#we shouldn’t I know but you really should

[pattysfics]

How many times did you replay the promo?

Yes.

[swaps55]

Misread

“I’m not sure what to do with you, Garrus.”

Garrus looks up with a start from his pile of gear to find Shepard leaning casually against a row of lockers in the Normandy’s cargo bay. He’d been so engrossed in inventorying his arsenal for Williams he hadn’t even heard Shepard come out of engineering.  

“Sir?”

Shepard eyes him from crest to talons, as though he’s a requisitions manifest that doesn’t match inventory. Despite being reasonably sized for a human – in Garrus’ experience, anyway, which isn’t exactly extensive – Shepard barely comes up to his chin. And yet somehow Garrus feels a lot like a pyjack standing next to a varren that hasn’t decided just how hungry it is.

“Well, you’re part of my crew,” Shepard muses. “But you’re not Alliance. You don’t exactly fit in my watch rotation, or know anything about Alliance protocol. Technically, I don’t have any recognized authority over you at all. If you stole this ship from me and waltzed off to hand it to the Hierarchy, you’d probably get a medal.”

“Also probably start a war.”

Alenko snorts from his spot over by the weapons’ bench, where the pistol he’d been working on now lies completely disassembled.  

Shepard waves a dismissive hand. “That’s someone else’s problem.” But then he pauses, face scrunching up in ways that faces shouldn’t be able to scrunch. “You know, it probably would be my problem, actually.”

Human faces are distressingly expressive, and Garrus hasn’t been around enough of them to really grasp what it all means. “Uh, while I appreciate the…confidence in my ability to mutiny—”

This isn’t coming out right.

“—I don’t actually have any plans to steal your ship.”

“Good. Because while I may not have authority to give you orders, I’m pretty sure the Council did just give me the authority to put you out my airlock if you don’t follow them.”  

Garrus’ mandibles twitch in alarm. It’s a joke…right? Humans like to joke. Surely that’s a universal trait. “I’m very good at calibrating weapons.”

Shepard’s eyebrow raises.

Garrus’ own brow plates shift rather desperately. “You asked what to do with me.”

“Right.” His gaze shifts over to Alenko, who contentedly continues cleaning his pistol. “Any good with mass accelerator cannons?”

“Uh, sure?”

Shepard nods towards the infantry vehicle across the cargo bay. “Then familiarize yourself with the Mako over there. Pretty sure we’re gonna get a lot of use out of it.”

Alenko groans and rolls his eyes – that one Garrus gets – while muttering something about war crimes under his breath.

“Yes, sir,” Garrus says quickly.  

There’s that laser-sharp gaze again. It’s like looking a rail gun in the face. But then Shepard’s face breaks into a grin. “Glad to have you aboard, Garrus.”

“Thank you. Sir.” Should he salute? Was that…appropriate? He’s still thinking about it when Shepard calls out to another human stepping off the elevator by engineering, and jogs away.

Garrus blinks. At the weapons’ bench, Alenko shakes his head and chuckles, like he’d seen whatever just happened a thousand times.

“Can I ask…what that was about? That conversation felt like…”

“A test?”

Garrus’ mandibles flare. “Yes.”

Alenko’s smile has softer edges than Shepard’s. “He’s feeling you out.”

“…Feeling me…out?”

“It’s, ah, a figure of speech. He’s pretty good at reading people, but he likes to test out his impressions with a little verbal sparring.”

“I can’t tell if I passed.”

Alenko’s chuckle becomes a laugh. “That usually means you did. He doesn’t often misread people, but when he does, you’ll know.”

“Why? What happens?”

Alenko shrugs, with an affable smile. “Someone usually get shot.”

~

“Do we have a deal?”

A cold, perilous silence falls over the warehouse, where every one of Helena Blake’s mercs stand with the kind of staged relaxation that just so happens to put their hands right by their sidearms.

You trust her? Alenko had asked during their stomach-turning Mako drop, in which Garrus is certain that Shepard waited until death was imminent before engaging the vertical thrusters to avoid smashing against the freezing cold rocks of Amaranthine. Alenko had been right about the war crimes.

No, but I think she’s a lesser evil I can live with, Shepard had replied.

He’d been so adamant this was a friendly exchange that he’d walked brazenly into the center of her band of mercs, who hadn’t hesitated to close in around them. Garrus clocks twelve of them to Shepard’s squad of four, including a sentry on the upper level.  Alenko hangs close to Shepard’s left flank while Williams takes the right, leaving Garrus to bring up the rear.

Relax. We’re all friends, here.

Except as soon as Blake had started talking, Alenko’s stance had gotten a little more square, even though nothing about Shepard’s posture changed. When the silence hits, Alenko’s hand drifts marginally closer to his pistol.

“You know what?” Shepard asks thoughtfully. “On second thought, you can go fuck yourself.”

Before the ‘fuck’ is even out of his mouth, Alenko’ is in his hand and he’s knocking Shepard off his feet just in time to avoid the bullet coming from the sniper’s nest. Somehow, in the blur of running, shooting and cursing that ensues, Garrus and Alenko wind up crouched behind a shipping container while Williams lays down another round of cover fire and Shepard yanks the sniper out of the rafters with a skein of dark energy.

“So,” Garrus says, catching his breath. “I take it this was a misread?”

“Oh yeah.”

Alenko checks his heat sink before his corona engulfs him in a bloom of dark energy. He actually chuckles before he gets to his feet and re-enters the fray, like this is just another routine patrol through the Presidium.

“Welcome to the squad, Garrus.”

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Routine V

Mini Series

Wanda Maximoff x fem wife!reader

Summary: Routines can get tiring quickly, especially when you’re the only one working towards keeping them.

A/n: We meet again friends. I am very happy to be updating this fic once more. Also happy to inform that I have found a direction in which to take it!!! I hope you enjoy reading it.

Word count: 1400 approx

She was at a crossroads, there was nothing that she could do to stop you from leaving. She hadn’t stopped pacing the room since you left. That's when she saw it… Her saving grace. Maybe if she did this one thing she could at least open the door if not maybe just unlock it, something. At this point that was definitely better than nothing. Your passport and what looked like important papers were left sitting on the kitchen counter. You had left in a furious haze, something was meant to be left behind. You just didn’t think it would be your passport and work visa. That was the one thing that you thought you had in lock, the one thing that you couldn't forget… And you forgot it. Truthfully you knew that something was missing the moment that you stepped into the car with Kate, but you chalked it up to the stress that Wanda had caused.   

