#aka the only other person who comprehends this

[beantothemax]

im in my Hawkeye Pierce feels

currently in my Big Bone Daniels feels

[hella1975]

tams azula is sooo fascinating bc while canon azula doesn't really show her age at all like she's completely desensitised to so much shit 'she is fourteen' is not a justification for ANYTHING both in her own mind and in other people's, in tams she has zuko. and yes the world has been abundantly cruel to her but zuko hasn't. he's basically raised azula and he's done so in a way that she's allowed to show her age, but she still only shows her age in very azula-esque ways. there's no reluctance to see violence like you'd expect from a fourteen-year-old, and like ive said before, that means zuko can't play on that reluctance in order to shield her, but he still wants to shield her from that violence because regardless of what SHE feels about it, as the eldest he knows fundamentally that she shouldn't be seeing certain things no matter how well she can handle them. and seeing zuko effectively PLAY azula in order to protect her is so interesting and complicated and fun

[toshidou]

lighthouse for a lost comrade . . .

Pairing // Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word count // 4.9k

Tags // 18+ ONLY, AFAB reader, soft simon riley, written from simon's perspective, mild descriptions of injury and blood, hurt and comfort, aka simon finally allows himself to be looked after <3, he is a big boy with a heart that yearns to be loved you cannot convince me otherwise, the softest of smut, praise, you accidentally give ghost a 'sir' kink, reader calls ghost sir a couple of times because they're hot like that, unprotected sex (tut tut), creampie, a whole lot of swearing

AN // i love this man a ridiculous amount, so me writing nearly 5k about how much i love him was inevitable

AO3 link here

Simon Riley is not a man who cares about his own health. In fact, his wellbeing never has, and never will be a priority to him. He has work to do, gruelling, gritty, gruesome work, it is beyond pointless wasting time even thinking about when he last had more than 3 hours sleep, or how long it’s been since he consumed anything other than cold military rations. In his defence, he’s never really had a reason to give a shit, he sees the hourglass whenever he allows himself to close his eyes; watches the sand slip rapidly through the cracks, counting down until his inevitable, most likely painful death. He’s living life on a timer, and he’s never had a reason to change that.

Until he met you.

You were a wide-eyed rookie, Laswell bringing you into the fold as a technician, a skilled hacker and mechanic who despite your innocent doe eyes, held lethal talents. He remembers so vividly, the way your head had cocked to the side as Laswell introduced you to the peculiar members of task force 141, remembers the way your eyes stopped on him. You showed not a single ounce of fear or hesitance, just pure unbridled curiosity. That same curiosity led you to asking him far too many questions, relentlessly prying to see more of the man behind the mask, to see Simon Riley, rather than ‘Ghost’. It should have pissed him off, he should have reprimanded you for your callousness towards your Lieutenant, but somehow you knew exactly which questions to ask, knew exactly when to stop and move on to other subjects.

Contrary to popular belief, Simon doesn’t hide his past, doesn’t try to use it to fuel the mysterious and mythical reputation he’s unwittingly built. It’s just that no one ever asks. Maybe it’s something about the skull mask, or the egregiously high kill count he sits so casually on top of that has people wary of ever approaching him. But you—you had no hesitation. You read him like a goddamn book every single time, and it simultaneously terrified and relieved him.

One glance and every secret he shoved behind his balaclava is left bare before you, leaving him with a vulnerable, gaping wound in the shape of a lifetime of trauma and tales that Simon knows no person should ever have to experience. And yet, your eyes hold not an ounce of pity, no awkward silences attempting to be alleviated with an awkward pat on the back and a “that sounds rough, buddy”. You see his past, his pain, his suffering, his bad habits, without him ever having to explicitly say anything. And in return, you say nothing. You don’t try and mollify him about circumstances he’s moved on from long ago, you make no effort to coddle him, to sit him down and patronisingly ask him if he’s doing well, or when the last time he slept was.

Instead, you leave him cutely packaged leftovers on his doorstep, easy meals he can throw in the microwave when he’s too tired to even comprehend making food. You buy him a multitude of jigsaws and puzzles for when sleep evades him as it so often does. You never once try to change him, never force yourself into his life just so you can claim that you’re some selfless martyr. To Simon Riley, you are nothing short of a blessing, and falling in love with you was quite frankly the easiest thing he’s ever done.

He takes off the mask for the first time when neither of you were prepared, nor expecting it. The mission had been so fucking rough, camped out in the middle of nowhere on the hunt for someone he was sure had long since gone. Weeks spent trudging through thick mud, swimming upriver, tracking footprints that led nowhere, steered them to no one. His bone-deep exhaustion finally caught up with him after being shot in the leg and falling nearly 75 metres off of a cliff, plunging into the water below. Price had insisted he go straight to the medic tent back at basecamp, but then simply sighed and shook his head, resigned, as he watched Simon limp off the chopper, and in the exact opposite direction.

To most, this would be the latest example of Simon Riley once again disregarding his health for the sake of keeping up the stoic, strong mask he never let slip. Yet this time, Simon Riley was not disregarding his health, he was, for maybe the first time, trying to preserve what little of it he had left. His leg was near numb by the time he made it to your tent, his foggy mind quickly soothed by the sound of you humming along to the radio, accompanied by the rapid clicking of keys as you worked on some coding. It takes him hissing in discomfort as he attempts to remove his military boots for you to turn around, eyes going impossibly wide as you watch an alarmingly large pool of red grow at his feet.

“Jesus Christ Ghost, are you trying to redecorate my floor?” He kept his mouth shut, using the last dregs of his energy to keep his gaze pinned on you, dark brown irises following your every move as you usher him into the chair you occupied merely seconds before, gingerly hovering your hands over the drenched material that clings to his thigh, soaked in blood and water.

“I’m going to cut the material above the wound, okay? I need to see what I’m working with here.” Your eyes connect with his unwavering gaze, translating his silence into a language that has taken you an eerily short period of time to become fluent in. He watches you nod to yourself, can pinpoint the cogs turning in your mind, can practically see you write the list of how best to deal with this situation as you unpack your first aid kit. Somehow, despite his leg stinging like a bitch, despite how utterly worn he feels, so raw and rough around the edges, he feels at peace.

Price may think he was a stupid bastard for not seeing one of their trained medics, but Simon knows without a doubt that you will always be the best thing for him, you will always be the first port of call, the lighthouse that guides him oh so safely to shore, to home. Even when your stitches are a little uneven, even when you dab a little too much alcohol disinfectant onto his wound, even when you wince every time the muscle in his leg twitches involuntarily, he watches you pour every ounce of care and tenderness into every touch, watches you take care of him in a way no one else ever could, not that he’d let them.

You’re finishing off wrapping up the wound on his thigh when Simon realises he doesn’t want this moment to be over. He selfishly craves more of your delicate, gentle care, unsure if he could ever have this again after tonight, if he deserved it.

So, he waits. He waits for you to lean back on your haunches, bending back to check your handiwork with a satisfied smile tugging at your pretty lips. He waits for your eyes to drift to his, as they so often do, and then he speaks.

“I uh, I got hurt here too,” The words grate against his throat like sandpaper, rough and unsure as he lifts his hand to prod at his cheek, “think I hit a rock in the water after falling.” You stand immediately, eyebrows furrowed together as your fingers gently brush the small rip in his mask.

“I can’t see much with this in the way, Ghost, though I think you’ll live.”

Simon couldn't pinpoint exactly what had his fingers hooking under his mask, couldn’t single it down to any particular moment or word that had him pulling the black material over his chin, and up past his nose, he just knew it felt right. All he focused on was the way your lips fell agape, how your hands lifted automatically towards his wrists, whether to stop them or encourage them further he didn’t know, but he sure as fuck clocked the slight tilt to your head, taking him immediately back to when you first laid eyes on him.

You were looking at Simon in a way he can’t say he’s ever experienced. Like a complicated mixture of guilt and awe. But he feels no fear, no regret as he throws the skull balaclava unceremoniously onto the floor, and directly into the pool of blood he’d left by the door.

“Should be a little easier to see now, don’t you think?”

All he gets in return is a small huff of a laugh, the ghost of your breath fanning across his exposed face, he swears he’s never felt anything as sweet. That is until your hand comes to cup his face, shudders erupting down his spine when the pads of your impossibly soft fingers brush just under the superficial cut on his cheek.

“I don’t know Si, I think we might have to amputate.” You murmur, an overly dramatic lilt to your voice as you pretend to further examine the ‘wound’. And Jesus fucking Christ, if he isn’t so impossibly, incredibly fond of you.

“That bad, huh doc?” He leans forward, just enough to catch the way your pupils dilate, the slight hitch to your usually even breath, “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to save it? I’m particularly fond of that cheek.” He drinks in the soft hum you give in response, watches you with rapt attention as you lean further forward, and nearly passes the fuck out when you press your lips to his upper cheekbone, because what the fuck.

Before this, Simon Riley could say with absolute certainty that he’d never once blushed in his life, but now? He could feel the blood rushing to his face, knowing without a doubt that you could feel the heat radiating from where your fingers and lips remain connected to his skin. His wide eyes, blackened around the sockets from a mixture of paint and week-long exhaustion, remain firmly fixed on you, hardly hesitating before he secures your hand against his face the second he feels you pulling away.

There are no words exchanged, nothing but shallow breaths and searching eyes before Simon allows himself to be selfish just this once and pulls you onto his uninjured thigh, guiding you to sit with his other hand, fingers digging ever so slightly into the meat of your hip. And now he has you here, right where he’s always wanted you, there’s not a chance in hell he’s ever letting you go.

