#IT WAS SOMETHING ME AND MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND SAVED UP FOR AS KIDS... FORMATIVE EXPERIENCE FOR FETAL GAYS

[incoherent-orca]

where is that tweet that was like

miguel o hara would have hella beef with max caulfield

[astropookie]

astro thoughts 🏇🌈✨💫🍳

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH ❤��� even though it’s almost July

disclaimer: I didn’t check my orthography

i hate it but what’s trying to tell me the universe. my friend reminds me of my mom 😭 kill me pls. she have sun 11H, she worries a lot about how others understand what she saids, what others may think of her. she wants to be peaceful but at the same time she have moon in scorpio so she’s struggling and she have a certain opinion about others based on the first impression or what made more impact -negative? idk. now I feel judge -I think it’s my anxiety-. Update: i said what was bothering me to her and everything is said, I’m proud of me, I’m in peace, she responded in a understanding manner. I can breath.

the degree of your ascendant says ALOT, not only about the physical appearance. it could point out even your career, how’s focused your life, how you react…now that I think about it, it’s like an ascendant in your ascendant pc (but if it confused you ignore it).

for example, my friend have gemini degree in his ascendant, he’s doing his major in communication, his family is full of artists and specially musicians, so he grew up knowing how to play every music instrument, it’s like breathing to him, music. he’s used to it and he express himself by composing and being curious, wanting to know about this and that. other example: my other friend has a gemini rising but I was thinking “there’s something that’s missing” 👀 the leo degree of course. he be slayyiing💅 he’s sassy. he knows what he wants and people always be wanting him not the other way around 🙄 he’s like purr stunning gurl 💋

the same friend told me the other day that his first impression of me was or exactly what he thought: “you don’t want to mess with her” “I wouldn’t mess with her ever”. he told me I remembered him of maddy of euphoria -I gave him the idea bc I didn’t understand and he agreed-. Ascendant - Saturn aspects make you look like a bad bitch, like they’ll kick your ass if you don’t do what they tell you, THEY ARE. The structure of their face is also bony. They look like they’re mad, like they’re on their way and if you step there you’re dead: karmic. The jawline, omg, is sharp, it could cut you.

Picture 1 Picture 2 Picture3

Also, bc Capricorn is ruled by Saturn, Capricorn ascendants and saturn-ascendant aspects share characteristics but are not the same? Capricorn risings have this cheekbones that are so sensual and even if they age, the cheekbones are still there, what you notice first is that. What they share is the intimidating aura strangers perceive. In different levels or forms I believe.

Dakota Johnson Gisele Bündchen

TWO QUEENS THAT I CANT FINISH TO DESCRIBE HOW THEIRE SO ETHEREAL BEAUTIFUL STUNNING ICONIC AND INFINITE THINGS MORE

I have Mars in Retrograde. I don’t know what bothers me until I explode or until I go to my psychologist. I minimize what bothers me and save it all in the back, so then my brain will hurt. I don’t figure out or notice when something bothers me bc I don’t think is a big deal or that’s a joke, but even if it’s a joke I can still not like it -a side note-. You’ll find me realizing later what was bothering me and then struggling to tell people how I really felt when they did THAT something.

Picture from Pinterest

when the kid’s mercury is sextile Saturn’s dad (synastry: mercury sextile saturn), it means the dad communicates with their child as a way of teaching, caring about them. through their communication, they share childhood stories, experiences of any type and what they have learned about them, what they have observed. trough their talking they share their wisdom. the father have all the attention of their kid when he opens his mouth. the kid somehow knows something important is about to be said or they admires their dad that much.

Picture from Pinterest

Leo moons 5H + aries degree can be pretty egoist, they could lost themselves in the idea of something, of having it. Also they don’t think, twice letting themselves be carried by the emotion that idea gives them. They’re in their pretty little world of fun but they are not looking what’s happening to others, they’re hungry for their passion. I HAVE TO TELL: not everyone with these placements are like this and blablabla -the same thing I say for precaution- AND I had something, it’s not even something 🙄 I had nothing with these placement k? but it gives you an explanation for my attitude. STILL, I think I gotta mention some of the synastry so it’ll make sense. In another time bc I don’t want to waste my energy in that -and don’t want to-.

Saturn in opposition with Uranus aspect makes the individual stay in the doubt. They’re stanched while they keep analyzing the pro and cons of the situation they want to start/be part. Even if someone extern try to help, they’ll be doubting more.

Virgo moons are just so wholesome ☹️❤️ They want to help. they’re always doing something. they want the best for you. they care of others as if they take care of themselves but better, sadly. they work too much they need a rest but they know they’ll be anxious of doing nothing. they’re just pure souls. they’re so kind. always helping in a ONG/organization that helps needed ones.

Aquarius mercury always have something to say, they’re always right 🙄 even though they say it’s comprensible and natural that everyone have their own beliefs I don’t believe them. I think they think their mindset is better and everyone should follow it. LIKE GURL WTF I know you think you are wise and shit and you’ve passed through experiences that made you learned and that inspired you to tell them to others BUT let others make mistakes and be wrong, let others don’t be like you, there’s the beauty. I always find them criticizing others for their manners, as if they have lived the same way you did.

I don’t believe/trust? in libras, yeah ok may be that my sun is in libra but not my whole chart. That’s what I’m talking about, with that last sentence I’m gaslighting you 💌 how tf you believe in libras when they don’t tell the truth directly I CANT. With my honesty I gotta mention that my libra sun appear when I don’t want to ruin something that benefits me, when I don’t know the person and I try my best, to my sag/scorpio/aquarius placements to not appear. They always keep something in their minds, they don’t tell you all, they keep to themselves some part, could be to not hurt you, doesn’t benefits them or whatever. a friend with moon in libra degree and another with libra moon: I always want them to say what they want, they can’t. I want to squish the hell out of them bc I can’t too😭🔪

Ceres 3H is a good placement for a psychologist. How they motivate others using their minds, that easily absorbs and process/analyses experiences and knowledge, to finally find a solution depending on the case -of the patient-, so it’ll be suitable. When they help others, their communication keeps improving with time. More experience = better. Still, it’s natural.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

❀ Based on my personal experience.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[writingmochi]

cast: ateez & txt & enhypen ✗ reader

synopsis: a collection of ateez, txt, and enhypen works based on author's favorite radiohead songs

genre: variative for each member

based on: music radiohead's discography from albums “the bends”, "ok computer", "kid a", "amnesiac", "in rainbows", and "ok computer oknotok 1997 2017" (1995-2017)

status: motion picture soundtrack out now! (2/20)

message from the moon: do remember that this is fiction and all the actions the idols do in these works do not reflect what they are in the real world. this is a non-priority anthology so all stories are standalone, won't have any schedule for deadlines, and will be written on my availability! also, note that the infos written below aren't the final one so i can add/subtract anything such as each of the synopsis which will have its final form when the certain fic is released

taglist? right here

listen to all 20 tracks!

you're turning into something you are not

cast: frat bro!sunghoon ✗ sorority girl!fem.reader

genre: romantic comedy, greek life au, college au, angst, mature content (smut)

inspired by: literature the prince and the pauper (1881)

it wears me out

cast: san ✗ fem.reader

genre: adventure, sci-fi, romance, dystopian, angst

inspired by: movie wall-e (2008)

you do it to yourself

cast: wooyoung ✗ fem.reader

genre: modern dystopia, thriller, tragedy

inspired by: tv show black mirror (2011-present)

this, this is our new song

cast: idol!hongjoong ✗ indie musician!fem.reader

genre: drama, coming of age, musicians au

i am back to save the universe

cast: jungwon ✗ fem.reader

genre: superhero fiction, adolescence, science fiction, angst

inspired by: comic cloak and dagger

ambition makes you look pretty ugly

cast: hueningkai ✗ reader

genre: content not available, set in the terra incognita universe

inspired by: error 401

they'd think that i'd finally lost it completely

cast: alt kid!soobin ✗ fashion student/designer!fem.reader

synopsis: after soobin's encounter with a person from his original timeline, he experiences doubts if he can settle in this new timeline or not. his alienation and existentialism take a spin in a new world he has to figure out himself, or if he could be courageous enough to ask you to guide him down back to the surface

genre: coming of age, slice of life, romance, drama, friends with benefits au, college/university au, angst, fluff, mature content (drug consumption and explicit smut), set in the time wave universe

this is what you'll get when you mess with us

cast: jay ✗ fem.reader

genre: drama, crime, romance, thriller, angst, mature content (smut)

inspired by: bonnie and clyde but with a dynamic of succession's tom wambsgans and siobhan roy

you know we're friends 'til we die

cast: seonghwa ✗ fem.reader

genre: content not available, set in the terra incognita universe

inspired by: error 404

we are standing on the edge

cast: detective!jongho ✗ detective!fem.reader

genre: crime, mystery, psychological thriller, noir

inspired by: movie se7en (1995)

the worms will come for you, big boots

cast: spy!yeonjun ✗ investigative journalist!fem.reader

genre: action, adventure, drama, agent au, angst

inspired by: movies from the 007 series: the spy who loved me (1977) and tomorrow never dies (1997)

i'm not here, this isn't happening

cast: singer-songwriter!taehyun ✗ up-and-coming actress!fem.reader

genre: drama, childhood friends au, fame au, angst, mature content (suicidal thoughts, manipulation, exploitation), set in early 2000s

help me get back to your arms

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader

synopsis: a teenager with tormenting demons following behind her moves to a new school when she encounters a boy who has his own set of demons. together, they confide with one another's similarities as well as through music when the boy introduces the teen to his current obsession: the dreamy pop soundscape of moonstruck.

genre: coming of age, realistic fiction, bildungsroman, slice of life, drama, romance, high school au, early 2000s au, angst, fluff, mature content (bullying, harassment, explicit smut)

inspired by: movie all about lily chou-chou (2001) and literature “heaven” by mieko kawakami (2009)

there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

cast: yeosang ✗ reader

genre: adventure, action, mystery

inspired by: video game silent hill 2 (2001)

catch the mouse

cast: beomgyu ✗ fem.reader

genre: adventure, drama, thriller, road trip au, run away au, angst, mature content (smut)

inspired by: movies bones and all (2022), american honey (2016), and y tu mamá también (2001)

one by one

cast: guitarist!mingi ✗ session musician!fem.reader

genre: rock band au, angst

inspired by: documentary meeting people is easy (1998)

it is the 21st century

cast: niki ✗ fem.reader

genre: enemies to lovers?, high school au, angst, fluff

inspired by: folk story mulan

because we separate like ripples on a blank shore

cast: guardian angel!sunoo ✗ human!gn.reader

genre: fantasy, angel au, angst

inspired by: the boyz's roar concept (2023)

i don't want to be your friend, i just want to be your lover

cast: yunho ✗ reader

genre: drama, toxic relationship, friends to lovers au, angst, mature content (smut)

the beat goes round and round

cast: jake ✗ fem.reader

genre: time-loop, science fiction, mystery, drama, fantasy, romance, gang au

inspired by: movie groundhog day (1993) meets musical west side story

NOTABLE MENTIONS (written fics and the radiohead songs in their playlists)

let down ; exit music (for a film) - time wave

weird fishes/arpeggi - troubled pixies

all i need ; go slowly ; spectre - isobel

treefingers - i only said

talk show host ; street spirit (fade out) - loomer

© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2025. all rights reserved

[candyskiez]

Hello tell me about your OCs and how they work pretty please :)))))))

I'm taking this as an excuse to talk about my newest story because I can. This is very WIP. It will get more developed eventually.