There was a time that anything that remotely felt like a fight was a no go. You never wanted to fight with Wanda, nothing about arguing with her seemed pleasant. In the beginning it was obvious she was scared and all of it was new. You danced around obvious issues the two of you had. One issue was a rather big one being Vision. It was strange their connection. It was something you knew would have easily gone the other way had you not been in the picture. They understood each other; you felt like the odd man out in your own relationship with her. It wasn’t until you exploded one day that the issue was addressed. Thinking back Wanda should have seen this coming. It almost ended the relationship before it really even began. She was tempted to call you, she really was. But she’d just crossed a very big boundary. Instead she texted Kate.

Her text was read almost immediately the text bubble kept appearing but nothing was sent. Wanda instead sent another message. ‘I’ll meet you at the gate, lose Y/n for a minute and I’ll give you her passport.’ She only received a thumbs up and she was on her way. It was high time Wanda started taking action. She wasn’t going to fail you now. 

You were lying. You had no idea where you got the confidence from but it was a complete lie. You loved her so much it hurt. She didn’t read your mind that time and it hurt that she believed you. Tears welled in your eyes, this day wasn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to leave peacefully, and now you had no idea what you were doing. She shook you. Wanda came into your life and turned it upside down and now she’s done it again. It was rough. Kate had been fidgety for the past twenty minutes. “Are you okay?” You managed to get the words out. She stilled wide eyed. “Uhm shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You hummed. “Probably… I’m just tired of the same thing over and over again.” You sighed. “There are so many things that I wanted to say. But she was right in front of me and the words disappeared.” Kate nodded, her eyes still fixed on the road. 

“Do you think… that uhm you’ll get back together?” She asked the obvious question. It only made your shoulders deflate more. Not because she asked, “It’s not up to me.” but because of how pitiful the answer was. And it was entirely up to her. You hadn't even been able to bring yourself to draft the papers. The fear that she’d actually sign them still managed to keep you up at night. What if she did, what then? “My heart… it aches constantly. Like something was ripped from me.” Kate cleared her throat. “You’re leaving Y/n… You're going abroad for god knows how long.” You nodded. “How else can I show her what she’s doing to me? Years Kate I’ve put up with it for years.” Kate nodded. “I did not suffer in silence, I let her know at every turn how she was compromising us.” Your words were laced with anger and conviction. And so quickly the sadness gave way to raw anger.  

Wanda felt she should have thought this entire situation out more. Here she was in her car on her way to the airport, filled with hundreds if not thousands of people. And the most daunting part being that you’re unaware. Her mind was already starting to hold her hostage. She made the treck mostly on autopilot. Then there was the whole getting through security, nothing her powers couldn’t handle. Only she somehow couldn’t. She had not felt this lack of control since ultron, she was tripping where she had learned repeatedly not to. It was overwhelming navigating through the masses of people trying to get to their flights, homes, families. Everyone's thoughts traversed constantly. Eventually and not without struggle she had found Kate, near a coffee shop.

“Finally! I thought you’d make this hard for me.” Kate’s words washed right through her. The only thing she could hear now was an angry ring, mocking her. She shook her head softly trying to dissipate the sound. Then she stilled, she could sense it. Her powers out of pure reflex sought you out. And another pang of sadness ran through her. She’d never been able to sense your anger. A slap in the face a testament as to how unwelcome she truly was. A tug at her arm brought her back. She was clutching your passport in her hand. The folder already in Kate’s possession. Kate sighed. “Are you okay?” She relented and finally asked the question. That seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. She let go of the Passaport like it burned her. Kate noticed her distress and asked again. “My powers… are acting up, I'll be fine.” Kate nodded, not fully convinced. 

Kate had decided she’d throw Wanda a life line. She did not think someone could make a change so drastically in a matter of hours. This Wanda that was standing in front of her was not the same one she witnessed yell indignantly at you. This Wanda looked defeated, vulnerable. “She’s still waiting for you…” Kate said. Taking the woman in, and for a moment she wasn’t sure Wanda had heard her. Then tears started rolling down her face. “I don’t think she is…” the words came out tersely and clipped. “She's angry, she has every right to be. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s waiting… so give her time.” Kate sighed, taking a step back. “Fight for her…” She turned on her heel and walked away. Wanda seconds later managed to do the same. Her resolve slowly cemented.

Kate made her way back just as you started looking for her. She looks slightly flushed. Two coffees in hand, a folder tucked in between her arm and torso. Your eyes widened at the sight. “I didn’t even realize I was missing that!” You exclaimed. Taking a cup out of her hand, and the folder at the same time. “Kate, you're a lifesaver.” She nodded, taking a long sip of her drink. Then silence followed, you could have sworn you felt something. It made your heart race. You remembered the familiar feeling. A slight fuzz just out of reach in your mind. You couldn’t help but look around. Could it be, or was it just her lingering in your mind. Then once again Kate brought you back into the present. “Here your boarding group is about to be called.” Kate pulled you up from your seat making toward the line now forming.

Right as your ticket was scanned. She pulled you to the side slightly. “Promise you’re coming back.” You managed a small smile. “I will, I don’t think your mother will keep me away forever.” You joked. Keeping an eye on the people boarding. Kate nodded trying to reassure herself. “You forgot your passport… she brought them here. That's why I was gone for a minute.” Your heart started racing. “I didn’t want to keep it from you.” Then before you could even respond an airline worker was ushering through into the boarding tunnel. The last thing Kate managed to say was for you to call her when you landed. 

A/n: Please leave a like if you liked it!!! Late because I completely forgot to schedule. :(

Tag list: @fxckmiup @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ 

[thepepsicolafams-blog]

Everyone is talking about the parallels between this new chapter of BSD (Chapter 121) and BSD Beast.

Before in the last few chapters (Chapters 115 - 120.5) were compared to the BSD Novel “STROMBRINGER”— specifically of how both Atsushi and Chuuya had lost close members that they considered friends and family to a power Ability Users that knows way more about them then they know themselves and wants them to themselves for reason yet to be known.

But now in this current chapter though, it parallels to the BEAST universe with Atsushi and fear.

Here we have “Hallucination Dazai(?)” talk to Atsushi about how he never needed to be ‘brave’ or ‘strong’ to get stuff done or fight what he fears.

The chapter talks about fight fire with fire— or in this case fear with fear as “Hallucination Dazai(?)” directs Atsushi’s attention away from how scared he is to fight Ame No Gozen to save Akutagawa because it was way he had lost a great portion of his friends/family—to the now fear losing whatever now remains of his family and friends with Lucy and Kyouka still waiting for him in the ‘Anne Room’.