“Please kiss me, Simon.”

As if he could ever say no to you.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He removes his hand from your wrist, dragging his scarred knuckles as delicately as he possibly can across your cheek, fanning out his fingers around the side of your face, using the leverage to guide you impossibly closer. He allows himself one last look, tracing his gaze from your lidded eyes to your lips before he lets his eyelids fall shut, and loses himself in you. Loses every ounce of tension and exhaustion under the ministrations of your fingers as they tangle into his hair, and finally, fucking finally, he feels his once cold, dead heart thrum to life as you sigh contentedly against his lips. Kiss of life in-fucking-deed.

He's lost in every inch of you, can’t get over how soft and warm the plush of your waist is under his fingers, how responsive you are when he slides his hand ever so slightly under your oversized t-shirt. He wants more, he needs more, can’t help himself as he moves his kisses from your lips, down your jaw, until he reaches the base of your throat, sucking deep purple bruises into your supple skin.

“You taste like heaven,” He’s all too aware of how raspy his voice has become, desire only deepening his tone further as he drags his lips back up the expanse of your throat, a deep groan pulled from his throat when he feels you shift on his lap, highlighting the growing pressure of his cock straining against his pants. “Driving me fuckin’ wild already. Look what you’ve done to me, gorgeous.” His fingers come to curl under your jaw, directing your gaze down to the prominent tenting of his trousers, ensuring his eyes don’t dare drift away from your face as he watches you take in the view before you.

“Mine.”

The noise Simon makes in response is nothing short of primal, it wasn’t a sound he was even aware he could make, near guttural, but of course you would be the one to pull it out of him.

“That’s right baby, all yours, fucking hell,” he’s powerless to stop his eyes squeezing shut when he feels your fingers curl around his clothed cock, mustering every ounce of strength he has left not to cum in his pants there and then, because he’ll be fucking damned if he lets anything get in the way of giving you the pleasure you deserve.

“Come on Si, look at me.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he finally opens his eyes again, instantly zeroing in on your fingers as they begin to unfasten his pants, before flicking back up to meet your gaze, “Is this okay?”, your voice tentative.

“More than okay, Jesus,” Simon wastes little time after that, hands sliding under your shirt and shifting further up your torso, muscles freezing when his hand contacts nothing but bare skin, grazing the flesh of your breasts.

“No bra? Lucky me.” You laugh, arching your back further into his touch.

“More like lucky me, those things are basically torture devices, Simon, I’d like to see you try and work with metal wire and straps digging into your boobs and back,” He grins, pinching one of your nipples between two of his calloused fingers and revelling in the way your smirk twists into a moan, hips twitching against the rough material of his cargo pants.

“I think it’s about time you took these off,” He mutters, one hand dropping to thumb under the waistband of your sweatpants, “Can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought about how pretty you’d look getting yourself off on my lap.” Apparently, Simon doesn’t need to say anymore, watching with intense eyes as you pull away from his grip, and begin undressing. Your top joins his mask on the floor, soon followed by your pants and underwear until you’re stood in all your naked glory, mere inches away from him. Simon must be the luckiest son of a bitch on this entire fucking planet.

He takes advantage of your absence by lifting his hips, cocking an eyebrow at you as he gestures towards his trousers, “Give an injured soldier a hand, would you doll?” Truthfully, Simon knows he would have no issues removing them himself, but why would he do that when he can have this instead? When he can have your body pressed in between his thighs, your deft hands undoing his buttons and sliding the material of his military pants slowly over his wrapped-up leg, when he can watch your eyes drink in every inch of new skin revealed with barely contained desire. No, he would much rather have this, especially when your dainty hands peel away his boxers, leaving him only in his top and vest plate.

“Simon…” You whine, your lips so perfectly pouted, a cute little furrow between your brows as you pull and tug at various parts of his vest, “help me take this shit off. It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked here.” He hums, schools his face to show careful contemplation, reaching up a hand to rest on your bare upper thigh.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?”

“Please, sir.”

Well fuck. That awakened something within him.

With military precision, he unsecured the armoured vest from his body, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head, joining the now large pile of clothes left scattered across the floor of your tent. For a brief second, Simon feels so incredibly vulnerable under your intense gaze, wondering if maybe this is how people feel when he fixes his stare upon them, bare and defenceless. But then you lower yourself back into his lap, settling across both his legs with such gentle care, wrapping both your arms around the back of his head and pinning him with a look he thinks most likely reflects his own.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” It’s almost too much, the sincerity in your voice mixed with the way the words were uttered so softly into the air, as though they were a secret only to be shared between the two of you.

“I’m nothing compared to you.” You shake your head, smiling, leaning forward until your nose brushes his.

“Just take the compliment, Lieutenant.” He tries his best not to shiver as he feels your hand trace down his spine, instead shifts his focus onto how close your lips are to his, or the quiet noise you make in the back of your throat as his hands come to grip the meat of your thighs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Something in the air changes, as though the collective patience between the two of you could stretch no further, so taut it had no choice but to snap. His lips crash into yours, desperation surging through Simon’s veins like wildfire. Fuck, what are you doing to him?

“Can I touch you?” he mumbles against your lips, large hands aching from where they rest, yearning the feeling of your wet heat against his fingertips.

“God, yes, please.”

With newfound strength, he lifts you from his lap and twists you until your back is flush to his chest, uncaring of the twinge of pain he feels from his leg as he settles you fully on his lap. Now, Simon has full access to every inch of your perfect body, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck as he litters the skin with open mouthed kisses, humming contentedly at the way you arch into his hands as he cups your breasts with both hands, fingers toying with your nipples until they’re perked and firm under his touch.

“No teasing, please,” Your pleading breaks him from a momentary stupor, bringing his head up to watch as you place one of your hands over his, guiding it further down, sweeping over your sternum, past your belly button, until his palm rests over your cunt, “I need you here, Simon.”

Fucking hell.

He couldn't find the words, couldn’t articulate them even if he had any. So, instead of speaking, he presses his hand over the curve of your cunt, groans when he feels just how hot and wet you are, all for him.

“Mine.” He repeats your words from earlier into the shell of your ear, a smirk stretching onto his lips at the full body shiver you give in response, growing near predatory when he feels your pussy twitch under his hand. God, how the fuck are you so wet? His fingers glide over your folds with ease, teasing your clit on every upwards swipe of his fingers, and when he finally dips his index finger into your cunt, he’s rewarded with the sweetest symphony. Breathy whines and whispered pleas of “more”, “deeper, Simon, please”, every request he happily indulges, now curling two fingers against your velvet walls, searching for the spot he knows will have you keening against his body. It takes a shift of his palm, the angle changing just enough to have you choking on a gasp, his other hand remains fixed to your breasts, pushing your chest down until you’re pinned against his body.

“Atta girl, feels good huh?” He slips a third digit in, cursing under his breath as he feels your pussy clamp down, twitching helplessly around his fingers as they continue to stroke relentlessly at your g-spot, “Gonna need you to cum at least once on my fingers before I give you anything else, baby.” He dares to steal a glance at your face, and is met with closed eyes, your mouth agape, and head thrown back onto his shoulder, you’re nothing short of a masterpiece. Your hands desperately grip onto his arms, nails digging sweet red crescents into Simon’s inked skin, as though the hold you have on him is the only thing keeping you grounded, and he feels positively fucking drunk on it.

You’re close, that much he can tell, and as much as he could absolutely keep you like this on his lap for another good few hours, he takes pity on your furrowed eyebrows and soft whimpers, removing his hand from your chest and placing his thumb into your open mouth. He doesn’t even need to instruct you as you close your lips around his digit and suck, your tongue eagerly lapping at the rough pad of his finger. He doesn’t have the strength to leave it there for much longer, overly aware of the way his cock desperately twitches from where it’s trapped between your bodies, instead focusing on the way you react the second his spit slicked thumb begins to rub tight circles around your clit.

“Si-, fuck, Simon ‘m close, so close, wanna cum,” There was never any other option for him than to watch you fall apart on his lap, but if he somehow needed further encouragement, “Please Sir, please make me cum.” It would be entirely impossible for him to stop the moan your words drag from his throat, to think of anything other than giving you your release. It’s obvious when your orgasm hits, having to stop toying with your now engorged clit to instead pin your hips down, worried there was a chance you might fall to the side if he didn’t keep you grounded.

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl, made such a mess of my fingers baby,” Simon hums against the side of your head, slowing his ministrations until he’s lazily fingering your still spasming pussy, drawing out the sweet sounds of post-orgasm sensitivity from your spit-shining lips. He waits until you finally regain some form of lucidity, waits until your neck straightens, no longer lolled against his collarbone to finally withdraw his fingers, soothing your whines at his absence with kisses to your jaw. But he makes sure your eyes are locked with his when he brings his fingers to his own lips, ensures you’re watching with nothing less than rapt attention as he cleans every drop of your arousal from his skin.

“Taste fuckin’ divine, princess.” Your head tips forward into your hands with a groan, and Simon couldn’t hide his pleased grin even if he tried.

“You’re not allowed to be this hot,” Your words muffled into your palm, the Ghost’s heart rate spiking when you looked at him shyly through your fingers, affection surging through his bloodstream like a shot of pure adrenaline. “Especially when I can feel your cock pressed against my ass.” As if he needed the reminder, as if that singular thought hasn’t been plaguing him for the past 10 minutes.

“And what exactly are you going to do about that, darling?”

