector of the Small in the first place, Jon is the person who created that environment that allowed her to nurture those values, and she'll probably never even really be able to acknowledge that, because sometimes that's what being a good leader means.

[dynachan]

The subliminal messages between vol 1 and vol 42; My theory

I saw someone point out "the heroes in the background are no longer painted red. Is there any significance?" And personally. I think there is. Or at least, I think it's a neat theory.

(Horikoshi loves his easter eggs and hidden messages)

Vol 1 to vol 42 side by side comparison.

Here's why:

"Nothing Is Nobler Than Self Sacrifice”

From the beginning of the show, we're shown that Toshinori Yagi, or better known as All Might, is the symbol of peace. The strongest. THE number ONE hero. He is seen as someone that people look up to and rely on for peace in Japan. But where does that leave him? Well...

It leaves him in a position where people are overly reliant on him. Partially due to people not really viewing heroes as people and moreso as these powerful gods who are to save the day, and in part because of his own character flaws. Toshi, as his All Might persona, is always protecting and saving people with a smile no matter what. He's depicted as enthusiastic and kind of your typical stereotypical hero you'd see in comics. But as Toshi, he's more reserved. But as both, he's very optimistic and...

Self sacrificial.

There's no way to sugar coat it. I love him a lot but Toshi is a martyr type character. He sees himself as someone who everyone needs to rely on. Even to the point where he keeps going after his life altering injuries after his fight fight with All For One. But because of this. He tends to do things on his own. Thinking he can bear the brunt of being that symbol for everyone. Even Night Eye told him if he kept on that route he is going to die.

Now this is where Izuku comes in. Toshi chose Izuku because he had the same characteristics of what he himself believes to be the essence of a true hero. Which, I believe is true to some degree. The only problem is Izuku originally had the same tendencies to self sacrifice and sees himself as someone who has to do this on his own. And he did almost go down the same self destructive path Toshi did... Except for the fact that....

Izuku had his support system knock some sense into him. Class 1A prevented Izuku from going down the same path Toshi was going to go down. They told him that they would tackle the threat of the villains with togetherness. That it wasn't going to be an "I" but rather a "we".

The symbol of peace is a pillar. But pillars cannot hold a structure with only one. There has to be multiple helping. And that was one of the lessons in the series.

All this to say...

I believe, that having the heroes in red, and the heroes of the next generation in color was intentional. Because...

All Might thought he could do it all on his own with his desire to be the symbol of peace. Pushing others away in the process and having an overreliance on him and him alone. But...

But with Izuku, he got over that hurdle. And they all became symbols of peace to help lead the next generation. Together.

[accio-victuuri]

THE Life of Us/Drifting MUSIC VIDEO IS AMAZING 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

I think one can make an entire essay long post trying to explain what the scenes could mean. I’m glad that XZ was able to meet and work with a director like LIN who was able to execute this. I can only imagine the creative ideas XZ had for this and to have someone understand his vision and bring it to life is special. It’s so obvious the time, effort and money spent on this and we got it for free. The entire album is free to listen to. I just. Everything about this drop is such a slap to the antis who said it will be 9 covers and 1 original song but XZ goes bitch hold my beer lemme give all original songs and high quality music videos. oh wait, let me write some of the songs too. let me put in some details in my life there just to make it fun. how about that?!

which leads me to those said details/references that someone has compiled. i’m gonna share it here. 📝

P1: the person climbing a ladder in the clouds is something he drew before. I’m proud of him cause this idea of his has been realized. this reminds me of jack and the beanstalk!

P2: the books are design related. i’d like to think it’s his favorite go-to books!

P4: Knitting yarn! XZ knits!

P5: this is pretty obvious and recurring theme when it comes him - the little prince 🌹

P6: more of a comparison from when he was designer xz to now. he was wearing something similar.

P7: Life of Us = Life of Pi. Which is explained more in P8. OP mention that the main character Pi said when writing in his diary: "Everything has become chaotic and broken, I can no longer distinguish between daydreams, sleep, and reality.” The movie/book is a story about a young man who survived a shipwreck and drifted on the sea.but the deeper level seems to be a discussion about human nature, animal nature, and divinity. It’s about the struggle between ego, id, and superego.That tiger may be Pi's heart. What is drifting on the sea, for Pi, is me and "I"; and Pi, It seems to be the epitome of every "us". Finally, Pi told more than one version of the story, and he asked: "Which version do you prefer?" In fact, the choice of the story has always been "me".

"Life of Us/Drifting" sings "What is a dream, what is my greatest fear" "What is a dream, what is what I want most" It’s a question about your own heart, and only you can give the answer.

P9: that scene in the movie ET

additional ones, his favorite paper plane making an appearance and a similar shot from the animated film castle in the sky.

and i noticed that one take where you can see some vintage things like the telephone, but i realized that xz is almost the same age as me so these are things we grew up using!

i’m sure there are more details here and not to mention the hidden meanings too. but that is what makes this video so fun to watch multiple times! you can discover something new each time! I hope they release some behind the scenes on how this was created and all that. i think there should be a documentary of sorts connected to this album if i remember correctly. so yeah! so much more in store for is when it comes to this album 😊

[thatshadowgastwhore]

Why demigods have certain powers: a theory (long post)

I have this theory that the reason demigods have specific strengths, or display one aspect of their parents powers over others is due in large part to what aspect their godly parent visited their mortal parent in AND how their mortal parent perceived them. TLDR at the end. Idk if this is a common theory, but I’ve never seen it written out before.

Half of this is pretty much so canon, in the way we know that Greek vs Roman demigods are different because they aren’t the same exact gods. The best example of this is Nico vs Hazel, where Nico is a child of Hades, who is the god if the Dead where Hazel is a child of Pluto, the god of the Underworld and Wealth. This affects their powers. We will come back to them.

However, we also know that demigods don’t necessarily inherit all of their parents dominions. For example, Will, Kayla, and Austin are all children of Apollo, but each have very different specialties. Will has power over healing and light, Kayla over archery, and Austin over music. Apollo is god of all three, but they all have very defined areas of interest and talent.

I think what powers come to a demigod naturally will be determined by their mortal parent, not their godly parent. The best example of this is Hazel.

Marie Levesque very specifically summoned Pluto because he was a god of wealth. It’s how she perceived him, not as a god of the underworld, the dead, or shadows, but as a god if riches and jewels. This explains why Hazel’s abilities are focused on riches. (I’m aware Pluto grants Marie a wish, and that part of that is that Hazels jewels are all cursed. However. Even after they stop being cursed (kind of) at the end of SoN she doesn’t lose the ability to summon them. SHE is the gift Pluto granted Marie, not the gems themselves) This doesn’t mean that she can’t access other abilities associated with children of Pluto/Hades, as is obvious in HoH when she assists Nico in shadow traveling everyone out of the House of Hades, or that the dead don’t sense her as a child of the Underworld and defer to her, like the Leres at CJ, but that isn’t how her powers naturally manifest.

Sticking with Hades, Nico (and Bianca) are a good comparison: they have (kind of) the same father as Hazel, but their abilities are very different. Looking at Maria, we don’t know too much, but I am going to assume something based on the fact that she’s from Italy in the 30s and her name is Maria: she was probably Catholic. Now, as someone who was raised Catholic, I feel qualified to say that Catholics are, while not as a whole superstitious, they are quite obsessed with death. Not in a Rapture sort of way the way some denominations are but more in a…they care A LOT about the Saints and Heaven and judgement, and because of that they’re more than willing to accept things happening because of intercession of a Saint or a dead loved one guiding them. I am not Italian in the 30s, so I can’t speak to that. But because of that, and the fact we KNOW that Maria knew the father of her children was Hades, Lord of the Dead (he offered to keep her safe in the Underworld, she knew about the prophecy, she knew Zeus wanted her dead) we can see how these things about her are reflected in her children.

