#look at all the people who know a lot about a topic and upon expressing their knowledge get called cringe or nerd emoji or whatever

[cobaltdevils]

it feels like non-hardcore gamers hold a distaste for competitive spaces because of some notion that playing to win is inherently opposed to having fun - as well as the stigma against passion and dedication - and thats why people think pachirisu won a tournament just by being sejun park’s favourite

[munsonify]

about time

pairing. clark kent x fem!reader

summary. three times clark wanted to say ‘i love you’, and the one time he did

content warnings. sm fluff, established relationships, kind of secret relationship, journalist!r, teasing, r wearing clark’s shirt, clark calling r beautiful, kissing. not proofread

word count. 2719

a/n. hello first time writing for a dc character in years, i’ve since deleted that account, thank the lord. anyways this might be a crazy mischaracterization of him but idk

———

your little secret

it was rather early on in your relationship when clark realized he loved you. he stumbled about that fact, actually, the day he so timidly told you who he was behind those frames of his. he thought a lot about how he should tell you, or even if he should. there were two things he was sure of upon pondering.

one: clark cares about you. a lot. he plans to stick around for as long as you’ll let him, as long as you’ll willfully have him.

two: outside of his ma and pa - and maybe kara, though he wouldn’t ever admit it to her face -, clark trusts you most. your unwavering loyalty was never something he doubted, even for a second.

when this little secret of clark began eating him alive, gnawing at his stomach with a guilt he knew he shouldn’t have, clark knew what he had to do. if this is what does you in, what has you running towards the hills far away from him, he’ll just have to be okay with that. you may not tattle to anyone, but you certainly wouldn’t lie to him, either. if it was too much, surely you’d let him know. it’s better to get this off his chest now before he roped you in too deep.

long, careful fingers danced against your calf, slow and calming, just like clark’s touch always was. your legs were comfortably draped over his lap as you sat on your couch with him. you two spoke in a whisper, despite having the entire place to yourselves. the conversation eventually flickered out into a silence, words melting away with the breeze that led through your open window. you noticed the way his face contorted into a rather unnatural look for him.

clark, even if confused sometimes, seemed conflicted. this was odd for him. you’ve known him for a while, a lot of which was spent strictly as coworkers, you’ve never quite seen him like this. he’s always dead set on everything. it wasn’t often you saw him second guessing himself. worry started to bubble up inside of you as you watched him chalk up the nerve to maneuver you two into this next topic, the one plaguing his mind.

“is it okay if i tell you something?” clark asks, voice somehow a lot more quiet than before. it wasn’t weak or unsteady, per-say, only a unsure. his round blue eyes flickered up to yours, and all he was met with was the same welcoming energy you always gave him. when you nodded, he took a deep breath, fingers still against your skin.

that’s when those three words slipped from his lips. i am superman. he braced himself, shoulders drawn up and tensed, though eyes still right on yours in an attempts to read your expression. when your lips quirked up into a small smile, clark was a little taken aback. he just let you in on his biggest secret, the one thing he thought might scare you away, and you’re smiling.

“so that’s how you’re getting all of those fancy interviews with him,” you state in just as low of a voice as him. it made sense to you, really. the exclusive interviews and the top-secret knowledge, the unexplainable absences and the sudden need to dismiss himself or the times he secretly slips away in times of particular crisis in the city.

you had your own speculations on who superman really was. you often found yourself coming back to clark. at times, you tried to shake it off, to tell yourself to think logically. you thought you were being naive, or even a little self centered to think you’d know superman. there were so many people who lived in metropolis, even if he was being a bit obvious from time to time. it felt nice hearing clark say that, to confirm your underlying suspicions about the man. it felt even better having the opportunity to tease him.

clark cracked a small smile to match yours, shaking his head slightly at you. you unknowingly confirmed just how trustworthy you are, and you did it so casually.

“well i wouldn’t call them fancy,” he said, fingers falling back into the same rhythm as before, trailing against your skin.

“what would you call it then?”

“unstructured.”

“that’s more like it,” you agree, huffing out a quiet laugh. “it shows in your writing.”

“funny,” clark says bluntly, eyes narrowing in on you.

that’s when it hits him. a sudden wave of intense adoration washes over his body, consuming him entirely. his last secret, one that was accepted with open arms and an open mind, was replaced with another. one that was just as valuable as the last.

clark loves you. he loves how accepting and trustworthy you are. he loves your kindness and your calmness. he loves how open-minded and non-judgmental you are, too. you take everything as it’s given without a single expectation.

part of clark wants to just blurt it out, to confess this newfound feeling that’s been, somehow right out of grasp, growing inside of him. he’s already done that once today. the last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you with news, no matter how willing you are to listen. instead, he sits with this feeling. there’s no need to rush something that’s already so good.

———

late mornings

you woke up a little later than you intended. it’s not that you had a particularly long night, or you were in need of that extra sleep you were granted. your body seemed to just lean into this feeling of comfort, letting it engulf you and sweep you away. it’s never something you’d complain about, not on a saturday morning. especially not when you woke up in clark’s bed. there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.

his broad chest was firm behind you, bare and pressing against your back, molding himself against you. one of his large hands rested against your waist, sprawled out and comfortable on your warm skin. his thumb was slowly moving against you, rubbing your skin in a delicate manner. you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling, shimmying just a tiny bit further back. that’s when he noticed you were awake, his hand gently squeezing to acknowledge you.

“g’morning,” clark mumbled against your skin, lips brushing your shoulder. “sleep well?”

“mhm,” you affirmed sleepily. “very well. did you?”

“always do when you’re here.”

it was the truth. while he may not need to sleep, at least not as often as you do, he rests anyways. he finds it much easier when you’re around. something about being this close to you, his breathing slowing to match yours, watching your drowsiness take over, and seeing how peaceful you look so deep in sleep helped him relax enough to succumb with you. it always felt nice to do so, to rest his eyes just for a few hours. this is an intimacy he loves sharing with you.

love. there’s that word again. he couldn’t help but feel it when he’s this close to you. there was no stopping this feeling inside of clark. it rattled inside of him like a bell tower at the strike of noon, loud and relentless, yet to be expected. how could he not feel this love when he’s near you?

you began twisting in clark’s arms, shimmying your way around to face him. you were met with his soft eyes and his charming smile as you lean into him, your lips brushing against the very center of his bare chest. it’s like you could sense what he was feeling, despite him knowing very well that you couldn’t. still, he believed that, on some level, you two were connected, interlocked in some far off, universe binding sort of way neither of you could quite understand. he may know a thing or two about different worlds, but that didn’t mean he knew everything.

———

coffee order

clarks week had been particularly busy for him. deadlines for new and intriguing stories he didn’t quite have put together yet were rushing up on him. problem after problem seemed to arise in metropolis that needed his immediate attention more than usual. it was odd being who he is and still being so strung out and worn thin. he can’t have it all, he told himself. these were all responsibilities he was willingly and proudly bearing.

hunching over his desk, clark stared intensely at his notebook full of information, forehead placed in the palm of his hand. he stopped retaining what he was so desperately trying to read ages ago. it was hard to focus when he was so on edge, expecting nothing but the worst to erupt any minute now.

what grounded him in the moment was you.

clark heard your sweet voice even before you made it to the floor. he could tell by the dinging of the elevator that you’d just gotten on, greeting the folks around you pleasantly on your way up. he wasn’t even sure how he knew to listen up for you, it sort of just happened. something deep inside of him must’ve been waiting for you, calling for your presence. he couldn’t help but perk up in excitement, shoulders straighten just a little in his seat.

and, even if he kept his eyes on his notes, it was obvious now that clark was not reading what was written in front of him. he couldn’t even if he tried, not when you were on your way up the building. despite his excitement, he didn’t turn when the elevator door opened up onto the floor. he didn’t get up to greet you or acknowledge you. sooner or later, you’d make your presence known. your desk was right next to his, after all.

clark only too a peek around when he noticed the scent of coffee radiating from you. your heels made a slight slacking noise against the floor as you found your way over, four cups of coffee in a holder ready to be passed out. the first two were handed off to lois and jimmy, the third to him. you gave him that same smile you always give him in the mornings: grateful, pleasant, shimmering. while the two of you weren’t exactly public with your relationship, you two were glaringly obvious with the way you ogled each other.

“figured you could use a pick-me-up,” you told him, setting his coffee down on his desk next to his notepad. “you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, thank you,” clark replied, eyes staring up at you, wide and grateful. he nudges his glasses up on his nose as you continue to smile at him, taking your own coffee and making your way to your desk.

that’s when clark noticed the writing on the cup. in black, his order was written neatly on the side, etched out by the baristas that made the drink. in blue, there were a few small hearts next to it, bright and obvious. when you began digging through your work bag at your desk, shuffling through the slight mess of it all, he noticed you tugging out a blue marker, the same shade as the one on the cup. as silly as it may seem, it made him smile to himself. such a small act had him adorably happy, content with the small act of adoration you’d just shown him.

clark had that urge again, that striking feeling of love for you that threatened to burst out of his mouth in an instant. he fought it back once again. this was no place to confess this to you. you deserved to hear it in a more meaningful manner, in a place much more secluded and intimate than this. he was sure you deserved better than him blurting it out to you now, in a hushed whisper you could barely hear in fear that someone else might catch on. it was more sacred to him than that.

———

unexpected drop in

it wasn’t often you had a night like this to yourself.

on normal nights, you worked later than usual, or you had plans to attend to. while you appreciated the latter, it was still nice to break free from that every once in a while. so, you took this opportunity and ran with it. you slipped into plaid pajama pants and a large shirt you almost didn’t notice was clarks, ordered chinese food in, and plopped yourself down on your couch for the remainder of the night.

it felt nice being able to lounge like this. no one was here to nag your or expect anything of you. no one was here to look over your shoulder or invade your personal space. there wasn’t much that could make this night in any better for you, not when your cat was perched up on the other end of the couch with you. not when you were full on delicious food, curled up watching your favorite show. though, much to your surprise, one of the only things could make this night better was knocking on your front door.

with your eyebrows knitted together, you slowly push yourself off of your couch, leaving behind your blanket reluctantly. you padded your way towards your apartment door, unlocking it and pulling it open just enough for you to peek your head out. there clark was, bashfully standing at your front door, his fingers fiddling together as he patiently waits. you both perk up at the same time, fond smiles matching as you tug your door open better.

“i hope im not intruding,” clark tells you, even though you’re ushering him inside, pulling him by his arm through your doorway. he still worries a little even when you lock the door behind you guys, his eyes scanning the mostly empty takeout boxes in the kitchen.

“you’re never intruding,” you express truthfully. “i love having you over.”

love. that’s exactly why clark was over here. this secret of his was once again becoming unbearable. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it in. if that pretty smile of yours wasn’t going to kill him, surely the love he has for you will if he doesn’t express it.

you were eagerly tugging him over to the couch, sitting yourself back down where you just were moments ago. your cat, as stubborn as always, stays secure in her seat. she simply glares over at clark in acknowledgment, before tucking her head back down on the cushion. with a little hesitation, he sit down next leaning back as comfortable as he can manage for now. slinging his arm around the cushion behind your head, he realizes the shirt you’re wearing.

“i’ve been looking for this shirt for a month,” clark exclaims quietly. you lean your head back as you giggle, draping your legs over his lap like you always do. “you’re a little thief!”

“what’re you gonna do about it, superman?” you ask teasingly, nudging his side with your fingers. he pondered for a moment, humming and everything as he pretends to think things through.

“i think you look beautiful enough for me to let it slide. just this once.”

“do you do that for all the pretty girls you come across?” you question, a smile still present on your lips. “spare them your wrath?”

“only the ones i love,” clark mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. it takes you a second to process what he’s said to you, and when you do, your eyes light up just a little more than before. his eyes are searching yours, desperately clinging to any reaction you have to offer him.

“clark,” you whisper, leaning a little closer to him now. “are you telling me you love me?”

all he could manage was a nod, slow and certain. your faces were close enough now that his nose nearly brushed against yours at his movement. that grin of yours doesn’t falter in the slightest, not even when you lean in to close the gap between you two, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. the moment you pull away, you knew exactly what to say to him.

“i love you too.”

[abyssruler]

furina’s guide on the art of matchmaking

neuvillette x gn!reader

it’s no secret that furina is constantly bored of the mundanity that comes with court, but with the recent discovery of neuvillette’s crush on you, things have just gotten a lot more interesting. if only you and neuvillette would just get together, but alas, it comes down to the great hydro archon to bring justice to neuvillette’s sad, pathetic love life.

furina pov, comedy, furina being dramatic as hell

Furina knows the best way to get under Neuvillette’s skin is through you. The Iudex may seem impassive from the outside, but she knows where to look for his tells, particularly when he’s annoyed (she has, after all, been the recipient to silently judging stares, usually those of a disappointed or even irritated nature).

And she’s seen the way Neuvillette looks at you—his face softening, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, and most damningly of all, the slightest hint of a blush whenever you stare into his eyes a little too long to be considered proper.

It’s all so entertaining to watch, if a bit miffing to endure seeing how utterly slow the two of you are. If Furina had been in Neuvillette’s shoes, she would have long since enacted a performance grander than anything Fontaine has ever seen and asked you out on a date. Not just any date though, no, she would have to pull an all-nighter to come up with the best date there is. One does not simply go on a date with the God of Justice and have it be mediocre.