His words were meant to make you shy, were said to watch those sweet eyes of yours widen. Except, Simon realises, he must have awoken something within you, something bold, something utterly fucking debauched, because instead of shying away, you lock your eyes with his, rising to the challenge he set. You stand up, turn yourself around, climb back onto his lap and sink down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“Fucking-, shit, what the fuck,”

“I think that works for both of us, right, Simon?” You need to stop, or you at least need to give him some time to adjust to whatever the fuck it is you’re doing right now. He can tell you’re far from unaffected, however. The slight quiver to your voice, and the way the slick walls of your pussy clench greedily around him show at least that much. And yet, you’re pinning him with a fierce gaze, your fingers forming an iron grip on loose brown hair at the base of his skull, using him as leverage to grind your hips in circular motions. “Let me take care of you, handsome.” His response cut off by a groan as you begin to fuck yourself on his cock, his eyes frantically flicking from where your cunt swallows every inch of his shaft, back up to your heavy-lidded gaze, locked onto his as you effortlessly ride his cock.

So instead of trying to take the lead, to lift his hips to meet yours, for the first time ever, Simon Riley does as he’s told. He allows you to control the pace, lets you direct his hands to your waist, but doesn’t use it as a point of control. Instead he caresses your skin with rough fingers. He lets you take care of him. And God, does it feel good.

He lets his head fall back, lets his eyes slip closed, and allows himself to just exist in this moment with you. A luxury he hasn’t been able to afford for far too long. Instead, he focuses on the sounds dissipating into the air around your joined bodies, the soft pants and moans that spill from both his mouth and yours, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin combined with the slick noise of his cock fucking into your heat, and if he focuses hard enough, he swears he can hear the rapid beating of your heart where your chest is pressed flush to his.

“C’mon Simon, baby, look at me.” It takes an embarrassing amount of energy for Simon to lift his neck up, refocusing his gaze onto you, “You’re doing so well, letting me look after you like this.” And fuck, he doesn’t want to cry, can’t remember the last time he allowed himself the comfort of crying, but he feels so unequivocally safe around you. Still, the time for tears will come later, right now, Simon wants nothing more than to feel you lose yourself on his cock. He secures his hands on your ass, and stands, ignoring your surprised cries and worried scolding, and walks as best he can towards the mattress near your desk. He doesn’t want to admit that lowering you both down onto the cheap material nearly left him breathless, and he definitely won’t admit that you were right, he didn’t have the strength to do that. But now that he has you lying on top of him, cock still buried deep inside of you, he knows the pain was more than worth it. Because in this position, he can ground his feet into the mattress and focus on fucking you like you deserve.

He ignores the sting of pain in his thigh, no doubt ruining some of the stitching you had done earlier, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. Not when you’re mewling into his chest, nails scratching long, thin pink lines down the expanse of his chest as he fucks his hips ruthlessly up to meet yours. He knows he won’t last much longer, you feel too fucking good, and he has no strength to hold back, praying that you’re as close as he is as he snakes one hand down to toy with your clit once again. Relief washing over him when he feels your cunt clench like a vice around his length, allows himself one, two more thrusts of his hips before he finally reaches his peak, cock twitching like a heartbeat from where it’s buried within you, not moving until the last weak spurts of cum finish painting your cervix white.

“Fucking hell,” with his energy long since depleted, his body slumps into the mattress below, dragging you down with him, his arms still wrapped securely around your form.

“That good, huh?” You grin up at him, eyes glinting in the low light. You look positively stunning.

“You know it, sweetheart,” Simon pauses, looks down at where you’re still sprawled against his chest, and silently thanks the motherfucker who decided to shoot him in the first place, he’s not sure if he would have ever gathered the strength to have you like this, in the way he always craved. “C’mere, I want cuddles.” He grunts, choosing to ignore the surprised laugh you give in response, says nothing at your incessant teasing and light threats to tell Soap that “oh my god, Ghost likes cuddles”.

He does none of that, instead, he holds you close, stares up at the ceiling as you bury your face into his neck, whispering sweet confessions into his skin, words he soaks up and saves for a rainy day. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley has never been a man to care about his own health, even now he still sees that damn hourglass, unsure of how much sand remains. But now he has a reason to change that.

Now, he has you.

[serialunaliver]

how tf do you make a post title on the new tumblr mobile app all I can do is make words bigger

hi hello it's sivi aka tonysopranobignaturals or whatever other cursed urls i've had. check my tiktok (nukehenrykissinger) for proof this is really me. if you don't already know I deleted my account a while ago after being put in a "most annoying tumblr users" poll. however, it's not being called an annoying tumblr user that actually caused me to deactivate, but rather the rumors spread as a result. this poll essentially grouped me with pedophiles and nazis and for people who already hated me it was a good opportunity to send anonymous asks telling people I believe awful things, am friends with awful people, etc., and while SOME people actually went to my blog before making assumptions, others did not. at the time this all happened I had over 80,000 followers. having that much attention online is only really useful on websites where you can monetize it. on tumblr it only gets your posts and your blog in places you wish it didn't.

I hoped being off tumblr would improve my mental health and while it did decrease relationship paranoia on social media, otherwise i've been doing quite horribly and put my family in danger several times. it's so bad that i'm saving up to move out so my family can live a more peaceful and safe life. looking back on my delusions that lead to planning murder-suicide (family annihilation) it's hard for me to comprehend how it was myself who got to that point. this disease turns you into someone else and there's only so much you can do to stop it--a person in a psychotic state is not self aware. my psychosis is trauma induced and I WILL have recurrent episodes that I can't predict or prevent. I have to live life with this knowledge. it's not easy. treatment is also difficult, and now that i've moved to an area with absolutely AWFUL healthcare I can barely even get my meds refilled, let alone find a therapist or psychiatrist who actually wants to work with me after seeing my record of institutionalizations.

now, on a more positive note, some people have asked me about my world on my tiktok. well, it's just as active as it's always been, and catching you up on current events would take forever so i'd rather post naturally as things occur like I did before.

and to conclude all of this...if you do have a problem with me for any reason that's fine; i'm not entitled enough to think I inherently deserve everyone's support, but I DO think you could just like, block me and leave it at that. oh yeah and the post says "return to tumblr *maybe*" because i'm not sure if I can handle the attention long enough for me to not delete again LOL.

[odinsblog]

Lmao. Twitter user georgina4781 is like, “I hope future generations judge you by the same social standards” — aka: being against white supremacy, Apartheid & imperialism that destroyed the lives of literally MILLIONS of Black and indigenous peoples. And they said that shit with their whole entire chest out! You and your pesky “modern standards” of …. *checks notes* …. not enslaving entire countries and depleting said countries of valuable material resources.

Look, Imma let everyone in on a little secret here: throwing down the, “BUT THEY DIDN’T KNOW ANY BETTER BACK THEN” excuse is 💯bullshit. But white people can be counted on to stay eating it up. Because that false framing serves a purpose.

Are we really and truly expected to believe that absolutely noooobody back then had any inkling that things like slavery, colonialism and Apartheid were evil? Nobody at all back then knew it? C’mon now. See? More “white innocence” bullshit. You think Jeff Bezos doesn’t know that people dying in Amazon warehouses is easily preventable and him not taking precautions to avoid more deaths is “bad”? People know wrong now, and they knew it back then. Still not sold? Okay, how about this: if nothing else, the Black and indigenous people being colonized knew it and expressed their views, but colonizers intentionally ignored them and did not listen to them. And I’m pretty sure we won’t need to search very hard through history books to find white people who knew it was wrong too. Just because their voices did not prevail doesn’t mean that “everyone back then” somehow did not know better. Many knew better and simply did. not. care. Kinda like Jeff Bezos right now.

When we accept the false premise that “they just didn’t know any better back then,” we are allowing a form of whitewashing history to happen — we are allowing today’s racism deniers to deftly delete the agency of colonizers, and replace their cruelty and greed, with innocence. And POOF! Just like that, the myth of white innocence is maintained, and the cruelty and greed behind all imperialism is parsed, equivocated and whitewashed away into something less heinous and more palatable.

And the thing white people seem to call “bringing up the shitty parts of history” is literally what everyone else, under ordinary circumstances, refers to as the truth, but apparently everyone is supposed to stay quiet so that colonizers and their beneficiaries can continue whitewashing history and continue pretending that it wasn’t really that bad, or advise everyone to just “get over it” because was “a long time ago,” or eventually argue that it never happened at all.

I’ll let you in on another secret: white people who want to downplay & deny racism love to throw racism into this far away safe space called, “the past”. I’m reminded of an old saying that goes something like, “your grandfather may have chopped down the tree, but we are still suffering from no shade today because of his actions.” An incredibly bad paraphrase on my part, but the point is, Uju Anya is a survivor of war and genocide caused by recent colonialism, and the person who was instrumental in that - in chopping down the proverbial shadetree - just died. Uju Anya is still experiencing the loss of diaspora caused by Queen Elizabeth’s kingdom, and telling her how to process her very real and very current grief is so presumptuous that I would need to live a million years as a white person to even begin to comprehend how presumptuous that is.

White fragility is a hell of a thing. But demanding that the still-living and still-impacted descendants of imperialism just shut up so that European whites don’t have to be reminded of their queen’s active role in colonialism … that’s strait up bullshit.

Apparently American conservatives aren’t the only ones upset with honestly talking about theories critical of racist systems.

Sending out much love to Uju Anya, who is now having Jeff fucking Bezos, one of the richest white men in history, and others harass her and lecture her about “kindness” and “respectability politics”.