Nico is known as the Ghost King, because his powers mostly manifest in his ability to summon and control the dead. He also has powers related to shadows, but he really has to practice to get good at it and not pass out. Affecting the dead is the first thing we see him do as a Hades power (dismissing the skeletons attacking Percy at the end of TC, and again all through BotL with Minos) before we ever see him shadow travel, which isn’t introduced until tLO, two books after his introduction. While Bianca’s page time is limited, the only real Hades power we see her demonstrate is when she destroys the skeleton. Maria saw Hades as the king of the dead more than any of his other powers. She obviously RECOGNIZED he had dominion over darkness and shadows (she says so when she tells him she won’t raise her children in the darkness of the Underworld) but that isn’t the part of him that she sees and values and fell in love with. She had kids with the god of the dead, so her children primarily manifest their powers over that domain. I also think that the fact she knew she was dating a god made her children more powerful, if that makes sense. Nico and Hazel are some of the most powerful demigods in the series, even apart from being big three kids.

But Mags, Mags! I hear you cry, what about kids like Annabeth? Athena kids don’t have obvious powers, how is that relevant here?

There aren’t a ton of good comparisons for Annabeth to see how her abilities compare to her siblings besides maybe Malcolm. However, I’ll do my best.

Annabeth’s power from Athena is her intellect and her cunning. Let’s look at how Athena and Fred met: Annabeth tells us that without Athena’s help, he wouldn’t have graduated his doctoral program. So when Fred met, we can assume he met Athena in her aspect of being a scholar. We know is that this is not Athena’s only mythic role, she is also a strategist and a patroness of useful crafts like weaving among other things.

I believe that Annabeth’s intellect really does manifest more as a scholar than anything else. For example, she has no formal schooling between the ages of 7 and 12, when she is at camp full time. Those are some formative years when a child creates a foundation for their future learning, and Annabeth has ADHD and dyslexia. School should not be a walk in the park for her. And yet, she doesn’t really struggle to reenter school, and she’s constantly referenced as doing essentially independent studying, whether it’s reading books in Ancient Greek or working on Daedalus’s laptop. Studying and researching is her hobby because it comes incredibly naturally to her, which matches up with how Fred would have seen Athena. And yes, we see her weave to get across the cavern in MoA, but that’s kind of a one off. Annabeth herself realizes in the moment that, “oh yeah, Athena’s the goddess of useful crafts,” like it’s never occurred to her to even attempt such a thing before. The only time we see her bring this talent back is at the beginning of BoO when Jason is stabbed (iirc - I could be wrong on this reference. I didn’t open a single book to write this essay)

Comparing that to Malcolm, we don’t know a ton about his powers or his parent. All I can recall is a single short story in which Athena sends him a dream requesting he reinstate a festival of hers, and he leads the Athena cabin in setting everything up, and I think weaves the Athena Parthenos a cool robe? Fact check me here, that’s as memory serves.

So why wouldn’t Athena ask Annabeth to do that? She’s the one who found the statue after all. I’m willing to bet it’s because whomever Malcolm’s father is, he met Athena in her aspect as a craftswoman. The skills that Malcolm inherited are primarily to do with crafting because of his mortal parent.

You can also see why some aspects of gods aren’t really seen in their children. For example, Dionysus is a god of wine but also notably mania. Of his two children we see + the one child of Bacchus we see, (Castor, Pollux, and Dakota) all three only have affinities towards the former. (There are vague allusions to the twins assisting the Demeter cabin with the strawberries because fruit bearing plants do well with them, although grapes are best, and Dakota has his kool aid addiction) but none ever display an ability to induce mania. Dionysus does, in TC when Percy Iris Messages him, but his kids don’t. Why? I’m willing to bet that less people are attracted to the manic aspect of Dionysus than the party side, especially because it requires wanting to make a baby with the guy. Not everyone, I’m sure at some point there’s been a Dionysus demigod who could, but it’s be rarer.

So what about Percy? He has like ALL his dad’s powers. Eh - kind of? Walk with me here:

We know quite a bit about Sally and Poseidons relationship, that they were together for an entire summer, that they met at Montauk, and that Sally knew she was dating the King of the Ocean. (Poseidon also offers her a palace under the sea to keep her safe from Zeus. Now he’s 2/2 on having his brothers offering to keep their lovers safe from him and thus revealing their identities to them and making their kids even more powerful)

We know that she associates Poseidon with the sea very strongly, but more so that she thinks he is powerful but GENTLE. I posit that because of that, it explains why water is healing to Percy. Zeus kids don’t get magically better when they stick a finger in an outlet. Demeter kids aren’t healed by plants. This is kind of unique to Percy and I think it’s because of Sally and Poseidon’s relationship. I would also assume that at some point, Poseidon showed her that he could communicate with sea life and horses, and those then became part of her idea of him, which is why water, equestrians, and fish are the parts of Percy’s power that comes most naturally.

You know what Poseidon’s the god of that isn’t in Percy’s primary powered? Earthquakes. He’s done it once: Mt St Helen’s in BotL and he did so while he was actively dying and the mountain was already erupting a little bit, he just made it worse. But he’s never actively tried to do so. It feels kind of like Hazels shadow travel: he probably could, with a lot of effort and maybe some help because his dad IS Poseidon, but it’s not his thing.

It’s also why he can kind of mess with ice. The only real time we see him do so is in SoN when he collapses the glacier CJ in Alaska, but for the most part, if water isn’t in its liquid form, he doesn’t really mess with it. No steam either. He probably COULD, but Sally met Poseidon by an ocean, so that’s their basis.

The poison in HoH reads similar to the earthquake. He probably could control any water based liquid but it would take more effort and he doesn’t want to. For what it’s worth, yes, Percy could blood bend, easier than he could poison bend because blood is salt water. But he won’t. Because it disturbed him.

Moving on.

Mags! That’s all well and good, but what about Thalia and Jason? Don’t they kind of disprove your theory? They have the exact same mortal parent, why do they have such different powers?

Well, for what it’s worth, they DON’T have the exact same parents. Zeus and Jupiter are not the same god. So they’re technically half siblings through Beryl. Swerve. But I see your point - if I’m suggesting that the powers one inherits from their godly parent are determined by one’s mortal parent, then Thalia and Jason should be basically the same.

Well, they are pretty similar, all things considered, but a key part of that is what there really is to inherit from their godly parent. This gets more into classical theory that I am not an expert in, but from my understanding: you can generally state that of the two, Zeus was more impulsive and wrathful and might smite you for anything, and Jupiter filled the father/king of the gods role more. And we already agreed at the bringing with Nico and Hazel that Roman and Greek gods aren’t the same.

And. When we’re looking at the relationship between Beryl and Zeus, it’s a wild starlet having a wild fling, she has no children, she parties, she’s here and there and everywhere, she can’t be tied down. And it’s implied that she knew he was a god, because being able to catch the attention of Zeus apparently made her go off the deep end when he left. And she wanted very badly to see Olympus but Zeus refused (with good reason. The reason being Hera) Thus, Thalia’s powers pick from the ones matching those traits. She’s got power over lightning, but not necessarily the sky. She probably could fly if she ever tried. And also: she doesn’t have to ask permission to call down lightning. She just does. She makes her own lightning.

Jason on the other hand, is the result of Beryl and Jupiter. The relationship was a smidge more stable. Beryl was calmer when Jupiter was around and Jupiter presented himself to her in a more…grand? aspect. It makes sense then that Jason can fly but he’s not really a lightning guy. Like. Yes. He caaaan, but pretty much so any time it counts there’s a mention that he like, petitions his dad to let him summon a bolt. But he controls the winds with ease, because Jupiter is a king, and that’s how he presented himself to Beryl.

Which brings me to a straight up theory I have about May Castellan. I think that she was either a politician or a political correspondent. Someone who was on the news a lot, someone with a sharp tongue, an excellent debtor, and an orator extraordinaire. All we know about her in canon is that she had Luke, and she was special enough to Hermes that he continued to visit her after Luke was born, and that he told her about the Oracle, and how that turned out.