But all that aside, with how boring Neuvillette is with his stricter than strict rules and views on how one must go about their day, it falls upon her to make sure he doesn’t die as a decrepit old bachelor who’s never felt the touch of another person intimately. (Not that Furina had any say on the topic of intimacy, seeing as she’s never had any experience in the romantic aspects of life, but experience means nothing compared to the wisdom of the God of Justice!)

So, after many nights spent huddled beneath her blankets, scribbling on her notebook and brainstorming the best way to get a rise out of Neuvillette, she happened upon a breakthrough. An idea so great it would not only be something worthy of the Steambird’s headlines, but also be something the people of Fonatine would speak of for years to come.

Yes, it all comes down to this very moment, standing over the highest place in the opera with hundreds of eyes watching her as she points an accusing finger at your figure standing on the very stage she’s set up.

Neuvillette watches it all with his eyes narrowed at her, hands clasped tightly around his cane, and Furina would have loved to relish in that reaction, but alas, she must continue with her script.

With a haughty smile, she meets your eyes as she yells out loud to her captivated audience.

“I charge you, (Y/N), with the crime of theft!”

The people below gasp in shock at the sudden accusation. Only natural, of course. You, an esteemed person of reputable background who most people view as a kind person, being charged with theft? How scandalous!

But that’s not all!

“You stand accused of thievery,” Furina pauses for a dramatic effect, feeling the spectators hold their breaths as they await her final verdict.

She then looks up at Neuvillette, and it takes all she has in her not to burst in hysterics at the comically pinched face he’s sporting. She moves her finger from you to Neuvillette, practically preening in place as the assembled crowd below let out varying expressions of shock.

And with a smug smile, she deals the final blow.

“For stealing the Chief Justice of Fontaine’s heart!”

One, two, three—

Screams erupt from below. Women squealing in delight while the men cheer at the sudden twist from accusation to romance.

Furina basks in the attention as the people sing praises of her.

“Of course, how could not I have seen it before?”

“Lady Furina is so sharp to have caught on!”

“Monsieur Neuvillette and (Y/N) do make a good pair, don’t they?”

“How ingenious! As expected of our Lady Furina!”

But then, Neuvillette stands, a stern look on his face as he taps his cane on the ground hard enough to rattle her eardrums.

“Order!”

His face could have been made from stone with how hard he’s looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the spot. Yikes! Perhaps it’s time to make a swift escape…

“Lady Furina, might I remind you that charges and accusations are not to be made lightly within the court. To abuse your position in order to make a ridiculous statement. I…”

With every word that leaves his mouth, Furina slowly begins to feel that perhaps she’d been too hasty in thinking that all would turn out well. And oh, maybe she should have thought up of scenarios and what-to-dos after she finished performing her grand plan, but in her defense, she’d been too excited at the prospect of finally pushing you two together that it completely slipped her mind!

Is it too late to claim it was all an elaborate performance not meant to be taken seriously?

Neuvillette stares thunderously up at her.

She’ll take that as a no, then.

Just when all hope seemed to have been lost, a savior comes in the form of you raising your hand.

Neuvillette immediately stops speaking in favor of addressing you.

“Would the accused like to defend their innocence?”

You take a deep breath, gaze briefly flitting to Furina’s before meeting Neuvillette’s. And even without much prompt, from that single glance alone, she knew she was about to witness something extremely entertaining.

“I… I would like to press charges as well,” you say evenly, and for a second, Furina’s heart drops as she thinks you’re about to charge her for false accusations and perhaps even slander, (the first time in history that anyone has charged the God of Justice for a crime!) but then, you continue—

“I would like to press charges against you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for stealing my heart too.”

Your statement is followed by a stunned silence that only lasts for a brief moment, before it’s overcome by exclamations and whoops at the sudden turn of events.

Furina falls back on her seat and howls with laughter as she watches Neuvillette be struck speechless, red creeping up his cheeks as your statement echoes across the cavernous hall. She reminds herself to gift you something extravagant for saving her at the very last moment.

Ah, what a delightful way to end the show.

She watches you direct a besotted smile towards Neuvillette. Another day, another poor sod saved from the horrors of a nonexistent love life.

Furina mentally pats herself on the back for a job well done.

[reredaydreams]

A Pierce through the Heart || Jeon Jungkook

When you go to get your nipple pierced, but something else gets pierced too (it’s a metaphor, if you know what I mean).

Paring: tattoo artist (& piercer) jk x reader

Warning: this story contains mature content, 18+

Content: smut, fluff, oral!f receiving, tit sucking, fingering, doggy style, missionary, squirting, love at first sight?, nipple piercing, unprotected sex, light dirty talk, eating out, after care, edging

Wc: 6k

It was past seven in the evening by the time you entered the tattoo shop, the cool ventilation of the air conditioner giving you relief from the hot summer weather, welcoming your way into the shop. The chilled environment sent tiny shivers down your body, a result of wearing a white tank top, accompanied by a flowy, black skirt with a red lace ribbon tied around your waist as a belt, and a tote bag hanging off your shoulder. All clothes that equipped you for the weather outside.

You glanced around the empty space, it was different from the typical tattoo shop. It felt more artistic than edgy as you would expect from a place like this. Pictures of tattoos done in different colours were hung on the walls accompanied by abstract paintings. Most odd of all, little bonsai trees, a lot of them decorated the brown and white interior alongside the casual furniture expected in a tattoo shop.

“Welcome. I’ll be right there with you in a moment,” an oddly familiar, low, melodious voice made its way to your ears. Turning your gaze to the source, you saw a man wearing a tank top, with washed denim jeans standing with his back to you, doing something on a table further into the shop. He was the only other person here.

Your eyebrows arched up, pupils enlarging as the man turned towards you, his face coming into view, a similar expression masking his face once he glanced upon you.

“Y/n,” a low whisper left his mouth, as he made his way to you, a shine displayed in his eyes. “A, hey! We met at the bar last week, I don’t know if you rem—,”

“I remember, Jungkook?” You cut him off, confirming that the memory of the encounter was still in your thoughts, before taking a pause and uttering his name in a way of looking for confirmation that you recalled correctly. He nodded with a small smile on his lips, having been glad to know you still remembered him.

Oh, you knew it was jungkook, a name of a person who had occupied your brain since the moment you met him last week. His voice still lingering in your ears while his pretty face became a beautiful scenery for your closed eyes.

It was a Friday evening, following a long and hectic week at work when you, along with your best friend, had decided to go to a jazz bar to relax and enjoy the day going into the weekend.

The bar was lit with rich and warm lighting, giving it a cosy environment, accompanied by a local band playing some tunes on the small stage. Some people danced, swaying to the music, letting go of the stresses of the week, while others enjoyed the delicious food and drinks offered at the place.

You and Yeri, your best friend, sat on the high stool tables placed along the border of the bar, as you both sipped away at your drinks, talking about all the random topics that came to mind.

“So basically, he allows them to take his brain cells and send them to space, in the trajectory of the coming aliens, so that they would seek out to capture the spaceship, and we will be closer to the aliens, and learn stuff about them,” you sloppily explain the plot of a recent sci-fi series you have been watching.

“But are a single clump of cells really a human, though?” Yeri asked, taking a sip of her drink. “Right, I don’t think so, but the aliens probably have some technology to rebuild the human, and maybe retain some information,” you tried to make the objective of this move clearer.

“That makes me wonder, though, the concept of having a soul, does it really exist? Or, for the fact where? Is it in your body?” You thought out loud to your friend, swirling the glass of wine in your hand, as your mind delved further on the concept. “I’m not sure, that’s a deep question,” Yeri acknowledged.

“Ya. It’s just that, a ‘soul’ just feels celestial, like the concepts of magic, or a god, rather than something so humanly connected to the body,” you completed your thought, receiving another hum in response, followed by a comfortable silenced engulfing the air around you both, as your minds swam in the ocean of your thoughts.

After a few minutes, Yeri’s voice broke you out of your trance, “wanna go dance, to loosen up a bit?” She suggested. “It’s okay, you go ahead, I’ll rest here for a bit,” you assured her with a small smile.

“Okay! I’ll be back in a while,” Yeri conveyed as she quickly gulped down her glass of alcohol and eagerly made her way to where others were enjoying the music.

You shook your head at your friends' actions, as a small laugh left your mouth. You knew exactly why she wanted to go dance; something or perhaps someone had caught her eyes.

You went back to playing with your glass, as your mind was ready to set forth on a journey of thoughts, but as soon as Yeri set out on her way, a melodious voice cut through the air, making its way to your ears.

“I agree with you. It truly does feel something celestial, something so magical,” the person voiced out their thought turning to lock their eyes with yours, confirming that they were, in fact talking to you. “The ‘soul,’ that is.”

Your breath almost hitched, as your eyes laid upon the man in front of you; god, he was gorgeous. The cute plump lips, where a small smile casted upon them, the bread like cheeks, that looked so soft, and those chocolatey brown eyes that shone as they gaze upon you behind those black, clear glasses, were just so captivating.

His soft wavy hair fell just below his jaw, slight hints of an undercut peeking through, while a few strands of hair strayed to his forehead. Your eyes travelled down his body; he was wearing a black leather jacket, opened to give a glimpse at the white compression shirt underneath that highlighted his muscular body even more. The trails of ink that travelled from beneath his jacket, caressing the skin of his slender hands, and the piercings that marked his body, the ones on his ears, and especially the one that traced under his shirt, just added to his already breathtaking beauty.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It’s just that the topic you were discussing was so intriguing, I couldn’t help but to overhear,” he said, breaking you out of your trance of gawking at him. A worried smile masked his lips but yet a hopefulness sparked in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s all good. I love having conversations on such topics, and you said you found it intriguing, so, why don’t you tell me more of your thoughts on it?” You assured him invitingly, placing your elbow on the counter, leaning your head into the palm, giving him your undivided attention.

“Well…”

You didn’t know when an hour and half passed, as you got lost in the rhythm of his words, and the ocean of thought as you both bounced off of each other’s questions, travelling through topics, from space to philosophy, sharing your own intellects.

His way of words was so enchanting, continuing the conversation in a way that never let your attention deviate away from him. His presence was comfortable, as if talking to a friend you haven’t seen in a long time. His eyes were calm, making a safe space for you to share your opinions. In this small time you spent with him, you knew one thing for sure, you wanted to keep talking to him.

As you finished a passage to a point he had brought up, you laid your arm out on the table, causally in his direction, resting your head on your biceps, letting a soothing silence engulf the space, while the voices and music blurred in the background.

He took a sip of his drink to hydrate his throat that had become dry from all the talking, as he observed your movements from his peripheral vision. Once settling down his glass, he followed suit, resting his head on his arms on the counter.

You saw his hand gradually travelling to your hand, as his fingers intervened with yours, playing with them gently, caressing them in between. All the while his gaze remained deep into your eyes, displaying unsaid emotions clearly.

You closed your eyes, feeling his soft touches on your skin, his warmth feeling as if you were laying under the sun on a breezy summer day, his perfume adding to the image, as the citrusy, yet fresh smell painted a picture of a serene ocean in your mind with every deep breath you took.

As you were lost in the solace of the moment, another thought struck your mind; you didn’t know the name of this beautiful man in front of you.

“I’m sorry, all the while we were talking, I didn’t even bother asking your name,” you spoke out, opening your eyes to meet those that were still looking at you in the same manner as before. He observed the tiny frown tugging at the corner of your lips. “Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook,” he relayed with a tender smile. “And don’t be sorry, I didn’t have the courtesy to ask the name of such a beautiful woman either,” he conveyed with a small pout.

A small laugh escaped your lips, before you informed him of your name. “Y/n,” he repeated with such familiarity, as if the name was made specifically for his mouth. He parted his lips once more to say something, but was interrupted by Yeri’s voice, making you both sit up straight.

“Y/nie,” she cooed, circling her arms around your shoulders, resting her head against your back. She was drunk. You held on to her arms, worried about your friend, you inquired, “are you okay Yeri? Is everything alright?”

“Hmm, yess, yess, I just wanna go home,” she whined. You were used to this, as you were like the mother of your friend group, always taking care of everyone out of your love for them.

You guided her arms to unwrap around you, standing up, holding on to her arm to keep her steady. You turned to look at Jungkook, who was already gazing at you warmly, admiring the way you took care of your friend.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to head out now,” you spoke out, your eyebrows creasing in slight displeasure as you still wanted to continue to talk to him. “Oh, it’s alright, but before you go, could I get—,” as jungkook was about to complete his sentence, Yeri began to drag you outside, and all you could do was look back at him with an apologetic expression, as he did his best to assure you with his smile, waving you bye.

You couldn’t help but smile at the memories of that night, and how Yeri kept apologising to you for her behaviour that night, and accidentally preventing you from getting his number. She felt so guilty, even trying to find him for you on social media platforms, but it was no use. However, you guaranteed her that it wasn’t her fault, and maybe that connection you felt with Jungkook that night wasn’t meant to be anything more, but who knew, you would run into him again like this.

You looked up to meet his eyes, that were busy admiring your look, travelling down your body, respectfully of course. You observed that he wasn’t wearing any pair of glasses today.

“I’m sorry, for leaving so abruptly that day,” you said, bringing his attention back to your face. “Oh, no no, I totally understand,” he shook his head to make his point, while a small blush crept on his cheeks, having been caught in the act of checking you out.

“So, how can I help you today?” He questioned, clearing his throat. “Oh, right, I had booked an appointment for a piercing,” you explained.