[brandnewhuman]

THE COD MALEWIFE

♡ random headcanons ♡

☆ starring ☆

♡ könig aka the most babygirl of them all ♡

Tw: mentions of anxiety, weight and mature language. Other than that pure fluff

A/N: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU DON'T GET IT HOW MUCH THIS MAN IS STARTING TO GROW ON ME. THIS FUCKING TALL ASS BITCH AND THE OTHER GIANT JACK SKELLIGNTON FUCKER ARE THE BAIN OF MY EXISTENCE. I needed to do write for him, you can blame it on tiktok and it's sinful content and @bloodlst for fueling my obsession

He knows a lot of cool fidgeting tricks with pencils or knives because he needs to keep his hands busy when he's nervous.

It's almost like a security blanket for him when he's around too many people, he carries something he can fidget with and uses it

I can't stress this enough but tall people have back pains and oh boy if könig is tall

He is always cranky in the morning because of it and because he loves to just sleep in the weirdest fucking positions ever

Which is funny cause otherwise his postures is always very straight and stiff, it just that when he sleeps he gets all weird

About that, he hates, absolutely despises, the beds they have during missions

THEY'RE TOO SMALL OKAY? AND TOO THIN AND HE CAN'T FUCKING REST WELL AT ALL

which makes me absolutely sure he downs coffee likes it's fucking water

His breakfast is basically a big ass mug of coffee first and then some herbal or fruity tea or maybe some juice

He loves sweets but has a weirdly good self control

He just likes the idea of savouring things rather than eating all at once bc they're so good

Besides I just know he has also a tendency to gain weight more easily than the others

He just tries to be as healthy and balanced with things as much possible bro

The only times he doesn't pays much attention to what he eats is around the holidays or when he gets to see his family

Which always ends up in him putting some weight but he doesn't cares that much, he always gets in shape before getting back to work

He loves to read, he carries a book everywhere he goes and ITS THAT TYPE OF PERSON WHO CAN'T FUCKING HIDE THEIR REACTION TO WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THE STORY

You can actively see this unit of a man closing the book and like getting up and walking away two steps just to turn around and keep reading

HE CAN'T HANDLE THE DRAMA OKAY? LEAVE HIM ALONE

He does not look his age at all. Either bc of how youthful he acts or bc he looks really young no one has ever guessed his age and it's something he find quite funny so he just let people try to figure it out on their own

People are often really mean with him and sometimes really harsh. He knows they're just playing around and they mess up with everyone like that but he gets genuinely hurt sometimes

No one notices cause he always takes it like a champ tho

I feel like ghost kind of gets annoyed at him. Not for the reason you may think

He's just looks always so serene and at peace, but most importantly happy and it's something ghost can't comprehend given what they do for a living

Key word is looks

König is not a sad person by default and he recovers pretty quickly for certain things but he always carries around a weight of guilt and self doubt that is unbearable sometimes

Much like ghost, this man is kind of scare of himself really

He always worries about ending up being some sort of psycho who has no regards towards human lives

He gets so carried away when he's on the mission and often does not realise how efficient and kind of brutal he can get

He is absolutely scared of ghost. Everytime he is in the same room with him he just gets so nervous he ends up embarrassing himself more than once

Look, I may be projecting onto him but I KNOW THIS MAN AND HE HAS HIS JAW FUCKED UP FROM CLENCHING IT TOO MUCH

like I have anxiety and my jaw is dislocated cause ever since I was a kid I was always clenching my jaw while sleeping or unconsciously while going about my day so I just know that someone like him has the same problem

He has definitely popped his jaw and hurted his ear more than once and has ADORABLE CROOKED TEETH CAUSE I DO AND I WANT HIM TOO OKAY?

he is really good at signing but everyone thinks he's not because the few times he has tried to sing in front of someone he fucked up from being too nervous

He knows how to play piano. As matter of fact he has one at home

Prefers wine over beer or cocktails but has a weird ass liking for strong liquors

And BTW he is annoyingly hard to get drunk, this man could get down shot after shot and still be as lucid as ever

Which soap found out by embarrassing himself. König ended up trying to take care for him the whole night cause he felt guilty

When he gets angry is not a pretty scene. He's always so jolly and easy going even if you're rude to him so is hard for him to get angry, but when he snaps this man is not playing around

Smells of fresh laundry and lemon perfume

He is still pretty mad about not being able to be a sniper. Specially because he's good at his job, he knows he is but no one believed in him and his abilities bc of his height and his anxiety

When he was younger everyone always used to talk over him because he had difficulty with speech due to his anxiety

He used to get so frustrated to the point of crying and since no one ever had the patience to listen to him he just used to write on notebooks all the things no one ever wanted to hear

He still does it and has like a lot of diaries filled with rants, thoughts, jokes ecc

When he was younger he used to listen to the FILTHIEST SONGS not knowing what they were about because he didn't understand English well

When he's nervous his accent slips a little bit

He writes letters to his loved ones and specially his s/o when his away from home and has the prettiest handwriting ever

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ jihoon edition

member: woozi x reader

genre: fluff, bullet points

word count: 878

summary: jihoon’s boyfriend things

warnings: a very small mention of periods, and that's it

author’s note: hahah i actually forgot to write this time!!! but hey i'm on break from school now so I had time to whip this out and post if for all the woozidans who are about to knock my door down for forgetting abt our precious jihoonie's day anyway please enjoy !!! <3

Jihoon is the epitome of a quiet bf 

He just kinda exists and so do you and you both love it like that 

He’s also the (obvs) producer bf 

Quality Time

I think that Jihoon’s favorite thing to do with you would be to teach you how to write or produce music 

Or even accompany him at the gym because even if you don’t work out too, this man cannot, for any reason, miss leg day

He likes showing you what he is interested in, and of course, you love listening to him talk about his hobbies

I think he would also be the type to just…enjoy whatever you like, too

For example, you would have a show that you both specifically watch together, and maybe even read a book together and talk about the characters in them you liked or something 

Also !!! coffee dates !!! Y’all would totally have a specific date night on like Thursdays or something and you would always so to a coffee shop or a cafe or something and sit together and talk aaa he’s so sweet 

Cringy movie scenes like a large milkshake with two straws is the perfect way to summarize these dates too 

Words of Affirmation

Surprisingly, I don’t think Jihoon would be big on pet names or nicknames…he’d just stick with your name or a nickname you like being called 

He says it makes it easier to not call you something embarrassing in front of his friends, but we all know its because if he makes nicknames, you will too and he refuses to be called something cute in front of other people 

Always compliments you!!! And encourages you!!! 

“Y/N-nie, you’re working so hard, of course you’ll do great on that exam” 

Or even “Y/N-nie you’re such an amazing person and I am glad that you’re with me” 

Jihoon cannot physically or mentally take a compliment so if you compliment him back he’ll just be like “thanks…?” before destroying you in a compliment war 

Mans likes words so ofc like his quality time, he would write the most perfect songs ever for you and they would perfectly express his love for you in ways he would otherwise not be able to comprehend 

Physical Touch

We all know this man is a cuddle-bug on the inside, so of course that means that Jihoon has his needy time aka he must be the little spoon: no ifs, ands, or buts

I think Jihoon would appreciate a good back hug from you if you’re taller than him, and if you’re shorter, he loves when you rest your head on him :( 

I don’t think Jihoon is one for PDA, obviously (poor Hoshi) so there would be barely any proof to an outsider that y’all are actually dating to begin with 

Likes to keep hand-holding to a minimum, especially when in the studio, but he doesn’t mind when you sit with him and put your legs over his lap 

Or even play with his hair while he is working !! He likes soft things just only when you guys are alone together 

He’s just a shy baby fr 

Acts of Service 

When he comes home late, he makes sure that the apartment is tidy and clean before showering and going to bed because he knows it stresses you out seeing a messy place as soon as you wake up 

Cannot make food for the life of him please do not allow him in the kitchen unless he has a very specific task (he has zoned out while humming new melodies too often and burnt food is not a pleasant smell for your apartment) 

Always makes sure that you’re phone, watch and computer/tablet are plugged in at the end of the night, because you need them to be just as prepared for the next day as you

He would totally get sad if you do all the cleaning by yourself because he says that you work too hard making the messes, you don’t need to be cleaning them too 

You say the same thing to him when the boys make a mess in the living room when they are drinking and you offer to help clean up 

If you have periods, when you are getting close to it starting, he makes sure that your products are always stocked up so you don’t have to worry about getting anything 

Gift Giving 

Two words: Spotify playlists 

Jihoon would be over the moon with both making them for you and also receiving them from you 

I feel like Jihoon is also the type to just randomly show up with something and hold it out to you and just say “this make me think of you so I got it” 

Is super embarrassed when he does so but you love it so he’ll get over it when he sees how happy you are 

Is definitely not one for huge and expensive gifts like jewelry, cars and all of that stuff, but loves getting little trinkets and stuffed animals for you because let's be real: who doesn’t like a really cute and soft plushie? 

Doesn’t like receiving gifts because he feels bad when others spend time and money on him but >:( how dare he!!! He needs to be appreciated!!!

[queer-n-here]

u already kno wassup !!!!

eldritch abomination reader who has come to originally destroy the world, but was enchanted by their 'one', ( aka sigma, atsushi, and mushitaro or someone of ur choice ) and instead devotes their entire time stalking and invading their lovers mind, pulling them into the readers all devouring aura.

( ur honor they are madly in love ) they dont quite have a proper form but has slowly been constructing one bc their lovers coworkers/friends don't believe they exist "you always go out on dates with this mysterious person and you always rant and rave about them, but not once have we seen them. are you just making them up or something?"

so eventually reader finally constructs the perfect form and comes to their workplace to get them for their date ( that involves tentacles, mind fucks, and breeding ) . Reader basically envokes primal fear in everyone and will kill anyone who hurts what is theirs ♡. major weird ask but it is a random and specific Need i have

~ 🕸

Long time no see 🕸️ bro! Btw, thank you, this just made my writer's block evaporate.