Hermes is the god of a metric ton of stuff. Thieves, travelers, tricksters, merchants, athletes, gymnasiums, orators, communication, gambling, the list goes on. A lot of his kids are described as speedy: their mortal parents probably caught his eye due to being athletes. We know Luke to be very charismatic and the best swordsman the camp had seen in years. I think that indicates that May attracted Hermes as someone with a sharp wit, who could verbally spar anyone into submission (unless she was legit into swordplay) and she caught peoples attention and could convince them of anything. It also explains why she’d have been so insistent on becoming Oracle, besides being clear sighted. If she was an elected official or a media correspondent, it would suggest an interest in conveying messages, and being the voice for others, like being the voice of Delphi.

But Mags, that’s all well and good but Will’s mom is a musician. Why is his only gift on that front that horrible dog whistle?

Eh…? This one is tricky, however, it might be that she attracted Apollo because of her music, but he attracted her because he exudes warmth and light, thus her child gained healing and light powers and not music. It’s a weaker explanation. Sorry.

There is one other very notable exception to this theory, and I do have an answer to that. Leo’s fire ability had very little to do with Esperanza, and everything to do with the prophecy.

I think that Leo was fated to have power over fire, as the fire in “to storm or fire the world must fall.” That being said, I don’t think Leo’s crafting skills were fated. Those I feel were passed down from Hephaestus through Esperanza’s association with engineering and crafting with him, but the fire wasn’t. The fates wove that power in.

TLDR: Which powers a demigod inherits from their godly parent isn’t random, it’s determined by how their mortal parent perceived the god and their domains.

[aparrotandaqrow]

Eric Ward touches on a very useful idea as well, "conditional whiteness". That and the related concept of proximity to whiteness are I think quite useful for understanding how a particular segment of Ashkenazi Jews move through American race relations, as well as how we're actually not so different from the Irish and Italians (and why that still doesn't make us white).

Conditional whiteness is the idea that a racialized minority can be offered some of the physical and financial security of whiteness, in exchange for meeting certain conditions. Those conditions are usually the adoption of Christian holidays, practices, and rituals, no longer speaking non-white languages, participation in American consumerism and the commercialization of holiday traditions, and, crucially, participation in white supremacy and the white supremacist side of society being willing to tolerate your privilege.

You absolutely do see some Ashkenazi Jews who are very white-passing who would be indistinguishable from their Lutheran neighbors except that they also have a cheap electric menorah next to their Christmas tree, and maybe their kids have bnei mitzvot (the only time they'll go to synagogue). They benefit from white privilege in many aspects of life, especially if their surnames aren't identifiably Jewish. But the cost of that privilege and physical safety is the destruction of their culture, being willing to ally themselves with their white neighbors against the less-desirable minorities, and they still can lose that whiteness at a moment's notice.

There may and often does come a point when the assimilated conditionally white Jews stop being useful idiots for the white supremacists, and that conditional whiteness is stripped away, and suddenly even being a white-passing Jew isn't safe. Yes, some Ashkenazi Jews are able to hide in plain sight. But tell me, is needing to hide your identity by becoming invisible, to avoid ethnic persecution, is that something white people need to do? This is why Jews can only ever be conditionally white (and only a small subset of Jews) (and part of the condition is the erasure of those other Jews) (you can't say "some Jews are white" you must say "all Jews are white" if you want to meet the entry requirements) (part of the bargain is not just the enactment of white supremacy against other minorities but also against your own people).

And this is why we can also draw useful comparisons to Irish and Italian Americans. Their lot has certainly improved quite dramatically in the last century. But stereotypes do still exist (there are sports teams called The Fighting Irish) (white people associate Irishness and alcohol abuse, c.f. St Patrick's Day) (Italians often face microaggressions about organised crime). And the cost of the safety and whiteness they have garnered came at a cost—not only their own, non-American, non-white cultures, but participation in white supremacy. The main difference between Ashkenazi Jews and the Irish and Italians is that Ashkenazi Jews started from a lower rung on the ladder, and our move to proximity to whiteness and its conditional safety started later. It's true you don't see Jews in the KKK, but there are a shocking number of Jews in Trump's inner circle, and some of them sound pretty white nationalist. There may not be Jews in the KKK yet—but if we continued down the same path of conditional whiteness, there could be.

Now personally I don't think that will happen. I think Jews may be too far down the ladder to ever be granted that much conditional whiteness, and current events in the middle east are serving to keep us in the spotlight in a way that inhibits further conditional whiteness (notice how the Left paints us both as white colonizers and simultaneously explicitly ties our physical safety to abandoning our identity, heritage, and claim to indigeneity) (white supremacy has nothing to do with politics) (in this sense Jews who align themselves with JVP are not particularly different from Stephen Miller in the context of moves to proximity to whiteness). But the dynamic and relationship Ashkenazi Jews have with whiteness is actually very similar to the one Irish and Italian Americans have; they're just a very different stage in that process. Which is also why, as an Ashkenazi Jew with predominantly Irish ancestry on my mother's side, I wouldn't characterize Irish Americans as fully white, either. White people aren't subjected to appropriation of their ethnic heritage and culture, ethnic microaggressions, nor have a history of being ethnically cleansed by white people.

I'm sorry but if Sami people can be understood as other-than-white and lighter featured First Nations people can be understood as other-than-white and individuals of our sisters the Romani when similarly afflicted by melanin deficiency can be understood as other-than-white....

Your classification of Jews, who span the whole gamut of color but share the racialization and experience of being othered among any majority, including whiteness in the north/west, is only further evidence of your racism. Because in doing so you continue to perpetuate double standards for Jewish people, which is dangerous when merged with perspectives that view whiteness as a merit signifier. Not that our identity isn't a fair bit older than this pretty reductive view, but

Regardless, I'll remind that the minority indigenous groups I mentioned are in the context of a white majority, but white people do not have a monopoly on colonialism. Plenty of people don't want to be called Arab in MENA and plenty of people aren't sure that they'd classify themselves as Chinese or Russian in the sense that the West views national identity. But that kind of nuance probably isn't something I should bother with if we haven't made it past point 1.

[astrowarr]

“We should get out of here,” Grian whispers, but he is unmoving as his gaze stays pinned to Scar. Something about Scar’s eyes, so impossibly green, keeps him rooted in the crannies of the cobbled concrete under his feet. The glow of the street light over their heads paints a sharp, clear image of Scar and the toothy grin he flashes. The bustle of the city center ever permeates the air; a loud, boisterous laugh here, an angry, affronted shout there. 

But when Scar smiles at him like that, the noise cottons into nothing but a dull thrum in the back of his skull. Scar is smiling. Despite the fact that every bone in Grian’s body should be screaming in alarm, they do not. Instead, they pulse with something warm, something content. Grian is surrounded by enemies the way he always is, but Scar is four art-adorned walls and a worn shingled roof to match. Nothing can reach Grian here, in the safety of Scar's gaze.

There's little to no space between them, and Grian does nothing to change that. Out of the corner of his eye, he tracks the gentle, methodical movement of Scar's curled hand, so slow as he reaches up. The backs of those crooked fingers brush against his face, so light Grian nearly loses it to the night's warmth.

And then, like a moonflower, his hand unfurls; he doesn't quite cradle Grian's face in it, wracked with some sudden hesitance. Scar's palm stays just a hair's breadth away: the ghost of a touch. It drives Grian crazy, how the two of them keep pushing and pulling at all the wrong moments. 

Still, Scar doesn't stop looking at him, drinking in the sight of him like he's some sort of mirage. Like the night will sweep him away if Scar dares to even blink. Grian doesn't complain— thinks, actually, that maybe the comparison is more apt than he wants it to be. Instead, he loses himself in the miles of blue skies and flower beds that explode to color in the home of their prolonged eye contact. Truthfully, he's scared to look away too.

This is it, Grian knows as his heart roars in his chest. This is it.

“Say what you mean,” Scar breathes. 