This takes place in a universe with gods that are shit at their jobs.

The Gods took too many magical resources  from one of their planets to create new ones. They have some schemes and plans but in a lot of ways they're just spoiled brats who take too much and go “oh no, I'll just make a new one!” They're assholes. They take too much of…idk smth that stabilizes magic I'm working on it. 

1. Something bad is happening and has been for a long time now. People asked the gods for help. The gods promised them help in the form of a chosen one. So people waited, and ... The chosen one doesn't come. One lady gets sick and tired of it because everyone's fucking dying and noboies doing anything about it, so she decides FUCK this, I'm gonna fix it myself. I think she gets a group of people with her at some point but haven't decided. One of those people is her friend Lola.

2. The thing is this chosen one is a literal child. Like. A literal child. This child has been being yelled at to grow up faster so they can save the world for years now and no progress they make is enough, because they have to be as good as an adult but they *aren't an adult yet.* They're a kid. All this massive pressure on them is taking a severe toll on them. If they fail something, it's "they don't deserve this honor" "people are COUNTING on you" "this is what you give us? After years of nothing?" , and if they get it right, it's "Took you long enough!" "Where were you when we needed you?" Nevermind that they're a *child.* Their name is Laika.

3. I think there's. Idk some powerful magical or spiritual people in charge of preparing them for it, but they're not. Good at their job. Like they're excellent with their magic but none of them were prepared to help a child. Some of them fail Laika out of genuine mistakes and want to help but just...don't know how, others are unfairly bitter at this child who has powers they don't know how to control and is in an environment that's constantly triggering them to spiral.

4. The lady for a long time resented the chosen one and upon finding out Laika is a literal child flips her SHIT. I have no idea how it gets t this point but I do know there's a scene where she's talking to the gods in a fucking rage

Magic goes absolutely haywire and causes like plagues instead of healing magic, warps crops, spells going screwy. Etc. The gods want to focus on more profitable worlds so they focus on more interesting worlds. But Gods are fueled by belief, so they needed to keep the world from losing faith. They half ass making a chosen one and cut so many corners. Because of this they're just a lil kid. And also like. No experience. Some vague ideas but they're just some kid.

CAST:

Lady named after an astronaut: Teacher, snarky but loving. Extremely loving. Saw so many kids screwed over by the system. Treated like dog shit by the parents and the system. Has this insatiable need to fix things. Became a teacher to fix things after learning how shitty Lola's childhood was but couldn't do shit. When the worlds going to hell she gets sick and tired of sitting on her ass and gets up to do something or at least figure it out.

Lola: Astronaut names best friend. Disabled somehow. Was treated like the dumb kid all her life. Either gets pity, condescension, “you can actually do it, you're just too lazy”, accused of stealing resources, or shit like that. Shes expected to be soft and gentle and kind all the time, but eventually gets fed up and drops the persona and just. Shatters. Shes pissed. She's been pissed her whole life. Her arcs gonna be about disabled anger.

Laika: Chosen one. They got issues.

The gods are a metaphor for capitalism. This is a story about the inherent trauma of living under capitalism. I will develop it more...eventually

[letterslaura]

Reading as an articulating axis and practices involving Educational Technologies.

Coucou everyone!

You may have guessed by the title of this post that today our topic is around reading practice, so let's dive together into these letters:

Bursting with creativity was the best thing about being a kid, if you ask me. I remember making the most out of an afternoon in the backyard, by flying to whole new realities in my head. I owe that to all the books I read throughout my childhood. Thanks to my mom, who would always take me to the municipal library, reading was pleasant and satisfying. It was different than watching a movie, for I got some power over the elements presented in the form of words (although we have some world/character description, the final images in our heads might not be the same as what the author originally viewed), creating a deeper connection with the narrative.

As I got older, I tried to read books in English a few times, but it was frustrating. The impatient 15-year-old Laura did not enjoy the fact that she did not know a lot of English words, so the process of looking them up in the dictionary was quite overwhelming, and I could never finish a whole book. After giving up for a while, I tried bilingual books, which have each page in English and in Portuguese. Having the translation of every word makes the reading more fluid and natural, it keeps a story’s sweet flow. 

In school, English reading was not the focus. Most of the time,  the reading practice was limited to small texts, either on a handout or in the textbook. It was never as interesting as the reading activities in Portuguese, where we had to spot different textual genres and linguistic elements or reflect on the story’s morals. Even though these activities were sometimes not the most appealing,  they offered much more possibilities of engagement and comprehension. Today, Brazil’s National Common Curricular Base (BNCC), has taken reading in the English language in a different direction. The reading process should maintain its authenticity, taking into account many important nuances, such as interdisciplinary approach, cultural and linguistic diversity, digital literacy and critical thinking. Further on, the axis of reading in English in basic education is also known as “reading and viewing” and it englobes the skills of reading and comprehending texts in English. Following these guidelines, teachers should be able to work with interesting authentic texts in English, from traditional books to websites, social media posts, news and so on.

In my opinion, the best reading technologies to exist are the simplest and most traditional: google translate and dictionaries. It goes without saying that you’ll find any word you need in dictionaries. But there is so much more than that! In a dictionary you can find a lot of example sentences, synonyms and antonyms. That’s why they will never cease to be a reader’s most important tool, our best friend. Google Translate, on the other hand, might have caused some of you disgust. But it is, in fact, the fastest and most practical translating tool. There are many words that are better understood by translating and a lot of time can be saved this way. Furthermore, on Google Translate there's also the possibility of listening to the pronunciation of the words, which can enrich the reading experience even more.

I really enjoyed writing about the development of reading practices in school! How joyful are these memories! They really inspired me to read for fun more often. I hope that you also get inspired to read something! Don't forget to leave a comment below. See you!

XOXO

Laura

[shoresphere]

me and you, and a very bad case of hopeless romanticism.

Hex Codes : #FFD400 #87CEEB

i have called the surface of this giant rock "home" for well over seventeen years, i've had quite a few experiences in regards to love; be it crushes, unrequited feelings, boyfriends, friends, family, pets, peers, passions, interests, and so forth. and to be perfectly honest, love is great. sure, it has its (very big) ups and downs most of the time but love has always been something that i find to be amazing. some people call it naïveté, i think "curiosity" is a better and less condescending term.

i've established that yes, the idea of love is a topic i find quite interesting. however, something that piques my interest a little more is the "color of love."

as someone who is absolutely obsessed with associating colors to every scenario, love is somewhat an enigma; it is something inconsistent, forever changing to those who experience it. no one sees and feels the same color as it is something that is quite up for interpretation. it is both warm and cool and some aspects are neutral, it is black and white yet the most colorful thought. it's quite surreal to think about.

platonic and familial love is something i would like to save for a different time though. as august is about to start, i'd like to say that i've had my fair share of colors associated with the chaos we call romantic attraction.

love had been pink, a love for a childhood best friend never to be requited. an experience i still hold quite dearly and has forever shaped a part of me.

it has been orange, a love that fell apart due to circumstance yet will always have so much respect for each other. a friend beforehand, and still a friend after all the wreckage our untimely love brought upon us.

it had been red, burnt my skin and burnt my heart as i let a man tear me down and build me back up all for his amusement. played by a cheater, a fraud, a heartbreaker, a liar, and a good-for-nothing idiot.

and love has been purple, a love that died the same way a candle in a rainstorm would. a slow and painful decay of not being given enough flame to keep the fire alive, not given a shelter for the love to thrive.

love had been bitter, left me bruised and battered far too many times. despite all of this, experiences give me new colors for my pallet. a sick way to look at situations but what is hurt if not an experience to enhance your art?

i'm still desperately hoping and begging that one day, the right color of love would come to me. for it to envelope me until i exhale my last sigh of content, before falling into the deep blackness of death.

maybe love will come to me soon, too.

and maybe, hopefully,

love comes in the form of you.

a blue boy i barely know but i would love to get to know. eyes that shine with artistry, lips that sing such a good melody, mind full of creativity, and a heart perfect for me made perfectly. a showstopper, head-turner, painfully amazing blue boy with skies as clear as day.

are those eyes actually hollow, full of self-pity? lips kept shut for an eternity when asked, how is he? mind fogged with misery? is your sky actually blue or is it the grayest, are they cloudy?

i would love to know who knows?

maybe this is just a crush, randomly passing by. i'll probably get over this soon. i probably won't.

what would i know? in the end, i am just a boy who is extremely fascinated with the thought and occurrence of love. the flaws and pros of it pique my interests, in such a way that even music could not capture my attention the same. it's methodical, it's scientific, it's a stupid kid's forever wish.

[askthezeldas]

Hi, I have a question for everyone. What were your thoughts about your respective Link when you first met them? Bye!

Sun: Nobody's speaking up, so I'll go first. We met when we were children, and my mother had died and so did his. I noticed him alone at the graveyard and he was silent. I actually thought he was mute until he comforted me later.

Mage: Four and I were also childhood friends. His father was a knight and visited often, so we grew close. Initially, I…thought he was rather withdrawn and serious for someone my age, but he opened up soon after that.