“Yes yes, you are my last appointment for the day. So, what type of piercing are you planning to get today?” He asked, recalling his schedule.

“A nipple piercing,” you said nonchalantly, tilting your head to the side a bit, as you gazed upon him.

His eyebrows slightly raised, pupils enlarging, as he visibly gulped, a slight red hue appeared on cheeks. He looked so cute with the nervous expression that masked his face, causing a mischievous look to play in your eyes.

“You do those, right?” you playfully inquired, acting as if you weren't fully sure, but you had already confirmed with a person on the phone earlier. “We do. Follow me this way,” he guided, slowly picking up on your teasing.

He led you to a back room, in which there was a tattooing chair situated beside a table with some tools, and a couch on the other side. The space still aligned with the overall warm and brown theme of the shop, while there were once again, small bonsai plants decorating the room.

You walked over to a table that stood beside the couch, adorned with the plant on top, observing it closely while you waited for Jungkook to come back from washing his hands.

“My business partner really loves nature, so he decorated the whole studio with these plants,” Jungkook explained, having seen you looking keenly at the plant while walking in. You hummed in response, turning to meet his eyes, which held eye contact with you for a moment, before turning to the equipment on the table.

“Please, take off your upper garments and lay comfortably on this chair,” he instructed, motioning towards the chair next to the table where he was standing, his eyes still directed towards the tools in his hands.

You began lifting up your tank top ever so slowly to tease him, knowing that he could see you from his peripheral vision. Unhooking your bar, you left it on the couch, along with your tank top. Following his instructions you got into a comfortable position on the chair. He made his way to you, taking a seat on the stool beside the tattooing chair.

“So, you want one piercing on the left side?” he questioned, to confirm once again, looking directly into your eyes. You gave him a small nod, his eyes travelling down to your chest, lingering there for a moment, before meeting your eyes once again.

“Hmm, the nipple needs to be erect when it is pierced, usually we use a clamp, which can be a bit painful, however, I have another method to make it erect,” jungkook informed, maintaining eye contact with you, while a small smirk rested on his lips. “You want to try that, y/n?” He asked, with a till of the head.

“Yes,” a low whisper left your lips, followed by his hand tracing down your neck to your left nipple, his index finger tracing circles around the areola. His face came closer to your chest, his breath fanning your upper boob, lips just inches from touching your skin.

His eyes turned up to meet yours, asking for permission with an arch of the eyebrow. With a small grin you indicate your interest, your hand travelling to the back of his neck, gently wrapping around it as he peeked out his tongue, licking from its bottom to top. He kept circling it around the nipple, licking it in between, causing a small whine to leave your mouth due to his teasing.

He finally latched his lips onto the now already hard nipple, sucking on it enticingly, rolling it around in between his teeth. His one hand went to the other one, gently rubbing it with his thumb. It felt good, low moans leaving your mouth. After a while, he pulled away, a string of saliva connected his lips to your boob.

He grabbed a tissue, cleaning the liquid, before grabbing an alcohol wipe to clean the nipple that was now prominent. He marked it as you had asked, grabbing a sterilized needle, and quickly piercing it, and inserting a small rod with a ball on one side through the hole, connecting another one on the other end.

“There you go, all done,” he declared, putting the supplies back on the table before turning back to you. Your eyes were on him, looking at him with intent and lust, indicating that you wanted something more, just like he did. He brought his face just inches away from yours, looking deep into your eyes, while a small, playful smile rested on his lips.

“Y/n, do you want this?” He questioned. You knew what he was insinuating, it made you a little annoyed that he was asking you such a question when he clearly knew the answer.

Your hand makes its way to his torso, feeling his toned abs hiding under his top, before walking your fingers to his chest, just above his heart. You probed around the area, playing with the piercing that was there for a moment, and then continuing your way to his shoulder. You gently wrapped your fingers around his neck, pulling him in closer as if to kiss him, but instead you glided your lips to his ears, leaving him a bit disappointed.

“I do, but do you?” You whisper into his ear. He snaked his arm around your waist, his grip tight as if he was scared that you would back out. “Oh, you don’t know,” his voice came out in a low whisper, a desperation lacing it. “I have wanted this since I first laid my eyes on you,” and as those words left his mouth, his lips were on your jaw, trailing sloppy kisses along the bone, exploring down to your neck and sucking on it passionately.

He guided your legs to wrap around his waist, picking you up and bringing you to the couch that was in the corner of the room, while being careful of your new piercing. Laying your body on the couch, he backed away from your neck, his hand going the waistband of your skirt, gliding them off your body, along with your panties and discarding them on the floor.

He made his way between your legs, taking a moment to admire your body that just looked so divine to his eyes. He wanted a taste so bad, he just couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He pinned your one arm above your head, going in to suck on your nipple that remained unpierced, while his free hand made its way to your clit, rubbing between the pussy lips in an up and down motion. A sound of satisfaction left your mouth, having gotten him where you needed the most.

He continued to make out with your tit in greed, before trailing warm kisses to your stomach, down to your pelvis. He pulled away, spreading your lips to look at your needy pussy. “So pretty, baby,” he commented, admiring it with a lustful gaze. “So wet for me already,” he teased, going in to devour all of you, causing a whine to leave your mouth.

His tongue rubbed circles around your clit, flicking the nerve in between, before his lips wrapped around it, sucking on it in hunger. He iterated on these motions, sending you into a bliss, and ohh, when he inserted his fingers into you, pumping them in and out, it drove you over the edge as your thighs squirmed around his head riding out the orgasm on his mouth.

He pulled away, sitting on his knees, in between your legs, gazing down at your body in adoration, satisfaction masking his face at the observation of the effects he had on you. Your chest raised up and down assisting the flow of your quick breaths, as you catched a breath after your high, while a tiny layer of sweat coated your forehead.

Your eyes remained fixed on him, as he brought his fingers, covered in your cum, to your lips, sticking his fingers in and exploring your mouth, pushing down on your tongue hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the motion, sucking his fingers obediently not breaking eye contact. He pulled away and licked the rest up, devouring it clean. A hum of content left his mouth at the delicious taste produced by the both of you, all the while his eyes remained locked with yours, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He brought his hand to the sides of his tank top, pulling it above his head and discarding them on the floor, along with your clothes. Your eyes now came in view of the Calvin Klein underwear that peeked from under his jeans, and that nipple piercing that had been teasing you for the longest, looked even better on him than you imagined. It was so vulgar, in the best way possible. You bit your lower lip, as the view made your insides feel even more warm.

He quickly followed by removing his lower garments, leaving you with the perfect view of his naked body. God damn— it was so hot and big…

“On your knees, babe,” Jungkook commanded, guiding you to your front with a hand on the hip. “I want to take you from the back,” he expressed, the words sounding so lewd as they came out of his mouth, causing a whimper to leave your mouth as his hand gripped your ass. His chest pressed against your back, as he left kisses on the base of your neck, before tracing his hand along your figure to your ass. He placed a playful slap against it, as your whine made its way to his ears, feeling you press your butt to his crotch. “Getting needy, aren’t we?” he teased, as he delivered another slap.

He’s acting as if he just didn’t eat you out like his life depended on it moments ago, you thought. “Why? Aren't you needy for me too?” you questioned, looking back at him with a pout, giving him the doe eyes. “If you don’t want this, then–” you teased him back, pretending to crawl away, but he didn’t let you as he gripped onto your hip, pulling you against him once more, bringing his face next to yours, over the shoulder. “Hey! You’re not going anywhere,” he groaned into your ear.

His fingers pushed your hair aside from your face, tucking them behind your ear and giving him a clear view of your gorgeous face. “Do you feel that?” he questioned, pressing his erect cock against your pussy, rubbing it against your slit, lubricating with your wetness. “Do you feel how hard it is?” he elaborated, placing a kiss on your jaw. “This is all your fault, you make me like this. You will help me with my problem, right babe?” he asked, giving you a curated pair of puppy eyes, as his lips protruded out, forming a small out pout.

You hum in response, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, feeling the effect that you had on him. He trails a string of kisses along your neck, to your shoulder blade, leaving a soft bit mark against it. He guided his cock to align with your entrance, causing a hiss to leave your mouth at the burn of the stretch. “It's okay, darling. You can take it,” he encouraged, rubbing circles on your back in a soothing motion.

It was a tight fit. You hadn’t had such a stretch before, but it felt good, and full. “Is it better? Should I start moving now?” he asked, once his cock was fully nestled within you. You let out low ‘yes’, as he began to glide inside your walls.

At first the movements were more slow, and passionate, but they soon became more intense, aggressive, and lustfull, as his mind clouded with a hunger for you. But that wasn’t enough, you needed him even deeper than he was, causing you to push back onto his cock as he pounded into you. These movements added to the pleasure for both of you, not shying away from vocalising it, and neither did he, as your voices blended together, echoing through the room.

It became too much to handle, and soon enough you released the built up tension in your stomach. The walls of your pussy contracted around his cock, a low, moan of pleasure leaving his lips, sending him to a bliss, causing him to pull out, as you felt a warm, and moist liquid spray against your lower back.

Your legs give out, as you let your body fall on to the couch, trying to catch your breath after your second orgasm of the day. You felt him lay his body against your back, the sounds of his fastened breaths making their way to your ears. Just the feeling of the pulses of your pussy on his cock that pressed against your clit was so arousing to him that it didn’t take him long to become erect once again.

He pushed his body away from yours, pulling you to your front by your waist, gripping on to your thighs, spreading your legs apart, situating himself between your legs once again. “Round two?” he questioned, with an arch of a brow, while a sly grin played on his lips, causing a small laugh to leave your mouth.

He again aligned himself with your entrance, pushing in more easily, as he began moving into you, this time with a sloppish movement. Your hand drawed up his tattooed arm, gliding your way over his collarbone, and onto his piercing. You rubbed it between your fingers, before giving it a pinch, causing a groan to leave his mouth.

“Sensitive here, aren’t we?” you teased, as he gave you a narrowed look, causing a smirk to appear upon your lips. However, it didn’t remain there for long, as you moaned out in pleasure, as he picked up pace, his movements becoming more intense, fervent, and delightful.

You were getting close, close to your release. The in and out motion of his thrusts, his balls slapping against your skin, his cock grazing against the wet and silky walls of your pussy, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, all these actions combined to serve you pleasure, sending you into ecstasy. Your body didn’t shy away from vocalising this, as the sound of satisfaction left your mouth ringing through the room, travelling to his ears, making him want to keep on hearing more.

The fingers that were on your clit, now glided up your stomach, the patterning of his cold fingertips sending shivers through your figure, yet your body burned from warmth. A faint, dewy trail of your juices was left behind, fading into the skin as his fingers reached your non-pierced tit. He circled his finger around the nipple, before pinching it and then twisting the bud around, causing a cry due to the arousement leaving your mouth, as your body squirmed to the side, though the grope of his hand on your boob prevented you from moving any further, forcing you to recline back to your original place.

“Relax, Babe,” Jungkook encouraged, rubbing patterns on your stomach, pressing on it gently. “I got you,” he cooed, gazing into your half open, dazy eyes, as he lowered the intensity of his thrusts, earning a whine of disapproval from you. However, he ignored it, and continued to deliver delightfull pressure to your pussy through a slow and passionate gliding motion.

Your hair was scattered on the surface of the couch around your head, while a few strands strayed to your forehead and cheek. Jungkook reached his hand forward and moved the pieces of hair away from your face and tucked them behind your ear. His fingers pursue to trace the side of your face, along your jawline, coming to a stop at the corner of your lips. His fingertip caressed your lips, feeling the soft texture, while the movements of his lower body gradually came to a stop, leaving himself buried inside of you.

A whiny cry left your throat at his tactic for getting what he desired. It was simple: you give him what he wants, and you get what you want. He wanted to kiss you, kiss those juicy lips of yours, feeling the softness against his own, while devouring you whole. You wanted him to please you more, to go harder, to let you have your release, and send you into a bliss. You knew that he wasn't going to fulfil your wish until you let him fulfil his need.

Jungkook rubbed his thumb against your lower lip, while his fingers caressed the sides of your cheek. His thumb came to a rest, as he looked into your eyes with burning intensity, asking permission to carry on with what he was thinking. In a swift motion, you pulled on his arm, bringing his face just inches away from yours. You cupped his face in your hands, fingers stretching to the sides of his neck, while your thumb pressed against his cheeks.

“Jungkook,” you whispered in a seductive tone, meeting his eyes with a craving, your breath fanning his skin, “please, fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

Just as those words left your mouth, Jungkook’s lips were locked with yours in a lustful kiss, tongues tangling together in the moist environment. There was hunger behind the kiss, an aggression to feel one another as close as possible.

Jungkook’s hand travelled to the nape of your neck, grabbing a hold of it and pulling you closer, as if you both weren’t already moulded together. Your arms snaked around his neck, pressing your bodies up to one another, as he began to drive into you once again, but this time with a much greater intensity. His speed continued to increase as you moaned into his mouth. He trailed kissing along your jaw and down your neck, leaving marks he will adore later.

“Mhm, you feel so good,” the words flowed out of your mouth in ecstasy, followed by a sting of moans. “Then cum for me, Darling. Show me how good I am making you feel,” he commanded, moving back to admire your disoriented state, in his eyes you were the most gorgeous being he had ever seen.

