#this sucks but I needed to get it out of my system

[heartorbit]

MWAH!

[thelesbiancitizen]

On Women-Loving-Women and Building Our Culture.

a big problem I have with a lot of lesbians is that they want soooo badly for lesbian art and culture to be ~cool~ and ~epic~ and to ~go mainstream~ and they'll be crying and wailing abt the "lack of lesbian representation" ... yeah, in the mainstream. Cus NEWSFLASH. REAL lesbian art, art that's saying something important, will NEVER BE MAINSTREAM. Because mainstream media is built on a whole system of values that entirely excludes the female viewpoint by design. and ESPECIALLY so when it comes to women whose lives center around other women.

Most lesbians, including myself once upon a time, suffer from a massive cultural inferiority complex. It's why you see so many young females identifying as gay men, because they think the culture is way cooler, more glamorous. Cus gay men have money. Lesbians do not.

Lesbian cultural works are made with very little money. And they're made for a specific audience -- other women-who-love-women -- and so they don't cater to what mainstream / malestream values think are cool. Lesbian art particularly from the 70s / 80s (and onward) is following a completely different set of values. It's about clear communication, not obfuscation. It isn't about technique, it's about clarity. It's about bringing what is supposed to be hidden out into the open. It's about using whatever you can to say whatever you've got to say. It's earnest. It's genuine. It's affectionate. It's awkward. It's clumsy. It's a loving gesture. but sooooo depressingly many young women hate it and won't give it a second glance bc you are obsessed with male approval. You crave male approval of these artistic works and you know you'll never get it, you know men will just laugh and dismiss these works bc lesbian art makes men uncomfortable. Because it's so specifically female. It's coming from a different place. A female place. Aimed at other females. Men can't understand it.

And guess what? It doesn't fucking matter. It doesn't. There is TONS AND TONS AND TONS of incredible Lesbian art and cultural products that so many lesbians my age will scoff at and say it sucks bc it isn't "cool", you think it's "cringe", but you never look at why you it is you think that way. Lesbian artists today mostly suck because they're still trying to gain approval from male-dominated institutions, where masculinist value systems still reign supreme. They're not trying to say anything that's really of value to lesbians and continuing the growth and expansion of lesbian culture. They're disconnected from the culture that made it possible for them to be out and open in the first place. They've disowned the women who came before them and did all the messy, difficult work.

Lesbian artists who have made works in the tradition of the Lesbian feminist culture that started in the 70s are so fascinating, their work is very challenging, and really makes you look at things differently. Yet, this tradition is in danger of dying out bc the younger generations are not interested. Because it isn't "cool". Because these lesbians were politically engaged and knew how powerful it was to subvert patriarchal masculinist value systems with their art. But you just look at it and see "bad art". Hmm. Ever wonder why that is?

I'm mostly speaking of visual culture here, but also music, and poetry, too. We need to understand the value of having cultural works created By Lesbians For Lesbians. Eschewing masculinist values. Creating new vocabularies. Really listening to each other. Really trying to hear what we are saying. We need to do this or else Lesbian culture will really truly be dead in a decade or two. It'll just be women copying pornified culture and thinking that's what it means to be a lesbian.

We have to make art about our experiences as women-loving-women, we have to hear each other, see each other, and talk about what we are doing. We need to be having conversations about what we want Lesbian culture to be. And building upon the legacy of the women who came before. This is how we make meaning out of our lives; meaning that is self-determined. It's stupid to sit here and take whatever crumbs we are given from artists who still are trying to appease malestream audiences. Or wailing that there are no good lesbian representations in media. We need to represent ourselves. We need to represent our lives as we see them, as we live them.

We need to value the works that we create, for ourselves, and for each other. Put our powerful Lesbian voices at the center of everything we say and do.

This is how we will find each other. This is how we will banish our loneliness and hopelessness and cast out despair. We let our lights shine and we make room for each other. We've GOT to start having CONVERSATIONS ABOUT CULTURE.

Art scenes are like gardens. Every work of art is like a plant. What do we want to cultivate? What do we want to plant to feed ourselves and for the next generations of lesbians? It's all up to us. If we want new images, we have to create them. If we want new sounds, we have to make them. If we want new language, we have to invent it.