They stand in the middle of the busiest section of the city but Scar's smile is private. It is Grian's, and Grian's alone. Say what he means? What is there to say? It’s written in the brief, rare silence of Grian’s mind; the swath of stars swirling overhead, infinite in their post apocalyptic glow; the solar-powered streetlight casting its fiery light over Scar, morphing him into something divine and untouchable. There is no word in his lexicon that truly encapsulates the feeling pressing against his ribs now. It isn't safety, or contentment, or peace. It isn't even love. 

He's sick of words. They don't mean anything. They aren't enough. He locks eyes with Scar and leans in, because if Scar isn't going to touch him, he'll just have to take matters into his own hands. Grian buries his fingers in Scar's button up shirt and shuffles him backward, until his back collides with the solid metal of the lamppost. If it hurts, Scar doesn't notice; he's looking at Grian with wide eyes, dumbstruck, lips parted in wonder and maybe something else. He's never been very good at taking what he dishes.

“What I mean is,” Grian murmurs against the buzz of the streetlight as his gaze flicks down to Scar's lips. His wings shift against his will, tucking around Scar, sheltering them from prying eyes. It’s only him and Scar. “You're an idiot if you don't kiss me in the next three seconds.”

For once, Scar’s tongue of gold is heavy and unmoving; he has no quick-witted words to throw in Grian's face. All he has is awe, and some self-imposed duty that has him deferring to Grian without question; he abandons his hesitance in the shadows of this too-public street. Finally, his clammy palm cradles Grian’s cheek, tattered and pitted like the worn leather of Grian's favorite jacket. 

The kiss, though, is soft and a little uncertain, at least until Grian yanks hard at the collar of Scar's shirt. When their noses clash under the urgent force of it, Scar chokes out a shocked laugh before he's responding in kind. And Grian thinks to himself that this is the first time the two of them have ever truly eclipsed, have ever found themselves in the lines of the same page, and he thinks he wants to live here. Forever, maybe, or for as long as the universe allows.

[hom3landr]

Writer’s Block

18+

In which Homelander thoroughly enjoys a quiet night in, his hand, and some ao3.

CW: Selfcest adjacent, Anal play, Masturbation,

“His hand wraps firmly around your throat as he bends you over your desk with a low groan. The hard bulge in his costume grinds against your ass and each filthy thrust causes your hips to bump painfully against the wooden edge. The various knick knacks and office supplies decorating your space rattle with the movement. His hot breath causes you to moan as he whispers into your ear.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Homelander groans low in his throat as he strokes his cock languidly. The leather of the couch that was cool at first is now growing warm from the heat of his body. His cock twitches in his hand and a drop of precum drips down his knuckles onto the cushion. He’s taking it slow tonight. He intends to draw out his pleasure now that he finally has the entire space to himself for the night.

Now that he has a son to raise, he’s had to stop being so bold about where and when he decides to take a load off and relax. Luckily he was able to pawn Ryan off on Victoria and Zoe for a sleepover. Vicky wasn’t happy about the surprise but he isn’t sure why. His son is a fucking delight. He plans to make the most of his free time as he reclines lazily and uses the remote in his free hand to scroll through the fanfiction on the screen.

He had found the stories maudlin and pathetic at first when he first stumbled onto the online community dedicated to writing about him. They made him laugh at how desperate and pathetic they were. Even the ego boost wasn’t enough to erase the disdain towards the nobodies of the world who deigned to think that he would ever want to fuck them. He’s so pristine in the stories. A white knight handsome savior to sweep them away from their problems. If only they knew the real him and not the puppet Vought made him into.

But that was when he had Stormfront on his arm. A perfect goddess to chase away the pangs of loneliness and who any ordinary mud person would pale in comparison to. When he lost her, he began to see the value in such pathetic fantasies. As he lost more and more control over his surroundings, it was comforting to disappear into this place where the world still revolved around him and he could see proof of devotion that wasn’t just the steadily dropping points tacked to his name.

People still wanted him.

And sure, things might be looking up for him now. He’s head of Vought and he finally has his beloved son by his side. He has an army of mindless fans ready to fight for him. But his bed is still cold and a man has needs. There’s an earnest quality to the writing that scratches an itch that isn’t satisfied by the subpar porn Vought churns out. This is personal.

He grips his cock a little firmer and he twitches as he runs his thumb over his sensitive slit. He continues to read.

“He can smell your arousal. It coats the back of his throat and he can taste it on the roof of his mouth.”

Homelander unconsciously licks his lips. It’s not hard for him to conjure up the smell of sex in his mind. His own pleasure is already heady in his own nose. He whines and brings two fingers up to his lips and sucks. The salty tang of his own slick is filthy and his whole body throbs. His hipbones ache as he imagines what it would be like to be bent over, to lose himself to pleasure completely, to have all the worries and concerns knocked out of his brain. He can understand why this fantasy would appeal to someone so insignificant as the author. It’s not a perspective that he would normally ever indulge in but there’s something so tempting about it.

“You struggle to catch your breath and muster any kind of defense as he continues to take up more of your space. One hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, cutting off your airflow even further. He can hear you clench around nothing and a smug smile spreads across his face.”

Still sucking on his fingers, his other hand drops the remote and wraps itself around his neck. He presses down cautiously and the restriction of his own airflow causes a wave of heat to flow through his veins. He bucks up into nothing with a low grunt.

“He presses hot and hungry kisses against your jaw as his free hand grabs the waistband of your work trousers and tugs. The fabric rips easily and you can’t even gasp in surprise as his fingers delve under your underwear to press against your hole.”

Homelander follows suit, taking his spit slick fingers out of his mouth and reaching down to tease around his rim. He gasps, sensitive. He’s no stranger to touching himself here but it’s like a shock every time just how nice it feels. He wonders what the inbred brain dead hicks who worship him would think if they knew their fearless hero liked a little ass play. Would they still grovel? Would they keep him on his pedestal? He laughs bitterly at the irony of his power over people still being reliant on fitting into the narrow insipid boxes they feel like putting him in. He has everything he’s always wanted but he’s still fucking trapped.

Tears prick at his eyes. He’d started this just wanting to feel good but now his stomach is uneasy and his erection is already starting to flag. Even alone, he can’t escape people’s expectations of him. He removes the hand from his throat and wipes at his eyes, self loathing building tight in his chest at how pathetic he is. He can’t even get himself off properly and now he’s crying over it. He grabs the remote and goes to turn off the screen in self pity but his eyes catch the next words.

“Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the situation. Everything is happening so fast and so much.

“Shhhhh” He whispers in your ear. “You might as well just let it happen. Let yourself feel good. It’s not like you have a choice.”

“It’s not like you have a choice.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can hear his own voice echoing in his head. It’s familiar and he follows where it leads. He brushes reality aside as he allows himself to sink back into the fantasy. He thinks about the ache in his hipbones and a body pressing him down and forcing him to relax. He puts his hand back on his throat, this time pressing harder until it borders on the hint of pain as his head swims. Idly he wonders where this written version of himself came from. How one measly author amidst the rush of saccharine romances managed to capture this raw real side of him.

He opens his eyes and squints so the world is a little fuzzy. The words on the screen blur but are still readable and as long as he has those he can block anything else out.

“Your body goes limp against the desk, becoming little more than a doll for him to play with. He dips his fingers into you, stretching you just enough to make you gasp before pulling back. He’s gentle but inescapable and there’s nothing that you can do except succumb to his touches. You moan pathetically as he finally takes pity on you, two deft fingers finally pressing in fully as they twist and curl until they find the spot that makes your legs tremble and shake.”

He whimpers as his fingers delve inside. It’s been a while since he’s had the opportunity to do this and he’s tight. He huffs and he can feel the bobbing of his adam’s apple against his hand. He can’t move yet as he focuses on relaxing his muscles until he’s no longer at risk of pushing his fingers right back out. The stretch feels good and his cock quickly swells back to its previous hardness. He’s torn between reaching down to stroke himself or staying put and following along with the whims of the story. He crooks his fingers slightly and a strangled yelp leaves his lips as lightning shoots up and down his spine.