This fear turns into motivation that makes him keep fighting.

Somewhat similarly, this is also seen in BSD BEAST of how BEAST!Atsushi used his fear of pain, suffering and specifically Death to become the Port Mafia’s White Reaper.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And this is just my thoughts so feel free to just skip this, but I find it interesting that this is not the first time something like this happened. Every time we saw “Hallucination Dazai” previous it said the same if not similar things to Atsushi.

I get that it's in his head, that's what a hallucination is, and he has the same thing with The Orphanage Headmaster, and I know it takes Dazai form to guild Atsushi and that’s it’s a hallucination in his mind so that it shouldn’t mean so much. But after seeing the end of this chapter I'm wondering how this will go out.

Like all I want to see now are some answers to Atsushi “Who you really are” like my guy... what do you mean!!! Is this a hallucination or something else? Is it Atsushi’s Bookmark powers telling him what to do and stuff, is it Atsushi connecting to the Book with how much it reflects to the world of BSD!Beast or is it Atsushi’s tiger powers/Byakko talking to him.

I say this because Atsushi had referred to know what this “hallucination” really is meaning that it’s not what we originally thought it was/that’s it’s not really a hallucination of Dazai but something else entirely.

Or

Is it Atsushi finally understanding what Dazai had been teaching, what he is telling him, this whole time and discoing/realizing who he really is.

Looking into himself in the picture he made of Dazai to help him keep fight to finally understand that he has a right to live, that he doesn't need to be brave to fight-- that he always been able/has been doing this and that he should stop now because some rat drew some pictures and ripped some paper.

Having that anime protagonist moments of self-discovery and finding the will to keep fighting.

Guess we just have to wait and see. Next Chapter is coming next month, and I can't wait for what happens next!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On another note, it's a very funny coincidence that when I went to the library the only BSD Novels there were that day were BSD! BEAST & BSD! STROMBRINGER-- both of which i took with me and am now reading! What a coincidence!!

[chock-and-bates]

if you're still doing it, what is get him back about?

(and for the other anon that mentioned it! but i'll be using your ask to post about the other story you asked about ❤️)

get him back! is my silly little fic for bearnelli (also heavy on lestappen [ofc] and some chollie)

Premise: Kimi’s been down bad for Ollie for over a year. But ever since their rookie f1 season started, he’s been beyond jealous that all his friend can seem to talk about is Charles Leclerc.  When he realizes that Ollie genuinely likes Charles, is, in fact, infatuated enough to consider making a move, he loses it and goes to Max for advice.  Surprisingly, Max turns out to be very willing to help Kimi get his man (while also staking a claim on his.)

this one is fun because i have two outlines and it might be a sillier 5 +1 thing or it might be a bit more toxic. i haven’t quite decided, but it will definitely include jealous kimi, jealous/possessive max, oblivious charles, and infatuated ollie (because @honeyandthunderstorms and I a chollie vision that is so fun, omg)... and some lestappen smut 😏.

Snippet under the cut!

“You seem upset,” Max tells Kimi carefully as they walk back through the paddock. “Are you all right?”

Glancing around, Kimi jerks his head to indicate Max to follow him to a quieter corner, one where he can speak more freely.

“Is Russell being a dickhead again,” Max asks, a little too knowingly. The Red Bull driver was always excited to hear about any issues that Kimi was having with his teammate.

“No, it is not George,” Kimi frowns, weighing how much to actually tell Max. It’s just- if he doesn’t talk to someone about this he thinks he’s going to explode.

“Then what?”

“It is Ollie.”

“Oh,” Kimi doesn’t like the teasing way Max smiles, his eyes crinkling, “What did Bearman do? I thought you two were mates?”

And look, Kimi could tell Max a lot about what Ollie has done. He could tell him how some nights Ollie is all Kimi can think about, or how one of his favorite things to do is make Ollie laugh, or maybe he could even tell Max about that wonderful, horrible kiss that happened last season…

But Kimi is not stupid, he knows better than to embarrass himself in front of someone like Max Verstappen.

In his angry state, he does not, however, have any issues with embarrassing Ollie.

“I need to get him to shut up about how in love he is with Leclerc.”

The smile quickly slides off Max's face.

“What?”

“He will not stop talking about Leclerc,” Kimi continues, already feeling himself getting worked up, “Any time we are hanging out, all I hear is ‘Charles said this’ or ‘I was watching Charles onboards’ or ‘Charles sat by me on the plane’. I cannot take anymore of him and his stupid crush! It is driving me crazy.”

Max has been listening closely, looking very serious all of a sudden, “You really think he has a crush?”

And Kimi knows he shouldn’t say anything more, should just leave it at that and keep Ollie’s secret. But the hurt and jealousy are still too overwhelming-

So Kimi scowls and continues, “I know he does, Max! Today I told him he should just kiss Leclerc already since he is so obsessed with him. Then he got all weird and asked me what I thought Leclerc would do if he did kiss him. Or if I thought Leclerc could ever like him.”

Max’s face twitches, “Oh, really?”

[rosedustdreams]

Almost maybe pt2

pt1

The next few days on set felt... off.

Walker wasn’t avoiding you, not exactly, but something had changed. He still cracked jokes with the others, still threw himself into scenes with the same enthusiasm, but when it came to you—there was a shift.

No more playful nudges. No more exaggerated reactions whenever you said something funny. And definitely no more trying to sit next to you at every opportunity.

It shouldn’t have bothered you. You had Charlie. Charlie, who always made you laugh, who never made you doubt where you stood with him. Charlie, who, at this very moment, was running a hand through your hair while you leaned against him between takes, scrolling through his phone.

And yet, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at Walker.

He was sitting a few feet away, flipping through his script with a furrowed brow. His knee bounced, a habit you’d learned meant he was restless. Normally, he’d be talking to you by now. Normally, he’d be annoying you just for the fun of it.

But now? Nothing.

Charlie noticed before you did.

“You and Walker good?” he asked casually, his voice low so only you could hear.

You blinked up at him. “Huh?”

Charlie nodded toward Walker without looking. “He’s been weird lately.”

You hesitated. “I mean… I guess?”

Charlie smirked. “You guess?”

You sighed, sitting up a little. “I don’t know, he’s just been quiet. Maybe he’s tired.”

Charlie hummed, unconvinced. “Or maybe he’s still recovering from his tragic backflip attempt.”

You laughed, nudging him. “That might be it.”

But even as you joked, the thought nagged at you.