Is it weird that I totally loved every single part of this?

Also, I had no fucking idea what an eldritch abomination is, so I did some research bout them!

This ended up becoming 100% fluff, hope you like it!

Contents: Eldritch abomination reader who sees Atsushi and goes heart eyes

Warnings: Fluff, powerful reader, mind manipulation, shit ton of stuff that doesn't fully make sense but whatever, it's Atsushi even if I haven't mentioned his name (because I felt like the Eldritch would be like 'that's too simple a name for me to address my love with')

EDIT: Soooo, I may have confused myself on what an Eldritch horror is 😅 I kind of imagine smth like Dormamu from Dr. Strange tbh hehehe

You had arrived at that small universe to satisfy your thirst of destruction, to watch it crumble under your power as faces of fear and misery looked up at you, their lives at your mercy. And yet, you found yourself thinking of that vision less and less.

It was not going as you had expected.

Nowadays, you were focused more on that boy that you had started watching. His house was located quite close to the woods you had chosen as your home.

You were everywhere, and always watching everything, but you needed a headquarters of sorts to concentrate your power for it to be more effective, and that was why you had chosen the woods.

You had expected him to be the first of your victims, yet now you found yourself growing less and less fond of that idea. He was not meant to be killed. He was meant to be taken care of.

Not only was he so incredibly small and three-dimensional (like most of these 'humans') he was also wonderfully precious, like a small-sized treasure that slowly began meaning everything to you.

So after months of watching him, you finally gave into your desire of meeting him in person. You changed your form to the one with the simplest dimensions, not wanting to make him lose his mind the way you did others.

He had stepped out of his house to gather firewood, that little thing. When he saw you, he dropped it all, stumbling backwards and attempting to run.

You were not pleased.

You guided the trees of the forest to block his way, and when he had no way left to escape, you spoke to him in the language he would comprehend.

"Do not be afraid." You said, your voice low and guttural. "I do not stand before you with intentions to harm."

He had fallen to the floor in his attempt to scramble away from you, and now he looked up at you with fear in his eyes.

It was not an expression you wanted to see on him.

So you eased into his mind, calming his small brain with the likeness of a sedative. His breath grew steadier, and his eyes returned to their normal size. His instincts were clouded now, and he could not help but be drawn to you, standing up and stepping closer.

"Closer," You told him, and he obeyed. He did not need your words, you could control him fully if you wanted.

But some part of you was reluctant to do it. You wanted him to... Like you? Perhaps, you yourself were not entirely sure yet.

You moved closer, wrapping your form around him, encasing him into yourself, away from the rest of his world, where he would be the safest.

You let him be curious, freeing the part of his mind that you knew would ask questions... You wanted him to know you.

"What are you?" He asked, his eyes wide again as he turned to look at all of you.

"I have many names," You said. "But you will be able to use none of them; they are too powerful."

His wide eyes reflected the kaleidoscope of colours of your form, and you felt his brain grow appreciative of your form.

Pride. It was an emotion beneath you, and yet you could not help the swelling of colours in your form when you saw that he liked it.

"Then... What should I call you?" He asked, looking as though he was still unsure who he was talking to.

"Anything," You presented before him a makeshift form. It was a mirror image of his own, something he could look at while talking and not feel awkward.

He gasped. His fear had long since been subdued by your charm, and he did not hesitate to reach forward and his doppelgänger's shoulder.

"Wow," He whispered, and your colours became brighter again.

Later, when returned back to his house, his senses finally returned to him, and he realised the danger he was stepping into.

And yet, could he resist the urge to go back to you? Not when you had so easily planted it in his head. Hence, after resisting for a whole day, he returned to you the very next.

You let him look for you in the forest, hiding in a dimension his eyes could not perceive. You let him run around, growing more and more desperate when you wouldn't show yourself, calling out to you, but unsure of how to do so since you hadn't told him what to call you.

When he collapsed, tired, on the bank of a small lake in the woods, tears dripping from his eyes as he sobbed, you decided that your game had lasted long enough.

And so you showed yourself, making it look as if you had emerged from the lake itself. He looked up with a gasp, eyes wide and wet as an ecstatic expression broke through his face. His arms rose, reaching for your form.

You let him touch you; today you had taken a four dimensional form, and it was way easier for him to get wrapped up between your colours.

"I thought... I thought you l-left," He said, sniffing.

"I would never," Was all you said, and yet his face lit up. It was not your doing, you had already relaxed your control of his mind when he had entered the forest.

Weeks passed, and his human mind slowly developed romantic feelings for you. You perceived them, and yet never expressed it. He would be the one to tell you, and on his own accord.

You waited, but not for long. Soon, he brought you flowers, handing them to you as his cheeks flushed, looking away and shivering slightly. You wrapped around him; humans got cold painfully easily.

He froze in your embrace, he had learnt some of your ways to show affection. His blush spread gradually, and his muttered confession felt like something with even more power than you.

Joy. Yet another emotion beneath you, but when it came to him, you were reduced to a mere human teenager. You cared not of status or immortality anymore. Destruction of his world? You had long since abandoned that plan. This was his home, and you'd protect it with your life.

You would protect him with your life.

A month passed, and he visited you everyday, bringing with him small presents of the like you knew humans appreciated. You took them all, preserving them with your power so they would never spoil and hide them away in the most complex dimension you could find.

And every time he visited, you gave him the thing you thought was best: a little bit of your own immortality. He did not know yet; you did it without his knowledge. But you did not think he would mind if he found out.

Now he sat on a tree branch as you watched him, leaning against the trunk for balance. You had lifted him up there, and he was speaking of the view. You could not help but move upwards, closer to him.

He watched you, a smile on his face as you changed forms again.

Being three-dimensional was difficult for you. Not only did it weaken your power incredibly, it also could not store your abilities. The closest you could reach was four-dimensional, and that itself took its toll on you.

And yet you were always four-dimensional with him, knowing that this was how he could see and touch you best.

You sat on the branch next to him, wrapping around his small frame.

There was a comfortable silence, and you slowly lulled his brain, sending him to sleep.

You loved it when he was defenseless, when all his safety was you, when the only one that he trusted was you, and not his human friends.

It was another one of those days where you were watching him as he went about his day, keeping him safe from any danger that might come his way.

He was talking with his friends, and they appeared to be teasing him.

"Come on, you've never even shown us a picture..." One of them said, sitting so close to your human that you had the urge to crush her insides. "Or even told us their name!"

He flushed slightly, not knowing how to respond. "W-well, their name is... Very complex."

"A nickname, then," Another said, wrapped in bandages and leaning back casually against the couch. "Or what? You just call them 'honey bun sweety pie'?

They laughed, and you bristled. Your human was getting flustered, and no one but you was allowed to see that expression on his face.

You took shape immediately, condensing your power so much you felt its strain. To make it three-dimensional was like trying to contain the ocean in a glass jar, and yet you attempted your fullest, anger fueling your movements.

You appeared on the doorstep of the building, your speed phenomenal as you climbed its small staircase and appeared at the door of the room your human and his friends sat in.

You pushed open the door, and stepped in. They all looked up, and his eyes widened.

Your power needed your three-dimensional vessel to be big, and you were as tall as 6'8", your shoulders wide and arms thick with what looked like muscle but was actually energy. Your hair was a light brown, and covering your body was what seemed to their eyes a suit.

He recognised you immediately; one glance at your multi-coloured eyes and he knew. This was you, the one he loved.

You walked up to him, throwing him a well-practiced wink as you greeted him the way you had seen lovers greet each other, leaning down to place a kiss on his cheek.

"I came to pick you up," You said to him, your voice low as you ignored everyone else in the room. "Your work has almost ended now, right?"

A long-haired man lowered his glasses to look at you. "And who are you?"

You could not help but grow irritated, and you triggered fear in the minds of everyone in the room but the one who was yours.

"He's..." Your human seemed breathless. "He's my b-boyfriend."

One of the humans, the insignificant ones, whistled as he stood up. He was scared, you had made sure of it, but was putting up a front.

"Damn, Atsushi," He said, taking in your carefully constructed human form. "He's biiiig."

Your human blushed, his cheeks reddening in that way you did not want them to see.

"I don't see why you didn't show us his picture before," A female said, her house quivering slightly. "He's not bad looking at all. Not that I thought you were, just so you know."

You looked at her, sending her your appreciation for praising you in front of your human by tickling the part of her brain responsible for pleasure.

She squirmed in her seat, her eyes slightly wide.

You turned back to what was yours, holding out your hand. "Shall we head home?"

His blush spread; he still hadn't managed to take his eyes off you. "O-okay..."

He let you take him away, his cold hand clasped in yours. You put on a burst of speed, and the two of you were back in your forest.

The moment you two were alone, he took your face in his hands, his eyes shining.

"You look..." He could not go on, but you knew what he meant.

Another burst of pride. He made you feel things you had never thought significant before.

You leaned down and kissed him, pressing his plump red lips against yours and, unknown to him, transferring more immortality to him.

He responded in the affirmative, letting you wrap your arms around his waist and bring him closer.

You opened up dimensionally, creating a fourteen-dimensional barrier around you two, freeing your power and protecting him at the same time. A part of you still remained three-dimensional before him, embracing him and kissing his lips.

When you pulled away, his eyes were slightly moist.