We as women NEED to make works of art that express how we feel about ourselves and each other. How we love each other. How we hate each other. What we mean to each other. What our relationships mean, what they really look like. How it really feels to try and fail and succeed at loving one another. When we are at the center of our own worlds. We have to stop marginalizing our own experiences and voices inside our heads and JUST SPEAK.

Every piece of art you make adds your voice to a lineage of ideas. It becomes a part of a historical narrative. It means we are here. Our work is important. We have the right to speak on and engage with stories, narratives, systems of values, concepts, and ideas. And if you can, you should. If you have the opportunity, you're lucky. Do it.

Speak.

Say something. Say anything. Be honest. Be messy. Be real. Make something.

CREATE, WOMAN!

We need to seriously engage with each other's ideas. We need to respect each other's intellect and artistic processes enough to let ourselves unfold. We need to quit arguing so much and PUT IT INTO ART. AND PUT IT OUT THERE. PLEASE!

BECAUSE I NEED TO HEAR YOU!!!!! AND I NEED YOU TO HEAR ME!!!!!!

We have nothing left to lose.

Maybe I'll start a magazine.

[theoddest1]

Nahh, Val defenders are SCARY. I just saw the recent tea and lemme tell you. I’m an artist who does artist alley at huge cons over the USA and I’ve had people upset at me for having almost every Hazbin character as a keychain design except for Val because that mothafucker can go jump into an insect repellent buzzer for all I care. And I have had actual encounters IN PERSON of people who were upset I didn’t have the rapist man. I’d tell them I am too uncomfortable to draw him because guess what honey, I survived rape so of course he makes me uncomfortable. Also I’m the artist and I can draw whatever the fuck I want. And people would get upset saying they needed their husbando or tell me gee sucks for you but he’s a fictional character. Don’t care! I don’t care if he’s fictional, do you see how people treat awful men like him saying shit like they wished that Val had a contract with them? Don’t get me started on the ValAngel cosplayers who would pose in questionable manners, or the Val cosplayers who used their cosplay to excuse they heinous shit like touching people’s asses because they think they’re in character. And now with this print issue, it’s just going to get worse because people find the rapist man hot thanks to glorification of sexual assault. Also to the people comparing ValAngel to a consensual non-con kink, please seek help. Sorry babes I just had to get it out of my system because this is making me furious. Anyways, that’s my piping tea, and I love your blog.

Oh, sis, I just wanna start off saying that I am so sorry you have been dealing with this and that you're strong af for still being here and being you despite what horrors you faced. I wanna applaud you for your strength and keep up the good fight! I'd also like to apologize for taking so long to answer asks! After the latest drama, I have been getting so many more asks, and tbh I never thought my acc would get as much traction as it does nowadays! Glad you and every have been enjoying my posts and hope that I can better she'd light on Biv and her little posse!

Regarding your situation at cons, I am so sorry you had to deal with them obnoxious ass people. They say in one breath, "Oh, it's fiction!" But then, in the other, get pissed when said fiction is not available, that's how you know that they dgaf and only care about their "interests" over actual survivors concerns and critiques over the handling of SA. The fact that a lot of them do these sexual acts onto people proves the fiction DOES INDEED affect reality, unsurprisingly. Ima say it again, these mfers need to see Val get dogged on and made fun off lime a punching bag, and we'll see if they pull that same excuse.🫢🤭

[kingkat12]

so... this is the deleted original ending to the first chapter of seven minutes in heaven. made centuries ago. enjoy!!

(it sorta starts in the middle of the closet scene, so here goes nothing)

WARNINGS: SMUT! SMUT! ROMAN BEING AN ASSHOLE! mind control powers being used for BAD bad bad BAD things!! implied mind control during sex so is it dub-con?, dark!Roman, not-so-happy-ending

word count: 1,811

a/n: there was a reason this version was scrapped... it felt too dark and not fun and urgh i'm simply posting this as an ancient artifact lol. it might suck as i wrote this back in august, but oh well!!!

(Roman is NOT a feminist in this one, so... irony<333 generalizing cunt)

 "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, no longer meeting his gaze. I couldn't look at him, not right not, not when we were this close and alone. 

"So..." Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, and he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've wanted to try out, now's the time."

My breath hitched, hoping the thumping of my heart wasn't audible to him. 

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman, and I knew she'd be against it.

However... I was being served my biggest dream on a platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again? 

I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he wasn't holding a needle or no. That was when I knew my anxiety was through the roof. "So... you want a kiss? That's all?"