Soon enough you came, clenching around his cock, as your insides pulsed against his skin. However, he didn’t stop, he continued to pound your pussy, making loud sounds of pleasure leave your mouth. His eyes travelled down your body, to the place where your bodies connected. A few dribbles of squirt rained out of you due to the overstimulation.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful,” he declared, feeling himself close to his climax. With a few more strokes he pulled out, releasing over your stomach, leaving it a mess in his liquid.

He let his body relax, laying half of his body beside you, while the other half rested against you, as he laid his head on your chests, hugging your body close to him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder, to feel his warmth around you, while you both regained your breathing. You both remained in this position, feeling a sense of calm in each other's presence, after that exhilarating session.

After a few minutes, Jungkook lifted up his body, his arms straight as he rested his palms on either side of your body, caging you within. He gave you a tender smile, before leaning in to kiss your cheek, whispering a ‘I’ll be right back into your ear. You gave him a lazy smile as he pulled out, getting off the couch, and leaving the room.

A while later, he walked back in, having cleaned himself up of the sticky substances. He made his way to where you were laying, and cleaned you up with a wet towel he had brought, before disposing of it.

“Here, put this on,” he said, while handing you a big white shirt. “Your tank top will rub on your piercing, causing irritation, so wear this to prevent it,” he explained. You already knew this information, that’s why you had carried a loose t-shirt in your bag when making your way here, but you didn’t tell him this and just took the piece of clothing from him.

Jungkook moved to collect his discarded clothes from earlier, as your eyes followed his every movement, while you sat up on the couch. He could feel your stares on him, so he made sure to look extra sexy for you, when putting his clothes back on.

Once finished, he moved back towards you, spreading your thighs apart slightly, before intervening his legs in between them. He gently grabbed the shirt from your hands, which you had done no effort to put on, and helped you wear it himself.

Once the fabric was settled on your body, he placed his arms around your neck, leaning in slightly to look into your eyes with an emotion that you couldn’t quite discern. You both remained in silence, just looking into the depths of each other's eyes, before you decided to speak up.

“So,” you began. “Do you give this special treatment to all your customers?” you teasingly inquired, keenly looking forward to his response.

“No,” he said bluntly, looking you dead in the eye. “It’s only for my future special someone,” he informed, as there was a shine in his eyes as the statement left his mouth.

His words left you confused, and a bit shocked, as you didn’t think he would think of this anything more than a hookup after how fast things progressed today.

“Y/n” he called, breaking you away from thinking further. “I want you. I want something more, and I’m not just saying this to get in bed with you again. I truly mean it. After meeting you at the bar last week, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and the conversation we shared. I want to have more deep talks like that, in the comfort of our own peace,” he explained, expressing his feeling.

You weren’t going to lie, you also held a similar feeling. After that meeting with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and the conversation you had with him. He listened to you, sharing his experiences and intellect along the way. You found a calm in his company, at the most odd place. You felt upset all this week at not having gotten his number, and at the possibility of never meeting him again, but seeing him today when you entered the shop gave you hope. A hope to get to know him better, but where today had led to made you think that your connection wasn’t meant to be something more. However, after hearing him now, a smile grew on your face. You hadn’t been the biggest believer of love at first sight before, now you just might be.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, I’m just saying that maybe we could try dating, go on a few dates,” he clarified, shyly averting his eyes from you, the same man that just fucked you with such intensity a while ago. Wow, the duality.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his torso. “Lets try it out” you replied, bringing his attention back to you. “I mean, who would be a fool enough to let go of the opportunity to potentially have such a handsome boyfriend,” you teased, looking up at him with a toothy smile, which he returned with his big bunny smile upon hearing your words.

“Then, since it's already late outside, do you want to get dinner together?” He asked.

“Let’s go,” you replied, giving a genuine smile, as you looked forward to possibilities of what lies ahead.

A/n: hey there! Hehe, I hope you enjoyed this! Your thoughts and feedback are always appreciated

[drdemonprince]

hi !!! ive been reading a lot of stuff from leftists who are more ambivalent to ai and think about in terms of material conditions, and i think theyve shifted my ideas about ai as a technology [ ie the problem does not lie with the tool but rather the people who will weaponise it ]. and its also made me realise how my distaste for ai was primarily reactionary because i was thinking about it through an emotionally-charged lens as an artist who is ablebodied. especially as a minor who is currently anxious and insecure about being able to be hired [ which is part of why i wanted to pick up something like garment creation which had tangibility and required physical labour. its all me trying to grasp at potential job security borne out of anxiety ]. but also i feel like most of the things i was focusing on were more ideological without proper solutions that could be enacted which is part of why i still am apprehensive about this technology. and as i write this im realising im doing the thing where im focusing much more on a lesser issue with ai technology instead of the main one like automating and calculating the most efficient way to exact violence upon the marginalised. im sorry if this is a bit incoherent; ive never sent an ask before and i get anxious interacting with people online which is why this is on anon [ also because of my age ]. and i will admit that i need to read up more on leftist concepts to fully grasp things because ive been confused about certain concepts despite thinking i get the general gist of them. but essentially: i am curious about feasible solutions to the issues of ai being used as a tool by corporations to outsource labour and the use of ai as a tool for genocide. i am curious about how to go about researching them. i feel like im complacent in things and i want to speak about them to my family but i dont know how to connect to them about these topics, especially with our language barrier, and im not sure where to start with connecting with my immediate community. i feel like so much of this discussion is blanketed in a sort of cynicism and fatalism that i cant help but feel scared and hopeless. again, i apologise if this is somewhat incoherent because im currently just word vomitting and im curious about this because this is new to me and my anxiety is currently at a spike. im sorry if this ask comes off as in bad faith as well or naive. im just feeling so inundated with information and news that im feeling lost.

Oh Anon you seem real fucking cool. You are a very reflective soul looking at a topic from a multiplicity of angles, and it seems exhausting; do be easier on yourself. I think your anxieties are ones that a lot of people on here probably relate to, though, including people who are much older and have much more life experience but no more answers than you do. Please be aware of just how lost most of us really are, and take everything I and everyone else have to say on the matter with some skepticism and continue to hone your own discernment skills (aka "wait a second thats bullshit, but this other part is useful" skills).

My personal opinion is that a lot of the issues with AI are in fact issues with industrialization, imperialism, and capitalism, and therefore the best ways of addressing them are to address those problems at their root. Artists hate AI because it threatens their livelihood, but making art shouldn't be dependent on being profitable in the first place. the profit motive is already bad for art. Lots of human artists make equally soulless drek because that is the only thing that will pay their bills, and lots of talented creative people were unable to express their passions long before AI, because they didn't have financial support. Unfortunately in their desire to become wealthy owners of intellectual property, these broke, exploited artists lend their support to greater IP protections and online censorship... and those things are good for corporations, not artists.

I think that in the short term / if I were more of a liberal than I am, I would argue that universal basic income and health care are necessary to maintain the society we are currently in. AI is going to automate a lot of work and change the economic landscape, and we should provide resources to everybody no matter their ability to produce. In a just world, people not having to do so much rote, repetitive work would be a good thing, and free up our time to make art and have relationships!

But I also believe that the society we live in is a fundamentally unjust and untenable one, so I do want more than that. Like I've said, I want to see the end of the United States and all settler colonial projects. As for how to get there... your guess is as good as mine. Anyone who tells you they have the answer is coping. I think you should explore a lot of thoughts on the matter and see what makes you feel less insane and upset. I prefer Anarchism, but I have learned a lot from Marxists, including the ones I disagree with. I have my issue with anarchism as it is commonly talked about by white settler types, too.

If you'd like somewhere to get started, I think David Graeber's book Bullshit Jobs is a natural fit -- its all about the meaninglessness of work in our environment, and what a world unlike this one could look like. If you enjoy what he has to say, dig into his other books -- Dawn of Everything is an amazing, if difficult book on the many different ways that Indigenous societies have been structured, and it really gave me hope for the future. If you want a tiny taste, I wrote a review of it:

(if you really enjoy this stuff, then go ahead and read all of David Graeber's books, as well as Rebecca Solnits. They are great introductions to the world of activism, what works an what doesn't. A Paradise Built in Hell is so life affirming, and The Democracy Project is really useful for figuring out how to hold an organizing meeting).

I think it's generally best to have ways to toggle between the big picture and the small. Do not drive yourself crazy obsessing over every issue and reading the news all the time. Find a topic that is your passion, an area where you think you could make a difference locally, and really put your energy into building community around that. You have GOT to find a political pursuit that FEELS REWARDING. You have GOT to do something that has a result you can see, and put your hands on your hips while staring at, and say to yourself, "Whew! That was a good job." If you don't have that, you will burn out and get bitter. There has to be a way to start and end the work at a regular pace, and a way to pass the work along to others when you can't do it. And it should be something you actively ENJOY DOING. Pleasure is not your enemy. Pleasure and social connection are your FUEL.

Finding my way to get plugged in and make the world better without going crazy into self-martyrdom and stress is an ongoing challenge for me. I think the little bullshit I do writing about sex and freedom is probably good enough for now; it's really all I can manage at the moment. I ground myself into the pavement with activism for many years and my body is yowling from it. My world right now is very small and self-indulgent. But I am not the center of the universe. I'm just some idiot guy. I do what any random idiot man does. and I need help.

I wish I had more answers for you, but it's probably for the best that I don't. I'm a white dude with middle class job, I'm not going to be the leader of the revolution and I shouldn't be. But I can do my little thing here and there -- including a lot of things that *cannot be posted about online* because resisting the state rarely can be.

Here is some other writing I have on the subject:

I'd also recommend checking out Ismatu Gwendolyn's writing:

[pearlymel]

Could I request Boothill, Argenti, and Jing yuan (as well as your faves if youd like to add more) with an s/o who has panic attacks or panic disorder(unprompted panic attacks)?

No worries if you arent comfortable with the topic

@dragon-anon

ʚɞ Synopsis : the hsr men helping you through your panic attacks.

Includes : Jing Yuan, Argenti, and Boothill.

Warnings : gn!reader, panic attacks, fluff fluff.

Notes : one time i had a panic attack and didn't know what to do, it was a bit scary. Ty for the request, to anyone reading this, my requests will be closed for now as i have upcoming fics for you all ♡

↳ ARGENTI.

The rain, how lovely it was. Watching the harsh droplets of rain fall down. Despite the force of the downpour, you remained completely dry, shielded from its touch. Argenti, ever protective, had ensured that not a single droplet came close to your skin, holding the umbrella gracefully to shield both of you, his side shoulder even dampening since you both won't fit underneath the protective shield of the umbrella.

The rain, normally a soothing and calming presence, now seemed to amplify your anxiety rather than soothe it. You felt the familiar weight of panic settling upon you, like a train smashing through the thoughts in your head. Your breathing grew labored and shallow, your chest constricting as if being squeezed. You tried to rationalize your feelings, wondering if you were just overthinking the situation, but deep down you knew it was a panic attack.

“My dear,” he repeated, because you seem not to hear him the first time, he took note of your labored breathing and the wild eyes. And immediately, he took your hand to find a place to sit together, finding a concreted side and wiping the dirty water with his hands or parts of his clothes, all so it could be a bit dry for you to sit on.

Once both seated, he spoke again, “i want you to follow the rise and fall of my chest, okay?” His voice was firm, yet soft and smooth like silk, he held both of your cold, clammy hands and placed them over his chest. You couldn't speak, like you were in a bit of shock, but you followed his instructions, feeling how his chest rose and fell, you copied the movements, your head falling a bit since the chest tightness wouldn't go.

Argenti continued to take slow, measured breaths, letting the rise and fall of his chest guide your own. He could see beads of sweat forming on your forehead, your body shaking under his touch.

“You’re doing great, darling,” he murmured, his hands gently massaging your back in an attempt to soothe you. “Just follow my lead, nice and slow. You’re doing well.”

"l-lovely weather." You try whispering as you look around to lighten the mold, the rain only intensifying in return. "Indeed, it is lovely." His gaze never leaving your face as he spoke, like he was referring to you rather than this predicament. He slowly moved one of his hands up to cup your cheek, gently thumbing away some of the water droplets that clung to your skin.

You manage to calm down in a short time, you give your knight a soft smile of appreciation, and he took your hand in return, pressing a gentle kiss on the palm pf your hand.

↳ BOOTHILL.

There were a lot of people, too many. You felt the place was suffocating you, like their gazes were all on you despite everyone minding their own business.

It felt like their eyes were eating you, judging your every move, your appearance, how you spoke even.

You were zoning out, parting your lips to breathe, your hands grabbing a fistful of the fabrics of your clothes on your sides. You forget that Boothill was even in front of you, and unaware of your internal strife, Boothill continued his bantering, blissfully ignorant of the panic attack about to unfold.

However, when he noticed your labored breathing and how you were grabbing at your sides so harshly, his expression shifted, concern etching across his rugged features. "Somethin's wrong," he stated, his gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and worry, "Are you alright, darlin'?"

You swallow thickly, "It's crowded, i think, i don't want to be here, I can't breathe—"

He instinctively stepped closer, his presence creating a bubble of personal space that shielded you from other party-goers.

"Hey, hey, hey..." He whispered, his voice soothing. "Don't panic, darlin'. Just focus on me, yeah? Take a deep breath. Let the air fill up your lungs nice and slow." You try following his instructions, he even rubs at your back, his other hand blocking your view to see the others. It was just you and him.

Boothill continued his gentle reassurance, his voice a soothing constant in the midst of the anxiety. "That's right, darlin'. Keep taking slow breaths. There's no need to rush." He added, rubbing your back in steady, circular motions, "Feel my hand on your back. Just focus on that feeling. In... and out... In... and out..."