"I love you," He whispered, and you smiled.

Your love was such that it could not be put into words he would comprehend, and yet you did not want him to think that you did not reciprocate his feelings.

"I love you, too," You put energy into the phrase, making sure he felt the intensity of your feelings.

[bi-hop]

why the vulture scene in atsv is pure horror (spoilers under the cut)

As promised, I now have the mental bandwidth to actually talk about Adriano Tumino aka the Medieval Vulture in Across the Spiderverse. This is a spoiler fest, so I'm putting everything under the cut. Enjoy!

So, at some point when I was younger, I first heard about Flatland. It's this satirical novella from 1884. When I was looking it up again last night to prepare myself to explain it to other people, I was SHOCKED to hear it was satire on Victorian society and class structures. I had only ever heard about it in science and horror spaces. As a work, it's mainly known now for exploring the idea of 4th dimensions before Einstein, but it also continues elements that are straight out of horror. So, instead of breaking down the whole thing, I'm going to be focusing on that stuff specifically.

Flatland is about A. Square (yes, that's his name), who is a square. As you can imagine, his entire world is two-dimensional and functions as such. There's a lot of worldbuilding, but just keep in mind that

The people in his world cannot conceive of a 3rd dimension, and any mention of such is heretical.

Circles are the highest ranked people in this world.

One day, he encounters what he thinks is a circle. Said character is actually a sphere. Even as said sphere fucks with his perception by looking like disks sliding in and out of reality and tells him about the 'truth' of the world, A. Square can't comprehend the third dimension until his teacher lifts him into it, into Spaceland. The square is enlightened! His mind has been opened! He tells the sphere, if his reality is false and there's truly a third dimension, what if there are more? What if a fourth dimension exists with fourth dimensional beings who cannot be accurately perceived?

His teacher immediately casts him back down into Flatland, where he is subsequently imprisoned. No one believes that the third dimension and Spaceland exist. He only is able to write the novella and hope that one day Flatland will be ready for this knowledge.

All of this to say that Adriano is A. Square.

I read a lot of dimension-based horror. Maybe it's because the multiverse has compelled me since I was a kid, or maybe it's because I've heard way too many thought experiments about how every person on the planet may see the world differently, and we just use the same language to describe fundamentally different visuals because we can't accurately verify anything. The horror of it all, for both readers and writers, isn't necessarily the idea of seeing things others can't. At least, it's not in the hands of someone sincerely thinking about the 'eldritch'. Instead, imagine a higher being grabbing you and exposing you to a whole new, weighty aspect of reality you could never conceive without actively being dragged into it. And then you're thrown back into your reality. It consumes you, drives you, and no one believes you. How can they, when it's something so alien to your reality that no one can even think of it unless shown?

Because of the ripple effects of the collider, Adriano Tumino is dragged into Earth-65, the home of Spider-Woman (Gwen Stacy). We don't know a lot about his world. As far as I remember, we don't even get a number designation. But his design, dialogue, and track all communicate a great deal about him. Vulture Meets Culture as a track blends Gwen's theme with the sort of opera he might listen to back home. He's designed heavily on the aesthetics of Da Vinci notebooks. As he affects the world, you can even see notations a la research scribbles next to diagrams. From memory alone, disregarding the fact that he's Italian (though I'm sure the insistence on English in Earth-65 was probably disorientating if his entire world speaks Italian), he also finds this new reality to be abhorrent and lashes out. This alone, an exposure to new colors and strange art and even weirder people who look nothing like you and the rest of your world, would be hard enough to cope with.

And then Miguel, this Spider-Man from 2099, drags Adriano out into the modern day.

The thing with movies being in theaters is that I'm at the mercy of random people who film showings on their phone to get footage. Because everyone finds the helicopter scene directly after this more interesting (which is valid), I don't have a picture of this moment. But when Adriano is flying out into this future, when he lays his eyes on these towering skyscrapers alight with color, you can see his shock, perhaps even terror. It'd be rough enough being exposed to a version of Italy that's, say, his time period but in technicolor. But this is worse. This is his Spaceland moment. The opera builds almost mournfully.

Soon, he will be sent back to his reality. This will happen in an even more incomprehensible future dimension, with even more people who look nothing like him. Perhaps there's a version of his granddaughter there. Tiana Tumino? It doesn't matter. Imagine this though. Your grandfather is yanked out of existence. He comes back. And he tells you 'I have seen colors beyond the ones we live in. I have seen towers of glass and metal scraping the sky, all alight in these colors. I have seen art that contains more art, and it was hideous. No one understood me. Flying things neared me that were beyond anything even our greatest geniuses can make.'

Do you believe him? Can you even imagine it all, even if he describes it, even if he shows you drawings of what he witnessed?

What will you say?

[roguelemon]

The parallel between " it starts with sorry" and "loser, baby" are sending me.

In the context of the recipients or intended audience of the songs, the former shows how Sir Pentious is just kind of a bitch, and does things for his own gain without regard for others in order to gain power (his poor face when Vox didn't approve of him :( ). The later is of course bringing attention to that, while yes Angel is in an unbelievably shit position, he makes it worse with his self loathing and poor coping mechanisms, it's even suggested that he stops seeing himself as a person outside of Valentino. Therefore "loser, baby" is more focused on Angel as an individual rather than the people around him.

Then, when thinking about the people who actually lead the song, Charlie tries to be selfless to a fault so obviously her trying to cheer up snakey boy is going to be through having him be better to others, but it also shows how her ideas of redemption still come from a place of misunderstanding, not really taking in the depth of him as a person and instead singing about what he can DO rather than helping him THINK better. On the opposite side Husk speaks from a place of experience (vastly different experience, but still able to better empathise) and not only comprehends but deeply understands the fact that Angel needs to be better in himself before he can be better in the eyes of others. Despite the fact that it probably wasn't his aim, Husk has probably set up Angel for a better shot at actual redemption through understanding. Husk also does not sugar coat anything, at all. He knows that it's better to be straight up about things because having to act ALL THE TIME is the problem for Angel. Its very difficult for Charlie to get her optimism across to Angel because delusion only lasts for so long. Pentious is more gullible and hasn't signed his soul away ( to my knowledge) and so is able to look on the bright side and respond to overly positive actions. Husk has the capability to help Angel, not by saying "things arnet really that shit, it will be better" but instead says that "yeah this sucks but it'll help if you just accept what you cant change and take what you can. You can't accept joy if you only self-pity/ drown in drugs and fakeness".

"It starts with sorry" was kind of cringe to me too but honestly? It fits, and that's what matters.

Sidenote: I'd love to discuss/ be tagged in other analysis, including anything critical. But I'm not looking for a fight and I'm not getting into anything with anybody who take the songs out of context. (AKA : "Husk is calling Angel a loser because he got SA'd and thinks he should just get over it/ deserved it" Husk is not that kinda guy)

[juyeonszn]

AND THEN THERE IS YOU

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader (gn technically since there are no gendered terms)

WORD COUNT 1.17k

GENRES fluff ﹒very slight angst like blink and u miss it

WARNINGS another fic of mine that doesn’t require an 18+ warning… fawn in her tamed era 🙏, ur heart will ache from how </3 this is, mentions of divorce, reader had kind of a shitty childhood, reader also has some intimacy issues, hak is the most patient and kind person ever, throws up everywhere bc me when </3

SUMMARY he was content loving you until you were ready to love him.

MORE ANDDDDD my insanity strikes again!!!!1!1!1! aka in my dr. seuss william shakespeare edgar allan poe steven king arc 😍 my inspiration has been crazy lately, so enjoy this before juyeonszn goes into a drought deeper into the semester 😭 ANYWAYS MAE (@maessseongs) HERE U GO!! i kept it fluffier and kinda short bc it just felt right, i hope that’s okay with u! this is the last request from my 100 followers event so far ✨ prompts used are: 2, 7 >:)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs

Relationships were a weird concept to you. Growing up, you’d never really been shown affection. Your parents weren’t the type to pack your lunch for school in the morning and send you off with a peck on the cheek followed by an ‘I Love You’.

In fact, they never told you that they loved you very often. Maybe a handful of times in your whole life did you hear those three words uttered from them. And even less did you hear that they were proud of you. It was worse when you took a step back and watched their own crumbling marriage.

As long as they’d been together, you never heard them tell the other how much they were appreciated. They fought more than they got along. You usually fell asleep to the sound of doors slamming and loud arguing in the hallway. When they finally decided to get a divorce, you almost cried out of joy. They were draining more out of you than each other.

So, perhaps that had to do with your fucked up view of relationships as you became an adult. You could never fully comprehend what love was since you didn’t exactly have stellar role models. Boyfriends came and went, losing interest as soon as they realized how disconnected you were. Your heart was never truly in it.

And then, you met Haknyeon.

Sweet sweet Haknyeon, who only cared about your happiness and your well being. Haknyeon, who didn’t ask you for more than you could give. Who didn’t push you for answers when you shut him out. Who patiently waited on the sidelines while you rebooted yourself.

If there were a higher being out in the universe, they’d done an excellent job at putting all the best qualities into Ju Haknyeon. By some miracle or a stroke of luck, he found his way to you. You’ll always think that he deserves better than you, but you’ll also always be eternally grateful that you have him.

As summer takes its last breath and the air begins to chill, leaves wilting to the streets and crunching below the feet of passersby, your motivation to get up in the mornings has started its tumultuous decline. You don’t know what it is about the change in seasons that continues to put a damper in your mood as the years go on, but it’s become almost too much to bear. It was no longer a dull pressure in the pit of your stomach and the back of your mind. Now it was a heaviness that settled in your heart and weighed you down.