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would say no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he wouldn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what it was that I was actually asking of him. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system. 

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry overcome me— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

I shouldn't have been so shocked— I should've expected this. I should've known that Roman would spin this around on me. I definitely knew he wouldn't reciprocate, but this? What was it, revenge? 

"I could make your every waking moment a living hell," he continued, his cold hands suddenly travelling up my body, gripping my waist with a grip I was afraid would bruise. "Letha would take my side, of course... Who else do you have but her, hm?"

I wanted to break out into tears, now grabbing at his hands. Almost panicked, I tried to get him off of me, but to no avail. "I'll leave you alone," I pleaded, finding his eyes.

"Nah, that's not what I want," I could see the sadistic satisfaction overcome him— I saw how he broke out into a wide grin at the sight of my glossy eyes. "How about we make a deal?"

Making a deal with the devil reincarnated? Very smart move, on my part. Fucking genius. "Okay?"

Roman hummed, his harsh grip around my waist releasing, allowing me to finally suck in a heave of air. Catching me off guard, he suddenly pressed his lips against my forehead with the softest touch I had ever felt— was he trying to throw me off course? 

"Start being nice..." Roman murmured, his now hands drawing soothing circles onto my back. "And I will reward you."

I let out a shaky breath; I was thankful that the agreement didn't involve any needles. "... That's all?"

"That's all," Roman echoed, pulling away to watch my expression. "You and your mouth have been making my life hell, do you know that? So if you can calm the fuck down, we could both get what we want. How does that sounds?"

I wasn't completely sold. "And what is it that you think I want?"

Roman's eyes darkened; he knew he had won. "Me," 

Oh, how I hated him. I hated him, and I knew I always would. But as his lips ghosted over mine, seconds away from touching, I didn't stand a chance anymore when the following words sounded past his plush lips; "I have a feeling I might have to put you in your place a little, hm? Maybe you'd even want that? Because honestly, I know girls like you... You fight until your last breath, then you're completely in denial, and then you'll fall apart the minute you get what you've always wanted,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this... me? 

"And you've always wanted to be one of my girls, haven't you?" Roman leaned down, pressing a deadly soft kiss against my cheek which nearly took my breath away; I could feel him smirk against my skin. "Or maybe... the only one?"

At this point, I felt so broken down that I gave in to a nod. 

Roman's hand slowly ghosted up my body until his fingers gently wrapped around my neck, holding me in place, almost as though he feared I would run; "I can arrange that, y'know?"

This conversation had unlocked a deep, dark part of me that I didn't know I had— like this, completely at his mercy, I had a feeling I was made to be his. Brainwashed. That I was put on this earth to find him and be with him, and that we were destined to be together. It made me feel so weak and pathetic that my lower lip eventually gave in to a quiver, feeling a sob build.

Roman let go of my neck, stroking his fingers through my hair. "Shh, no need for that... You're fine, you're okay. It's just me."

Just me. Just Roman. He who that had haunted my dreams for months, the only one I could think of when I got myself off, and the one I had been longing for from afar for so long that it turned into burning hate. 

Roman must've felt like he was done torturing me, finally meeting my lips with the most gentle kiss I had ever shared. This was all I had ever wanted— he was right. My heart beat hard in my chest as I let myself melt against his dangerously soft lips. 

I wanted to be his, no matter the cost. No matter what happened or what I had to sacrifice. 

I loved Roman Godfrey.

... and I was sure of it now.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Yes— This was right.

Of course. 

I loved him. 

I loved him, I loved him, God, how I loved him. With every fibre of my being, I loved him. 

I loved the feeling of his body against mine, corrupting my mind until I was nothing but mindless. A small part of me also loved that it was our little secret, and ours only. 

Letha didn't have a clue, of course— I had kept my act up quite well when I was around her. I had kept it up around everyone else as well, but the anger that was ravaging through my system, the hate that was burning me up from inside was currently being mended by one thing and one thing only;

"A-Aah—"

My fingers tangled into Roman's hair, feeling his bruising grip around my hips tighten as he fucked me into my mattress. I let out a small cry, feeling my legs starting to go numb after how long they had been thrown over his broad shoulders. Deep down, I didn't care— nothing could put out the angry fire in my soul like Roman did. Nothing was a better remedy than feeling his cock inside me, no matter what, when, or where.

