#unless I....fall over or something

[pens-and-paperbacks]

"Vander and Silvo grew up like brothers! Them being together is weird!"

Ok, listen. You're valid, but listen. In the original universe we get, I completely agree. Vander nearly killing Silco and them fighting for dominance of Zaun is brother vs brother, power vs power activity. I don't think that universe went any further. There was no room for it to go beyond that betrayal and bitter feelings.

Within the Timebomb universe however I think they became something more after reconciling.

The letter was found, they talked it out, probably fought (which, head cannon, probably left Vander with a new scar somewhere we didn't see) but after that I think they saw each other in a new light. They were now on completely even footing, fighting for the exact same vision of Zaun in the exact same way, through peace vs violence because now they've seen what violence brings and they don't want that to happen ever again.

They don't want to lose each other again.

They only really had each other, Powder and Vi to take care of after losing their parents, which is what probably got them thinking about being together as a couple of they hadn't been thinking about it already.

I just can't read their reactions/looks in that universe in any other way. It's just too tender? I just look at them looking at each other and see, "unwavering devotion."

Two kings rule over Zaun in that universe and they're very happily married, despite everything that's happened. Because how could they not be after everything that's happened?

[veinspookiebear]

This is so niche but "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" from Epic the musical except it's after LG breaks the death node and CXS finds out about all the loops

[nexus-nebulae]

"why are you so worried abt random accidents, stuff like that rarely ever happens" well you see I'm too disabled to ever evacuate a situation on my own, so I'd rather be a safety advocate now than become a statistic later

[spaciebabie]

obsessed with the idea of jttw humbling wukong so much that in the aftermath of it, he ends up catapulting himself from Self Absorbed Asshat to Hating Myself Will Serve This World Justice

[sydmarch]

working on the painting since 2 today.... still not really happy with it but moving on

[sunshinechay]

Me: *is pretty much finished the Pit Babe novel*

*looks at the sign novel sitting in my downloads*

Whelp time to start a new one!

[clulessmess]

Why the fuck did i have to become art blocked when i need money the most

[theworstcreature]

“Don’t overthink it one day at a time kid add up the days you got someone to do life with”

“Don’t overthink it it’s not fuckin science add up the days you got someone to do life with”

“Love isn’t big kid it’s little and quiet”

I think about these particular lines so damn much I’m so glad that song exists

[pikachu-deluxe]

been thinking recently about how i play games (in general but also a bit on the competitive side on some)

turns out i don't particularly care about winning, i just want to have fun, but obviously i do like winning i just try to do win by doing very stupid stuff

it's way more fun for everyone involved when you do things against the meta or common sense and end up winning anyways bc it's so weird that it takes others by surprise

[bijoumikhawal]

got bad financial news and I'm going through the seven stages of grief about it

[tchaikovskaya]

although it is often inaccurately used as a kind of shorthand description, the term "proxy war" does not actually apply to the war in ukraine. but i do think you have to have your head entirely inside your ass to reject the idea that the conflict at its heart is about spheres of influence.

[novaimperia]

★ asking roommate!sukuna if you can sleep with him because you’re scared

“no.”

the door slams in your face, grazing your nose ever so slightly. you don’t know what you were expecting when you knocked at 2am — maybe you weren’t thinking at all. the booming thunder outside was dizzying and your feet raced you out of your room and down the hall in record speed before you could even process the rattling of your bones. 

you knock again. the door swings open. he is not happy. 

sukuna’s sporting a scowl, piercings glinting from the hallway light, as he glares down at you. he’s shirtless and wearing boxers that hang low on his hips, revealing sharp angles and thick lines of ink. on any other occasion, you would have swooned to yourself but now’s not the time. 

“please, s’kuna. i can’t sleep on my own like this.”

his brow quirks up. “and that’s my problem because?”

fuck. 

he’s not listening. you can’t even blame him — it’s late and he’s already warned you he’s not the sweet type, that you shouldn’t treat him like a boyfriend, and he doesn’t cuddle so unless you’re up for spreading your legs, you should keep your distance. but you thought since you guys have been having dinner together, going out for errands, and even building inside jokes that he might feel inclined to do you a little favour. 

“y-yeah, you’re right. sorry.” you jolt when the next rumble sends the apartment swaying. “oh! fuck. just…sorry. night.”

scrambling back, you clutch yourself tight, resenting the shudders running through you, like the storm has wormed its way in and is eating you from the inside. 