“Touch yourself.” Homelander instructs as he continues to scissor his fingers and stretch you out properly. “C’mon, don’t make me do all the work.”

Homelander wastes no time. He’s eager now that he has permission. He wishes that there was a way to keep the pressure on his neck but he’ll have to think of something for next time. His cock throbs under his palm as he begins to stroke himself. The room fills with eager wet sounds and it allows him to sink deeper into the fantasy. He reads on, eager to know what he’ll do next. It baffles him why anyone would want to leave him now that he knows how good being with him feels.

He’d had an opportunity before, with Doppelganger. But it was wrong. It wasn’t him. It was just a pathetic needy imitation. So ready to please that it reeked of desperation. He’d seen something in “his” face that day that turned his stomach. He’d needed it gone.

This is different. This fictional version of him is perfect, strong, determined, and willing to just take what he wants. He’s perfect, like marble.

Homelander moans echo through the penthouse, filling up all the open space and desecrating the ears of the founding fathers. He has no need to be shy now that he has the place to himself again for the night. His cock is leaking all over his hand and dripping down onto the leather. The wet sloppy sounds of him working himself over are practically deafening to his sensitive hearing.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Doesn’t it feel good to take some initiative. It’s a good thing the rest of the tower doesn’t have my hearing.” He goes quiet for a moment, allowing the sloppy sounds to echo through the empty room. “You would not believe some of the things I’ve heard go on around here. For example, do you remember fucking yourself in the bathroom after I surprised you in the elevator the other day?”

A wave of shame and panic floods through you as the memory of the elevator comes back to you. You were too flustered to say anything then. You had been surprised that he would bother with an elevator at all. The masculine vetiver scent of his cologne was subtle but in the confined space it seemed almost suffocating. You hadn’t said anything and he didn’t bother to even acknowledge your presence. He didn’t even look your way. Still, the strange intensity of the encounter had you running into the empty bathroom to relieve some stress. You wouldn’t have been able to concentrate otherwise.

“Nothing? I could practically smell you during my meeting. I could definitely hear you rubbing away.” He leans down to nip at your ear.”

Homelander briefly lets go of his cock to massage his balls, groaning loudly. He wants to prolong this but he can feel himself reaching the end of his rope. His abdomen is sore from the clenching of his muscles and he can feel his heartbeat in every fiber of his body. His lungs can’t seem to get enough air as he gasps at the wave of arousal.

Something prickles at the back of his brain. The story ignites some synapse that sparks an unimportant memory. It’s not enough to draw him out of his fantasy but somewhere in his hindbrain he logs it.

He imagines someone hearing him right now and his cock twitches. He gives a comforting squeeze as he wiggles the fingers inside himself again.

Fuck

“The combination of his filthy words along with your eager rubbing has you coming undone before he even fucks you. You feel truly visible for the first time.. Homelander saw that embarrassing needy part of you and he wanted it. He tracked you down once the rest of the crime analytics team had left and bent you right over your desk.

“There you go. Doesn’t it feel better to come on my fingers instead of your own?”

FUCK

Homelander’s vision goes red and hot as his fingers hit the spot inside him juuuuuust right. He tenses, entire body locking up, balls tightening, toes curling against the floor. He hangs weightless for a single moment before the storm of pleasure hits like a tidal wave. Hot ropes of come splatter all over his thighs and chest as he frantically strokes himself, milking himself of every last drop of pleasure. He bears down on his hand as he rides himself through it. He can hear his own voice ringing in his ears, the perfect voice of his best self.

“Doesn’t it feel better to come on my fingers instead of your own?”

In his mind he’s bent over the desk with a warm body against his back. His hips are sore but his muscles are pleasantly relaxed for once. He feels safe and protected. A strong hand grips his hip to hold him steady as the other Homelander removes his fingers with a soft wet noise.

He slumps into the leather, pleasantly sated.

Once he’s regained his senses a bit, he reaches for the remote and clicks off the tv. He’ll have to remember to finish the entire fic later when his cock has recovered a bit. The black screen reflects his face and Homelander is surprised to see the pleasure drunk smile on his face. He can’t remember the last time he smiled like this. Probably not since… He quickly shakes his head and shoves all thought of her from his brain. He doesn’t need anyone else to get off. He’s just fine on his own.

The little brain worm from earlier returns now that the room is quiet and distractions are gone. His mind still itches. Homelander clicks the tv back on and scrolls back up with a frown.

Crime analytics?

Most of the fics he reads are mindlessly generic. Most depict a banal office atmosphere when the setting takes place at Vought tower. It’s very easy for him to tell when the author is an outsider. Name dropping a specific department is new. Not to mention, the way the office was described in the beginning was eerily similar to the large room where the crime department is located…eerily similar.

Homelander’s heart pounds as he puts together the pieces. The author works at Vought and he knows in which department. The author has likely crossed paths with him. In fact, Homelander’s stomach tightens as he skims the fic, the author has probably shared an elevator with him.

He checks the upload date.

One week ago…

The unimportant memory floods back.

One week ago, he’d frightened a mousy crime analyst when he’d stopped the elevator for a ride. The little analyst never even looked directly at him. It was typical and not even worth the effort to get annoyed by. The sound of a fluttering heart and the scent of adrenaline were common occurrences no matter where he went. The moment he exited was the moment he’d already begun to forget.

Homelander sighs contentedly as he closes his eyes and lets himself bask in the afterglow. Curiosity sated, he lets his mind wander. Maybe he’ll surprise his little writer tomorrow and let them properly enjoy the fantasy this time. It’s the least he can do.

He reaches down and touches his hip, the phantom soreness still lingering.

After all, he knows just how good it feels to be fucked by him.

[inotakumagf]

the beast at the heart of the world

✶ gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count ✺ 1.7K

summary ✺ you’ve had a shadow following you since you were a kid. one day, it tries to hurt you.

warning ✺ kind of creepy descriptions of a cursed spirit, but it’s not super gory or anything like that. also i never usually enjoy instant love, but reader and gojo are very touch-starved, so it kinda goes from 0 to 100 real fast oops. reblogs & comments r very appreciated <3

You started seeing the creature when you were seven years old.

He’s never spoken to you, but he’s always watching. At least, you think it’s a he. The creature has pale, rubbery skin with pointed ears and a towering figure. The way he stares at you reminds you of how your father does, and the comparison causes panic to burst against your seams. 

The first time you notice him, you’re playing with your dolls in your bedroom. You focus on the story you’re telling with your Barbies, trying to ignore the way your parents scream at each other in the kitchen. You have this suffocating desire to make them stop, even if that means hurting them. You don’t want to—you know you’d never—but you can’t shake the overwhelming anger brewing inside of you. 

When you finally look up, your heart drops at the sight of sharp, glistening teeth peeking out from your closet. The only thing visible in the shadows is the curling grin of a beast, and it feels like a twisted promise to rip you apart. You notice its red, beady eyes next, and you whimper when you realize it’s looking right at you. The creature’s grin widens.

You scream for your mother to save you, hands clamping over your eyes as you sob. At least your parents’ argument stops as your mother comes to see what’s wrong. When you point out the creature to your mother and explain the situation, she throws open your closet door, to your absolute horror. But her smile doesn’t change as she steps to the side and motions to the closet, the monster still staring at you with its full attention. You cry when you realize she can’t see the creature. Its gaze burns into you as she reassures you that there’s nothing to worry about, even as the creature drools over her shoulder. 

You learn two things that day: one, no one else besides you can see this creature. And two, it follows you. Everywhere. 

You don’t know why, but he never, ever takes his eyes off of you. And he never stops smiling. You have to ignore him every second of your life after that, pretending that he doesn’t tower over you and terrify you beyond comprehension. No matter how many years it’s been since you first saw him, your heart and body freeze every time you look over your shoulder and see the imposing figure of your monster. Truly, it could be worse. He’s never touched you before, he’s never put you or anyone else in physical danger. He just stands a short distance behind you, and he stares. But the anticipation is so overwhelming that it may kill you before he does. You often cry yourself to sleep, hoping that he will just go away. Why can’t he go away?