Flora: I’m not proud of it, but my first thoughts of Wild were ones of envy. I met him when he was assigned as my personal knight, and…he had pulled the Master Sword already.

Fable, wrapping an arm around Flora: I was in a dungeon about to be sacrificed, my father burned alive—

Tetra: What the hell?

Fable:—and I was calling out for help, with uh, a sort of telepathic call. Legend was the only one who heard it, and so when he showed up and offered me his hand to rescue me, I thought of him as a hero.

Peace: Aw, that’s kind of sweet. During Hyrule’s time of peril I saw Collector and I gave him an important pendant because I could sense good in his heart. He was kind, and I didn’t really get to know him until after everything.

Echo: I first met him when I had saved him from a crystal prison. I saw him before that, but we didn’t get the chance to talk. He was silent because of falling into the rifts when he was a child, but he was still very brave and sweet. I’ll admit, I was jealous of how he wielded his blades with such mastery and strength.

Lullaby: Hm. Well, I met Time when we were kids. I had been having prophetic dreams and he was the first to believe me about them. He warned me of Ganondorf’s power, and we were able to prove his ill intent. However, he…he didn’t seem like a child. Even when our enemy was imprisoned, he just told me he was going off to find his friend with such solemness I found myself confused. I suppose, I was relieved at first, and then perplexed and wary of him.

Dusk: Oh? I suppose I should’ve guessed it already.

Lullaby:…guessed what?

Dusk:…This is a conversation for later, more privately. *ahem* but as for Twilight? I met him when he was a wolf, a beastly form in the realm of twilight, along with Midna. I was recounting my experiences to him, explaining what I could be he was so wary and confused. I pitied him. He confided in me later that he had just witnessed his friends taken and was pulled away to where he was painfully transformed in a beast…Midna didn’t help the matter either.

Athena: Midna? Are you speaking about a sassy imp that rides a wolf?

Dusk:…You know her? That’s…impossible.

Athena: Time travel is messy, don’t think too hard about it.

Dusk: ???

Athena: Warrior always stood out to me, out of the knights that trained but once I saw him with the Hero’s Outfit we finally met. I thought he was charming, and quite intelligent considering how he offered strategies.

Phantom: He was kneeling when I came into the throne room, and kept trying to look up at me so we could have a proper conversation. Unfortunately at the time, an evil chancellor was there, demanding he keep his head down. We were getting tired of his interruptions so I gave a promotion to Spirit. I was mostly curious and surprised when he looked shocked. Was he not aware of his own prowess?

Aurora: Evil chancellor?

Phantom: It’s a long story.

Aurora: Well our meeting was something out of a fairytale because I was cursed in a deep slumber and he woke me up. I found out how he had fixed the land and was so relieved I…never mind.

Tetra: You what?

Aurora, blushing: I said never mind. Anyway, I thought of him as a true hero, and soon a friend. He was kind and polite and heroic. He still is.

Dawn: While you were cursed he rescued me from Ganon. I was scared and alone until he came, and he felt…safe. There’s no other word for it.

Tetra: Hmph. Well Wind was just an annoying little brat to me at first—

Athena: Aren’t you two the same age?

Tetra:—I’m older! Now I had been kidnapped by a giant bird and dropped on his home island, and he had tried to rescue me. He followed me until he saw his sister on another side of a bridge but she got kidnapped by the giant bird. He dove off a cliff reaching for her and I saved him. I’ll admit I…pitied him and let him join us to save his sister soon after. I thought he was rather annoying but determined and kind all the same.

[8054yamato]

I'm shut out, I'm shut in

And every time I try to reach out, to reach in, I break my fingers on the bricks

I'm tied up, I'm tied down

And every time I try to fly up, I fly down into the sea and hold my breath

I am a mirrored rumble fish

Life is so clenching for the kill

So could you reach down and pull me out?

Or am I just too far gone?

I may be too far gone to be saved.

My eyes have gone blurry. Meaningless quarrells, escapism, and suicidal thoughts have run rampant as an everyday occurance in my life. Everyone else who was around me has moved on, but it seems that I can not. Life fucking sucks and I do not think I can thug it out anymore. It is too stressful and I am a disappointment and a shame to myself. Everything about me is horrid. From my mental down to my character. I am tainted. If I can't even stomach myself, how can others handle me? Not only am I unstable, but I fake my happiness too often for it to be noticable.

It absolutely is ironic how I say bullying will never get to me. To an extent, it is true. Why the fuck would a random's opinion matter? Until you realize self-hate is a form of bullying as well. My biggest enemy is myself. Every year, my mirror wins an argument against me. Over time, that gets to you and makes me feel empty. I lost who I truly was ages ago. I am a husk of despair, desparate, and fake emotions.

I am turning 19 this year which will be my final age until the universe goes under a heat death. They say a person truly dies when everyone has stopped thinking of them post-mortem. I wonder how long that'll take for me? 1 week? 1 month? I hope it's no longer than 3 days, but that's a little to optimistic. I hope I am not used as a statistic or a fuel for someone's propaganda.

Since 2019/2020, I have attempted suicide at least once per year. Each time I (obviously) have failed. 2025 will for sure be my year. By my next attempt, my ex-friends would have already been near at the end of their first year of college or maybe preparing the start of their first year. People who I love will be out working on their respective career or retire that same year. I won't be there to experience their feats, but I will be looking up and cheering them on.

Looking back at my life, I am happy I dragged nobody into my problems. I would just waste their time since I can not be fixed. It would be as hopeless as taping up shattered glass. Of course, even if I were to rewind time, I do not think I can fix myself still or have the confidence for that at minimum. Some people are meant to quit and I am destined to be one of them. Some people are just too vulnerable to carry on and persist through mental barriers.

I am wondering: "Where did it all go wrong?". Birth probably. Jokes aside, the internet influence on a 6 year old me was bad. I developed dark humor and learned slurs like the hard R.

2011-2012 was a wild year for a boy surfing on the internet alone. The very first porno I watched was, I shit you not, 2 Girls 1 Cup. There might've been porn ads on that site which led me to my first real porn site. I don't remember it exactly but I think it was hdporn.com or something.

I may be a Gen-Z kid, but I grew up with millenial household so I was into cultures of that time. I love emo, anime, very early K-POP, rock, internet memes, forums/threads, and so on because I grew up in that environment. Unfortunately, while I was able to make friends, I could not find anyone who could really relate to me 1:1. As a child, I grew up not having any similarities with people in terms of childhood and so our interests were vastly different. I was still able to make friends because we all enjoyed each other's company. Until I crashed out in fifth grade and became a loner for the entirety of that year and half of 6th grade. I was severely depressed at this time.

So I guess the start of it all really was fifth grade. That might have been where my life gone to helplessness.

People say suicide isn't the answer. That's their opinion. I honestly am just tired of fighting. They are right, but I just do not give a fuck anymore. I would like to sleep forever and rot underground or in a jar. In the ocean would be pretty badass too.

6-7 months left on my lifespan.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

On the Outside Looking In: Growing Up in the Moonies

Flore Singer Aaslid, Ph.D. (2007)

Abstract The author recounts her experiences as a child and young adult in the Unification Church (“the Moonies”). She discusses the enduring sense of not fitting in, which arose from her many years of travelling and being taken care of by people other than her parents (who were usually busy with missionary work) and stigmatized for being an “unblessed” child (not born to Moonie parents). During this prolonged conflict situation she vacillated between trying to “buy it” and rebelling. Leaving the group proved to be difficult because she discovered that she did not fit in “outside” either. Ultimately, however, she left the group permanently and began to build a new life.

____________________________________________

There is a saying that if something doesn’t kill you it will only make you stronger. A spiritual perspective might interpret this statement as meaning that most challenges in life, however unpleasant or inconvenient, are like trials laid out by some Grand Master Plan for the sole purpose of adding some muscle to one’s otherwise weak disposition. Perceived from such a perspective, being raised in an environment such as that of the Moonies is really a blessing in disguise, with a vast array of potentials and possibilities to grow and expand in every conceivable manner. In my case, I can see how the whole experience has toughened me up in many respects. Nevertheless, for me, the most enduring and overwhelming side effect of growing up as a cult kid (having been set apart from society at large and carefully protected in a dogmatic cocoon for most of my formative years) is the relentless, almost haunting, yet mostly exasperating feeling of never quite fitting in—anywhere. I have yet to discover whether this is a blessing or a curse, but it’s probably a little of both.

Like that of many of my peers also raised in “the church,” as we called the whole ordeal, my childhood was somewhat turbulent. From the age of two, I never lived more than two years at a time in any one place. By the time I was eight, I had already lived in four different countries and learned three different languages (two of which, unfortunately, I forgot as I no longer used them). The number of “caretakers” I had during those years is beyond my recollection (probably more than 20 and fewer than 50), for both of my parents were missionaries, busying themselves with the very important task of saving the world. I was a sacrifice for the sake of a greater good, my mother used to tell me. I was put into God’s Hands, and with the help of a lot of faith and a seemingly endless number of dedicated prayers, He would protect me (sort of like paying holy instalments toward some kind of sacred life insurance). This might have worked, for all I know; I was an almost abnormally healthy child, and even today the most serious illness to fall upon me has been the flu and some nasty stomach problems in India.

Still, it is as if all this moving about, learning new languages, making new friends, adapting to different environments, only to be torn away from it all and repeat the process all over again (and again, and again, ad infinitum), somehow turned me into a weird little muddled misfit. I was doomed to feel like a perpetual stranger, forever the foreigner, like some bizarre product of shoddy enculturation, sloppy socialization, or whatever one wishes to call that process through which young children experience a sense of belonging, and identify with their nearest and dearest. I wasn’t, of course, consciously aware of my predicament at such a young age. I just felt exceedingly lonely, and of course being an only child didn’t help matters. Children, as a rule, don’t like to stand out, and lord knows I did my best to fit in. I made friends easily, was unusually outgoing, learned languages and dialects in record time, joined the Girl Scouts, the swim club, the ski club, and even a glee club (chorus). I wore the right clothes and probably liked the right things, but to no avail; that lonely feeling just never left me. And all this, by the way, relates purely to my experiences with the Outside World (that is how we Moonies referred to what other people might perceive as “normal society”). Children growing up in cults, or in any kind of fundamentalist movement for that matter, always get stuck between (at least) two worlds.