“ah!”

two huge arms wrap around you, lifting you up, back, and tossing you onto a bed. you bounce once. twice. sukuna makes an exasperated noise and runs his hand through his hair. “you’re an annoying little shit. you better not snore or i’m kicking you out.”

then, he’s climbing in behind you, lying on his stomach, faced buried in his pillow and paying you no mind. you’re in his bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’ve been here before and will be again. it did occur to you that things might get awkward, but the way he’s not even the slightest bit tense and letting you hike up the covers over both of you even though he runs hot tells a different story. 

minutes pass by, you still can’t sleep. the storm is suffocating. just as your eyes flutter shut, a flash of lightning breaches the blanket of his curtains and a fierce roaring follows shortly after, shaking the bed frame. shit.

“quit shivering. can’t fucking sleep when you’re on vibration mode.”

“sorry.”

he opens one eye to judge you. “you scared of a little thunder? embarrassing.”

“yeah.”

grunting, he mutters something, as if scolding himself and throws an arm around you. sukuna rolls you two over so he’s on his back and you’re on his chest. he’s warm and hardened with muscles, yet you melt into him as if he’s a teddy bear. he smells nice too. 

you’re rendered confused, unable to reconcile his actions with the relevance to anything that had transpired in the last ten minutes. but…you hear it. or rather, you don’t. his body is shielding you from the sounds outside, distracting your senses with the feel of him, bare, against you. the thunders are washed away by the beating of something inside his chest.

quietly, you quip, feeling the need to cover up the heat rising to your cheeks, “i didn’t know you had a heart.”

sukuna scoffs. “yeah, neither. now shut up, don’t want to deal with your grumpy ass in the morning.”

maybe you are closer than you thought. though you won’t bring that up to him, knowing how defensive he gets. unspoken and subtle, you’re content with the way he shows his loyalty. it’s sincere and consistent and that’s all that matters.

so, you find yourself falling asleep dreaming of a fire engulfing you, drowning all else away, and laying a gentle kiss on your head. 

[mw00nie]

before you and nanami started dating, you thought you had him all figured out.

quiet. composed. polite to a fault. the kind of man who holds the door open for strangers and tips too well. the kind of man who never interrupts, never forgets birthdays, never texts past ten unless it’s an emergency.

you thought you knew what kind of lover he’d be. careful. respectful. maybe even a little restrained.

you were so wrong.

because nanami kento is the definition of “gentleman in the streets and freak in the sheets.” not the loud kind. not the messy, aggressive kind. he doesn’t degrade. doesn’t spit unless you ask. doesn’t choke unless you beg. and even then, he makes you say please.

but he knows how to ruin you. with quiet control. with devastating precision.

he learns you like a language. reads you like scripture. he notices the smallest things. the shift in your breathing when his hand rests on your thigh, the way your hips tilt slightly when you want more. he catalogs it all. stores it away. and when you’re under him, you feel it. every inch of that studied, focused attention.

he fucks like he’s solving a problem he already knows the answer to. his fingers are experts. his mouth is lethal.

and the worst part? he says the filthiest things in the gentlest tone, like he’s giving a lecture. like it’s all just matter-of-fact.

“you’re soaking,” he’ll murmur, two fingers teasing your entrance. “i’ve barely touched you.”

“there it is,” he’ll say when he finds that spot inside you, the one that makes your back arch and your thighs tremble. “i thought so.” “you can take more, can’t you? i know you can.”

he never loses composure. he doesn’t need to. he’s in control, always. he’ll have you shaking, begging, gripping the sheets like you’re drowning, and he’ll still be fully clothed, sleeves rolled up, watch ticking on his wrist.

he praises you like it’s a prayer. “good girl. just like that.” “you’re being so patient for me.” “look at you. you’re so gorgeous when you fall apart.”

and when he finally fucks you, it’s deep and slow and ruthless in its restraint. like he’s savoring every drag, every clench, every sound you make. he doesn’t just chase his own pleasure. he chases yours. insists on it. he’ll edge you until you’re crying, then kiss the tears from your cheeks and ask, softly, “do you want to cum now?” as if he hasn’t earned the right to decide for you. as if it’s still your choice.

he’ll hold your face in one hand while he pushes into you, thumb resting at your jaw. not to grip. not to control. just to feel you. to anchor you.

you’ve never been so exposed. so undone. and he never rushes. never gets sloppy. even when he’s close, even when he’s quiet and tense and thrusting just a little harder, a little deeper. he still holds your gaze. still whispers, “breathe.” “you’re okay.” “i’ve got you.”

and when it’s over, when you’re limp and dazed and boneless beneath him, he pulls you into his chest and strokes your spine like you’re something delicate. something treasured. he doesn’t gloat. doesn’t tease. he just kisses your forehead and says, “you needed that.” like he planned it. like he’s known for days.

you thought you knew him. but the truth is, nanami’s the kind of man who thanks you after eating you out for half an hour, who ruins you with his hands and then helps you into the shower. he’ll say “may i?” like he’s asking permission to wreck your entire evening. and when you say yes, he will. completely. beautifully. quietly.a freak. but always polite. always in control. always him.