Sometimes, he stands so close that you think he’ll swallow you whole. You know he thinks of it, because his large mouth is wide open as he peers down at you, letting his saliva drip over you. After all these years, it’s still nearly impossible not to sob in fear or flinch away from him, especially when you’re in public. It's so debilitating, and it turns something as simple as ordering coffee at a cafe into a dreadful process. 

Like now, you try to order your drink, stumbling over your words as you do your best to ignore the creature standing beside you. Your voice cracks and you freeze as the monster drops its head onto your shoulder. You can feel its clammy skin against yours, and there’s a slight scratch as brittle hair brushes against you. A sob bubbles in your chest as the creature licks a trail up your face with its long tongue.

“I–can I…?” You can’t finish your sentence, too busy trying not to scrunch your eyes closed at the feeling of his slimy, purple tongue dragging all over you. He’s never touched you before, and you don’t know why he has now. Maybe his insatiable hunger has gotten the best of him. 

You make a strange noise in the back of your throat. The barista in front of you rolls his eyes at the state of you. You can’t really blame him, because you know how you must look.

“Are you gonna order?” He asks impatiently.

You clench your fists and try to at least breathe in and out. “I–”

The bell to the front door jingles as someone pushes the door open quickly. You and the barista turn to the man that has entered the cafe. He has snow white hair and a dark pair of glasses that he pushes up the bridge of his nose. You can see how his chest rises and falls quickly, as if he’d just run a marathon. He swipes his gaze across the room before meeting your eyes. Your eyes widen when he locks his eyes with yours. 

“Are you ordering or not?” The barista’s annoyed voice brings you back to reality.

An apology is on the tip of your tongue, but the man who’d just stepped inside comes over with a grin on his face. 

“Sweetheart! Sorry to make you wait, I couldn’t find my card.” He stands besides you, laying a careful hand on your shoulder. He pouts at the barista. “I didn’t mean to make you guys wait, we’ll order now. What was it that you said you wanted to try, honey?”

You startle when you realize he’s talking to you. You stumble through your order. The mystery man orders after you do, handing the barista his card to pay and making small talk. Your drinks are made fast, and you can’t blame the barista for wanting to be rid of you as soon as possible.

You don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s not the stranger keeping an arm over your shoulder as you leave. He doesn’t let go after you walk out of the shop, or even when you’ve traveled a block away. Your heart stutters in fear as you try to think of a way to escape his grip. 

But then he whispers into your ear, “Do you want me to handle this thing for you? It’s awfully close, don’t you agree?”

It takes you too long to realize he’s talking about your monster. Your monster that no one should be able to see. “You can see it too? I thought I was crazy.”

He grins. “You still might be, that’s not for me to decide. This special grade curse looks like it’s been brewing for a while. You poor thing, you can’t get rid of it, can you?”

You blink. “What? Special grade what?”

He ignores you, rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder in comfort. “How long has it been bothering you?”

“Since I was seven.”

For the first time, he looks surprised. “That long, huh? Let me take care of it, sweet pea. You won’t have to suffer much longer.”

You feel a rush of wind at your side and the stranger’s warmth disappears. It feels like you blink, and the creature turns to dust. Just like that, almost twenty years’ worth of suffocation is gone. The constant, overwhelming pressure against your skin is gone. The man appears at your side once more. 

It’s such a relief, and it's almost embarrassing how quickly you deflate against this man. He holds you to his side gently, running his hand against your back as you sob into his neck. You should have more shame, but you can’t bring yourself to care at all. 

You mutter your gratitude into his skin, and you can feel him shudder against your lips.

He lets out a shaky breath before grinning at you. “How ‘bout I walk you home? So I can make sure none of these curses bother you anymore, sweetheart.”

You’re flustered, stumbling over your reply before giving him a, “O-okay. Thank you.”

He lets out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Of course, honey.”

You can’t handle it. This man is a stranger, but he’s so…friendly. Thanks to your monster—your curse—you’ve never allowed yourself to be close to anyone in fear that the creature would snap and have its way. And though it’s hard to break away from your habit of fear, this man’s presence calms your fast-paced heart. He makes you feel safe. 

Once you’ve arrived at your apartment, you feel disappointment brew in your chest. “This is my place,” you mumble. “Thank you for helping me. For the first time in my life I feel…light.”

He smiles at you. “Can I give you my number? In case a curse like this ever bothers you again. All you have to do is call and I’ll be there for you.”

You agree easily, because you want to see him again, even if it’s in a less than ideal circumstance. You pass your phone to him, peering over his shoulder as he types his name into your phone. He pauses his typing to smile over at you, and it makes you flustered enough to turn away.

He laughs. “Aw, sorry, sugarplum. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. Could I get a name to match that pretty face of yours?”

You tell him your name, only considering a moment later that you probably shouldn’t give your name out to a stranger so easily. But you feel comfortable around him, and you find yourself trusting—you glance down at the contact name he’d set for himself—Satoru. You trust Satoru.

You turn to go inside your apartment building, but Satoru calls your name and you turn back, a look of concern flickering over your face.

He rubs his hand against the back of his neck. He looks almost…shy? “You can use my number, uh, even if there’s no curse. Do whatever you want with it, actually. I’m always available to talk. If you have questions about all of this, of course.”

The furrow in your brow eases and you smile and thank him again. You wave your phone in the air briefly. “I’m sure I’ll find something useful to do with this.”

And before you head back inside your apartment, you glance behind you almost instinctively. But there’s no more monster to worry about. The only thing behind you is your strange savior. You promise yourself that you’ll take him up on his offer, as many times as he’ll have you.

[candy-cloud-system]

Guess who’s back speaking their shit ! This guyyyyyy ! . Allow me to write a long ass paragraph explaining everything about why I am NOT going to take back what I said.

First off. Comparing anything I said in that paragraph to racism is wild. Not ONCE did I mention race, and it was a completely irrelevant and honestly just false comparison. Hating someone for being downright ableist is SO much different than being racist. And I can guarantee you, I will never hate anyone for their skin color or race. That is something they are born with, and cannot change. And the diversity of human beings is single handedly the most beautiful thing to me.

Now. A more accurate comparison, if you will, would be saying something along the lines of this: imagine you broke your leg because of someone else’s actions, and it causes you a lot of discomfort, pain, and changes the way you have to function. Often you get frustrated with things you’re unable to do the same as someone without a broken leg, or even get super angry at the person who was the cause of your broken leg, sometimes finding yourself daydreaming about how much better your current state would be if you hadn’t been around them or left the situation sooner. Now imagine the next day you see someone else with a cast on their leg, and you think “oh! Someone who may have a similar experience and understand my struggles!” Just for them to tell you their leg was never broken before and they simply “wanted” to have a broken leg.

Imagine the pure frustration that would give. All the thoughts of everything and all the pain and regret and rage you face daily now being mimicked by someone who woke up and decided to claim they had it simply because they wanted to. THATS what it’s like seeing an endo.

I will say this now. Plural means the exact same thing as a system. There is NO difference. There is no such thing as “systems have trauma, but if they say they’re just plural then they aren’t claiming to have a disorder!” Because that’s bullshit.

Endos cause a lot of harm to our communities, even if they aren’t aware. The misuse of terms and stealing of terms from cultural practices, invading our spaces sometimes with purpose to harm us, convincing actual systems their repressed trauma or even remembered trauma doesn’t exist or wasn’t bad, and wide spread misinformation highly effects people like me who have to live with the actual disorder.

I’ve seen a lot of systems (myself included) who are uncomfortable calling themselves plural. Although it is a correct, and sometimes more used in medical settings term for systems; the association of the word with endos who think slamming another label on themself justifies blatant ableism has made that term unbearably difficult to use on ourselves. I’ve seen the same with the words headmates, host, fictives, and other system terms.