I let out a gasp as Roman shifted, pulling me into his lap with ease. I couldn't feel my legs now, and I had a sense that he knew— he barely had to put any strength into moving me around, especially with how he was towering over me in general. 

I let out a gasp as he sunk me down on his length, and I gripped his shoulders with a short squeak for support. Heavy breaths escaped my parted lips as I clung to him, whimpering at the feeling of his thick cock stroking my insides. 

Roman seemed beyond content, gazing up at me with half-lidded eyes. He revelled in the sight of how ruined I was before he attached his soft lips to my collarbone to bring forth a hickey, humming. That was the one place we both knew Letha wouldn't see it, after all. 

It was impossible not to submit to the devil reincarnated when sex could feel this good with him. It didn't matter that I had practically sold my soul for this, because every second, every stroke of his cock, was worth it. 

"You're heaven," he murmured, lifting my hips and pushing himself further into me, taking more control. "You feel so... shit, this is heaven—"

Ironic.

And just as I felt my climax approaching, flashes of thoughts I had suppressed came crashing forward. No matter how nice all of this felt, I couldn't help but wonder how I had even agreed to any of this in the first place. But it wasn't like he had mind control powers, right? It wasn't like this was some sadistic ploy to seek revenge against all the times I had been a complete and utter bitch to him.

No— it couldn't be. Don't be ridiculous.

... Right?

[gretagator]

"This condition... To me, it's as real as that chair. It's as real as this house. It's as real as you. But what if it's not? What if it's all in my head? And if that's true, if it's not real... Then what have I done?"

[erinwantstowrite]

hey erin are you writing rn?

I am in my backyard playing my guitar except I forgot that it's really fucking cold outside and I'm pretty sure I hear a possum somewhere but I'm kind of ignoring it because I mean what the fuck is the possum going to do. unless it's the raccoon that's been harassing my family for the past like 2 years then maybe I should be worried but it's probably fine

[heyclickadee]

I think Tech would think purrgil are neat.

(He’s in there, he’s just really tiny. He came back, got a new ship, and painted it to match Phee’s.)

(I think purrgil are neat, at least.)

[heretoobsessstuff]

Here’s a whumpy drabble i wrote last night instead of studying for my derm exam lol

*

John paced the small confines of the tower, his heart pounding as he waited. The young lieutenant beside him watched nervously, eyes wide, as if he feared John would snap at any moment. He had to give it to the kid. He felt it too—a simmering anxiety that threatened to boil over if he didn’t see Gale’s B-17 soaring through the sky any minute now.

He lifted the binoculars again, scanning the horizon. When he finally spotted a fortress trailing smoke, hope flared momentarily before dread took hold. The fort was beat to shit, almost looked like it was staggering. It was going to be a bitch to land. But also Please be Gale, please be Gale, please be Gale.

“Incoming!” he yelled, the urgency in his voice echoing off the tower walls. Below, chaos erupted as an ambulance sped closer to the runway.

“It’s my baby!” someone shouted from the ground, and John felt his stomach knot tighter, frustration mixing with fear. He turned to the lieutenant, voice taut. “Show ’em green.”

He fucking hated this part of the job—being stuck up here, powerless to do anything else, anything that was actually useful. He couldn’t even go down to meet Gale on the runway, to ensure he was okay with his own eyes. Instead, he had to count the forts and prepare forms for interrogation. This was exactly why he despised being an air exec.

“Hey kid,” he said to the lieutenant, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “go check on Major Cleven and come back and let me know, alright?”

The young man nodded, eager to please, and dashed inside. John let out a heavy sigh, eyes glued to the sky as he monitored for more incoming planes.

It felt like an eternity before the lieutenant returned, breathless and wide-eyed. “Sir, Major Cleven was mostly okay. He’s in interrogation now.”

“The hell does mostly okay mean? Is he hurt?” He snapped, heart sinking .

“Not majorly, sir, but he—”

“Bucky”

Crosby called behind him, swallowing hard before he spoke.

“Gale is going batshit crazy not letting the nurses touch him. We got him to the infirmary but he won’t let them stitch him up. Can you come talk to him? I think he’s pretty shaken up”

John was speeding past Croz before he was even done talking. He didn’t remember how managed to go from the tower to the infirmary so fucking fast but he could hear Gale yelling as he walked in. The sound pierced through the tension in his chest, and he pushed the door open to find Gale pacing, hands tugging at his flight suit, face flushed with frustration. Blood caked the side of his face, dripping down to his neck and John felt cold, his hands shaking as he moved closer to get a better look at him.