Things probably would have been slightly different, although not necessarily better, had I felt some sense of belonging in the Inside World (my own personal term for the Moonies, or “the family,” as we insiders referred to ourselves). This fate was not to be mine, however, for one big reason that I can explain only by examining the Moonie Belief System (B S). This “family” came complete with a set of True Parents (Sun Myung Moon, also founder and self-proclaimed messiah, and his wife) and True Children (their 14 children). All the other members lovingly referred to each other as True Brothers and Sisters to complete the Holy Metaphor, but also, I suspect, to linguistically prevent any kind of sexual activity from occurring between these “Brothers and Sisters.” Premarital sex was regarded as an almost unforgivable mortal sin. Sex was so terrible that any children born from this impure act were blemished forever with the stain of Original Sin, passed on through generations all the way back to when Adam and Eve had premarital sex. This is “the fall” according to the Moonie bible (otherwise known as “The Principle”)—which, incidentally, was Eve’s fault because she had sex with Satan first and then felt guilty because she remembered that it was Adam she was supposed to have sex with, whereby she seduced him, but, alas, too late or too early, or both, and so women became the inferior sex and suffer childbirth and menstruation and all sorts of womanly misfortunes as a consequence of this badly timed and somewhat bungled-up sex act.

▲ Sun Myung Moon “matching” couples in the 1980s.

Not only the Blessed Couple, but all the future children born from this holy matrimony, would then be freed of Original Sin (which explains why it was so popular; I think the Moonies are even in the Guinness Book of World Records for the biggest mass weddings in history). The offspring of these decontaminated couples were then subsequently called the Blessed Children since these lucky little cherubs were born into the world unblemished and completely free of Original Sin. In all metaphysical respects, as perfect as can be.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view), I was no such child. Born to an unwed mother before she joined the church, I was doomed to carry the burden of Original Sin. I and others like me were continually reminded of this disgraceful state of affairs by simply being given the rather unflattering designation of Unblessed Children [“Jacob children”]. 

As an Unblessed Child, I was excluded in several different ways: Ritually during Sunday morning prayers (which always took place at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m.), for example, where I was consistently prohibited from saying the Pledge of the Families (not belonging to a Blessed Family myself). Socially, during big Moonie celebrations such as God’s Day, where special seats were always reserved for Blessed Children (I was allowed to sit there on many occasions, but hardly ever without first being solemnly informed that these seats were really for Blessed Children). Then there was the obligatory trip to Korea ( [usually for 40 days, but possibly] lasting several years), which was an absolute must for most Blessed Children, but not for me (although from what I’ve heard, I think I was blessed to have missed it). And of course, as opposed to most of the Blessed Children, I was in no way exempt from the fundraising and witnessing. After all, Indemnity must be paid, and I have many (not so very fond) memories of myself standing on street corners selling flowers with my mother, usually for some worthy “Christian” cause (we hardly ever said it was for the Moonies, unless we happened to be in the mood for some rather unpleasant “persecution,” as we called the stone throwing, name calling, and other mostly verbal abuse).

Understandably, after many years of this kind of treatment, one is always in danger of feeling vaguely inadequate and prone to a slight sense of inferiority with respect to those Holier Than Thou. So, to finally make my point, even in the Inside World, amidst my own True Brothers and Sisters, I felt like an outcast, a recluse, a misfit, and once again, the freak in the group.

Psychologically speaking, there are probably several ways to deal with this type of dilemma. I have ascertained two primary methods: Either you buy the crap (pardon my French), or you don’t. Choosing the first method would have been highly destructive to my fragile psyche. No complex psychological analysis needed here; I simply state what to me seems obvious: believing that one is fundamentally inferior to most of one’s peers, for whatever reason, can dangerously stagnate one’s own personal growth and development. (However, believing that their superiority is due to a somewhat more elaborate mating ritual between their parents than that of one’s own does make it all the more absurd, even though some 50-odd years back, the majority of our God-fearing citizens adopted this view regarding unwed mothers and their “bastard” children. But this just goes to show how cruel and easily duped we humans can be.) Therefore, probably to protect myself and spare myself serious damage in the long run, somewhere in the depths of my psyche (possibly even subconsciously), I decided at a relatively early age that I was surrounded by a group of gibbering morons.

This was, perhaps, not the most sophisticated strategy, but it was effective, and it worked wonders when it came to ignoring and shutting out most of the ranting and raving that appeared to compose the greater part of my conceptual reality tunnel (the Inside World), although, admittedly, many times the two worlds collided. The resulting clash was so straining that I did my best to convince myself that this plump little Korean guy jumping about on a stage, flailing his arms energetically and barking loudly in gibberish (Korean), really was the Messiah, here to save the world and populate the planet with little Blessed Children. Fortunately, this phase was usually fleeting, and then I was back to my familiar miserable, cynical self. Ironically, I strongly believe today that had I been a Blessed Child, this strategy (deciding that I was surrounded by a group of gibbering morons) would have been very difficult to adopt. This is because Blessed Children had, for the most part, been told all their lives how very special, important, and unique they were, sort of like Holy Super Kids. The whole world depended on them, and if there is still widespread misery and suffering today, it is because they haven’t taken their role and mission seriously enough (what a burden, poor kids). Basically, my guess is that it is much harder to disregard and block out positive affirmations that build self-esteem and make one feel like a Very Important Person than it is to ignore a Belief System that ultimately makes one feel like a little piece of poop. In other words, I think I was blessed to have been unblessed (life is funny that way).

Another factor worth mentioning here is that many of the Blessed Children, in addition to being conveniently Blessed to one another, later became very economically dependent on the church, which mediated and sponsored both jobs and higher education, making it hard for a recipient to break free on any level, even if one did start developing a mind of one’s own. Put slightly differently, where subtle and sophisticated mind-controlling techniques fail, hard economic facts still tend to win out in the end (I, of course, was never worth sponsoring and have had to make do with a combination of student loans and welfare, sigh). Finally, I do believe that all that moving about during my early years, and the fact that I never really managed to “bond” successfully with my mother, made it much easier for me to break out later on. Filial piety (playing the role of obedient and devoted daughter) just didn’t seem to be in my nature; and as for my father, he drifted out when I was 12 and later helped me do the same.

I have often wondered why it was so easy for me to turn my back on my True Family, and (almost) never look back. I left to live with my father in California when I was 14 (although mentally I was long gone way before then). About two years later, I decided to re-join, and become a missionary myself in France (the Outside World was too much for me at such a vulnerable age, and I had to escape before it gobbled me up—“from the frying pan into the fire,” as they say). Being a missionary in France was probably the most serious attempt I made at “buying it” my whole life. Growing up in the Moonies was due to unfortunate circumstances way beyond my control, but becoming a missionary at the age of 16 was a desperate and conscious choice. It was, in many ways, a matter of survival, at least existentially. The loneliness and emptiness I felt in the Outside World at the age of 14 was so intense that I’m really quite surprised I emerged from it all as relatively unscathed as I did (my mother was almost certainly paying holy instalments to my sacred life insurance more than ever at that point).

The best illustration I can think of to illustrate this feeling is that of a small animal, locked up in a cage most of its life, and then suddenly set free to manage as best as it can in the jungle. Or, as another cult kid I read about in a Norwegian newspaper described it, being raised in a sect is like growing up in a spaceship, protected and confined, and then one day leaping out into space. Compared to the chaos, the overwhelming freedom and the incredible loneliness I encountered out in the big cruel world, being an Unblessed Child in the Moonies seemed like peanuts. After all, here at least I was part of something, even if it was the lesser part of an otherwise perfect family. Orbiting the Outside World, having cut all ties linking me to the Mother Moonie Spaceship, I felt utterly and completely alone. Therefore, I quit high school and set off to become a missionary and sell flowers (more out of necessity than conviction). A stranger in yet another strange land, but, as fate would have it that was probably one of my wisest and most courageous decisions. Sunny California would have been the death of me, and even though I ended up staying in France only for a year (after which I fell in love with a young Norwegian and moved to Norway), I knew instinctively that I had to get away, no matter where, no matter how.

The Moonies (or whatever they call themselves today) are not the Ku Klux Klan, as one of my childhood friends has already pointed out in a previous article. They do have some positive values, and they do mean well (yes, I know, the road to hell is paved with good intentions). On the whole, my experiences have taught me a lot about society, human nature, and this very bizarre and sometimes unpleasant state called life. The feeling of being a misfit, a social freak, doomed to dwell forever on the outside looking in, still haunts me wherever I go. However, I do have a new “family,” I have my friends, and I have my son (and I can rest assured knowing that when it comes to child rearing, I certainly know what NOT to do). I also have my sense of humor to chase away any new devils (traumas and tragedies) that might happen to fly my way. I have noticed that fanaticism (in its many forms and guises) and humor are unhappy bedfellows; they just don’t mix very well. So for those of you who find this article somewhat offensive in any way, my sincere apologies; but when it comes down to a conflict between preserving other peoples’ Belief System and my own mental health, I tend to get a little selfish.

In many respects, I suppose that growing up the way I have has made me stronger and wiser. But I certainly didn’t choose the easy way out, and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if things might have been less problematic if I’d just stayed on the inside, content with looking out. But then, I seem to attract adversity; and besides, I was never really on the inside, just like I’ll never really be on the outside. You’ll find me floating in those fuzzy grey zones in between.

____________________________________________

This material was originally prepared for a presentation at the AFF [now known as ICSA] annual conference, June 14-15, 2002, at the Crowne Plaza Hotel, Orlando (FL) Airport.

It was published in Cultic Studies Review, 2(1), 2003, 1-8

http://www.icsahome.com/articles/on-the-outside-looking-in-growing-up-in-the-moonies

____________________________________________

Flore Singer Aaslid was born 12 October 1972 in Rosenheim, Germany. She was raised as a “non-blessed” child [a “Jacob child”] in the Unification Church and grew up in Germany, England, USA, France, and Norway, respectively.

She was about 8 when her mother was ‘blessed’ to her father at a Unification Church mass wedding at Madison Square Gardens in 1982.

Currently, she is a social anthropologist based in Trondheim, Norway, where she lives with her son.