It was a Thursday evening and you were tucked into bed already, despite a peek of the sun still visible over the horizon. Your head was pounding despite the room being silent. You curl into yourself further just as your bedroom door creaks open. Haknyeon whispers an apology, going to exit the room when he sees the state you’re in.

It was standard for him to leave you alone until you were ready to talk. He knew you had a hard time opening up, considering what you’d grown up with, and he didn’t want to be the person who pestered you to tell him what was wrong. He wanted you to feel comfortable coming to him first. Haknyeon couldn’t handle being the reason you were pushed to your breaking point.

But for some reason, this time is different. You don’t want to be left alone. You want to be held. You want him to kiss your forehead and tell you he loves you, unlike what you had when you were younger.

“Hak, wait,” you call, voice slightly hoarse. “Stay. Please.”

He’s taken aback by your request, but doesn’t hesitate to follow through. He climbs into the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your center. In spite of the fact that this wasn’t a usual occurrence, that cuddling was something you’ve only done a couple other times, he embraces you as if this was second nature for him. As if holding you in his arms was his very life source.

“Are you sure?” He asks softly, words spoken gently into your hair.

“Mhm, I want this,” you nod, nuzzling into his arm. “I have never felt this safe with anyone before.”

Haknyeon’s breathing stutters. You’ve never admitted this to him before, you’ve never ever said ‘I Love You’, but he’s always been willing to wait. He understood that this was a new territory for you. He was content loving you until you were ready to love him, even if it took months— even if it took years. That’s how much he cared for you. In his eyes, you were the reason there were stars in the sky. You were the reason why the sun rose in the morning and why the moon shone at night.

He kisses your temple. “I’ll be here to protect you.”

You turn in his arms to get a good look at his face. Because it was so rare that you were this close, you wanted to memorize his features from this distance. You trace his cheekbones and jawline with your thumb, eyes flickering down to his lips.

You lean forward, minimizing the gap between you to press your lips into a sweet kiss, almost as sweet as him. Haknyeon gasps out of surprise, but quickly reciprocates your affection, bringing up a hand to cup your face. He allows you to set the pace, to move at a speed you were comfortable with in case this was all you wanted.

When you pull back to catch your breath, he smiles, taking in how pretty you were. He could never get enough of you. He thinks that was his biggest flaw, being so greedy when it came to you. He couldn’t help but indulge himself every time you let him, though if it were a sin, he’d gladly commit it over and over again.

“However many years we have left, I wanna spend them all with you.”

You feel the tears dripping down your cheeks before you register that you’re crying. You couldn’t possibly fathom how Haknyeon came to find love in the form of you; the hollow shell of a person who’s never felt the warmth of another human in their life. You didn’t think you deserved someone like him. The only logical explanation was that you were a saint in a past life, and the higher being you mentioned earlier was rewarding you for it.

But even so, he loved you. Enough that he wasn’t afraid to spend the rest of his life with you waking up on the other side of the bed.

He swipes away some stray tears with the pad of his thumb and kisses your nose. You let out a small laugh, connecting your lips once more. It conveys all you want to say, but you know saying it out loud will make it concrete. It’ll solidify what you’ve been building up the courage to finally tell him.

“I wanna spend them all with you, too.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[youatemylollipop]

I loved your post about which girls the tokyorev boys would be interested in! Could you maybe do rindou, kakucho and south if you write for them? 💕💕

A/N: Thank you so much!!♥️ I'm glad that you enjoyed the post and am happy to provide you with a list of respective characters and their dream girls. Thank you for your interest!

Ft: Haitani Rindō, Hitto Kakuchō & Terano South (Tokyo Revengers).

Part One: Haitani Ran, Hanemiya Kazutora, Matsuno Chifuyu, Mitsuya Takashi & Sano Manjirō ➵ Tokyo Revengers

Haitani Rindō

➵ There is one type that I can see our chicken little becoming interested in, and that is the “queen of sarcasm”.

➵ I kid you not.

➵ She’s the one who invented the “Wednesday Addams” nickname—ahem insult.

➵ I believe that was also the moment when Rindō realized that she was the one.

➵ I mean, it is a well-known fact that Rindō is a sarcastic—and sadistic—brat when he wants to be, so obviously his partner has to be someone who has no problem keeping up with him.

➵ Though she's probably a bit more mischievous than his stoic persona.

➵ They are probably throwing insults at each other on a daily basis, and anyone who has not become accustomed to this fact will probably believe that they are having a serious argument.

➵ They’re also the type of couple that views each other as their sworn enemies until somebody else comes into the picture.

➵ Mostly Ran, who almost always becomes their shared victim for new inventive insults.

➵ Rindō even has a tendency to write down everything unusual that she throws at him or others.

➵ The enemies when alone, but best buddies when they have a mutual enemy trope.

➵ Ran would have laughed if he had not been the one on the receiving end most of the time.

Hitto Kakuchō

➵ The "god complex" type is his dream girl—I'm not even sure if ‘dream girl’ is the right term for whatever this is.

➵ I don’t know why, but I see Kakuchō as the type of guy that has the “I can fix them” mindset.

➵ Pretty much like Izana, she exhibits tendencies like looking down on others and not taking their opinions or feelings into consideration.

➵ I mean, come on, the fact that he’s willing to follow Izana through thick and thin says a lot about his preferences.

➵ Kakuchō is also one of the only people in this universe that would willingly want to deal with such people.

➵ He even somehow manages to become someone worthy in their eyes.

➵ Seriously, this guy is literally worshiping her mere existence! He would feel honored to kiss the ground that she’s walking on!

➵ She views herself as the empress that’s got the whole world bowing down at her feet.

➵ And well... Kakuchō obviously doesn't mind descending to her personal servant.

➵ If anything, he should feel grateful that she's letting him assume such a "high" position in her life.

➵ I swear to god, I wanna cry!

➵ This boy deserves so much better than this!

➵ But seriously, she isn’t that bad.

➵ Kakuchō would never pay attention to her if she weren't a good person at heart.

➵ Therefore I personally prefer to call her the “her issues are too hard for this world to comprehend” type.

Terano South

➵ The "brainy" type, aka, the “Grey Cardinal”.

➵ As a man who thrives in violence, South would likely take notice of someone who deals with things through a different approach.

➵ When I say “through a different approach,” I do not mean a “peaceful” one.

➵ What I mean is a cold and calculated one.

➵ She is the type of girl who would not dirty her hands for petty revenge, but instead, she would find someone else to do the dirty work for her.

➵ I can imagine this girl being quite emotionally detached and difficult to anger.

➵ She is aware of how dark the world is and does not view everything through rose-tinted glasses.

➵ She can be cruel and heartless and is not afraid to speak her mind.

➵ She is as quiet as a mouse, but a predator hides beneath the surface—a wolf in sheep's clothing.

➵ South wouldn't be able to find common ground with her if she were a naive butterfly.

➵ He is the brawn and she is the brains, but he wouldn't mind being controlled by her, as she is his queen.

➵ She could also be classified as the "strategist,” a mastermind who always stays one step ahead of her opponents.

[not-goldy]

That's the narrative you'll been pushing, that tkkrs are Tae "leaning" and Jikookers are what? JM "leaning"?

No wonder in this whole shippers drama only JM and Tae get dragged and JK is always safe.

If you don't know several Jikookers and Taekookers have turned into Jk solos during chapter 2, then you must be living in your own shipper bubble or you're purposely pretending it didn't happen.

Not you running around yelling every one is turning into a Jungkook solo this is not the matrix😹😹😹😹

If you go into Jikook and Tae Kook shipper spaces to disrespect Jungkook and they massacre you it don't mean they are all JK solos.

I think it's about damn time both shippers stood behind Jungkook to defend him against your kind.

For the longest time yall were used to jikookers pandering to yall "throwing Jungkook under the bus" just for your likes and follows but honey not all of us care about likes and followers and what not so we will say things as is😹

Hmmmm

So then I suppose in my little bubble it feels rare cos I rarely encounter such persons myself.

I had a best friend who was a JK leaning Jkkers and she was constantly calling out JK while victimizing Jimin and glossing over his "sins" as it were, she had me feeling i constantly had to defend Jungkook as if I was the JK stan not her.

On the Tuktukker side all I know is most of them hate Jungkook because he doesn't follow their scripts and right now he's on the Tuktukkers wanted list for being in MS with Jimin and not Tae.

And frankly they hate Tae too so I don't know what their ship is about anymore 💀

So I guess I'm still a little bit confused 😩

Then again I'm not.

I started out as a JM biased stan but the more toxic stans have me defending Jungkook the more emotionally drawn I am to him. I don't think he deserves any of the heat he gets out here.

So I guess it's cause and effect. Yall are turning us into hardcore JK stans😹😹😹😹😹😹

The irony 🤣

But I don't think I'll ever be his pure solo like exclsusively either. I like Jin I like Namjoon I like Suga too sooooooooo cheating it is😩

Why have a man when you can have 7😌

But I do see myself supporting Jungkook for the long haul whether he is part of BTS or not. I may not be as enmeshed or overly obsessed with him and his life as I may be JM but I do think he has a promising future ahead and i genuinely wish him well.

Besides Jungkook IS THE MAKNAE. he is and will always be the Golden Maknae. I don't think you understand what that means or comprehend just how much clout and likeability that naturally comes with.

Jungkook has always been liked by the Fandom. Next to Tae, as you saw before he deleted his account he was the 2nd most followed BTS member and I have a feeling he would have surpassed V following his release of Golden had he not deleted the account.