“Buck” John called tentatively, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “What’s going on?”

Gale’s eyes turned to him and for a brief second it looked like he was relieved to see John. But desperation took over his features immediately, voice sounding too loud in the small cot as he addressed him.

“I’m fine, John. I don’t need their damn help!” Gale snapped, his eyes wild. John felt a rush of concern; this wasn’t Gale. Gale was calm, polite, never snapped at anyone. He was always collected, unflappable. This Gale was unsettling. John felt his heart break as he watched him shake with fury. The nurses hovering nearby exchanged worried glances.

“Your forehead needs at least 10 stitches, Major. You likely have a concussion,” one of them said gently.

“I said I’m fucking fine,” Gale snapped, his frustration palpable. “John, please. Tell them I’m fine. I don’t need this. I need to—”

“Can you give us a minute, please?” John interrupted, turning to the nurses. They sighed, sympathetic, and stepped away, drawing the curtain closed behind them.

“Sit down,” John urged, putting a hand around Gale’s arm and guiding him to a nearby bed. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt.”

“I don’t want to sit—I need to get this fucking thing off me,” Gale said, agitation creeping into his voice as he shook John’s hand off himself and tugged at his flight vest but his hands trembled too much for him to be able to actually take it off. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated. John had never seen him like this, raw and unraveling.

“Here. Let me help you.” John’s voice softened, moving over to him slowly and maintaining eye contact as reached towards him. “Just taking this off, Buck. Stay still” Gale let him take over, his breaths came out harsh and panicked, eyes wide as he started at John working to unclasp the buckles. John tried to be as gentle as he could as he unbuckled the vest and let it drop to the ground.

“There you go, now lets just sit down for a second”

“No” Gale shook his head, his voice cracking, pushing to move past John.

“I can’t—I can’t just sit here. I need to go—I need to-.” He cut himself off with a gasp, breathing shallow as his body shook all over. John stepped forward, reaching out to grab Gale’s shoulders.

“Look at me. Focus on me, okay? You’re panicking. You need to breathe, Gale”

Gale blinked, momentarily stunned by John’s intensity. “I… I can’t.”

“You can,” John insisted, trying to keep his voice steady. “You can. In and out. Here”

He soothed, grabbing Gale’s hand and laying it on his own chest, trying to keep the shake out of his own voice as he took a deep breath.

“Deep breathes like me. C’mon darling”

He let the endearment slip, not giving a damn if anyone heard it. It seemed to do the trick, Gale’s breath hitched and he closed his eyes and kept his palm pressed to John’s chest, trying to pull air into his lungs.

“There you go. You’re alright”

John encouraged, voice soft as he guided Gale to a bed when he felt his knees weakening and pushed him down gently. He watched him closely as he sank down, shoulders sagging under the weight of his exhaustion as he continued to take choking breaths. John rubbed his back, up and down his arm soothingly, trying to avoid his injured head as he pushed his hair out out of his eyes and sat beside him on the bed.

Gale watched him lazily as he reached for his face, fingers grazing his jaw as he tilted his head slightly to reveal a deep gash on his head, blood seeping through the strands of blond hair. He felt a lump raising in his throat at the sight.

“Was it flak?”

Gale closed his eyes again, taking a few shuddering breaths as he shrugged.

“Don’t remember. It’s all a blur”

John hummed, lifting Gale’s hand to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

“You need to let them take care of you, Gale”

“I’m fine, John”

“Need to let them patch you up first and then you will be”

“I can’t—I need to” Gale started to protest weakly again so John interrupted him.

“There’s nothing you need to be doing now other than resting and letting them fix you up. You can’t do anyone any good if you’re not okay.”

Gale swallowed thickly, eyes glassy with unshed tears as he shook his head.

“I lost so many men, John. So many forts. I let them down.” His voice shook, a lone tear escaping and travelling down his cheek.

“You didn’t let anyone down, Gale. You flew that piece of crap all the way back to England. No one else could do it. You got your boys through it.” John reassured him, forcing eye contact.

“You did well, darling” He added quietly, just for Gale’s ears. Gale looked at him for a second longer before he let out a long sigh and leaned to the side, resting his head on John’s shoulder. John took his hand in both of his, interlocking their fingers.