____________________________________________

Wise Mind – A Case for the Integration of Subjective Experience with Objective Reality in the Age of Fragmentation written by Flore Singer Aaslid

Introducing ‘Ethnography and Self-Exploration’— Sjaak van der Geest, Trudie Gerrits, Flore Singer Aaslid

Marginal groups, marginal minds Reflections on ethnographic drug research and other traumatic experiences by Flore Singer Aaslid

Flore Singer Aaslid Thesis: Facing the Dragon: Exploring a conscious phenomenology of intoxication

Flore Singer Aaslid Book: Facing the Dragon: Exploring a conscious phenomenology of intoxication  Paperback– 23 Feb 2010

Do you see it? Adam and Eve were husband and wife before the Fall, not brother and sister.

In the 1952 Divine Principle, Jesus was married.

Sun Myung Moon’s explanation of the Fall of Man is based on his Confucian ideas of lineage, and his belief in shaman sex rituals.

Hooked on the “true lineage” rhetoric

Sun Myung Moon’s theology used to control members

Sun Myung Moon: The Emperor of the Universe

Writings of former FFWPU members Many recount their experiences in the organization or their journeys out of it

Ashamed to be Korean

[allmightluver]

**bnha spoilers** I'm just sat here with renewed realisation of what All Might is going through. 40 years. /40 years/ he held and refined that power and dedicated his every waking (and sleeping if Vigilantes is anything to go by) moment towards the goal of defeating AfO and creating a society in which people could feel happy and safe. And now as it turns out AfO is still alive, society is broken and he has given a literal piece of his soul to this young boy leaving himself with only phantoms

Yes. I don’t think people quite grasp what all he’s going through.

It’s been shown recently to us that some, if not most, heroes have underlying ambitions in becoming a hero. Whether for money, glory, fame, popularity, doesn’t matter. They’re ultimately in it for themselves. Toshinori’s intentions from the beginning have been the most pure- he wanted to be a symbol that people can look to and know things will be ok. A symbol of hope. This boy was only around 14 years old when he decided this. What kind of 14 year old sees the world that clearly? Sees that people have no hope, that a veil of darkness covers them. The only thing I can think of is- Toshinori did not have a good childhood. Something had to have happened to a boy that young to stop seeing the joy in life so early, and see the world’s flaws. Truthfully, I believe he was an outcast- due to his quirklessness. Most likely an orphan, perhaps abandoned by his parents, as we’ve never seen him have any family. I do truly believe Toshinori has been alone all his life. I don’t doubt more could have happened to him as a child before he met Nana. 

Some may argue that Izuku is the same age, and therefore it shouldn’t be that hard to see why Toshinori wanted to be a hero at such a young age. BUT, Izuku had someone to look up to, ever since he was a child of four years old, to inspire him to be a hero his whole life *cough cough* All Might. Izuku also was quirkless, much like Toshinori, and an outcast because of it (hence where I assume Toshinori was much the same). But ultimately, Izuku wanted to save people because he saw his hero do it. It really wasn’t until Izuku was a bit older, has been in UA, has been on rescue missions, has seen what the heroes see, that I think he’s truly realized how dark the world really is. Toshinori didn’t have that. He didn’t have someone to inspire him as a child, someone to look up to, a hero to inspire him to help others. At that time, heroes hadn’t become as popular as they are in present times. Toshinori saw the world for what it was, on his own, at a tender age. I think that day Nana ran into this blonde hair kid, she eyed him up, noticed his scraggly form, looked into those captivating blue eyes, and saw a man who’s lived through the world’s horrors- experienced the worst it has to offer-, and wants to save everyone he can from the same fate, all in a 14 year old boy. 

Then after only a few short years with the woman he saw as his mother, she’s killed in front of him because of his own weakness- he wasn’t strong enough yet to protect her. The only other person his life, Gran Torino, literally abused him. He beat him to a pulp, taking his own emotions out on a teenager, and I doubt Toshinori said anything of it. He probably thought he deserved it. He’s still afraid of Gran Torino to this day, remembering the beatings and expecting more for his failures- even if he doesn’t know what they are surely he’s at fault for something, but he’s the only person who’s stood by his side for this long. Even while at a distance, and spouting nothing but criticisms along the way. But Toshinori had to put aside his own emotions to be that hope for everyone. He left everything he knew to go to a new country on his own, to learn how to be a hero, to be that hope for someone.

Vigilantes showed us just how hard he worked. Toshinori literally stayed awake with no sleep for days on end- 3 in the chapter I’m referencing- because people needed help, people needed saving, and no one else stepped up. He fought villains, rescued civilians, repaired damage, cleared rubble, (even accept and eat food that was against his dietary restrictions after his injury) whatever the public needed, all while draining himself further. He worked himself to the point of exhaustion because he had no help, once literally falling asleep while mid-leap across the city because he simply could go no further. 

^^These happen in succession of each other^^

No one stepped up to say “Hey, Mr. Number 1, you’ve been working hard lately. Let me help you!” No one tried to take over his position. Even the Number 2 hero, Endeavor, never tried to take some of his burden. His only goal was to try to be better than All Might in terms of power- he was never trying to be the hero that the people relied on All Might for. Everyone relied on him when things looked grim. He was the back up plan. And all of this happened before Toshinori’s injury. 

The only thing he ever wanted to do- help people- he can’t do (at least the way he’s always known how to). The ability to save people has been taken from him in the most gruesome way. He was finally able to fight the man that killed Nana, and in a rage that I’m sure echoed with all of the emotions of the previous users, he smashed that man’s head like a grape. But not without consequence. Several organs are gone. The pain is excruciating. He wears that man’s mark on his body for the rest of his life, never truly able to rid himself of the filth.

Then we have Nighteye’s betrayal. The man that helped him as a sidekick, the man that grew to be his only friend. Now some people may ask why Toshinori flipped like he did to Nighteye looking into his future when he was concerned about him making it through his injury. What I believe is Toshinori didn’t want to know when he would die (and really, who does). Now he knows he’s on a time limit, knows the clock is ticking. Time is running out to keep the world at peace, and with him as he is now, how long can this go on? 

I think the betrayal, doing something that Toshinori specifically asked him not to do, is what hurt the most. How can he trust Nighteye anymore? He already can only count on one hand the people he can trust, let alone befriend.

He’s wasted away into a skeleton, a shell of the man he used to be. He can’t over exert himself without his only lung bleeding in protest. It’s canon in the side books that he really doesn’t eat much, which isn’t good for his diet without a stomach now (he’s supposed to have several small meals a day). He is quite literally punishing himself by starving. (Granted, he doesn’t feel hunger anymore.) He’s a sick man, beyond medical help at this point. They can only stabilize him and hope for the best. For five years now he’s in constant pain, every day. He loses blood like sweat. Surely his veins are bruised and collapsed with how many times he would have needed to be hospitalized. Whether from losing too much blood, being too dehydrated or starved from “forgetting” to eat, or an organ failing as body continues to fall apart. “...even as my body rots and grows frail...” - Toshinori People are bound to stare at him as he walks down the street. A tall, willowy, skeleton with a grimace on his face and blood stains on his clothes as he coughs up more into his own hands. There would be the ones who outright ignore him when they walk by, the people who offer pitying smiles and sympathetic glances or just outright stare, and then ones who are afraid of his appearance- children screaming at the mere sight of him and running to their parents to hide from the monster. Each one is another knife in Toshinori’s side, an ache in his chest. If only they knew who I really am.

Losing Nighteye took a toll on his hero work as well. Mirai was a huge help in the past, and took care of all Toshinori’s paperwork, while also reminding him to take care of himself. Without him, Toshinori was even more buried beneath his responsibilities. Plus, now he was on a time limit. He even snapped briefly in his first meeting with Tsukauchi, accidentally revealing himself as All Might because he was under too much pressure, and telling the detective he literally couldn’t handle doing everything by himself (who graciously took over the paperwork side of things for him). 

He was living a double life now, having to lie to people left and right about who he was while in his small form, about how he became so sickly, why he was here in the first place who the heck is this skinny old guy. Surely he had multiple visits to the doctor while continuing to repair the damage done by AFO (there’s a limit to how much the body can handle at once. And things I’m sure continued to fail as time went on). Then he would be bedridden for as long as the doctors could keep him strapped to a bed, until he couldn’t take the people’s cries for help any longer, and would jump into action. (It’s also revealed he has something of a super hearing- able to hear danger- which may have been a form of danger sense of OFA that was never fully unlocked?. Either way, he surly could sense disasters happening while he could only lay and heal from his latest surgery. Those poor doctors must have had to re-stitch him several times). People blame him for not preparing society for his retirement, that he failed in passing on the torch so to speak, but in reality he did everything possible to keep society from falling for 40 years, doing all within his power just to keep things afloat. He is only one person. One human being, he can’t do everything despite trying to. Society failed All Might.

People blame him for not being a good teacher. He didn’t exactly have the greatest teacher himself to learn from. He’s never had to teach anyone anything, he just punches! He’s learning. And for his own credit, he’s an incredibly wise man, he has years of experience under his belt, and an intelligence score of 6/6, scoring up there with Nezu! He may not always have the right way to bring something up, but he’s doing his best. Yet even he blames himself for Izuku not being able to control his quirk better. Every time the boy hurts himself, it’s just another tally on the chalkboard of Toshinori’s failures. He himself knows the boy deserves better, better than him. Useless. Pathetic.

Then his friend from America, Dave, essentially became a villain trying to preserve Toshinori’s legacy after Toshinori told him about his injury. Dave went behind his back, threatened people, injured people (pretty sure people died), all for Toshinori’s sake. Something he didn’t want to begin with. Having to put your only other friend in jail for trying to help you surely couldn’t have been easy.

Oh, by the way? All For One isn’t dead. All Might will fight him again, publicly, have his weakened form exposed to the world, and have his own emotions toyed with as he finds out about his master’s grandson in the villain’s hands. Would Nana hate him for leaving her son alone like she’d asked, and dooming her grandchild to be raised by the greatest villain? Could he have done anything to save him? But Toshinori isn’t allowed to feel, he has to smile and push his own feelings aside once again, because there’s a villain to be fought, and only he can fight him. Despite coming out on top, he’ll have suffered severe head trauma, broken left arm, destroyed right arm, and several cuts and bruises that are sure to scar. And then, his quirk, the only thing that’s been allowing him to help people, the gift given to him that he carefully held for 40 years and molded into his own until his very consciousness was permanently carved into it, blows out like a match in the wind. And he’s done. Used up. Empty. Broken. Hollow. Alone, again.