Later, when you were heading back to your trailer, you caught sight of Walker sitting alone outside. He had his AirPods in, staring at nothing in particular, a barely-touched plate of food beside him.

You hesitated for only a second before walking over.

He didn’t notice you at first, but when you sat down beside him, he took one earbud out, glancing at you. “Hey.”

“You okay?” you asked.

He looked away, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “Yeah. Just tired.”

The same excuse.

You gave him a look, unconvinced. “You’ve been acting weird.”

Walker let out a short laugh. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You sighed, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “Is this about the interview?”

He tensed slightly, jaw tightening. “Why would it be?”

You shrugged. “The internet kind of… ran with it.”

Walker scoffed. “The internet runs with everything.”

He wasn’t wrong. The fan edits, the TikTok theories, the deep-dive Twitter threads analyzing every single look he’d ever given you—it was overwhelming.

But still…

“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing to it,” you said quietly.

Walker was silent for a long moment. Then, he exhaled, running a hand through his messy curls.

“Look, I get it. You’re with Charlie,” he said, finally meeting your gaze. “And he’s great. He really is.”

Something in your chest tightened.

“So if that’s the case,” Walker continued, voice softer now, “then why does it feel like we both know that’s not the whole story?”

Your breath caught.

Because maybe… just maybe… he wasn’t wrong.

And that was a problem.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Walker watched you for a second longer, then gave a small shake of his head, a humorless smile on his lips.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “I was just—whatever.”

He shoved his AirPod back in and turned away.

And for the first time since meeting Walker Scobell, you had no idea what to say to him.

A/N: i love this i feel like a made it to depressing tho. also i don't like the name of this should i change it??

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092, @shellsarepretty, @cheoriemoawa, @prettiesteyess,  @vintagewntr10, @hecallmebigpurrr420, @killualovbot, @iloveneilperry

[heyits481]

Lando’s smile drops a bit when he sees the man approaching, knowing he’ll want a picture with the both of them. The restaurant is small, nothing too fancy, and he’d naively hoped that maybe they would be able to finish their meal and enjoy the short drive back to the hotel without being bothered. This close to Paul Ricard, Lando supposes he shouldn’t have been so optimistic.

“Pardon, you two drive the race cars, no?” The French accent is so thick Lando can hardly understand the man, but tries to paste on a grin in response.

He hopes Oscar understands. Thinks that he will. It’s not like Lando’s ashamed of being seen out getting dinner with Oscar, or anything. Not like he’s embarrassed of having him as a teammate, or friend really, if Lando’s being honest with himself. It’s just that he hates sharing everything. He knows the picture will get posted somewhere. Hates that he can’t have this be just for him.

Oscar smiles at the man politely, hands messing with the glass of water in front of him. Lando watches a bead of condensation drip down the side. “Yeah, sure do.” Lando can almost feel Oscar’s gaze move to him, but he keeps his own firmly planted on the tablecloth. Picks at the hem of it under the table.

“Did you want, um-” he flops his right hand toward the man’s phone. Doesn’t know why he’s asking, of course the man wants a photo.

Jon’s told him before that he can always tell people no, that he’s not obligated to anything, if he doesn’t want to. But then Jon’s not the one being asked, not having to face the pleading eyes, the demanding tones, the dropped shoulders that followed the few times he had declined.

The man crouches down slightly as he nods, hand coming up, phone at the ready. Lando tries to avoid looking at himself in frame, looks at the man’s reflection instead, tries to mimic the bright smile with his own face.

The sound of a shutter. Lando resists rolling his eyes, he’s never understood old people’s obsession with having their phone volume on full blast. The man squeezes his shoulder. “Ah merci, merci, I will have to send to my daughter, she adores you!”

Lando lets himself zone out a bit while the man repeats the process with Oscar. Focuses back just in time to tell the man to thank his daughter for being a supporter before watching him walk back to his own table.

Oscar doesn’t say anything for a bit, but once again Lando can feel him watching. Lando pushes his food around his plate under the guise of eating. Shivers slightly when he accidentally scrapes his fork across the porcelain. Oscar clears his throat. “You ok mate?”

Pushing the sleeves of his sweater up his arms Lando shrugs, doesn’t quite know how to say “I want to keep you just for me,” in a way that doesn’t sound creepy and possessive and not at all how he should feel about his teammate. Decides to go with, “Yeah, I’m fine.” instead.

Oscar doesn’t look convinced, but lets it slide, keeping up a polite stream of conversation about how the tires they were testing felt, how they spent their break, random stuff that Lando only half listens to. It’s on the drive back to the hotel that Oscar brings it up again.

“Hey. What’s the matter?” His tone doesn’t leave much room for discussion and Lando’s hands begin to sweat slightly where they’re gripping the steering wheel. He hums. “Nothing’s the matter.” He hopes Oscar doesn’t notice the way his knuckles whiten around the wheel.

He hears Oscar shift in his seat slightly. “It’s just, ever since that guy-” Lando shakes his head, interrupting. “Osc. I’m fine.” He glances over quickly before looking back to the road. Indicates his turn into the hotel car park. “Honestly.” Oscar waits until he pulls into a spot to speak again, and Lando now has no reason to not turn and look at him.

Oscar is twisted slightly in his seat, hands resting on his thighs. The dim lights of the car park cast a slight glow against his profile. Lando wants to trace the line of Oscar’s jaw.

“Is it because we were out at dinner? And you didn’t want people to see you with me?” There’s a slight flush under his eyes as he says it.

Lando shakes his head, turning his body more toward Oscar, hand reaching out before he can stop himself. He freezes when it’s inches away from Oscar’s neck. “Shit. No- I- I mean yes, but not because of you, I just hate that there’s no privacy, or that it couldn’t be just me and you having dinner, you know? It’s not like I want to hide you.” When he realizes what he’s said Lando’s eyes go wide. “Not saying your mine to hide-”

Oscar’s blush deepens, but he’s smiling now. Not like the one he’d given at the restaurant, but genuine this time. The type of smile Lando is used to being on the receiving end of. “I get it, you know I feel the same.”

And Lando does know. Oscar’s always been a private person. It had taken a month for him to mention breaking up with his girlfriend to Lando, let alone the rest of the world.

Lando lets out a breath, the puff of air ruffling Oscar’s bangs. He didn’t realize he had leaned so close to him. Lando shifts away slightly, dropping his hand to the fiddle with the gear shift.

“I wouldn’t mind though.”

Oscar is almost whispering. His eyes on his own lap now. Lando feels the way his own eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Wouldn’t mind what? Not having privacy?” Oscar’s head shakes, hair soft across his forehead.