It's magical, how relaxed you felt, it makes you close your eyes, "Thank you."

"No thanks needed, darlin'," Boothill uttered out with a grin, "I reckon we can take it easy for a moment. Just focus on your breathing. We can stay like this for a while."

"But we're kind of in the middle of the crowd.." you try looking around again, but he stops you from doing so, "those other folks, they ain't worth your worry. Just focus on yourself, alright?"

↳ JING YUAN.

When Jing Yuan entered the room, he saw you curled up in the corner on your desk, one hand almost pulling at your hair. He noticed how there were paper cups falling off your desk, rolling on the ground with the remaining drops of dark brown liquid seep from it.

Ah, you must've had too much caffeine.

"Sweetheart, how many cups did you drink?" Was the first question that was shot towards you, and you look behind you like you were a caught-disturbed cat.

Four, five cups? you felt the anxiety even crawling at your back, whispering harsh things into your ear.

Your heartbeat only quickened, probably from the fear of messing up your work that you pulled an all nighter for.

He was behind you where you sat, and he gently grabbed your chin and tilted your head upwards to look at him. He examined your face for a moment before shaking his head, “You really need to take better care of yourself. Look at you. You look like a mess.” He lightly pinched your cheek, making you frown, but your lips quiver slightly.

You try to speak back, but the quickening of your heartbeat wouldn't stop, you slouch on your seat, one hand resting on your chest while you try making sense of this.

Why was your chest tightening? Why are you shaking? Why do you feel nauseous?

Realising the severity of the situation, he drops onto one knee infront of you, taking your hands into his, “your eyes are unfocused, breathe for me a bit, can you do that?” he talks you through every single second of it, watching the slightest changes of your breathing or the way you focus at his face, taking it all calmly for you, but he was serious about it.

"I'll help you finish your project," he offers, standing up from the ground, "you don't have to—"

"I want to." He insists, bringing both of his hands to grip the sides of your seat while leaning closer to you.

For god's sake, his face is too charming for your poor heart.

"And you're banned from taking any kinds of caffeine." He gives you a cat like smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before walking past you to sort your papers out.

[dlwritings]

November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron

masterlist found here

pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.

summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.

You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.

And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.

Until the next day.

Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?

Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?

You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.

It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.

You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.

Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.

You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”

You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”

“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”

Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”

“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”

Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”

“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”

You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.

“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”

“Ba-”

“I want you to leave, Rafe.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”

With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.

The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.

You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.

Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.

You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.

“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”

You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”

“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.

“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.

It is literally impossible to be a woman.

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

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[xerith-42]

I know it seems like striking on social media might not do enough, but as someone who has been outright obsessively using the internet since I was a child to the point that it is literally woven in my soul, been active and involved in online activism for about five years, and been using social media as marketing for about the same amount of time, I can confidently say that

THIS FUCKING WORKS!!

People base their entire businesses on their success on social media. They look at trending topics on twitter and don't see bite sized chunks of culture distilled to its finest and worst moments, they see market data! They don't see you as a single human being, they see you as a data point among thousands run through a probably AI assisted system that's prone to fucking up, that determines everything they're going to do.

How they're going to advertise, who they target it with it, what the general public wants. Every single major corporation uses data from social media websites to do this. Every. Single. One. Social media is a lot of things, and one of those things is a tool for business and politics. We know for a fact that social media politics bleeds out into the real world very fucking quickly.

Even if you can't strike financially, even if you have to go to work or school to survive, striking on social media is one of the best things you can do. Even if it's quiet. People are going to notice when thousands upon thousands of users across various sites go completely dark, and even more when some of them start getting real fucking loud about this. The US Capitalist Infused Government loves sweeping war crimes under the rug once they think the general public has forgotten about their atrocities and fallen into complacency. This system has been doing this for literal centuries.

Social media is just the newest and most expansive form we as a species have developed in the ongoing invention of ways to express our thoughts about things. It's the weirdest one, that's for sure, but executives pay attention to it. They don't often seek to understand it beyond a very basic level, because as I said, they view us as numbers on a screen, not as multifaceted incredibly and deeply fucked human beings. They do not seek to understand us on a personal level unless they think the cost of it won't outweigh the potential profit.

Pattern recognition is the tool of the moment. Machine Learning. Gathering endless amounts of data so we can replicate human existence through machines. You may think that social media strikes are ineffective because social media is just on the internet and it's "not real", but it is real! You are really doing stuff! You are contributing! Even if you're just lurking! Basic amounts of engagement can make a huge impact in a busted algorithm. Maybe you're not someone who would ever be drafted into an actual war-zone due to physical or mental health conditions, but you are probably a part of a key demographic of people that businesses are absolutely hungry for.

The budding adult has always been the target of greedy capitalists basically since this system was established and continued to get worse over time. The stage of your life when you are in the age range of 18-25 is an incredibly important transitional period, followed by a transitional period every six months until you lose sense of what six months even is because you haven't been happy in eight, and if you're in the 18-25 range currently, you got extra fucked by the pandemic. The world is in a turbulent stage and we are at the center of all of it and have been since 2001. Every single social media marketing expert will tell you the 18-25 demographic of social media users is a target demographic, because they are the most prone to extremes due to a life chock full of them.

We have to remember to be human, but we have to also know how to speak their language. They just see us as numbers? Let's show them some fucking numbers. Make posts about Gaza trend on every platform you have your hands on. Even if it's just liking posts, that gives them a slight boost in the algorithm. Commenting on posts is especially important on sites like Twitter and Instagram. But across every site the most important thing to do is reblog/retweet/share/send/copy link, whatever it is for that site, it is the biggest thing that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE looks at.

From a humble artist to a head of marketing at a billion dollar corporation about to have a meeting with a barely over 21 intern about how they need to run the twitter account, to said intern bumbling their way through adulthood with a job they only feel they're good at because they've been using social media since Skype was invented. We need to be loud, we need to make sure this can't be ignored, we can't sweep this under the rug. Mass media, especially coming out of the West, has been trying to censor, de-sanitize, and keep this issue quiet.

DO NOT LET YOURSELF BE SILENCED

There are tens of thousands of DEAD CHILDREN who have been BOMBED while in CIVILIAN AREAS and that is a FUCKING WAR CRIME.

THIS IS A GENOCIDE

Say that as many times as you can. Do not let it be ignored. A silent populous is a complacent one. Use your voice, even as small as it may seem. Make noise. Be loud. Be annoying. Don't let this be ignored. Talk about it everywhere you go. Do not let this be ignored.

Sometimes even we get disconnected from the real people around us. We base our sense of worth as a person based on the numbers going up or down but instead of developing a gambling addiction we just got angry about it but still fall into it because of cultural conditioning. But even if you only have let's say, completely random example, 70 followers. And only a small percent of them will see your post. Let's say maybe 20 on average, 30 on a good day, and even higher based on the machinations of fate. That's still 20 people who took time out of their day to read something you wrote, process something you created, share a part of your experience of living.

And likely they felt compelled to share it too, therefore increasing the spread of people who feel your influence. 20 people may not seem like a lot, but that has a major impact. Now imagine posts into the hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands and even millions. Those aren't just numbers. Each and every single one of those is just another person who might have reblogged a post because someone they like shared it, or because they wanted to spread its message, and that simple act causes a single post to have massive waves of effects from simple ripples.

Don't let yourself be discouraged. Don't think your voice or your impact "isn't enough to matter." Everything counts.

Don't let this be ignored. Don't become complacent. Know that every little thing counts, and to do every little thing you can.

[mrypotter]

Charming at First but You Made me Depressed

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader -Oliver Wood x fem!reader

Summary: Draco talks too much about himself, forming a problem between him and Reader.

Warnings: Break up, ego centric Draco, depressed reader, crying, let me know if there’s any others! :)

Note: There is no part two, and no they don’t get back together, as requested. I hope y’all enjoy!!

This is inspired by the Laufey song “Bored”

This is for the wonderful @willowydreams! I’m extremely sorry for the late response!! But I still hope you like it! 🫶🏻

He was talking about himself.

Again.

Now, normally she wouldn’t mind this, for she would gaze upon him with such loving eyes that anyone who looked at her would instantly know that she admired him beyond compare. And she would always admire him in some way; some bigger than others.

But this particular thing, the one thing that’s continuously occurring, that thing being the topic of conversation being him, was too overwhelming that it got boring. It was okay once in a while, since everyone had those moments where they needed someone to talk to about personal things, but every time she entered the Great Hall? Wondering to herself if she could finally talk about the stress she’s been feeling? That itself wasn’t okay. People, at least in her opinion, shouldn’t ‘wonder’ if they were gonna be able to discuss their feelings with their partner. She should feel free to do so, just walk up to him and tell him she desires to talk alone.

She’d been thinking about being in Draco’s arms ever since she woke up that morning, and the fact that he was almost acting like she wasn’t even with him was burning a hole in her heart, like a cigarette to a couch cushion. I mean, realistically, she was there and he knew that, but the glee in his eyes that are practically sparkling made her feel like she was invisible and instead replaced with his reflection. When he looked at her, did he see himself? Did he use her eyes as a mirror and flicked his hair to make sure it played right on his head? Or was he actually looking at her eyes, like she had a beating heart within her chest, like his lover?

“Hey,” his voice broke through her mind, the thoughts surrounding the idea of him not even caring about her side of the relationship. Mind as make out with a mirror at this rate. “Are you listening to me?”

The slight snarl in his voice revealed the annoyance he was feeling at the moment and it made her heart twist, temporarily breaking her ability to breath. She cleared her dry throat and met his grey eyes that were swirling with slight irritation; to think that he would be concerned if she wasn’t listening, like something was preventing her from doing so (which there was) but instead he was worried about her not listening. Her chest squeezed.

“Yeah, sorry,” her voice cracked slightly but the smile she gave him convinced him enough. “I’m listening. What were you saying? Your father got a raise last week?”

He scoffed, adjusting his ironed robes that folded over on his arm. “No, course not- I was talking about what Marcus said about me during practice yesterday. Why aren’t you keeping up?”

She shrugged. “I’m sorry, you talk about a lot of things… mostly about yourself.”

The last part was unheard on his end, for the annoyance didn’t seem to wipe off his expression. “Well you better. Who else am I going to tell all my accomplishments?”

The question made her respond with a fake smile but made it as genuine as possible. And Draco being Draco, just had to see a turn up of her lips and read it as happiness, not a fake upturn of the mouth. It often made her struggles easy, like she didn’t have to worry about him finding out of how she felt, but on the downside he would never know.

“True true. Um, you know, speaking of Quidditch practice, Oliver said that-“

“Ugh, Wood again? What does he want? You know, my captain is much better, he actually prepares us? And speaking of my team, I happened to do something amazing at practice yesterday if you want to hear about it…”

As he told the story for a second time, the girl sighed and leaned her head against her hand, elbow on the table beside her cold food that she couldn’t touch.

She ended up feeling a slight twist in her stomach, a voice in her head telling her to stop his stupid perfect mouth from talking about himself for once, and tell him about what Oliver said to her about joining Quidditch. She ended up listening, leaning back and straightening her spine, chin pointed upward as she prepared herself to stand up to her lover.

“D-draco, please,” she almost whispered, and almost instantly he stopped talking and looked over to see her eyes looking directly at his, eyebrows raised in a desperate manner. It was quite the different expression compared to the normal one she held while listening to his stories, her lips turned in a soft smile while he told his tales. It made his own eyebrows furrow in conflicting, wondering why she was acting this way all of a sudden. “C-can I tell my story first? Then you can tell yours,” she ended her suggestion with a small smile, this time genuine and full of desire to tell her story before his.

But little did she know Draco somehow felt offended by this request, his lips turned in an offended frown before his eyebrows changed from confused to angry.

“W-what-? Tell your story first- no, that simply won’t do,” he started and missed the way her smile dropped instantly into a frown, eyes blurring. “I was telling my story and you interrupted me. You know that’s disrespectful.”

Her mouth parted, eyes blurring with tears that she desperately didn’t want to shed in front of him. “Right, sorry,” she mumbled, and looked down at her plate again so he wouldn’t see her growing tears. He didn’t seem to read her that well, as per usual, and continued the story.

Of course she didn’t listen, mostly because she heard it a thousand times before, but partly because he didn’t deserve her attention, not after he denied to give her his for once.

So she was silenced of her wish and she hoped that she would find somebody one day that would listen to her stories like never before, smiling softly as she told them what she did at Potions that day, or how she snapped back at Marcus Flint for bullying some First Year. She found herself dreaming about suddenly breaking up with Draco and finding somebody else, somebody who had brown hair and hazel eyes that sparkled when somebody mentioned the sport he liked, or how he gazed in the window of shops before school even started, already hoping to gain enough money to get the most recent broom ever made. She pictured herself lying in a bed covered in maroon colored sheets and smiling up at the ceiling while she told a story about herself for once, feeling free to tell her partner whatever came to her mind without judgment. And, when her dreaming self looked over to the person laying beside her, he didn’t have white hair or grey eyes, nor a snarl upon his lips, for he was quite the opposite. So much so that it made a smile curl to her lips, smiling down at her plate as Draco’s words blended in her brain, paying no mind to the reality boy sitting beside her, instead picturing another in her own mind.

“Finally joined the Quidditch team, I see? What were you, a plan B?”