He overhears his student, Bakugo, admit that he blames himself for All Might’s retirement. If he hadn’t been captured, All Might wouldn’t have had to save him, and he wouldn’t have had to fight AFO. Of course Toshinori knows that’s not true, his time was about to run out anyway. It would have happened one way or another. But how can he explain to this child that he wasn’t the cause of his hero, the world’s greatest hero, fighting for his sake, bleeding for his sake, being forced into retirement to keep him safe. Every time Bakugo sees the bandages covering Toshinori’s body is another reminder of the pain and sacrifice Toshinori willingly gave to keep him safe. Toshinori wasn’t held when his mentor died. He wasn’t told it was ok to be sad, that grief and mourning was a natural process, that it takes time to heal. He wasn’t told it was ok to cry. Instead his feelings were beaten out of him as he wondered if Gran Torino blamed him for Nana’s death. He already blamed himself How then, does he comfort a child mourning for him? For what he lost.

And then he gets the call to come to the hospital. Mirai, Nighteye, his old sidekick friend, has been gravely injured, much like he himself was only a few years ago, and most likely won’t survive the night. And to his horror, Nighteye is happy to see him, smiles at him, says he doesn’t hate him for what happened, only wants Toshinori to be happy. He can’t accept that, at least let him apologize, reconcile his sins before it’s too late! But it is. Another fractured piece of his heart gone.

Of course, seeing your students beat up and their arms completely destroyed must have hurt. Instead of being able to save these kids, they’re the ones that hurt themselves to save everyone else. And if Bakugo had kept OFA, things could have been very different (especially with what we know now of OFA and people with quirks). Toshinori wasn’t mad at Izuku for transferring it away, he’d never regret choosing Izuku, and I believe he still would have stayed by Izuku and Bakugo’s side should it have stayed in Bakugo, doing whatever he could to help.

As he tells Aizawa, “I’ve decided to live,” -that statement seems so melancholy, besides obvious reasons. It sounds more like another task he has to accomplish. He didn’t die he was supposed to die with the AFO fight, and now the whole life he lived is over. The world has no use for him anymore. If not for Izuku, he’d have nothing left keeping him here. But because his boy made him promise to live, he’ll do so. Though it almost seems like he says those words with regret. “I’ve decided to live.” Not, “I’m going to live!” “Nothing can kill me!” “I won’t go down without a fight!” No. “I’ll live if I have to, only because you asked me to.” The man is obviously and outwardly depressed. He has so many things against him. No doubt has severe PTSD, anxiety, among others. Not to mention his own physical health. Every day hurts. It’s painful to be alive. Why would he torture himself if he doesn’t have to? For you, my boy. You’re the only thing keeping me here. The only light in my dark world.

He tries to help Izuku find out the previous holder’s quirks, to help his boy in any way he can now that he’s worthless, and goes days on end without sleep, running his body into the ground. He even forgets Christmas. Only to find that by giving the boy the same gift he had received, he may have just doomed him to an early death, among psychological torture (danger detection). (Granted, he really doesn’t know how everything works, and he’s afraid to talk to anyone about it). His boy could live only half a life.

It’s only been a few months since he retired, and society has fallen into shambles. People are blaming him. People are dying. He watches helplessly as his colleague fight his fight for him, and end up battered, bruised, crippled, dead. He students, his boy, battle the monster he should have killed. Children are bleeding. This shouldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Is everything he worked for, everything he fought to protect, to build up, to inspire, is all for naught?! Did he live a foolish dream and doom the world? Was all the the friends he lost, tears he shed, the organs he destroyed, the pain he endures on a daily basis from the hole in his side, and the blood he continues to bleed every day, for nothing? The public, the ones he protected for so long, mourn his absence, but surely there are those among them who also blame him. The statue from his last fight in Kamino one that he never asked for was decimated in a mock of his catch phrase- the one that was supposed to give hope.

Now he can feel his own vestige speaking with Izuku in the OFA realm, even with out OFA in his own body anymore. His clock as nearly reached it’s limit, Nighteye’s prediction is due any day now. The only thing he wants is to see his boy smile at him, to give him some shred of hope. Yet the child remains unconscious, and Toshinori can’t even hold his hand from the bandages covering his arms. Will he still be able to fight? Is there any coming back from this now? Did I break him?

With all Toshinori has been through, I’m honestly surprised we haven’t seen him just outright break down. Anyone, anyone, else should have crumbled under the pressure of holding up the world for 40 years alone. And instead of being able to pass it on to someone when he can no longer bear its weight, it simply falls to into the abyss. People don’t credit All Might enough for everything he’s done. Most don’t realize the sacrifices he’s made. His character is so unbelievably profound and deep, it’s more than just the “I am here!” people focus on. He’s a deeply troubled, layered, complex character. And I can’t find fault within him.

[kataraslove]

thinking about post-canon kataang referencing dialogues that they’ve shared together, and memories that they explored with one another, during the war, but now as older adults in a time of peace:

aang thinking deeply about something and katara interrupting him with a bemused smile and a “hey.” “hey,” aang responds with a soft grin. “watcha thinking about?” katara proceeds to ask him, sitting next to him on the bed. these two lines become their opening for when one of them is deeply preoccupied in their thoughts, and the other wants to find out what’s bothering them.

just because they have a solid grasp of communication and are perceptive to each other’s feelings most of the times, doesn’t mean that they won’t get on each other’s nerves sometimes and act downright petty when they want to fight. “i know it’s great!” “i’m glad you know.” “good!” “FINE!” *door slams* (later, when they’ve both calmed down, they apologize for their behaviour).

penguin-sledding!! and koi fish-riding!! and surfing and WATER BOMBS, HYAAHH and all the fun that they shared together on their travels as kids, now tenfold because they are Master Benders (TM) travelling the world. and whoever says that masters can’t have fun have obviously never met katara and aang.

even though they are both master benders, aang is still blown away each time katara comes up with a cool ass new move. “that was amazing!!!” he grabs his head again, in awe at how amazing his wife is.

and katara is still so proud every time aang enters the avatar state at will. she’s just, so proud of him, y’know? proud of how he’s grown up, proud of the man that he’s become, proud of being part of his journey, proud that they got to save the world together.

katara wears new clothing from across the world and aang blushes each time, like he’s twelve all over again. “you look beautiful.” sometimes, aang will also try on new things that drives katara crazy (in a good way). new clothing. new footwear. a new sash. even makeup. and each time katara grabs his face and whispers, “you look beautiful,” before bringing him down for a kiss.

the fact that aang will not miss out on the opportunity to brag about his height growth to katara. “who has to get on their tiptoes now?” “still you,” she answers with a proud smirk, having elevated herself from the floor with ice. and aang lets her win this once, because even though he’s an airbender, and a waterbender, and an earth and firebender, he also loves his girlfriend. but sometimes he can’t help but draw out his competitive spark, and the two spend significant time trying to out height-bend each other.

this time, katara is the one to pull him to the dance floor when aang’s feeling a little bit unsure. “take my hand,” and “it’s just you and me,” becomes their lullaby, their reassurance that no matter what happens around the world, they’ll always have each other.

the kiss at their wedding echoes the kiss at ba sing se, in iroh’s tea-shop. a warm embrace in the form of a hug, before katara leans in, reminding aang that she’s ready, and has always been ready. his arms around her waist pull her closer, her arms around his neck deepen the kiss. amidst the cheering and yelling in the surrounding world, the two re-affirm that it’s once again, just them.

after all, what is the childhood best friends to lovers part of kataang, if not for the deep experiences that they’ve shared during the war that made them fall in love? experiences and memories that they’ll revisit and keep with them until the day they die (and then after, in the spirit world).

[teeterarting]

here's a list of things i love about PSMD for no reason other than i think it deserves appreciation (spoilers)

the hero gets adopted by a nuzleaf. Hero, a young child that doesn't know why they were brought into this world, attacked by beheeyem, scared and alone, finds someone that takes them under his wing and gives them a home. it's really sweet that once Nuzleaf brings them to the Village, Hero's not alone anymore.

yes it was all a trick, he deceived you. but being betrayed by your father figure hits so much harder. it's much more personal, especially when both Hero and Partner are kids. and when Nuzleaf goes through all that ordeal in the post game, then gets accepted back into the village?? And his little speech to Hero????? it's heartbreaking and incredibly touching at the same time

everything is just so cute!!!! you go to school with your new friendo and you're friends with the schoolkids, and you make the trip to school every morning taking in the scenery, the smell of dew and fresh grass, and the sun on your face... and you take classes about Mystery Dungeon mechanics, and principal Simipour is a big BRO, the school nurse Audino is super kind and helpful... and you get to play with your pokemon friendos in summer vacation, and explore a dungeon with 'em... AND your bond with your Partner begins to form, getting stronger and stronger from then on. PSMD's beginning arc is so warm and pleasant, it's like reliving childhood memories all over again, when things were happier and you didn't have to worry about how cruel the world is. this story section's one purpose is to get the player used to the game's mechanics, as well as foreshadowing. unfortunately most of the school kids get forgotten later on, but I still love this part for everything it is, even if unintentional.

it's not just the beginning that's cute. PSMD'S ENTIRE WORLD IS ADORABLE. It's just filled with life every town you go. there are a bunch of pokemon locals and they all have interesting things to say, in the main story and the post-game. there's a point where their comments get repetitive, but that's bound to happen in any PMD game. Even then, the days are never the same. one morning you wake up and the Lively Town locals are exercising, then the next they're having singing lessons, and then they're practicing martial arts. and you get to connect with (or recruit) some of them just by.... chatting!!! Sitting next to that big ol' venusaur and sharing stories, laughing and having fun. it's good stuff.

Sometimes you find travelling pokemon in dungeons and it's jsut the coolest thing. Imagine you're exploring a dungeon, then your Connection Orb notifies you there's a fellow explorer in the floor. First thing you do is try to find them, and when you do - oh dang a travelling Archeops!!!! And then they just,,,, exchange their experiences and thoughts on exploration and how hard it is to fend off those enemies and the cool treasure they found the other day (the game calls it "[Team Name] and [Traveller pokemon] compared notes"). then the traveller heals you, fills your belly and restores your PP. and they go on their way. idk man it's such a cute interaction. explorers chatting, empathizing and helping each other, bc their job is not an easy one...