“Being yours.”

Lando feels like his skin is on fire. It’s overwhelming how quickly his brain flashes the images before him- Oscar letting him touch, stretching Oscar out over the bed, tracing over his pale skin with his tongue, the tight feeling of Oscar around him, Oscar under him gasping out his name.

He presses his legs together. “Oscar don’t say- fuck- don’t say that if you don’t-” Oscar’s eyes snap up to meet Lando’s. “I do mean it.” His tone is bold, eyes dark like he’s daring Lando to question him.

There’s a pause and then Lando can’t stop himself from reaching out, one hand twisting into the front of Oscar’s shirt, the other gently brushing his hair back, Lando holding his breath as the soft strands glide between his fingers.

“Osc. You’d let me? Like, I could- you’d be mine?” Lando knows he’s not really making sense, but his tongue feels cottony and dry. He wants to wet it in Oscar’s mouth.

Oscar’s pupils are huge, head tilted back slightly as Lando leans over him. Lando bushes his thumb across Oscar’s temple. Watches Oscar’s eyes dart down to Lando’s lips as he whispers, “Yeah. I want you to.” Lando’s not sure if Oscar even knows what he’s agreeing to, but then Oscar leans forward, mouth brushing against Lando’s. “Want to be yours.”

[izvmimi]

“Hmm… so what it says here is we might not be very compatible by astrology,” you muse, tapping your chin as you scroll through what’s offered by the website’s assessment of your budding relationship. You’re killing time, sitting at a table across from Shin, taking a quick bite at a fast casual restaurant before you’re off to a meet-up with friends and he’s off to the Sakamoto store. Shin frowns, then gently reaches over to take your phone.

“Hold on, let me see.”

He scrolls quickly with his thumb, while you amusedly take a bite out of your burger. It’s not an outright condemnation of your prospects, but the implication is dire, with the suggestion that you’d take work at best, or your relationship would fail dramatically at worst. Shin’s looking more annoyed by the second, stuffing a handful of fries in his mouth as he reads, then looks at you.

“Okay, so clearly they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You laugh as he hands you back his phone like a hot potato.

“I mean considering that this practice has been done for thousands of years-”

“It’s kind of bullshit, actually,” Shin pipes up. You raise an eyebrow at him as he sips his shake, and you can see his cheeks turn red with embarrassment as he notices your look. “I mean, not to say that I don’t think you should be paying attention, it’s just that I feel like there are other factors at play, you know and maybe we could just try,” he adds.

You agree with him wholeheartedly, but there’s no need to tell him that. You wonder if his urge to peek into your mind will crop up again so you fortify it against him before teasing him further.

“You’re an actual psychic but you think astrology is fake?” you ask, resting your chin on your propped up hand. “I would have thought you’d be partial to the supernatural.” He genuinely looks surprised at your supposition, but is soon ready to debate you.

“Well, the two aren’t related in the least, my powers were made in a lab, plus there are a lot of compatible by astrology people who end up hating each other, so we really shouldn’t put too much stock in it,” he insists. 

As he continues to go on to explain,  you chuckle to yourself, and say nothing, and he stops.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” he says.

“I think it’s funny how hard you’re trying to convince me. It’s almost like you want us to work out.”

Shin rolls his eyes, caught red-handed, then reaches over for a fry from your plate. You take one in your mouth and lean forward, bidding him to bite. He blushes.

“We’re in public,” he starts, but you smile and tilt your head and he looks around before leaning forward and biting the other end.

“See, teamwork! That’s compatibility, I guess. Maybe you’re right and this random online website that knows nothing about us is wrong.”

He gives you a mock exhausted look but then gets up and shifts into your booth, so that’s closer. 

“Let’s not worry about compatibility based on some random factors and just on us, okay?” he asks. His look is genuine as he pleads. You wonder if he’s been able to creep into your mind once in a while and know how easy it is for you to overthink and question happiness.

So you rest your head on his shoulder in response, snuggling close.

“Deal.”

[veritas-scribblings]

4. home | words: 1945 | [out of control <- previous part | next part -> mirror]

(December, 1975)

Regulus is fourteen when Sirius leaves home. He wants to say it he didn’t see it coming, but he did. Sirius has been rebelling for years. Not folding in on himself, but projecting out into the world around. Sirius, with his loud music and his muggle posters. Sirius, who sasses their parents and hides away in his room. Sirius, who came home one day with a tattoo and a piercing.

Regulus has seen this coming for years, so he doesn’t know why it takes him off guard. Why it upsets him. Why it enrages him.

And why it makes him afraid.

When James Potter finds Regulus, Regulus is pulling his trunk off the train. Almost ten minutes has passed since the train arrived at the platform and he has already waved off Barty, Evan and Pandora. And now he’s just waiting: impatient, annoyed, and very much ready to ditch his brother and leave for home alone.

James barricades the train door nervously, awkwardly, his glasses on the end of his nose and his hair more ruffled and windswept than usual. Like he’s been running his fingers through it.

Regulus doesn’t have anything against James. He never has, because honestly, he’s never had that much to do with James. James is a typical quidditch player: bold and cocky, performative and aggressive in the way that boys are typically aggressive. He’s clever, Regulus knows. Things come easily to James. He’s never had to try.. And yet, there’s something really stupid and simple about the boy, because of course James has to be an enigma.

He has a whole lot of intelligence and yet missed out on the basic common sense.

James shifts in front Regulus, gives him a smile that is not very convincing. “Can we talk?” he asks. The butterflies in Regulus’s stomach are drunk, battering and tumbling inside him. And Regulus is weak.

“Where’s your shadow?” Regulus says sceptically. “Tell him he’s late and we have to go. I don’t care what shag-of-the-week he’s saying farewell to.”

James pauses, bites his lip, and says so earnestly, in a single, hurried, tangled breath, “You can come too. You should come too.”

And that’s when Regulus knows. He doesn’t need to hear anything else. Because Sirius has been talking about it for years. He’s been threatening it for years. That he’ll leave. That he’s “out of here as soon as he can”. Saying, “this place is fucked”. Saying that they’re fucked. Telling Regulus, “they can only hurt you if you let them,” disdainfully. Like he’s better than that.

Like he’s more than that, and Regulus isn’t. For letting it hurt him. For letting it happen. For caring.

James has been speaking, but Regulus hasn’t heard him. The world in his head is silence, and the world outside silent. “I mean it,” James says. “Come home with me. My parents, they’ll love to have you too.” And he does mean it, Regulus knows. James is so sincere, on the outside and the inside. All performative facades of his quidditch player-ness have been dropped.