[neganium]

It is already 7pm. Horrid. Abominable, even.

Anyways does anybody wanna like, comm me for $30ish or smth so that I can get us some pizza? (Admittedly idek if my mom still has those coupons, or if they're even still good; for all I know tho it was a promo advert and not coupons, anyways. I can still look around and see if she has it, ig...)

[mooningningg]

ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ.

toji, sukuna, gojo, suguru, and choso.

genre, angst to fluff. notes, i yearnnnn.

Toji Fushiguro

"You said you'd be home earlier, Toji."

"Yeah, and I got caught up. You want me to lie about it?"

His voice is curt. Not loud — but it cuts. He’s pulling off his hoodie like this is just another night.

"I just wanted to spend time with you," you say. "We barely talk unless it’s late or rushed."

"So now I’m the bad guy for working late?" He rubs his jaw, annoyed. "Jesus."

You don’t respond. You can’t. You’re just… tired. And the moment you blink, the tears fall.

Toji notices immediately. And freezes.

"...Shit."

You don’t sob. You just cry — quiet and heavy, like your whole body is tired of holding it in.

He steps closer. Hesitates. Then slowly reaches for you.

"...Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me."

He gently pulls your hands from your face and cups your cheek, unsure but trying. He’s never been good with words, but his arms wrap around you anyway. His chin rests on your head.

"I didn’t mean to make you feel like that," he murmurs against your hair. "I just don’t know how to be good at this. But I’m tryin’, alright? For you."

Ryomen Sukuna

He’s still grumbling about something dumb when you go quiet.

"What, now you’ve got nothing to say? Typical. Always pulling away when it gets—"

You sniff.

He freezes.

"Hey. Hey, baby? What’s wrong?"

You shake your head and cover your mouth, trying to hold it in — but the tears come hard. Sukuna’s face drops completely.

"Shit. No, no. Don’t cry. Baby—hey—"

He’s instantly on you, hands cradling your face. He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw — frantic and soft.

"Don’t do that. I didn’t mean to be an asshole, alright? I’m just loud and stupid sometimes, you know that. You can hit me later if you want. Just—please stop crying."

You let out a small laugh through the tears. He grins, but it’s shaky.

"There she is. My girl. You scared the hell outta me."

He pulls you into his chest, wrapping you up like you’re something to protect.

"Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Just don’t shut me out. I’m not going anywhere, got it?"

Satoru Gojo

He was teasing you. Light sarcasm, maybe a little too sharp.

"You always act like everything’s fine until it’s not. Kind of hard to guess what’s real, you know?"

You’d already had a long day. That one comment pushed you off the edge.

Your eyes well up.

He notices immediately.

"Oh… oh no. Shit. Baby?"

You try to turn away, but he’s already there. He drops everything in his hands, reaching out to you with panic in his eyes.

"Hey, no. Don’t cry. Please. I didn’t mean it. I swear."

You cover your face. He gently pulls your hands away and kisses your forehead.

"Hey. Look at me. I’m right here, okay?"

His voice is softer now. Completely stripped of the usual teasing. Just warmth.

"You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to smile. Just let me hold you."

He pulls you into his arms and sways you slightly, kissing your temple over and over.

"You’re my whole world, alright? You’re allowed to break down. I’ll carry it until you feel better again."

Suguru Geto

"It’s not a big deal, Geto."

"You say that, but it clearly is to you."

"I just—" You sigh. "I don’t want this to turn into a fight. Everything already feels so... fragile."

He’s about to reply when you suddenly wipe your eyes — and your voice cracks.

His whole expression changes.

"Baby... talk to me."

You try to say something, anything — but the tears spill too fast. He’s already closing the distance.

"No, no. Come here."

He takes your face gently in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears, forehead resting against yours.

"Let it out, alright? Don’t hold back with me."

You press your face into his chest. He holds you close, hand soothing down your spine.

"I’ve got you. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever’s weighing on you — you’re not alone. You never were."

Choso Kamo

You were both getting frustrated over something small. Schedules, plans, who forgot to text who.

He says your name once, then again when he notices your breathing shift.

"...Wait. Are you crying?"

You try to shake it off, but your lip trembles — and suddenly he’s already walking toward you.

"Come here, baby."

You fall into his arms. He pulls you tight against him and buries his face in your neck.

"It’s okay. I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be okay."

You clutch the back of his shirt and cry into his chest. He rocks you gently, arms wrapped securely around you.

"You don’t have to be strong right now. Just let me hold you, okay?"

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"No matter what it is — we’ll face it together. Always."

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?