PSMD Partner is the most developed Partner in any PMD game yet. They start off as this naive, hyperactive kiddo, then stuff happens, and worse stuff happens, and you get to see how they grow and change and by the end they're a different person than they were before (in more than one way ...). It's just so nice to be by their side, from the beginning to the bitter end, and watch their growth. in contrast, Hero is a little unbalanced in that their backstory is not explored as much, and their personality is kind of a blank - probs meant to be vague so the player can be in their shoes. to me this just gives you the opportunity to shape their character however you want, so you can have tons of different hero/pardner dynamics.

The music is rlly flippin' good. Some of the tracks are recycled from previous entries, but when they go original??? it's a blast!!! "Echoes of the Mystical Forest" is one of my favorites in all four entries, it has no right being so amazing for a random dungeon. "Time to Set Out" makes me cry immediately (also i think it would be a better fit for the parting ways scene at the end...). Don't even get me started on "Second Dark Matter Battle", it has everything an epic climax needs and MORE. the Partner remix????? absolute genius

speaking of which, Dark Matter ITSELF,, is freaking amazing. Its actions were foreshadowed in the very beginning, though they were not blatant through the game. i do think they could have done a better job at showing the pokemon's negativity raising in the world, as well as negative feelings in the characters... but it's not like Gates did a good job at it, either (outside of cutscenes, all the locals in Post Town are incredibly nice to you and fights didn't "break out often". it's like the game tells you the world is a dark place, but what it shows in gameplay doesn't add up). so i'll cut them some slack. Still, I find Dark Matter a more compelling villain than the Bittercold for several reasons. it is sentient. its speech is a jumbled amount of voices all talking at the same time - the anguished voices of the world. It actually concocted a plan to hurl the planet into the Sun, using pawns like Nuzleaf and Yveltal to do its dirty job. in the Voidlands, Hero and Partner discover its past, and how it'll come back after defeat, like a cycle. when Partner accepts Dark Matter, they accept negative feelings as something everyone has within themselves. Most of all, the fact that Dark Matter is a manifestation of negative feelings doesn't make it just a generic threat, a final obstacle to be defeated so the world can be saved. It makes Dark Matter - negativity itself - a natural part of the world, the yin to its yang. and that's why I LOVE IT SO MUCH DANG IT EVEN THANKS PARTNER FOR THEIR ACCEPTANCE

The fact that Dark Matter can possess pokemon that have "even the smallest amount of darkness in their hearts". it makes me think of Mr. Nuzleaf and what he might have gone through in the past to make him so easy to be controlled. Did he hold a grudge against someone?? Did he commit a crime?? Had Nuzleaf always been malicious???? And if so, is this why he shows so much remorse in the post-game??????? because he had always been this vile fiend and then he met this small kid and got attached, but still carried on with his evil actions because his malice was still stronger than the positive feelings and Dark Matter's hold on him intensified?????? I don't know!!!! and as much as i wish the game could have given us that sweet mr. Nuzleaf backstory, it's pretty fun to have freedom to come up with your own version.

Everything about Super's climax is just phenomenal. Every single flippin' legendary is there to help you. Arceus is in the game. MEWTWO IS THERE. and when things are looking hopeless, they really seem hopeless. First the Tree of Life is dying, then your allies get turned into stone and sent to hell The Voidlands, Arceus gets turned into stone, the entire world is stone (except for several mon' that are still safe and holding onto hope, but they're so few). Your Harmony Scarves stop working and you and your Partner are back to your feeble, basic stage forms. You are bordering exhaustion, you have no Emeras, it's just you and your Partner against an eldritch abomination that's killing the life on the entire planet like a parasite, devouring all hope. but you still fight back. Given how adults in the game always discourage the village children from going adventuring, that they cannot do this or that because they're so little and fragile, it's awesome how Hero and Partner beat Dark Matter as tiny kids.

PSMD is not a flawless game. in fact there's plenty of things that hold it back and i even mentioned some... but it's still full of love put into it and it resonates w me more than PMD Explorers of T/D/S and Gates to Infinity (Rescue Team is a close second). its my all-time favorite PMD game.

[ashliwood]

Just wondering

At the end of my first appointment with Tesh she asked if I had any traumatic experiences as a kid, and this was very conversational so I very conversationally said something about how I don’t think they’re traumatic, maybe just formative. She told me, “oh, I definitely want to talk more about that next time.” And then for some reason I laughed. For some reason she laughed too. It was nice actually. In the picture on the screen, she was smiling, and from behind my laptop I could see the white afternoon light flitting through the side of my curtain. It was a gorgeous day outside. I got a sunburn later.

It’s weird talking about lateral religious trauma handed down by a family that wasn’t even my own. and I’m beyond it now, I’m fine with it all, I’m not that kid anymore, but I still know her. We haven’t lost touch. I see myself at eleven years old, so tan, all elbows and knees. I smell like chlorine. I’m weightless, I feel like I’m in an ocean, everything is fragile magic. At eleven years old I still loved being a girl in a way that’s inflected with a blurriness of childhood joy. From the shallow end I hear her talking to my mom, she has a loud voice that carries, it’s sticky, it clings to your ribcage, that St. Bernard accent coming through in flickers. She’s talking about my body, I realize. She sounds appalled. She says that from behind I don’t look eleven. I hear every word, but only hers, not my mother’s, and my adolescence splits into two at the three-foot end of the cross-gates pool; a before and after. And then I cover up my body for years.

At the lakefront, I climb the sprawled out oak tree with her son who is my best friend and she takes pictures of us. Moss and shadows, those houses on stilts, and my face is serious, she says she likes to photograph it like that, and whatever she asks for I give and give. I like her laugh, it’s just so big, loud as the rest of her, and how do I get more of it, what will make me deserving? She lets me ride shotgun on the way to get the photos developed. She talks to me the whole time, only me, and I’m like a daughter to her, she’s said that since I was nine years old, since she took me to church with her family and said, I’d like to see you saved. She makes me feel interesting and she makes me cry. The before intrudes upon the after. Giveth and taketh away, so on and so forth. She was the first person I knew who shot film, it’s the whole reason why I started. And I still have those photos. They’re black and white and beautiful, and I felt beautiful in them. I thought what I felt was love.

One night while I’m over at Pat’s place, smoking with him on the porch swing, his bother is drunk and says something to me about my legs. Do you know how to take a compliment? he asks, and I think I might be smiling when I cut my knuckles on his teeth. My rage was a gift. It was a channel, I was the gathering of many sharp points. And when his brother comes to the restaurant that I work at, that she owns, she pops the cap off the beer he orders even though he’s underage. I loved that bottle opener. Mounted to the counter above the sink so that you got the satisfying click of teeth pulling pleated metal, and again when the metal hits the sink. She says he likes me. I’m supposed to like that, but I’m not supposed to engage with it, just let it happen to me. She has no idea about my knuckles, and she doesn’t ask about them, and that’s because I’m at the age where girls get difficult but she never elaborates on why. I could tell her why. She’s talking about the bible study on wednesday, how I don’t go anymore, but I say I will because she’s a blow to my heart, I’m still sensitive to her rejection. I really only liked going just to play baseball in the street with the other kids while their parents picked apart verses. My parents don’t go to church. Those parents thought they were saving me. I just wanted a community. For a long time I won’t know that it’s not always like this; the dark living rooms, litanies of wrath, lists of who ends up in hell and who can claw their way up if they’re devoted enough, and the women only allowed to listen while the sweat collects on their faces. Do not be afraid, the bible says over and over. She asks in this cavalier way that isn’t really cavalier if I’m going to bring that girl with the black hair, with the black nails, with the black clothes. No, I’m not bringing her. I love her too much to bring her. “I think that girl is lost,” she says. “I don’t want her to get you lost,” she says. The pile of beer caps glitter wet under the overheads. Her husband watches from the cut-out window in the kitchen door, and he always looks angry when our eyes meet, and I can't for the life of me understand which part of me is the worst problem. but she’s smiling, and her smile is almost warm. Do not be afraid. Don’t flinch.

[whump-softie]

Erased (anime) short whump fic, aka spoilers

TW: attempted drowning/killing, trauma flashbacks

BK: Yashiro (the killer) tried to drown Satoru (the boy trying to stop him), putting him in a 15 year coma, when he wakes up. Kenya is his childhood friend.

-

Kenya visits when Satoru is sleeping. Sleeping, but awake. Sleeping, but conscious. He hesitates to say a miracle, but maybe it really was meant to be.

Satoru was sleeping, but he was not sleeping peacefully. His mind rewinds to the hockey rink, to the car ride, to the earth-shattering conversation, and then, finally, a simple basketball keeping him plunging forwards into a frozen lake.

He screams. He knows his killer’s future, but what will come of his own? Will he end up in the lake forever, trapped beneath the water? Stuck in a time loop, saving everyone but himself?

Help me.

The cold spills into his lungs, his veins. It freezes him, unable to escape the stuck seatbelt. The water rises, and he screams, but only one man hears him.

“Help me!”

Kenya jumps as Satoru jolts forward, sitting up with a start, eyes wild and skin sweaty. Kenya panics, not knowing exactly what to do as Satoru unconsciously tried to unbuckle himself.

“Don’t leave me here,” Satoru is muttering. “I know your future, save me, save me, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. It won’t end like this, please don’t leave me. Save me, please, please, Yashiro please…”

Kenya’s heart breaks. He can’t even imagine the pain and suffering Satoru went through alone. Playing detective all alone, as if he knew something. That knowledge almost got him killed. Almost.

Kenya reaches a hand out. Satoru flinches, doesn’t meet eye contact, and shrinks into himself as if he were just a little kid again.

“Yashiro, please don’t.”

Kenya retracts his hand. He doesn’t know how to help. His heart breaks again and again. He should’ve been there to help his friend, should’ve believed in him more. Should’ve followed in his footsteps.

Satoru doesn’t see Kenya, he sees Yashiro, and his crimson, evil eyes, and the grin that was colder than the icy waters. He sees an enemy that was under his nose all this time. He sees his own failure. Failed to stop the killer, failed to stop anything bad from happening.