“Tulpa Systems” are stealing a cultural term, AND misusing it at that. Tulpamancy is a term from Tibetan Buddhism. Original concepts of it found in the Buddhist Niramāņakāya, and later came into traditions of Mysticism. It is NOT when a 14 year old on tiktok decides they want a serious mental health condition and “creates an alter” for themself. Tulpas are part of a culture. And are spiritual practices.

Invading spaces that aren’t made for you can be very harmful. Even if unintentional or seemingly “harmless” those spaces are MADE for certain people. Those certain people need places they feel comfortable being themselves with other people like them. That’s very important. Something I’ll compare it to is this; I get very uncomfortable when an abled body person gets in the school elevator with me. The elevators at my school are made specifically for disabled individuals and those who cannot walk up stairs. It with the exception of escorts, when someone who is perfectly able bodied gets on, it creates a tension for me. They’re invading a space made for me and people like me, simply because they wanted to. I feel it’s unfair to me, because I’m not able to fit in comfortably in their spaces, I cannot walk up stairs with ease, yet they can, the elevator is a space where I can feel comfortable and capable with the abilities I have, and I feel very uncomfortable when that’s invaded by others. And it’s the same with system spaces. I’ve ranted to my friends countless times about how I never feel comfortable in the online system community. My spaces get invaded constantly by people who think they have a right to steal what should be a safe space for trauma survivors. I have grown accustomed to the reality that I will never have a space online that I will be completely safe from ableism in this community do to endos. Even in real life I have faced people in the eyes who faked my disorder just because they thought it was cool. They faked and copied my real struggles, lied about experiences and made me miserable. And I feel like i don’t even have to speak about the endos who come into spaces to harm us. We can all tell that’s fucked up.

CDDs are a trauma response. And something it does, and it’s whole point, is to hide your trauma. A lot of people with CDDs will not remember what happened. It’s what makes it so tricky to cope with and heal from. I’ve had a very close friend of mine ignore their plurality and not take steps to heal due to them being convinced they didn’t have trauma or wasn’t enough trauma and they were an endo. That is so incredibly harmful. I cannot stress that enough. Telling people they can have a CDD without trauma, even putting that option of being plural without trauma is SO harmful. Because young people who may realize they have a CDD and not be educated on them will brush it off as being an endo, spread that misinformation, and most dangerously; not be able to take the proper steps to heal. Lucky for me, I understood that it was a trauma related disorder, so I was able to get into therapy, get on medication to help myself combat my depression, and find coping skills that were healthy for me to work on growing and coping with my CDD and other disorders. Convincing someone their CDD isn’t serious, or that it’s not trauma related takes that away from them. It takes away the realization of the need to heal, it takes away the chance for them to cope with serious trauma. And it can even worsen it. People with trauma who categorize themself as endo or are categorized by others as endo may be even more effected, feeling like trauma is now a competition or that they aren’t enough to have a CDD that they may actually be struggling with and wanting help for. I hope you understand how harmful that is.

The spread of misinformation is WILD. One of the first things usually brought to me by my friends at school who don’t know much about DID is usually some misinformation they saw from an endo. And of course I don’t mind educating them properly at all, but it honestly hurts me a bit to see some of the crazy things I’ve seen them believe because of how much misinformation people spread on the internet about this disorder.

CDDs aren’t fun, they aren’t quirky. They’re serious trauma stemmed disorders formed to help someone survive. It’s not “having silly characters I like in my head”. It’s NEEDING them to keep you alive and as stable as possible when in horrible conditions whenever you are in the most vulnerable stage of your life.

Blah blah. Internet rant. Blah blah. I can already feel the comments calling me a loser and telling me to blow up or something 💀 like ima lowkey be mean for a sec but do y’all ever shut up? Learn to literally educate yourself instead of believing a 13 year old who wants the entire cast of Hazbin Hotel in their head cus they think it’s quirky (no shade to actual systems with hazbin alters)

Get ur ableist asses outta here fr 💀💀💀💀😭😭😭 making my life hell

Tw: syscourse ,

Endos DNI with this post.

Hot take; I shouldn’t have to be terrified to read / like posts. I should have to read the tags to make sure it’s not posted by an endo trying to infiltrate our spaces. I shouldn’t have to fear that the thing I’m gonna read is going to send me into a spiral because it’s gonna be some stupid ass shit about how “traumagenic systems are losers” or whatever the other stuff endos say about us is.

WE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO HAVE AN ALTER WHO SITS OVER MY SHOULDER EVERY TIME I OPEN THIS APP THAT CAN PULL ME AWAY INCASE SOMETHING GETS BAD.

THAT SHOULD NOT BE A THING I, A TRAUMATIZED SYSTEM, SHOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH WHEN LOOKING FOR COMFORT OR SILLY CONTENT TO CHEER ME UP REGARDING THE TRAUMA FORMED DISORDER THAT WILL FOREVER MAKE MY LIFE DIFFICULT.

“Endos don’t hurt anyone🥺🥺🥺”

yes they fucking do.

- Sharkbite

[biggest-vi-defender]

arcane S2 act 2 spoilers

okay but let’s talk about the parallel of vi beginning to trust her sister again in ep. 5, and then her choosing to trust caitlyn in ep. 6, and how it revolves around vander.

at the beginning of ep. 5, the trust & relationship between vi and jinx isn’t completely gone, but it is shaky, and it needs to be rebuilt, re-earned.

in S2, jinx is the one who tries to mend their damaged relationship first, which is an incredibly satisfying parallel/foil to S1, which was when vi was the one repeatedly attempting to reach out to jinx.

and it’s somewhat successful, successful enough for vi to agree to follow jinx into the tunnels, albeit she obviously doesn’t trust her— you can see it in the way she refuses to walk first/ahead of jinx, the constant skepticism and irritation on her face, all of it. she isn’t trying to make any conversation or really bond in that moment in the slightest.

and jinx not only accepts this, she seems very understanding, in fact. like she completely understands that vi doesn’t trust her, and she’s willing to not only be okay with that for now, but she’s also going to continue to try to build that trust and that relationship again.

not only is she doing this for vander, but she’s doing it for herself and for vi just as much— her family. the one she feels responsible for breaking in the first place (and even more so, vi also feels guilty for everything in the first place as well).

and you can see as their trust begins to subtlety grow, to the point where vi is facing off against the monstrous beast that jinx is saying is her father, and jinx gives her one more desperate cry of “vi, you HAVE to believe me.”

and she does. she puts the gauntlets down, and she decides to believe in her sister, to put that faith in her. the genuine faith and acknowledgement that jinx has been trying to prove in the first place.

and look where it leads… it leads to them getting their beloved dad back, their family back, and each other back— and ofc it’s very different, and with a new addition, but that love is still the very same. that embrace meant everything to and for them.

and then in ep. 6, vi meets caitlyn again, and while they aren’t how they used to be before the events of ep. 3, there is obv still that lingering sense of attraction, of care for one another. even more so, they both seem aware of it.

you can tell, based on the way vi refers to caitlyn as “cupcake” again, and how caitlyn puts her arm out in front of vi in order to prevent her from walking out & being seen by ambessa and the noxus army (which is a protective gesture that vi also did towards caitlyn in S1, might i add 👀).

and when caitlyn chooses to be honest w vi abt why she’s here— hunting down warwick— vi hesitates for a moment before choosing to put her faith in caitlyn, telling her the truth in response as well.

because, as i said before, vi managed to put so much trust in jinx throughout events of ep. 5, and look what that got her: her sister back, her family back, changed but still beautiful, still loving. she finally has what she has yearned for so, so badly for YEARS once again in the palm of her hand.

and i think that she’s thinking maybe, just maybe, she can put some of that trust in caitlyn again. i think this also ties back to when vi compared caitlyn to jinx. if that comparison still exists in her mind, and jinx is actively changing for the better and now apart of her life again… then maybe caitlyn can and will, too.

and she did. :)

[cconfusedkat]

Finally ,,, more proper Sozo ref without a bunch of text (<- very guilty of that)

Anyways ,, I've been Very normal about him the past few days (i blame blahaj)