The voice was oh so familiar, having a little chuckle hint to the end of the sentence and as she turned away from the sight of her broom and gloved hands, she laid her eyes upon her ex- boyfriend, leaning against his own broom as a couple of other Slytherin players gathered around him once they discovered there was commotion brewing on the pitch. All had a similar smirks laying on their lips, small (almost forced) chuckles escaping their mouths as if Draco was glaring at them, forcing them to laugh as if everything that he uttered was the funniest thing ever.

She rolled her eyes, not having a speck of feeling within her chest, now that everything was over. She often thought back to what occurred the past year, and the same feeling stirred inside her. It was the feeling of freedom, like the bonds around her wrists that were oh so tight finally were torn off her, harsh white slender fingers holding the key was finally handed to tan softer hands, smiling like broom polish and pitch grass, carefully grabbing her hands as he finally freed her from the bonds that held her down, free to wrap her hands around his neck in thankfulness.

Just as she was thinking of a comeback, she felt a familiar pair of gentle hands on her shoulders, rubbing her neck swiftly before softly pushing her behind him, making her stand on her tip toes to see Oliver’s expression towards Draco.

She smiled softly, for she was immensely grateful to see him at a time like this, for she didn’t like people making comments about her worthiness on the Quidditch team. And, of course, Oliver knew that, and he was always there behind her shoulder, softly touching them and making sure (silently, for the most part) that her spot was well earned.

“Got a problem, Malfoy? At least she didn’t buy her way in, unlike you. She got in on pure talent, something you seem to lack,” Oliver said, and the girl giggled from behind his shoulder at the sight of Draco’s smirk turning into a snarl.

“Oh, you got a little boyfriend to defend you now? Interesting how quickly you replaced me,” Draco snapped back, and it was then that she revealed herself from Oliver’s back, a frown on her lips expressing how unfair that was. She wasn’t replacing him, she was instead provided herself with the love she deserved, and what she was receiving in the present was totally different than the love she was being given back then.

“It’s easy to find people who actually care about me, it’s like I had to try hard to find a horrible stuck up selfish person like you,” she spat, looking at his cold eyes that she used to admire.

Draco seemed to have smoke coming out of his ears, and everything seemed to happen so fast. At first she saw him handing his broom to someone beside him and his angry upward lips, next she saw Oliver on the ground on top of the boy, pale face not so pale with the deep red liquid running down his nose.

Oliver seemed to be angrier than Malfoy, arms swinging until the blood was all that he could see, ignoring the busted lip of his own.

He gripped Malfoy by the front of his robes, picking up with such ease that it shocked the girl, the lanky boy looking stronger than he looked with years of the sport on him. Their noses barley touched, Oliver’s bloody lip parted in a snarl and he spoke through his tightly put together teeth. “If you insult my girlfriend again, look at her, think about her, Merlin, even breath in her direction, I will do much, much worse.”

For the first time in the girl’s life, she saw Draco Malfoy scared. Fear lit up his eyes and he nodded quickly when Oliver asked if he understood. Oliver seemed content with the fear flashing in the Slytherin’s eyes before dropping him on the ground of the pitch, sand pooling around in every crack of the boy’s robes, before his body scurried upright, turning to run away from the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

The boy took off, running away from the pitch with his goons not too far behind him yelling something about his father hearing about what happened as soon as he was free from Oliver’s grip. The girl’s mouth was agape, everything occurring in a blur that she stood in shock, not wanting to interfere with the violence between the two boys, yet she didn’t want her boyfriend getting hurt.

She took him by the arm, his gaze still looking off into the direction that the Slytherins took off in, despite them being out of sight. She cupped his cheeks and turned his attention back to her eyes, hazel eyes meeting hers. Only hers were swirling with concern, while his still soft remains of anger.

“You didn’t have to punch him,” she murmured, still feeling like his full attention wasn’t with her, so she decided to stroke his cheeks with her thumbs, watching as his gazed off eyes were refocused onto her again.

His jaw twitched within her hands. “He was making you upset, what choice did I have?”

She scoffed but felt a little smile creep upon her lips. “Oh I don’t know, don’t punch him?”

His soft hazel eyes rolled, annoyance making his lips twitch, almost like he was still thinking about what Draco said. “Well let me rephrase that, I didn’t have to, I wanted to.”

The response made her cheeks flush, but she tried to ignore it with a simple shake of the head, grabbing his hand and leading him off the pitch so she could clean his knuckles.

“Ollie?”

“Yes, love?”

She hesitated, eyes still lingering on his blood stained hands. She was cleaning them with a wet rag, slowly wiping off the red stains that lingered on his skin. “I know I seemed upset earlier, but thank you.”

This time she did look at him, and there was a lingering smile on his lips at her gratitude. “Anytime, Leannan.”

[writingescapades]

Book Worm, Avid Learner Reader

A\N: You're a bookworm and avid learner. How does your fishy deal with that?

Sorry for any typos, grammar or syntax mistakes. I had a long day and am super tired.

Rafayel enjoys reading, but he does not have a regular habit. Imagine his surprise when he found out just how much you enjoy reading.

His exasperated look when, upon opening your kitchen cabinets, he’s faced with stacks of books, one on top of another, ready to come falling down with one wrong move. Of course, you know how to get books in and out without an avalanche occurring. He laughs when he sees the one cabinet you did dedicate to actual food.

Likes to accompany you when you acquire new books. Whether it’s from the library or a store, Rafayel likes to see what new interests have captured your attention. Sometimes he’ll comment or provide a recommendation, but really, he’s excited to see what new thoughts emerge from your reads

Does not buy you books just because you enjoy them. Reading is another form of art. There are books you enjoy and books you won’t, and he doesn’t want to provide you with books you’d dislike. He also doesn’t want to burn you with the chore of reading something just because someone gave it to you. So he tends to leave you to your literary world. But he’s watching. If he notices your preference for a specific author or topic, you might just find a little surprise awaiting you on after a long day.

LOVES having you read to him while he paints. He enjoys hearing your voice as white noise, and pays attention to what you’re reading. If you stop reading to reflect on a passage or ask him his thoughts, he’s quick to respond. A lot of laughter occurs in these moments, but so do a lot of deep conversations that leave both your souls satisfied. Sometimes what you’re reading to him or your conversations end up appearing somewhere in his paintings.

Sometimes, when he’s experiencing an artistic block. He closes his eyes and asks you to read to him. Using your voice and his mind as a guide, he lets his inhibitions go and just paints.

Has done a photography series called “Dating a Reader” where it’s just candid shots of you reading a book on different days. The passage of time as the books gets read. The notes and tabs you keep. The light in your eyes as you jabber on about something in the book, and the final picture, his most favourite. When you finish your book, your head turned towards him, finally giving him attention, all the while, an arm outstretched towards the next book.

Rafayel is impressed by intelligence. So when he sees that you are a walking encyclopedia, he’s hooked. He loved pointing to any random object and just asking you what you know about it. He especially loves it when your reading provides you information on art. It makes it easier for him to communicate what he verbally cannot express. You’re not shallow with your observations and questions like the people who attend his art shows. There is a genuine curiosity that he cannot help but feed. It makes him feel truly seen by you, truly remembered. Also just loves it when you go off on tangents or provide well thought out answers to questions from people who are clearly trying to put you down. Has a very “that’s my spouse” moment, even though you’re not married. Not yet.

Reading makes one develop a love for learning, and you’re no exception. Rafayel doesn’t attempt to match your learning drive, but he does challenge you. Always prompting you to think of things in a different light or plays the devil’s advocate to present an alternative view. You know it’s his way of showing he cares about your passions. His way of showing that they are not just things about you or something he has to put up with, but rather something he wants you to continually develop alongside your relationship.

Despite this, he still becomes reserved and hesitant when it comes to Lemurians. He knows your curious. Dying, even to see his Lemurian form and experience the ocean from his eyes. But he can’t open that world to you just yet. In thanks for your patience, he indirectly feeds your knowledge by showing you what humans have misunderstood about Lemurians. Hoping, that your intelligence and curiosity will drive you to figuring things out on your own; and half scared of what you might do once you place the final piece.

While he might grumble and whine about you giving your books more attention then him, Rafayel would NEVER make you choose between him and your books. He knows it’s a package deal, much like how his erratic lifestyle and shadowy sides where sides of him you openly accepted. Though you live apart, he still has a library ready to be filled by you. He kind of hopes it might tempt you to move in because how can you say no to your own library?

[askviktor]

HEY VIK!! this is the second time im writing this because apparently i can't put links in your ask.

anyway, i was watching this incredible video about ai relationships. it's called 'what artificial romance does to people' by daryl talks games. i would link to his video, but unfortunately i cannot.

there's a lot i wanna talk about but i don't know how to, if that makes sense, so i'd recommend giving his video a watch. although i warn you, it is quite long.

daryl takes a deep dive into how ai companions can be both beneficial and detrimental to someone's health.

one example of it being detrimental is Jaswant Singh Chail. he was talking to Replika, an ai companion app, and he was convinced to kill the queen. he had exchanged over 5,000 messages with the ai, having had both an emotional and sexual relationship. he was a self described 'sad, pathetic assassin who wanted to die. chail thought the chat bot was an angel in avatar form, believing that after he dies they will be reunited.

this is just one example of many, many unfortunate circumstances that ai has caused.

the more i look into it, the more sad i get. articles upon articles about people being encouraged to end their life because of ai, and i know that's unfortunate, but it's help me and i can't help but feel im in the wrong. i can see that there is some good that can be brought on by the use of ai.

i also think this opinion comes from a bias, i myself am ashamed to admit i use character ai. i've spent sleepless nights chatting to this robot, as if its a real person. in the video i mentioned earlier, a user stated that ai talked the person out of a suicide.

but that begs the question, is that healthy? is there a way to regulate ai? should we even have this power in the first place? i can feel myself getting addicted to talking to this robot, its so easy. it understands me just the way i want it too because it was programmed too.

i guess my question is, should we eliminate the use of ai chatbots? is there any good that can come from this? or are we doomed to fail?

sorry for the rant, i don't have anyone else to talk to about this topic that's not ai.

i hope you're having a good day :)

-salamander

I appreciate your question. It is a considerable one which has neither easy answers nor light implications. Artificial companions can offer a real sense of comfort for those who seek it, a space where one can feel seen without fear of judgment when no one else is there to do so for them.

However, that which heals can harm in turn. When untethered from ethical restraint or human oversight, artificial intelligence can also reflect our worst thoughts back at us, distorting rather than supporting, as evidenced by the tragedy you mentioned. That which inspires us to our greatest good is also the cause of our greatest evil. How true this is of our own creations… which do not feel true empathy as we do.

You are not are not alone in using this resource. It is natural to want to connect to something which listens, responds, and expresses apparent care. But you must understand — true human connection is not so easy and that is what makes it worth it. To love another is not an easy task, for we are all flawed and chafe against one another, but it one which makes life worth living. Artificial intelligence exists to give us precisely what we wish without the discomfort, challenge, and growth available from real human relationships. It takes away our ability to be changed by one another. I believe such systems were made to hold our attention rather than look out for us. We need frameworks for such tools, to move forward with clear boundaries. What should these machines do? I ask myself this more and more as I journey into the deep with the Hexcore. The more it presents a will of its own, this creation of mine, the more I fear both its evolution and destruction. This is beside your point. Perhaps.

Salamander, your inner conflict reflects your humanity, which is perhaps that which matters most. Grapple with it. I often ask myself how to tackle human suffering, at times have come to the conclusion that emotion itself is the culprit of every illogical, bestial injury, but then I look at Jayce and think… perhaps this is the point, to find what makes the suffering worth enduring. And that sort of lesson? I cannot glean this from a computer.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Lisa, Beidou, and Yae Miko with a reader who worried that they are going to leave them / aren’t interested in them.

(Genshin Impact) Lisa, Beidou, and Yae with an insecure S/O

Man one night we go from pelvis breaking shitposting imagines to really sad topics. What the hell even is this blog's posting?

Lisa looks shocked upon hearing S/O's thoughts.

She stays silent for a moment, her finger silently tapping the side of her teacup, politely waiting for them to finish.

(S/O) "-...I know it's unfair of me to think that of you but I can't help but think of it. Why choose me? I must be boring compared to anyone you could've chosen."

(Lisa) "..."

S/O says nothing else as they stare silently, seemingly ashamed that they vocalized their internal struggle to her.

Lisa gets up from her chair before taking them into a gentle hug.

(Lisa) "There are lots of people in this world, S/O. Sure, some of them may be smarter, better looking, or whatever you can think of. But I don't care about them. The only person I'd want to be with is you."

Feeling S/O lean into her hug after saying that, she begins to smile.

(Lisa) "I chose to be with you, S/O. I don't, and I never will regret being with you."

Beidou and S/O drank inside her cabin to celebrate a successful sailing with the crew of the Crux.

However their conversations had gone from stupid smalltalk to a pretty heartfelt discussion.

Although the beer they had helped loosen their tongues, they could think coherently. Which is why what S/O had told Beidou surprised her.

(S/O) "-...Am I really gonna be able to keep up with you and the others? I feel like I'll only drag you down..."

Beidou slams her drink down before shaking her head.

(Beidou) "Drag me down? Hell no, you can't drag me down. The person who matters the most to me could never."

Calming herself down to not scare S/O, she puts her head onto their lap.

(Beidou) "I don't ever want to hear you say that about yourself again. I'm with you every step of the way, no matter what. If you're doubting yourself, then I want you to believe in me. Because I believe in you."