Yashiro reaches a hand out, and Satoru shrinks back. His eyes scramble for a way out, his hands scramble to unbuckle, his mind scramble to find some way to fix this. “Please…”

It’s only later, when Satoru calms down with medication, that Kenya hears the story he’s dreaded to hear for 15 years.

Satoru starts, but doesn’t know where to begin.

“He… I told him to follow a truck. I thought… that she had been taken. I thought I was doing the right thing.” He starts shaking his head, and resolves to resting it in both hands, face turned downwards to hide tears forming.

“We drove for a while. We chatted, and he… he told me he stole the car. He turned left when that truck had turned right. My heart sank, I… I didn’t know what to do. What could I do?

“He looked at me with… with these eyes. I knew he was gonna kill me, I knew it. The lake was frozen over, but not all the way. I couldn’t unbuckle, it was stuck, glued or something, I dunno.

“He took a basketball, laid it on the gas pedal, and… and… and it was so cold, and I couldn’t move, couldntt breathe. I remember screaming. Screaming, then cold. So cold I could barely move. I couldn’t unbuckle then, even it wasn’t stuck.

“I couldn’t feel my fingers, couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t hear me. He wouldn’t do anything, not even if I begged. Kenya, I begged him. It didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything. He tried to drown me. It was… cold and I couldn’t move, and…”

Kenya didn’t say anything, just watched as his childhood best friend sobbed, reliving the worst trauma someone could experience. It pained him, knowing Satoru thought he was alone.

He reached to give Satoru a hug, but he flinched away first, so Kenya pulled back. Emotionless, he must’ve seemed heartless. But inside, his stomach was churning. It was the worst. Seeing Satoru like that.

[cosmicjoke]

Ah, chapters 113 & 114 of AoT, and I’ve only got one thing to say.

Zeke, am I supposed to be feel sorry for the bitch?  Well I DON’T.

No, seriously, fuck this guuuuuuuuy, I know I keep saying it again and again, but God damn, if these two chapters didn’t just solidify my hatred for the bastard.

First of all, he is just... the most whiny, delusional, self-pitying pathetic loser, just... he really is.  I feel like a character in a Peanuts comic strip every time he opens his mouth.  All I hear is “whaa, whaa, whaa”.  And his delusions of grandeur would almost be funny if they weren’t so pathetic.  

Here’s the thing, alright, and I’m sorry if I’m going to offend any Zeke fans with what I’m about to say, but too bad, I guess.  

Everything out of this shitheads mouth is a lie.  And just because he’s convinced himself of his own bullshit doesn’t make the lies coming out of his mouth any more true.

He turns Levi’s fellow soldiers into Titans.  He does this without remorse.  Don’t try to tell me Zeke felt bad about it.  He didn’t.  You know how I know he didn’t?  Because in his private moments in the immediate aftermath, he mocks Levi over having done it, gloating about his supposed master plan of using Levi’s compassion against him and utilizing it to ensure Levi’s own demise.  Zeke’s entire attitude here is sickeningly unbothered, unburdened, uncaring, and smug in the EXTREME.  He mocks Levi’s compassion, literally makes fun of it and lambasts it as a pathetic sign of weakness when he says “I know you’re a caring leader.  Your soldiers haven’t done anything wrong.  They’ve just grown a little bigger.  You wouldn’t, say, slice them to pieces over that, would you?”.  This is Zeke making fun of the fact, finding AMUSEMENT in the fact that he’s just murdered 30 people who have never done a single thing to him, and reveling in what he thinks is a victory that will lead to Levi’s own death, reveling in having taken advantage of and weaponizing a better man’s kindness and compassion.  Zeke is ENJOYING this moment.  Just like he enjoyed killing all those soldiers in Shinganshina.  And then, the kicker, and this is a particular point about Zeke that just makes me absolutely sick, he pretends to himself as if he didn’t want to do it.  He PLAYS at his own regret, saying, “I didn’t want do this either,” and yet in the very next breath, continues to treat what he’s done with grotesque flippancy, saying “Still, how sad... There wasn’t even a battle or skirmish.”  Gloating over how easily he’s bested Levi and his men, before going on to sink further into his insane delusions of grandeur, blaming their inability to trust one another on Levi’s inability to “understand”.  I’m sorry, Zeke, but no.  You didn’t even TRY to help Levi understand, too wrapped up in your own egotistical god-complex to consider it a possibility.  ‘Oh, only I could possibly understand, along with Eren, the great task we two special beings have been burdened with.  He makes assumptions about Levi’s life, about the kinds of things he’s seen and experienced, and convinces himself that they couldn’t be anything like what Zeke has (which, hilariously, is all wrong, since out of everyone, Levi knows better than anyone else in the SC what it’s like to be treated as a second class citizen).  Zeke just assumes Levi couldn’t possibly ever grasp the complexities of the outside world, and so that’s why Zeke didn’t even bother trying to talk to him.  Blah, blah, blah.  No, Zeke, you didn’t share your stupid ass plan because you wanted to continue to feel special, like you’re the chosen one who gets to decide the fate of an entire race of people.  The most hilarious part of this entire sequence is when Zeke is thinking Levi couldn’t ever understand the concept of all the world’s militaries bearing down on Paradis at once, and what that means, couldn’t grasp the urgency of the situation, as if ZEKE HIMSELF isn’t completely fucking responsible for that situation in the first place.  Zeke literally engineered it.  He created the problem, and now wants to position himself as the savior.  He’s just such a loser man.  The God damned definition.  

And as if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when it turns out Zeke’s plan to take Levi out failed miserably, and Levi comes after his sorry ass like a bat out of hell, Zeke continues to mock Levi, to laugh at what Levi’s just had to do in order to survive and pursue Zeke.  He says “Where’d your adorable little men go!?  Don’t tell me you killed them all!  The poor things!”.  Are you fucking serious?  Zeke’s behavior here is one of the most sickening things in the entire story, bar none.  The way he laughs at Levi here for having to cut down 30 of his friends and comrades, the absolute display of sociopathic glee and disregard for the severe, horrific trauma he’s just caused this man, is honestly shocking.  Man, I’m sorry, but anyone who sympathizes with Zeke over Levi after this display maybe needs to reevaluate their moral compass, because it’s damned broken.  And just as an aside, Zeke’s cowardly fear of Levi is also pretty damned funny.  He’s just such a bitch./

We go from this perverse display of psychopathic megalomania into Zeke’s backstory, and again, I’m sorry if I’m gonna offend any Zeke fans here, but to all of that, I ask, so effing what?  Oh, boohoo, Zeke’s mommy and daddy didn’t shower him with praise or spend any time playing catch with him, and somehow, I guess, this is meant to excuse his attempts later in life to commit mass genocide.  Poor, poor Zeke.  Yes, his childhood was sad, he experienced neglect from his parents for two whole years, was used by them as a pawn for their idiotic plans, and ended up disappointing his father when it turned out he had no real talent.  And again I ask, so what?  This sort of experience isn’t exactly what one would call unique, or even extreme.  There are countless children in the world who go through the exact same thing in various forms.  Parents who put too much pressure on their kids to succeed, parents who try living vicariously through their children, parents who make their disappointment known and even punish their children for failing to live up to their expectations (something Zeke’s parents never did, by the way).  The point is, this isn’t even what one would classify as extreme hardship.  It’s a sad story of a child being neglected and not receiving enough love from his parents.  This isn’t to undermine the very real pain one experiences from those things.  Not at all.  That pain is real and legitimate.  But it’s also fairly common and pedestrian, as far as childhood trauma is concerned, and it doesn’t even remotely begin to justify the extreme lengths of megalomaniacal, sociopathic, genocidal tendencies he later displays.  Also, Zeke also had his grandparents, who did love him and spent lots of time with him.  He had Mr. Ksaver, who played with him and acted as a mentor to him.  It wasn’t like Zeke had no one and grew up with zero connections.  That’s BS.  

Levi calls this bitch on his shit later in chapter 114, as Zeke’s muttering away in his delusions about how he’s “saving everyone”.  He asks Zeke “That was your plan?  Mercy killings?”.  Levi’s asking Zeke here who the hell gave him the right to decide who lives and who dies?  Who gave him the right to decide who’s life is WORTH living?  When Levi says him getting to die by being eaten by a Titan is pretty merciful, considering he stole the lives of so many of his comrades, Zeke’s reply speaks volumes about just how warped and demented his thinking is, when he says “I stole nothing.  I... saved them.  Them and the children they would have... I saved them all... from this cruel world.”.  He’s literally justifying murdering countless people by trying to redefine that murder as “saving” them.  It’s not murder because it saved them from ever having to suffer again!  He’s absolving himself here of his sins by casting his actions in not just a favorable light, but trying to sell them as heroic and admirable.  He takes no, actual responsibility for what he’s done.  He removes himself from that responsibility by pretending he was doing a good thing, an honorable, noble thing, by murdering a whole bunch of people who’d never done jack shit to him.  Yippee for Zeke, I guess.  He’s the very definition of an ego-maniac, of someone suffering from a messiah complex.  He’s insane, and morally depraved.  The very fact that he’s the one who comes up with the idea of eradicating the Eldian race by rendering them infertile is only further proof of this.  What teenager comes up with a plan to exterminate an entire race of people and thinks it’s a good idea?

Right before he blows himself and Levi up, he screams “I’m hope you’re watching, Mr. Ksaver!”.  He’s indulging in his own, fanciful notions of himself as the “chosen one”, as a unique person who alone is capable of delivering humanity to salvation.  He’s showing off, asking Mr. Ksaver to watch him as he “saves the world”, because all he cares about, really, is making himself feel special, of fulfilling what he’s deluded himself into believing is his destiny, his right to decide the fate of the world. 

And then he almost kills Levi in the process.

I swear, I wish Levi had just chopped his shitty head off right then and there.  No one can blame Levi for chopping the bastards legs up like he did, for being so angry.  It wasn’t just that Zeke had killed so many of his fellow soldiers by turning them into Titans, or tried to kill Levi by turning them into Titans, it’s also how Zeke laughed about it, and laughed at the pain he’d caused Levi, treating all of it as if it was worth nothing, and then having the unmitigated gall to cast himself as the hero bestowing his benevolent mercy on all.  Give me a fucking break.

Fuck you Zeke.  I hope you rot in hell, you dumb shit.  

Also, fuck you to Floch too.  I hate that bastard almost as much.

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.