For when hes able to recover ++ heal , he actually becomes the cult's doctor after quite some time ,, from being Hubre's (follower oc) assistant to having her be Sozo's assistant is rlly funny to me with the switchup sksksks

The switch up between clothes was smth i wanted to enuciate too—yellow and pink hues rather than a continous theme of blue and red hues,, i wanted to show that Sozo has moved on past the infection / addiction ,, he's definitely gotten better mentally with getting back into doctor stuff ++ archeology c: he never plans on running a cult again cuz hes afraid of losing his mind again

Now for height comparison of followers;

Leshy thought he was the tallest of the cult! Not after sozo arrived 😭 . Sozo is freakishly tall all cuz of genetics ,, his family members were WAY taller than him,, so seeing people this short ++ below him came off as a surprise cuz /sozo/ was the one who was short in the family

Okay thats all i can think of for now i think?? Im happy with his redesign nd being able to redo his color palette C:

TIL NEXT TIME 🫡🫡🫡 I rlly wanna draw some more sozolamb stuff so be on the lookout bc their relationship is my favorite thing Ever as of recent AAAAAA💥💥💥

[nectardaddy]

SERENDIPITY . . . kita shinsuke + f! reader 

⤷ cartoon bandaids

notes/CWs: hurt comfort, very subtle mention of parental death, near anxiety/panic attack, blood, overstimulation from sound, kita makes it all better I stg, I wrote this in a single hour so don't look at my typos 

The bathroom was eerily quiet, barren in sound other than the leaky sink she sat next to - a sink her father told her he'd fix, but never did. The constant drip into the porcelain made her flinch here and there, some splashes louder than others, as the sound seemed to echo and the world got smaller. She brought her legs up to her chest as the drip got louder; she sat on the floor of the bathroom with her back against the bathtub, and closed her eyes when the sound became almost deafening.

Drip.

She didn't mean to fly off the handle again. Didn't mean for her words to land sour with a farm hand - who now worked for her instead of her father. Didn't mean for it to escalate so quickly; although; she did mean to punch them.

Drip.

She could feel the blood still pooling in her mouth, a busted lip still bleeding due to a fight just moments ago. She could feel her knuckles getting sore; blood slipped down her fingers and dripped onto the floor next to her. She could feel the sharp pain in her cheek, a large bruise already forming along her cheek bone just under her eye.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Then a knock.

She took a shaky breath as her body jerked at the sound; albeit soft, the sudden noise yanked her from hyper-focusing on the broken tap and onto the door. She heard her name, a question, a gentle concern, until the door opened.

She knew who it was before he walked in, knew the way he knocked twice instead of the usual three times like others did. Knew his voice despite the whisper he spoke in beyond the wooden door. Knew he would always ask to come in before fully entering.

“Can I join you?”

She nodded silently and averted her eyes to the ground, traced over the old grout of the bathroom tiles that needed replacing and rested her chin on her knee. She felt his presence next to her, felt him stare so deep into her soul that it began to hurt, until he finally dropped down and sat beside her.

“You okay?”

She nodded again silently. It wasn't usual for the woman to shut down after such an altercation; her normal routine went from fight to flight, so she escaped after the war was won. Locked herself away, as to not be lectured from her father - but her father wasn't there anymore. Only her. But old habits die hard.

Without looking over, she could tell his eyes immediately stopped at the blood on her hands. They usually did. As his first instinct was to care and to maintain, while hers was to continue on, even with rusty, old parts.

“You're bleedin’, honey.”

“Most of it isn't mine.” A curt reply all the while keeping her eyes to the ground.

“But some of it is,” she heard him let out a gentle breath. “Can I clean it off?”

She nodded.

A sense of hatred crept into her veins as she knew the peroxide and bandages were in the cabinet beside her.

Drip.

She hated that it was so close to her.

Drip.

Hated that what was needed to clean wounds was already there.

Drip.

Hated that this happened so often he knew exactly where everything was.

Drip.

“Please fix that god damn sink tomorrow or I'm rippin’ it out myself!” Her voice was loud in comparison to the latter silence, echoing off the bathroom walls and making him flinch. “It's driving me insane, Shinsuke! I can't fuckin’ think without hearing that god forsaken thing dripping!”

Then there was silence again.

He looked over to her in concern, his brows scrunched together as he stopped himself from grabbing anything else from the cabinet. He was still, quiet, as he looked over her face, that was bruised and contorted in anguish, almost desperation, before he gave her a soft smile.

“I'll fix it later today if you want? It won't take long.”

She nodded and finally found it within her to look up at him. Kita was always, without fail, gentle and kind - something that she envied, but never voiced - loving and selfless. She wished to be more like him, but her only folly was her ease to anger.

He was gentle when he asked for her hands, gentle when he wiped the dried blood from her knuckles, gentle when he cleaned them despite her hiss of pain. He was loving when he asked which bandaid she wanted, as all they had were choices of cartoons - she chose one with an Eevee, and said it made her think of him. He was loving when he carefully placed it, and loving when he kissed it after.

“Thank you.” Two words she rarely ever said, as she saw it weak to need the help of others.

“For what?”

“Takin’ care of me.”

“I love you too much not to, honey.” 

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[lucygraysboy]

“guess i’ll have to sleep with one eye open from now on. who knows what ideas you might come up with, right?” laughing, he likes to think that after almost two decades of knowing each other, nothing about her could ever truly freak him out. it’s strangely exciting, though. it feels almost as if they were reliving their childhood, getting to tease and taunt each other all day long. “now you’re implying my BOYhood is small, aren’t you?” he reaches for another shrimp, dipping it in the spicy sauce as amusement tugs at his lips. “well, lulu gray was. she was talkin’ about c’s and d’s, tryin’ to touch and kiss my BOYhood.” she’s bringing this upon herself, really. billy bites the shrimp in half and gauges lucy gray’s reaction to his words. that’s what she gets for calling his dick small and implying he’s gay. “billy bean. billby. you know, you’re the only person who can come up with these cute nicknames and make me like them. i’m happy to be your billy bean, birdie boo.” he uses a napkin to wipe his lips and fingers, thinking how she can make even the most ridiculous of nicknames sound adorable. it’s their love language. “well, alright, how would you feel if i started to imply you licked another girl’s GIRLhood, hm? nothin’ wrong with that.” folding his arms over his chest, he sighs and continues to frown. not that there’s something wrong with being gay, but for a straight man, such comparisons feel emasculating in a way. “well, i’m stickin’ to the hot one ‘cause, you know, i don’t plan on doin’ no butt stuff anytime soon,” he grumbles, even if his mouth and tongue are burning right now. he takes another sip of green tea, but it doesn’t really make him feel much better.

“but i said i DIDN’T. so guess what, i’ll be lookin’ to get you back now.” giving him an annoyed look before it morphs into a devious smile. “manhood…when did i call it that? but it might as well be called manhood. it sounds a lot better than the other names for it. or even THING.” thing makes it sound the way it looks… like a thing. “shhh, shut it down billy bean.” pressing a pointer finger to her lips, meaning his middle school jokes and laughter even if she’s still trying to fight a smile. “mmhm, i bet.” it’s a field trip to tease him, accuse him of stuff, when the reminder he’s not a virgin pops in her head irritates her secretly behind innocent brown eyes. an annoyed emotion hidden in mysterious hues. he’s not a virgin, because he went off doing it with other girls. so it feels relieving to taunt him to get her anger semi out by watching him blush and accuse him of things. at least that quickly kills the fluttery feeling in her chest, no matter how long his hand is on her cheek. it shouldn’t annoy her anymore, when she went and tried giving her body and soul to someone else herself. but— somehow that fact just makes her even more irritated, because it wouldn’t even happened in the first place if it wasn’t for him going his own way. “it does.” lucy gray calmly agrees, nodding and smiling gently to conceal her anger. “i love shrimpiesss.” giving a little singsong voice to make it more convincing, hand reaching for another one after leaving the end part on her plate.