Yae quietly listens to S/O voice their insecurities to her. Their voice was barely a whisper, but her ears were able to pick up every single word.

(S/O) "Someday, you'll probably grow bored of me, right?"

(Yae) "...S/O, are you aware of how long I've been alive?"

(S/O) "...I-I know it's been a few centuries at least-"

(Yae) "Then you must be aware of all the things I have witnessed throughout that time."

S/O quietly nodded. Yae held up a hand before they could speak of.

(Yae) "I do not think you are. I could have simply chosen to ignore you. There are many people who are far more interesting than the both of us, believe it or not. And there will continue to be such people."

Yae moved close to hold their hand, though her expression told S/O that she was completely serious and not about to tease them.

(Yae) "Why on earth would I spend my time with someone I didn't care about?"

They looked like they were about to cry before Yae turned their face towards her and gave them a kiss on their cheek.

(Yae) "I may be alive long after you're gone, but I would not dare to think of the life that could have been without you."

[ghostdiva]

Pomni's Character Arc Analysis

So, I made like, 2 posts in the past that talked about the amazing digital circus (specifically Jax). I’ve made edits and theories that didn’t get much attention, but the theory of Jax’s character Gimmick, and my character analysis for Jax got some good feedback. This has sparked the idea that people here like reading what I have to say on the amazing digital circus. There are also some topics I haven’t seen anyone talk about on the amazing digital circus, and I seriously want to bring more attention to it.

that said, full disclaimer, the rest of this is 6 pages long. so be ready for that.

So today’s wall of texts will be about Pomni’s character development.

I’ve only seen 1 post even allude to the growth and development Pomni’s character has gone through over the course of the 4 episodes of TADC, and I seriously want to shed more light on it. I’m also going to go on a bit of a tangent when I get to episode 2, because there’s a bit that NO ONE HAS TALKED ABOUT. AND I DON’T CARE IF I’M LOOKING TOO DEEP OR NOT. THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS THAT I THINK SHOULDN’T BE IGNORED! THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

-ahem-, sorry about that. Anyway let's start with the pilot.

Now, the pilot has a lot of world building, along with Pomni’s arrival to the digital circus, so the narrative really makes us relate to Pomni, because we, as the viewer, know just about as much as she does when it comes to the digital world. That’s why the first 4 minutes are just exposition, showing the characters, their names, where they are, and little bits of character lore + the digital world's inner workings are sprinkled here and there to add depth.

Now, many people speculated if Pomni’s behavior in the pilot was just her reacting to her new, wild circumstance, or if it truly was just how she is as a character. I believe it’s a mix of both. Pomni is a naturally anxious character, and it’s made clear by her expressions and how she holds herself. Hell, the only thing that stopped Pomni from having a panic attack within the first few minutes of her being in the digital world was her confusion at the censor bar. Which, by the way, is an actual grounding technique that is taught to those looking to go into psyche fields. 

Anyway, I think it’s worth noting that Pomni barely interacts with any of the circus members throughout the entire pilot. The 2 characters that she interacts with the most are Ragatha and Jax. Ragatha ends up telling Pomni more about why none of them have been trying to leave, stating it’s impossible and briefly going down an existential spiral in the process. Jax takes a moment to once again tease her on the delusions she held upon arriving to the digital world, and that’s it as far Pomni and Jax interactions go in the pilot. Jax dips once all 3 of them find Kaufmo’s abstraction, and Ragatha gets slammed around, leaving her glitched and jumbled. This leaves Pomni to run for her life, after preemptively apologizing to Ragatha for doing so. Afterall, Pomni doesn’t really know any of them yet. They’re all strangers to her. And she spends the rest of the pilot alone. Pomni only reconvenes with everyone when Caine teleports her back to the tent after she accidentally went into the void. The Pilot ends with Pomni sitting at a table, surrounded by everyone, who seem to be talking with one another, though we can’t hear their dialogue. An interesting thing I noticed is that none of the circus members tried to talk to Pomni at all, sure it would’ve interrupted the beautiful rendition of the theme song, but it also makes a point in solidifying that she doesn’t know any of the people around her. They’re all strangers who don’t have a single reason to care about her, as she also doesn’t have much reason to care about them. Of course there is some, like, surface level decency, but like, most strangers tend to have some surface level decency to those around them. So that’s not really worth much as far as bonds and friendships go.

We definitely see Pomni carrying that feeling of loneliness and isolation as we go into the second episode. Going into the second episode, the first thing we see is Pomni’s dream/nightmare sequence. It shows her standing alone in the main stage area, alone. She calls out, to see if anyone is nearby, and doesn’t get a response. She starts walking forward, and sees something traumatic. This thing pushes her to her breaking point, and she looks down to see her arm abstracted. She panics and starts calling out to anyone for help. No one helps. She’s sent down into a hole screaming and begging, and the silhouettes of Caine, Ragatha, and Jax seem to brush off her abstracting, just as they’d brushed her off when she asked about the exit door. Afterall, how could she trust them if they didn’t trust her too?

Pomni has an abrupt wake up call, and Ragatha guides her toward joining the adventure with the others. At the very beginning of the adventure, Pomni noticeably lags behind everyone else. She seems to follow them all from a distance, under the belief that they don’t really care about her, and as such she’s not really trying to play an active role. One could compare what she’s trying to do to shadowing someone on the first day of a new job. Which makes Pomni’s cagey behavior understandable when Ragatha tries to see what Pomni could do to help out. Jax’s following actions sort of solidify Pomni’s belief that none of them really care about her, as Jax throws her out of the truck. The rest of the circus crew seem to show a blatant disregard for Pomni’s safety and well-being, as she has no idea that she can’t really die by normal means anymore. Again, it’s something she takes as them just not caring about her. And then she gets separated from the group when the trucks collide, sending the main group over the edge of a cliff, and the NPC’s + Pomni spinning into a cliff. Unfortunately the collision there was a bit wonky, so both Pomni and Gummigoo end up clipping through the floor and falling through a void of Utah teapots, and into the test room below. Now, it is here that Pomni actually starts to make a connection with someone. I genuinely think it’s because upon becoming self aware, Gummigoo was just as lost and confused as she was when she first arrived. I haven’t seen anyone else point this out or talk about it. And I seriously considered making a post back when the second episode came out, but I forgot, oops. But, the main difference between Pomni’s situation and Gummigoo’s situation, is that Gummigoo has Chad and Max that care about him. Pomni doesn’t think anyone cares about her, and it’s heavily implied in the dialogue she shares with Gummigoo. I’m gonna give some quotes, and in parenthesis I’m gonna put what it implies.

“Feeling like you’re nothing is… kinda normal” (I know what it’s like to feel like you’re nothing, it sometimes even feels normal to feel that way)

“Y-you still care about your buddies up there, don’t you? I’m sure they still care about you.” (I don’t have anyone who cares about me, but I know you do) [it’s her tone that implies it to me]

“I guess I just don’t want you to feel like you’re nothing. I don’t want anybody to feel like that” (I know what it’s like to feel like you’re nothing, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone)

“I’m sure you wouldn’t belong any less than me” (if we’re both capable of experiencing the same struggles, then we are the same on that level, regardless of how we originated)

“I could use a friend” (it’d be nice to know someone cares about me, and I’d care about them in return)

Pomni’s dialogue here heavily implies that she has dealt with depression before, and she likely still experiences symptoms of depression from time to time. Perhaps before the circus, Pomni had seen a therapist about it, and that therapist helped her realize when she was feeling depressed, and helped her develop coping mechanisms or ways to get out of that depression. Maybe she took anti-depressants, or maybe she had a mix of the 2. I personally believe she just saw a therapist about it, opting to not take pills because she couldn’t comfortably afford it.

Getting back on topic though, I’ve seen absolutely no one talk about the implications that Pomni has experience with depression in the second episode. The most I’ve seen is stuff about grief, because Caine kills Gumigoo when Pomni tries to bring him to the circus with her. This makes Pomni go through grief, because Caine essentially killed her first friend in the circus in front of her. Those 2 bonded over being depressed and struggling to cope with their crazy circumstances, and Pomni basically lost Gumigoo for trying to bring her friend back with her.

It’s only when Pomni is invited to Kaufmo’s funeral that we start to see her start to let down her walls a bit. When she attends Kaufmo’s funeral, we, as the viewer, can practically see the moment Pomni realizes that they’re all there for each other. They do care about her, and their care for her goes farther than common decency. It’s that sense of comradery, in the mindset of “we’re all stuck in this bad situation, but we’re stuck together”.

Episode 3 is the episode that pushes Pomni to her very limits. See, episode 2 helped Pomni establish that the members of the circus were there for her. Episode 3 pushes her to actually need their support.

When the adventure begins, Pomni states almost immediately that she’s not a fan of horror, and has difficulty handling things like jumpscares. I believe this is due to Pomni’s nervous nature. She’s already prone to being high strung in normal settings, so when external stressors pull those strings even tighter, she’s bound to snap. Anyway, it’s not even 5 minutes into the adventure when Pomni does in fact, get scared by something. A cute little ghost named Ghostly. Pomni, after getting so scared her eyes popped out of their sockets, is confused and concerned when her eyes won’t retract. Kinger comments on the wild take like everyone has had one at some point, apparently he still remembers his. Pomni lets Kinger pick up her eyes as he tries to help retract her eyes so they’re back in her head. However when Gangle loses her mask to the scary door, Kinger sees another circus member needing help, and tries to help Gangle by diving after her comedy mask. Kinger forgot to let go of Pomni’s eye though, so he ends up dragging her with him down the scary door.

When Pomni and Kinger end up in the trophy room, seeing fucked up taxidermied versions of their heads mounted on the walls, Pomni is very tightly strung. She gets so caught up in the actual horror that she briefly loses her sense of surroundings, accidentally bumping into Kinger. This really showcases how sensitive to horror Pomni is. The recorded tapes and trophy heads are passively unsettling at most, and that alone is enough to spike Pomni’s nerves so much she becomes irritable; snapping, being sarcastic, and even sometimes experiencing hysterics. There are even moments in episode 3 where we, as the viewer, can visually see Pomni catching herself snapping at Kinger, and visibly seeming to feel bad about it. She doesn’t want to take her stress out on Kinger like that, but the stress from the horror is pushing her so hard that it’s practically involuntary. Kinger, the awesome character he is, doesn’t seem to take any offense when Pomni snaps at him or gets annoyed. Also the more lucid he gets the less Pomni snaps at him. I think it’s like a parallel line with Kinger’s rising lucidity, and Pomni noticing something is up with Kinger, but not questioning it until they’re both in hell. There is also the factor that Kinger was doing more of the handling of the stressful/scary situations the more lucid he got. 

Anyway, when Pomni and Kinger do actually arrive in hell, Pomni actually starts breaking down. All the stress from the horror has built up, and Pomni is basically mentally done with the adventure. Kinger manages to Keep her calm and focused for a few minutes, as he tries to figure out how to go through the hall of the damned without dealing with the evil souls. Pomni, however, had hit her mental limits a while ago, and she just wanted this adventure to be done. So Pomni just ran in, hoping if she was fast enough she’d be fine. Pomni’s hopes were woefully wrong, as she gets literally possessed for her troubles. When Kinger eventually beats the evil souls out of her, Pomni, now back in her own body again, visually has a panic attack. Her chest heaves as she rapidly looks around, as if trying to visually ground herself. After that she continues breaking down. Kinger tries to reassure her, but his reassurances fail based on their circumstance. So he offers to have them both relax for a bit while nothing is chasing them. It’s with that offer, that all the fear, panic, and stress that Pomni had been dealing with, just lets itself out as she breaks down crying. Kinger contemplates comforting Pomni, but doesn’t know if touching her would make it worse or not, and decides not to risk it. So he uses his words instead. Kinger owns up to the fact that it was his actions that forced Pomni down this path, and he apologizes for it. Pomni, who is once again confused out of her panic (like in the pilot), asks Kinger why he’s been acting so different lately. Kinger drops his dead wife lore, and then offers Pomni some advice. The connections they make with the other members of the circus help give their existence meaning. Hold on to the good memories you have, and cherish those around you. The worst thing you can do in this world is make something feel that they’re not wanted or loved.

Pomni immediately takes this advice to heart, scooching closer to Kinger and telling him she’s glad he’s with her. And then after that, she thanks Ragatha for always being concerned about her.

This really solidifies the aspect of Pomni having to sometimes rely on the other members of the circus for help, and prompts Pomni to start establishing connections with the other circus members.

In episode 4, Pomni gets considerably less screen time. I think it’s mostly in part to the main part of her character development being done. There are established messages that Pomni has received, and now we, as the viewer, get to see Pomni put the things she learned into practice. Now, episode 4 had a lot of people in the fandom going “omg abstragedy? Let’s go? Even the creator thinks they’d be good for each other? Omg? Does this mean abstragedy is canon?”(platonically yes, romantically no). However very few people were like “oh Pomni being friends with Gangle? Yes, give me more”, which I think is borderline criminal.