“Now I need to get you through it, Gale. I need you to be okay”

Gale opened his eyes, eyes softening as turned to look at John and took in his desperate expression. The tension slowly easing from his features. “Okay” he whispered, sounding defeated as he lifted his head and sagged back against the wall, hand not leaving John’s.

“Just… stay here.”

“Of course.” John kept his grip strong, grounding him. He turned toward the curtain to call the nurses. “He’s ready for you.”

They stepped forward, not saying a word about how John kept sitting there holding Gale’s hand so hard like he was scared he was going to slip away. He watched as they worked quietly and stitched up the wound on Gale’s forehead and cleaned the area.

“See?” John said gently, helping take Gale’s sheepskin off and getting him to lay back and get comfortable as the nurses finished their work and told them Gale needed to stay overnight for monitoring. “All patched up. Good as new”

Gale’s energy seemed suddenly drained. He gave John small smile and sighed as he closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax. John sat beside him, watching him fall asleep, counting the raise and fall of his chest and finally allowed himself to breathe.

[violetregrets1837]

Okay so like while I still have the idea rattling loudly in my brain,

For my fellow x reader enojoyers, have we thought about meaner soulmate connections for the boys?

Like of course soulmate aus can have a variety of flavours, to sweet to spicy to oh my goodness I'm crying

BUT BUT BUT!!! I HAVE IDEAS FOR SOME MEAN SOULMATE CONNECTIONS❗️❗️❗️

Four: You can only see each other through mirrors >:)))))

It would always be a lovely little thing for the hero to see his soulmate, but after having to shatter that mirror, he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to take a single peak anymore.

Legend: You only meet each other in your dreams

I feel like this is obvious on why it's mean to Legend specifically. I love Koholint angst. What can I say?????

Wild: You gain the others injuries

Wild could easily guess the reason why he'd never be able to meet his soulmate. He was kept in the shrine of resurrection for 100 years following his death. But when he somehow gets a memory of when he finally learned about his soulmate connection, a papercut on his finger that he can't remember getting, a pit opens in his stomach as he realises. His soulmate didn't die just because of the calamity. They died because of him.

[the-way-astray]

i am not ready to get pissed off today but can we not ruin people’s positive fandom experiences. can we not. if someone makes a post saying “i love sophie foster!!!!” can we not go to that post and immediately comment “well i don’t like her”. if someone shares a headcanon and it clashes with yours can we not go to that post and reply “well that headcanon is WRONG because HERE’S WHAT CANON SAYS”. if someone talks about a ship can we not go on that post and start ripping it to shreds. can we not. you are aware that just scrolling past without engaging is an option, right? you know you can tamp down the urge to express your negative opinion where inappropriate, right? make your own damn post!!!! can we not ruin positivity posts for the people that like/made them. can we please not. please.

[bigothteddies]

can we start considering online job application systems as class warfare or

[joestarbuckss]

“ahh ikura yuutahhh~”

[gayvampyr]

i hate the idea/trope that poor kids who do well in school don’t need any support when it comes to college, or that they all get full-ride scholarships. i don’t do well in school now that i’m in uni but i was a straight-A student throughout all of middle & high school and i got 1 (one) scholarship for $500/semester, which is less than 5% of my tuition. i didn’t have the opportunities or knowledge a lot of the other wealthier kids had, whose parents and grandparents and siblings had gone to college too. like we don’t all end up getting exactly the help we need, and i know the poor kids who weren’t straight-A students had an even harder time getting into college, if they did at all. it’s rough out here for all of us. the only sure-fire way a kid could get guaranteed financial assistance was if they had knowledge of the system and the time and money to pursue them. it sucks

[fisheito]

snakes have something called a jacobson's organ that allows them to smell. they stick out their tongue, and then when it enters their mouth again, the jacobson's organ processes what they just smelled with their tongue. i say this to propose that, after yakumo licks eiden's dick for a good 10 minutes, he closes his mouth and processes it all like O_____O

when i TELL YOU that this message left me bracing the wall like

(overwhelmed with positive affect)

[wisecrackingeric-2]

I am so so sorry for very quickly venting on here I’ll keep all my rambles in the tags HFNEJDJDJ but my birthdays in exactly a week and m a n I am S O anxious about it aoaoaughhh

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

god sometimes all confidence i have in my writing just drains away 😭 if the halloween fic doesn’t turn out well i am genuinely so cooked