“You’re taking him home with you, then,” Regulus says flatly.

“Well, yes. You’ll come home with me. Sirius is…”

That’s when the silence disappears and all Regulus hears is noise and rage. And if James finishes the sentence, Regulus doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. Because he knows Sirius is gone. He’s left. He didn’t wait. And he will not ask. “And why would I do that?”

“Reg…”

“It’s Regulus.”

“Regulus, I know how things are. No—no, really. I do. I know. And, well, it doesn’t have to be that way. You shouldn’t have to live that way. Come home with me. Us. Me and Sirius.”

Regulus sneers. He twirls his wand which is tethered to his trunk and pulls his trunk fully off the train. “I’m not Sirius. I’ve never given our parents a reason to hate me.” He says this coldly. Icily. Into the silence and the rage and the noise of the world around them.

“You shouldn’t have to earn your parents love. They should love because you’re you. In spite of you being you. Just because, you know, they’re your parents.”

Regulus leaves James standing at the mouth of the train and makes his way across the platform, through the crowd that has started to disperse. What world does James live in in? Love is always conditional. And Regulus isn’t fool enough to believe he has his parents love. But he knows he doesn’t have their contempt. Their hostility. Not the way that Sirius does.

He’s made sure of that.

Sirius is sixteen when he leaves Grimmauld Place. He feels sick: nauseated and dizzy. His stomach has been flip-flopping. He wants to throw up. He wants to scream. He wants to run circles through the streets around the Potters house. He wants to do cartwheels. He wants to do backflips.

He doesn’t want to ring the doorbell or enter the house. Because what if they turn him away? What if they hate him, or what if they come to hate him? If they decide he’s no longer welcome. That he’s bothersome. That he is a burden.

Because he won’t be able to bear that. He’ll die a sad and lonely little death.

Rationally, Sirius knows that this isn’t true. James has reassured him that he’s welcome. That they’ll love to have him. They’ll be thrilled to have a new son. That he can stay as long as he wishes. That they actually won’t want him to leave. Ever.

But there’s a niggling little voice in his head, bitter and hateful and sinister. Telling him that this is not true. That it is a lie. That he’s not enough. He’ll never be enough.

Sirius paces the doorstep of the Potter house. Back and forth. Back and forth. Hands wringing. He kicks his trunk angrily, swears angrily when he stubs his toe. Kicks the trunk again in revenge. Curses. Wonders if he hexes it, will the ministry know now he’s no longer at Grimmauld Place?

Maybe his parents will come for him. Maybe they’ll drag him back kicking and screaming and cursing. Or maybe they won’t, because maybe they’re glad his gone. That the Black family disappointment is no longer their problem. Farewell. Sayonara. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And then the door swings open. James stands before him, a vision of smiles and messy hair and smudged glasses. He grabs Sirius’s trunk and lugs it inside as Sirius stands rooted to the spot. Unable to move. Just staring, mouth open. Does he come inside? Does he wait outside? Does he help James with the trunk? Is it rude not to?

“Dad thinks I should leave you out here. He wants to see how long it takes you to decide to come inside,” James says with a grunt, hefting the trunk along the carpet. “Mum thought that was mean, said to bring you inside, you’re going to catch your death, apparently. I told her you’re invincible. She doesn’t believe me.”

Sirius’s anxiety is like a thousand little snitches racing through his blood. James grabs his arm and pulls him inside so suddenly, Sirius almost trips on the doorframe and falls flat on his face. James has abandoned Sirius’s trunk by the wall. It’s askew, blocking the hallway. For the briefest of moments, Sirius panics, because his parents would have a fit. 

And then he remembers: he’s no longer at Grimmauld Place. James’s parents are different. Normal. They don’t yell. They don’t get mad the way his parents get mad at things like leaving trunks in the middle of the hallway. They won’t call James useless, lacking in common sense.

And maybe James will fall over it later. Honestly, he probably will. He falls over things in their dormitory all the time. 

Will James’s parents complain? Perhaps. Sirius doesn’t know, he just knows his parents don’t act the way normal parents act.

Suddenly, James wraps Sirius in a hug and Sirius almost jumps out of his skin. But the warmth of James makes something inside Sirius uncoil and Sirius finds himself melting into James arms. It feels like home.

The Potter house smells sweet like honey with undertones of incense. Effie and Fleamont are sitting in the kitchen, Fleamont with books open strewn across the dinner table, Effie with a pot of tea and the more recent edition of the Daily Prophet.

“Mum made…well, these little pancake things, they’re stuffed with…sugar,” James says. “They’re really good.”

Fleamont and Effie smile at Sirius, who can’t help but feel like an intruder, for all the warmth and welcome in their smiles. They don’t look at all surprised that he’s here, so maybe James warned them. Or they’re the kind of people to just take things in their stead. 

“Would you like some tea?” Fleamont says. His voice is gentle, like he doesn’t want to startle Sirius, who already feels rather like a horse primed to bolt.

“No thank you, sir.”

Fleamont chuckles. “It’s just Flea,” he says.

Effie stands and crosses the room to wrap him in a hug that feels like a James-hug. Because apparently the Potters hug. It’s their thing, James says, like this is perfectly normal for a family. And it very well could be, but Sirius wouldn’t know anything about that.

“We’re very glad you’re here with us,” Effie whispers by his ear, a secret just for him. And then louder, “You must be tired then. James, take him upstairs. Make a room for him.”

James grabs Sirius’s hand and tugs him out of the kitchen, up the staircase, Effie’s yell of, “There’s fresh linen in the cupboard!” following after them. He deposits Sirius in a room nearby his own. The room is smaller than the one Sirius had back at Grimmauld Place and significantly less elaborate. There is a double bed in the middle of the room, an old free-standing wardrobe, shelves lined with old books.

“This is going to be great,” James says with a grin. He’s watching Sirius cautiously as though he’s worried that Sirius will break. 

It’s a valid concern, because Sirius is sure he’s already broken beyond repair. And there it is, the tiny voice inside his head, all sinister and hateful, whispering that they’ll find this out about him. 

Something doesn’t feel right. His stomach churns, a sensation of guilt. He’s unsure whether he feels guilty that he’s burdening them or he feels guilty that he’s left his parents or if he feels guilty that…

“I asked him,” James says. “To come.”

There it is. The whisper is a roaring in his head. “And I asked you not to,” Sirius says. He can’t help how dark and angry it comes out. “I take it he said no. I told you he’d say no.”