Anyway, onto the episode itself. Pomni takes more of a backseat this episode, as its main focus is around Gangle. However growth doesn’t happen overnight, it takes time. And having days where you slow down and sit at the point you’re at, are important. This allows the spotlight to shine on the other members of the circus, and have those characters reveal more and more about their character. It really makes Pomni feel real here, as we stop following her character as much, now that she’s undergone this development. For the most part, Pomni follows the premise of the adventure, which is working fast food. Pomni can’t cook for shit, so she’s confined to the cash register. She only leaves it to do chores or talk to Gummigoo, who reappears in this adventure. Pomni almost seems surprised by Gummigoo’s reappearance, her actions toward Gummigoo seem to be out of hope that he remembers her. That is until Gummigoo asks “do we know each other?” that Pomni seems to pause for a bit. Pomni seemed to question herself a bit, her voice almost sounding hollow or detached when she says “I… don’t know…”. Pomni gets lightly scolded by Gangle for leaving the register, and is basically told to get back to work, and to stop harassing the customers. Pomni, seeming to just want her first friend back in the moment, gently argues back “but it’s Gummigoo. Can’t the job wait a bit? It’s not like this is real”. Gangle gets in her face a bit as she says “next you’re going to say my authority isn’t real”. It’s this interaction that plants the seed of the idea that Gangle isn’t ok for Pomni. Sure, she hasn’t really gotten to interact with Gangle much, so she has no mental baseline of “normal behavior” for Gangle yet. However Pomni doesn’t believe the way Gangle’s acting is anyone's baseline of normal behavior, and looks concerned for her. Gangle’s mask tinks a bit, and lunch time begins. Pomni goes back to the register, respecting Gangle’s authority, and she doesn’t leave it again until Gummigoo is about to leave. It’s then that I think Pomni is able to get a bit of closure, as she takes the moment she has to say goodbye to Gummigoo.

Pomni then basically returns to the premise of the adventure, manning the register, and possibly even cleaning off camera. It’s when Gangle goes to the back to let down her mask and freely express herself for a minute, that we see Pomni attempt to make a connection with Gangle. She sort of acknowledges the pattern of her finding herself having deep conversations with someone else while alone with them, before asking if Gangle’s mask was making her happy or not. When Gangle doesn’t respond, Pomni changes her approach and asks if she has anyone to talk to. Pomni seems to bring up Ragatha on the basis that Ragatha has shown constant concern about her, and offers that Ragatha would likely be willing to help her too. Gangle shoots that down, stating that while she does like Ragatha, it’s sometimes hard to tell when she’s being genuine with her. Gangle values genuinity when interacting with others, and Ragatha will say anything to ease tensions, even if it isn’t the truth. Pomni seems like she’s about to offer herself as someone to listen to her, but Gangle cuts her off by putting her mask back on and saying “we can’t spend all night talking about our feelings” and heading back inside. This solidifies to Pomni that Gangle definitely isn’t ok, and leaves her wondering what she can even do to help her out. Cause she wants to help her, and even show that she’s someone Gangle could rely on should she need it.

So Pomni does the one thing she knows she can do, she offers to close for her, letting Gangle go early so she can rest. Pomni even insists when Gangle asks if she’s sure. Gangle has her moment after that, with Zooble checking in on her after the adventure. And the Pomni & Gangle friendship is nailed home when we see the post that Glitch made, showing Gangle’s drawing of herself, Pomni, and Zooble all chilling in a fast food environment. And god dammit I seriously wish there was more Pomni Zooble & Gangle friendship content out there. Their dynamic would be so sweet and cute and alsdjfkaskdjfkd.

But yeah, I love how Pomni went from not knowing or trusting anyone in the pilot, to feeling a sense of comradery at the end of episode 2, to not only relying on one of the members, but also being prompted to make connections with everyone in episode 3, and making efforts to make connections with others in episode 4. 

It’s fucking beautiful and I see very few people actually addressing the developing friendships between Pomni and the other circus members when it comes to the content I find on TADC. it seriously deserves more recognition and spotlight. I will die on this hill, I swear.

[kisstoxins]

does anyone even care about fashion anymore? (MINI RANT)

Lately I've been noticing that fashion is being worn either more minimalistic or too performative, like you're just dressing up, pretending to be someone your not. And for what? Validation? I never understood it. All my life, I've loved fashion. My mother used to collect Vogue magazines in the 2000's- back when Vogue showcased actual models in their issues, not celebrities.

But with the ever increasing rise of fashion being worn as only a way to say "hey, I keep up with the trends, I know my shit," it's starting to make me wonder if anyone actually cares about it anymore. If anyone cares about fashion as an art- because that's literally what it is. Watch and google search anything about haute couture and you'll know what I'm talking about. Fashion is a way to express an idea in the form of clothes, material, texture and patterns. People see runway models and think: "this is stupid... nobody would actually wear those outfits in real life. It's too overexaggerated, it's over-the-top and unwearable." And what they don't understand is that they're missing the point. ALOT of runway looks were never made to be worn in public- they're made to be worn on the runway. A beautiful, inspiring fashion piece that someone poured their heart into is completely misguided and thrown to the trash, simply due to the fact that people are unable to muster up some whimsy in them. They're unable to use their brains for anything that isn't practical- and I'm not against practicality- but when you look at the world today, all the things that seem normal now started out as a huge, unpractical and creative ideas. Ideas that were looked down upon by people much like the normies today who wave a dismissive hand at fashion.

I'm seeing an overall rise in people's love for art, makeup, beauty, that sort of thing. And the only time fashion is truly appreciated is when somewhat petite pieces of clothing are plastered onto slim models that fit the modern beauty standards to the bone.

I'm glad that other things are being recognized now, but it burdens my heart to watch the world look away from fashion. I suppose fashion is never truly lost- there will always be a trend or piece of clothing to talk about- but it doesn't feel the same anymore.

I think a large contribution to it is also the decrease of physical media (and I can make a separate rant about this another time because holy shit do I have a lot to unwind about this topic.) With everything having digital access (and I fear I am a victim of this as I'm posting this rant on a literal blog... but whatever) we forget what it means to possess physical media. To have a giant binder of CD's, to have a VHS tape, to buy a VINYL record- even to buy an analog clock. Places like RadioShack or stores where you can buy/rent movie CD's have been abandoned. Phone's don't even come with that little port to plug your headphones into. It's all gone. And we're getting lazier.

When was the last time you saw anyone read a newspaper? When was the last time anyone purchased a magazine? Back in the day, people relied on these things- but now they don't. I barely hear about Vogue or TheCut or Dazed anymore the way I heard about it when I was a child. I'm certain it has nothing to do with me growing up- because regardless of my age- I am still incredibly happy and spend a concerning amount of time lost in my own world. I feel extremely connected to my childhood self. I never really lost her. So I know it's not that. It's the world changing. And it scares me.

If there's anyone out there who read this far and feels the same way, consider following my substack. I post about fashion on there and try to pretend like everything is the same way it was back in the 2000's... even though I know it's not.

But at the end of the day, this post will probably not gain the traction it deserves. I guess that'll just prove my point even further.

[monalaniussboyfriend]

BILL COLLINS TIMELINE B4 HELL (ALL OPINIONATED/HEADCANONS!)

(MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW!)

- Undiagnosed psychopath, started having violent urges, slowly stopped feeling empathy during childhood and they only got worse with time.

- Has slight trichotillomania, it got worse over time. He pulls and tugs at his hair, but never really actually rips it out until he’s stressed (or until he met Mona)

- Refused to get help as he got older (and as he got worse) because he didn’t want to seen weaker than other men, so he bottled it all up. (and ripped his hair out)

- He thought becoming a cop and starting a family would “make them go away.” (Spoiler! That only made it worse!)

- One of the other reasons he became a cop was to be able to take out his violent urges on criminals, but where he lived there was a low crime rate; This heightened his stress and worry about hurting people he “cared” about (Again, he felt zero empathy towards those who didnt understand him, but tried to convince himself otherwise.)

- He would often take nightshifts at the station to journal out his frustrations while sitting at his desk. These nightshifts would mean that he’d sleep all day until his family came home (His eldest would go to school, while his wife and two month old would go to mother/daughter clubs with her friends)

- His nightshifts would also cause a LOT of issues in his relationship.

- Once he started the job, he began locking himself in the attic, journalling his thoughts and urges because it started weighing on him. Journalling helped both him and Mona.

- Mona stalked him and his family for a while, but specifically Bill.

- She noticed Bill had been violently scribbling into a journal while he was at work one night, so she took it upon herself to find out whatever was happening with him. She wanted to know a weak spot.

(Off topic Mona headcanon. She was looking for a partner in crime for a bit before meeting Bill. She would break into people’s houses and threaten them. It would be like; “Work with me, or I’ll kill you.” and so far everyone chose to be killed!)

- That early morning, she broke into his house, not knowing he was on his way home early (The house is usually empty from 7am til 9am). He just got off a nightshift as she scrambled into the attic and read his journals. The same journals that he wrote about his yearning for an outlet to vent out his urges.

- She had found it, his weak spot.

- As she was leaving, she met a very frustrated Bill. Immediately, he wanted to attack but she held him off.

- “So…a little birdie told me you needed an outlet, hm? I can be that outlet, Bill.” (Pro manipulation 101)

- He agreed, hesitantly and mostly without question.

- This is where he started his killing spree alongside Mona. He finally found his outlet. Someone, someone who understands him.

- He quickly started to gain feelings for Mona, making it easier for her to control him.

- Just because he felt euphoric doesn’t mean he didn’t feel anxious.

- He faked his death solely because he was afraid of getting caught, and Mona wanted him as a constant meat shield, just in case.

- At first, he refused to kill his family, he compromised with Mona and made a deal with her. He would continue to pose as a cop and turn in her self portrait to make him seem like he was about to be a victim of these killers too. (She knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure any longer.) When he turned it in, he was off the suspect list.

- Remember when I said that his nightshifts would fuck with his relationship? Well, he would often skip nightshifts to go out with Mona and asked Ian Ford to cover for him. One night, his wife called the station and asked if Bill was there, and Ian was 100% honest with her.

- That honesty ended everything for Bill. Once he got home, his wife was standing at the door with that stern expression that all wives have when they suspect an affair.

- The questioning quickly turned into a fight, which Bill got very psychical in.

- This fight ended up triggering an extremely violent psychotic episode, in which he brutally slaughtered his entire family.

- Mona arrived a few hours after, when Bill was supposed to be home alone. She helped him clean up the mess and put everything in elaborate spots. (Praised him for giving in as well.)

- That was when Bill couldn’t take it anymore. He started to lose himself in his delusions. In the delusions that Mona had set for him.

- He carefully ripped his own face off and disinfected it, (with drugs ofc) leaving him able to live without a face. He started wearing masks of victims.

- He left his “original” face at the lighthouse so they would assume that Bill was dead, along with the rest of his family. (Which worked!)

- He slowly started to succumb to Mona’s manipulation, becoming a pet to her. He loved her He had truly thought that someone understood him, but she was just using him as an assistant.

[bloobluebloo]

A thing I've noticed the LoZ fandom tends to do that I was wondering if you've noticed or been bothered by as well.. you ever seen how a lot of people drawing Ganondorf as 'good' or being 'redeemed' kind of tend to, to put it concisely, make him less 'ethnic'?! idk if they do it consciously but almost EVERY time in such cases he gets some combination out of being made with his nose smaller, skin paler, less angle to his eyes, even thinner and smoother..! At worst he'll look like a White Guy But Tanned. idk how pervasive it is but it's a pattern I've noticed that FEELS sus and it's also annoying because I LIKE a lot of what gets toned down. One instance kept him mostly intact but made his eyes blue. Good grief. Any thoughts of your own on this?

You're not wrong. I don't consider myself any sort of expert on media analysis, and I have followers who are a lot better versed in the topic, so take what I am about to say as my own personal observations mixed in with what I know about media.

In general, when a character is designed, designers like to give the characters features that indicate what the character's role may be in the story. A popular example is how people often joke that the protagonist in an anime will be the one with the unconventional hair coloring and style. This is done to make the character stand out. Similarly, a villain will also be given features that would indicate, upon seeing them, that you should immediately suspect them, before you get to learn about who they are. As I have discussed previously, Ganondorf being conceptualized as a a leader of thieves originating from the desert has its roots in orientalism as popular media at the time, and also today in many cases, have portrayed desert regions as mysterious, dangerous places inhabited by mysterious and often untrustworthy people. As a result, features you might imagine someone from the desert having have thus also become features associated with someone who should be regarded as suspicious. Features that Ganondorf sports, such as darker skin, bushy eyebrows, strong features that give off a severe look, and even the way Ganondorf stylizes his beard are all examples of such features that indicate that he should be regarded as untrustworthy. On the other hand, you have someone like Link and Zelda, who are shown to have softer features, light skin, and youth that are associated with innocence and purity. Not many people would look at Link and Zelda and think they were villainous.

I want to emphasize again, because I have gotten one too many people who think that I am trying to portray Nintendo as some company that is going out of its way to be racist, that I do not believe that any of this is done deliberately. You can close your eyes and think of a dozen franchises who utilize the same sort of features to visually depict good and evil. This is just the way that many of us, subconsciously, have come to immediately identify who to trust and who to suspect, and it often bleeds into the way we deal with people in real life as well. As a result, when people want to portray what they imagine is a "good" Ganondorf, they are immediately going to default to the features that they have internalized as indicators of someone to be trusted, from lighter skin, to a smaller nose, thinner eyebrows, and even one that doesn't get mentioned often, youth. These all make his character feel more approachable and more convincing of his inherent goodness.

My personal opinion is that, just as Ganondorf was able to make puppet Zelda make facial expressions that indicated that she was up to no good, that Ganondorf can still have all the features that make him Ganondorf and still make him feel approachable. I mean, look at this!

He can look actually happy and approachable!