Of course Regulus would say no. Why would he agree to come? They’ve never been close. If anything, they’ve always been combative. Competitive. Resentful of one another. There are times when Sirius regrets this; wants more for them. There are times when he knows that this is through no fault of their own.

That their parents have been pitting them against each other since they were old enough to acknowledge each other’s presence.

But these times are far and few between.

There is no way that Regulus would come. Because their parents don’t hate him they way they hate Sirius, and Sirius knows that this is in part his fault. Perhaps mostly his fault. Or all his fault.

They do not have any reason to hate Regulus the way they hate him.

So of course Regulus would not come.

He has no reason to.

[briarberrythornedhart]

When you have Pocket Aces you don’t bluff

🦇 ♦️ 🦇 ♣️ 🦇 ♠️ 🦇 ♥️

Contains: fluff, Eddie Munson x reader

Your new roommate - or apartment mate - was a great guy.

He did dishes, he kept the bathroom clean, was uncannily good at fixing things, he made a lasagna that tasted like heaven, he never failed to cheer you up after shitty days at work, always paid his half of the rent on time. You truly had no complaints.

Except the one.

He was so hot. Too hot. But you could deal. You could be a good friend and roomie and not lust after his fine person constantly.

Probably.

Unfortunately- He was a big flirt. At first you thought it was just his usual way of speaking. Clearly he couldn’t help it. Or he was so pretty that everything out of his mouth seemed extra salacious.

But, after weeks of watching Eddie flirt at Steve, Argyle, Vikki, Murray Baumann, and the Sinclair siblings’ MOM -

until she told him to watch his fool mouth and be respectful!,

and recently with Joyce AND Hopper at the same time, well…

“Why don’t you flirt with me?” Came popping out of your mouth when you couldn’t take thinking about it silently for another second.

Eddie took a guitar pick out of his mouth. “Sorry? Say wha- now?” He’d been focused on practicing guitar - percussive playing with harmonics or something... but now you had his undivided attention. He turned toward you on the couch, eyebrows up high - hidden by his curly fringe.

“You flirt - a lot - with a lot of people - but not with me, what gives?” You leaned into it, damage already done by bringing up this thing that had been bothering you. “You’ll just sit on Argyle’s lap, you’ll tell Vikki she looks mega hot, You asked Steve if his lips tastes as good as they look...”

You watched Eddie swallow/gulp and he rubbed his fingers on his thighs. “I can’t just… “ he licked his lips, “...say whatever comes to mind with you, I’d go too far... you’d get mad.”

“Try me.”

Eddie’s body language transmitted his reluctance - like a full-body whine. “I really can’t tho!”

“Ah.” You took a breath. “Because you just... can’t think of me that way.” You said flatly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed. I should probably go do some laundry or something...” You needed to get away from this situation. You felt too vulnerable, too sad. Too foolish.

What the fuck were you thinking even bringing this up?? Things were so good! Why’d you always pick at scabs??

“Nooo!” Eddie scooted closer, stood up, too, put a hand on your arm which stopped you from running away. “It’s not that. Look. I love living here. You’re really the only person that will put up with my bullshit, other than my Uncle. Did I tell you he used to sleep on a cot - the man is nearly 50 he deserves his own real-ass bed. And if you get annoyed with my bullshit, I’ll be on his couch and...”

“I’m not sure what ‘bullshit’ you are referring to, you are a great roommate, actually.” He was.

“You are a great roommate, too.” Eddie twirled a lock of hair around his finger. “I know it looks like I’m hitting on lots of people, right? But It’s not serious. I’m clowning, because it’s safe. How I feel about you... is serious. Real. We are really close and it means the world to me. So I don’t ask you if those lips taste as good as they look - and they do look good - because...”

“Because you know I’d say ‘why don’t you find out?’ and call your bluff and it’d be a whole thing.” You sighed.

There was a dreadful silence - it felt like 50 years passed, but it was probably only 7-10 seconds or so.

Eddie bit his thumb. “You look really pretty today.” He said, nodding his head forward like a little bow.

“So do you. For the record.” you informed him.

“This outfit looks great on you.” he traced a finger around the neckline of your top.

“It’d look better crumpled up on your bedroom floor.” You suggested.

“If I fireman-carry you to my bed, and call your bluff, you gonna kick me out of the apartment?”

“Of course not. I’m not bluffing.”

“Neither am I.” Eddie licked his grinning lips, bent low and plowed into your stomach, picking you up and holding your legs to his chest. He stood there for a moment holding you- until you poked him in the back. And then he laughed and carried you to his bed.

[lightofraye]

Aw… I think someone got lost and pretended to be benevolent in my comments, folks. Let’s say hi, shall we?

Hi! Yeah, you must be lost if you even thought calling me mentally ill was even a hit. Darling, honey, I’m well aware of having certain mental disorders—complex post traumatic stress disorder in particular, from having endured abuse since childhood. But I’m not delusional.

I’m not blind to the absolute mistreatment Jensen is enduring. And it’s not just me, it’s others, others who actually don’t have any mental health issues nor delusions that see it too. That alone eradicates your argument.

But then again, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If the points made cannot be refuted in any shape or form, then the messenger—me—is attacked instead. Most popular attacks is calling me fat and/or ugly or mentally ill (I’ve seen creepy psycho used the most to describe me). That tells me that I’m right because no one can really refute the points outside of “It’s just banter!” or “You’re just jealous and want to fuck Jensen yourself!”

I never once see anyone provide an example—particularly anything most recent—of Danneel saying anything nice about Jensen or to him. Even in his stories in conventions are almost completely about her putting him down, her “being busy” (doing what?!),… never a sweet story about a romantic moment together. Or a simple statement from her saying she’s proud of him.

Don’t like my points? I know they’re irrefutable. So just scroll on by or block and ignore me and the others. By supporting Danneel and praising her awful takedowns of Jensen, you’re being pro-abuse and should be ashamed of yourselves.

Danneel shouldn’t be pull Jensen down just so she can elevate herself above him. That’s not how a supportive partnership works. You support them and work on yourself to be a better person.

Danneel does neither. She doesn’t work. She has paid help for the house and kids. I honestly have no idea what she does in her spare time…. But it’s definitely not therapy, acting classes or being a parent.

I decided to torture myself.

I don't know why.

Her voice is just awful. Dear Danneel, please get vocal lessons. Bring it down an octave or something because fucking yikes.

A follower sent me this and asked if I had seen it. I had not. It was, after all, a fan compilation of various interviews of Danneel, videos, whatever. And...

How the hell do people stan her?

She's vapid, uneducated. Ugh.

Anyway... points of interest.

Throughout the whole video: WHO CARES ABOUT THE DAMNED HAIR TWIRLING?!

0:54: During a photo shoot I guess at a premier. ZERO chemistry between Danneel and Jensen. Jensen is smiling politely and wanting to get away as fast as possible.

1:00: Yes Danneel. We can see that it's a hallway. GOD. How insipid. Even Jensen was like "OMG, what?"

1:54: Uh. Danneel, honey, why would anyone else play Dean Winchester besides Jensen Ackles? He did not like that one bit.

4:14: Uh huh. If Jensen had witnessed some of it, why was nothing done then? I'm super-dubious about this claim. I really am. And how could he have witnessed it when he was likely filming Supernatural during that? Hmm.

5:55: Yeahhh.... had the family, but the steady career? Hahaha. Nope.

6:35: Danneel, honey, neither do you. If you expect me to believe you do any of the cleaning, I'm gonna call you a liar. You do nothing. Also, Jensen looked annoyed at the idea of so many bathrooms.

6:43: You are also not nice. I came across some old rumors about you, honey. You were awful, vicious, and the reason you got fired from One Tree Hill was because of your *whispers* drug habits.

6:55: WHAT IS SHE WEARING?!

7:35: The ever-changing face, proving that she lies about her plastic surgery. (Supposedly she claims she doesn't that many and I died laughing.) Also: "beautiful men with big egos"--bullshit, honey. You're the one who has the massive ego with zero to back it up. Plus she sounds as insincere as fuck.

8:22: "It's good. I love him. He's great." Insincere.

8:33: I'm cringing on Jensen's behalf. "Where the magic happens". And bypassed Jensen's wishes and insisted it not be cut--and guess what? It wasn't cut. As if they've shared a bed in years.

8:44: Ohhhh my gods. The brewery interview. Pay attention to Jensen's face as the interviewer talks about working together, living together--Jensen's done. And actually says "yes" to being tired of being with her. Danneel looked pissed. Ah honey...

11:43: Uh huh. The ring, huh? Gold digger.

12:04: The so-called flight anxiety. Whatever, Danneel. If you're able to fly without supposed help or therapy...? (No, getting drunk is not legitimate help.) You fly a lot, more than most "average" people. You take your kids. You go to conventions. You supposedly saw your husband a lot when he was filming Supernatural. You flew for your tidbits of roles. Then you're fine.

14:34: "Jensen's first time being in here." For the kitchen? Oh please! As if he never went in for a snack, beer, or anything. SHUT UP, DANNEEL.

14:38: "Nothing can happen to me, not for me, but for my kids." Excuse me, I need to shake some sense into her. Babe, honey, you do jackshit for your kids. They'll be fine.

Also that's not how panic attacks work. You literally aren't able to talk yourself out of it. Please stop.

15:36: "We're having another baby." That look your husband gave you? A deserved death glare because you knew he wouldn't like it. Stop emotionally torturing him, god!

16:41: I love that Jensen called her out on her lie about her name. I don't think she liked that either.

17:24: Ah. The insult about him smelling bad. God, can't she ever say anything nice about him? See the way he took a deep breath, braced himself? That's not a normal reaction to a "joke".

17:43: How can he not know women put perfume on their wrists and elsewhere? Translation: he never sees Danneel do it. Because they don't share a bedroom after all.

18:11: HOW CAN HE NOT KNOW THAT CHAIR MOVES?! Did the man not live there at all?!

19:34: Oh god. The doll. Honestly, Jensen should dump it. Stop torturing him with it! It's not funny!

19:53: Couldn't let him have the closet joy, huh? Bitch.

20:18: No. You're not nice. Nope. Not at all.

God. My eardrums. I'm crying now.

Danneel, babe, vocal coach. Please!

[dykedvonte]

Mini rant below and in the tags, the only time I’ll talk about this and my personal take on it.

The way people talk about hypothetical male Anya on Twitter and the idea of how Mouthwashing would play out if the genders were swapped makes me remember how people still don’t take sexual assault and rape with male victims with the same gravity, especially when the perpetrator is female.

[incorrectquoteswwdits]

okay banger of an episode

but there is no confession guys. You all literally got my hopes up saying it went canon I BELIEVED YOU >:(

[trees-to-meet-you]

Btw I’m actually a little behind on the pjo series so I’m only on like. Episode 5. But I’m getting to the end of it and I just wanna say I love Annabeth so much I love her and I love Leah Sava Jeffries they’re both incredible

[rouge-fauna]

I think you’re talking about these posts [here & here], I don’t know if there have been others.

I'm not gonna say what I did was right, you are correct I should probably just not respond to asks getting me to talk about other people. I will say for these two posts those people had already blocked me I’m pretty sure, so it’s kinda hard to talk directly to them in that case. And I was not doing so anonymously and had not blocked them so I wasn’t hiding what I was saying. I did not follow them, I am not part of the innitor community, and not that that makes it right but I do think it is kinda different. Though you make a good point, perhaps we should stop this pattern of responding to asks about other blogs and such.

Still, the biggest thing to me I realized, back in elementary school when I first dealt with this, was that honestly all the time we talk about people behind their back. Talking about people when they aren’t always in the room is kinda just inevitable and part of socializing, however I think the important part is how you are talking about other people. It’s when you are insulting them, talking negatively about them to people they know, spreading false information and so on that it becomes not okay. Hopefully that makes sense.

In these cases I merely focused on the lore. I didn’t insult them or talk shit about them, as a person, as a blog or say their takes were stupid or they are stupid or speculate about their trauma or mental history. I just talked about reasons why I disagreed, or saw things differently and why we might see things differently. They were also not the only ones I saw to say similar things so I think in my mind I was making more of a general discussion, not trying to target them specifically. I didn’t post beyond that about them. But you are right, regardless it was probably not the right way to go about things.

But just to be clear, if I am a hypocrite it is not my intention. I haven’t vague blogged anyone or meant to vague reblog anyone. I think this week is pretty much the first time I’ve ever been not naming, passive aggressively talking about blogs, and even then I’m not trying to insult them, trying to cancel them. I’m just expressing that before you go off about how I’m stupid and unable to have a discussion about it, the very least you could’ve done was give me an opportunity to try.

[umemiyan]

people will be like “omg body positivity <3 you’re beautiful you would be loved you just the way you are <3” and then criticize individuals who shave their vaginas