So honestly I think you exaggerate and perhaps are just being dramatic and overly paranoid about the Fandom turning into Jungkook solos when we've always been a sucker for the Maknae.

It's a kpop thing. I think you're just now experiencing what being a Maknae means for an idol.

And another thing about Jungkook is, majority of his fans are not shippers at all. Most of them are "OT7"s at best or Y/ns and solos at worst and those that ship him ship tend to ship him more often with Tae than Jimin.

Actually I think majority of his shipper fans are split between shipping him with Tae, Jin and Namjoon rather than Jimin.

Most of his fans are straight and often times homophobic and those that a queer tend to gravitate towards other men who look like him when it comes to shipping him aka Tae Jin Namjoon rather than Jimin because of the stigma against fem gay men in the gay community.

So to me the unsettling question is when you say half the shipper community are now JK solos, does it mean most of them are now straight and homophobic - solo in what sense 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

[necros-writing-stuff]

Yaaay Necro is back! Drop us some more Eden or Dare content to drool over! MOOOOOAAAARRR!!! It's never enufff!! Neverr!! Also someday can't promise when I'll get around making fanart for both and you'll be the first to see! If only my brain can pump some juice oho~ pump

More is always coming, don't you worry! Also I'd be honored to see the art, thank you very much for loving Dare enough to do that!

Okay okay so. Old dog man Darius. Retired (fired) police dog. Caucasian Shepherd.

Was a great working dog until one day he turned around and savaged his handlers arm. No one could figure out why, and he was about to be euthanized, until you came along and promised that you could safely house and care for him.

These dog people are much more intelligent than the general public believes, you know that. It's cruel how they're treated. The least you can do for Darius is provide him a safe place to recuperate until he can find a permanent home.

Or rather, that was the plan. Darius decided he'd never be leaving. This is his home now, and more importantly, you're his fucking mate.

The neighbours shudder in fear everytime they pass, Dare's ever watchful gaze glaring at them from the window. Any one of them could be a threat. His skin itches, the urge to snarl and bark to make them all leave powerful in his mind. But he's aware you could get evicted for that. So he stays in his spot, watching.

When he's not at the window, he's following you around. Satisfied and content as you make his food, always the absolute best diet you can manage for him. Always delicious. You aren't afraid to pet him, either, scratching at his chin before he rests it on top of your head so he can better see what your hands do as you work away at the stove.

He can't help how he hardens when you're so close. He's from a good breeding line, so he was never neutered like many other dog men. Your empathy for him and acknowledgement of his intellect stopped you from chopping the boys off, too. You could have. Hell, the vet recommended it.

But you ignore his less than sneaky humping at your backside. Just gentle little motions at first, testing you to see how you'll react. Most of the time you do act like nothing is happening, other times you give an excuse of needing your space for this or that to make Dare back away.

He's frustrated, you'd argue to yourself. He doesn't fully comprehend what he's doing. Not like dog people are taught sex ed like humans are. You add it to your list of things to approach him with. He's a diligent student in that class, already surprisingly knowledgeable in some parts but missing gaps elsewhere. His dry humping doesn't cease. If anything, now he's becoming bolder. Nuzzling against your neck, licking at the skin there and giving you hopeful eyes. But the answer is still no.

You're his guardian. You own him by law for God's sake. It's not fair. But maybe you can find him another dog person to be with, someone who wouldn't have power over the sweet old dog man.

It was the morning he woke up to find you cooking in nothing but one of his shirts that he snapped and just gave in altogether. Not the best mental health week for you. You'd lacked on laundry, he didn't know how the machine worked (you'd tried explaining, he just "never got it" - aka, didnt want to), so you'd thrown on one of his clean t-shirts to sleep. You'd do the washing today, had to, but breakfast was always first.

Poor thing. So tired, so lost in your own head that you aren't aware of the looming body behind. Darius practically salivated at what he was seeing, his tail wagging and his ears pricked forward. He's not one for oggling legs, they're just a body part, but yours look amazing that morning. There was no hesitation as he sank to his knees behind you, lifting the hem of his shirt to expose your core to his hungry eyes.

People ask you all of the time if you're scared that if Darius, as big and strong as he is, decided to attack you, you wouldn't be able to fight him off. You'd always laughed it off. You weren't now. Not with his hot tongue lapping incessantly against your hole, one arm pinning you to the counter (and keeping you bent at an angle) as the other holds a leg still. No, you're stuck whimpering and moaning.

The sounds it makes is obscene, the wet smacks too loud in your ears. Darius is ravenous in how he devours you, how his tongue pokes, prods and flicks, his lips suckling and kissing until your legs feel weak and you orgasm right there against the counter. Darius has to slowly lower you to the floor with him, pulling you into his lap as you both catch your breath.

"You-you can't do that again, Dare. It's not okay, its-"

"Mates take care of each other, no? You're less stressed now, aren't you? What's the big deal?"

There's no getting through to him. Not a chance. He's a dog with a bone, and he certainly has a resource guarding issue.

[kraviolis]

Belos: I’m going to raise Luz as my daughter and ensure that she remains pure and loyal to me.

Also Belos: I’m going to let the 7-years-old clone of my brother take care of her I’m sure he’ll be able to do that.

you joke but thats LITERALLY his entire thought process at first. he's so isolated and arrogant that he couldnt possibly comprehend the idea that luz wouldnt see him as her father despite the fact he literally told hunter he was going to be her older brother and never once encouraged hunter to see him as anything but an uncle.

i attribute this to the fact that philip is an orphan who only ever knew his blood brother as his only caretaker, so he sorta took having a brother for granted and didn't realize that was something you could want rather than something that just Is.

(also caleb was the only person philip ever truly knew + loved and even well into his 300s he never once picked up a child psychology book and realized that Perhaps His Worldview Was Skewed Because Of That.)

he literally like. could not comprehend the idea that you could even choose your own family outside of like. being adopted by someone. thats the other thing with him being so annoyingly christian in this AU, he was taught that your blood family (esp yr parents) is always the most important thing in your life & you should always be grateful to them no matter what.

(this is another factor into why he keeps making grimwalkers. in his own twisted viewpoint, it's him giving caleb another chance. and another. and another-- at least in this specific characterization of him.)

philip thought that him adopting luz would mean she would immediately be eternally grateful to him and call him father and the whole nine yards. but he forget to actually express that expectation until it was too late (aka until he heard her call him uncle for the first time)

honestly, hes not MAD about it. he's just sorta :( about it bcus hes not actually insane and can still logically think like "she did say she had just lost her real father to an illness its perfectly reasonable for her to not want to replace him" (he doesnt think it outloud but he also enjoys living thru her vicariously

but also later on as she gets older it gets to a point where he's like "ok its been years now why isnt she trying to replace him yet" bcus he thinks its a normal + healthy part of the grieving process to replace the person you lost (figuratively or, in his case, Literally)

[tirfpikachu]

trans ppl need to stop assigning gender identity to cis people.

you might experience womanhood, manhood, being afab etc differently but for me personally i'm a woman bc i'm just a female human, the way that there's male cats or female cats. it's just a body type for me, nothing else, i didn't choose to be it and i just don't need to change it. intersex cats do exist, but we typically still say male & female and casually call our kitty a girl or boy, right? we still talk about male & female dogs reproducing or getting neutered and having different body needs but we still see them as just dogs, we don't impose gender roles upon them so they just vibe in their sexed bodies. that's what i do, i just live in my body and vibe, i don't have womanhood outside of my body, though my body impacts my life in huge ways with afab body issues and misogyny being mostly directed at ppl who look like me, naturally or thru surgery/hrt. i understand that's not the set of beliefs others may have for themselves. i've been told i'm nonbinary for not having an inner feeling of gender, for just having my sex/agab, for just being a female human, a female animal. but to me it's complete freedom and explains everything abt myself!! it's been personally incredibly healing to identify as just a female human. i was born with a certain kind of body and it means NOTHING about me or what's going on in my mind. i can have the exact same thoughts and feelings as someone born amab (except the misogynistic thoughts lol) can bc everyone's brains are unisex. we're all just people, just humans, sexed humans who aren't defined by their bodies. while human experiences are very varied and amab & afab lives are often very different in certain ways, no study has yet convinced me that human brains aren't neutral and that all cis people have a gender identity and girly brain & manly brain are a thing. i don't have ~womanly energy~ inside me, and neither does the grand majority of cis women honestly. we didn't choose to be women, we were born into a body type and don't care to surgically alter it or use different pronouns. i don't really believe in souls either, at least a lot of the time i don't. i think everything outside of bodies should be gender neutral, and bodies are just two different types (small ova gametes & larger spermatozoa gametes) each w different varieties in very rare cases, only around 1.7% of people are intersex and all are still afab or amab after tests are done to figure out what kind of gametes they have. they also often have health problems, and fun fact, those people tend to prefer the term people with DSDs, aka differences of sex development. my body matters to me, i live in it, but it doesn't define me and it's male society that tries to make me reduced to my body type. i used to have severe dysphoria for most of my life but it was treated, and i healed, and now i know that i personally don't experience a gender identity. i'm cis, but i just have a female/afab body type. that's how i comprehend my womanhood. this isn't to invalidate trans women, they can have a different experience of womanhood, whatever womanhood means to them. but i was just born female. i have mixed feelings about it sure, cuz who tf is overjoyed at living under the patriarchy as an afab woman? from birth we're treated differently, sometimes even before birth. but i'm coming to terms with my femaleness. i'm just a human animal, a female animal of the human species. that has been wayyy more freeing for me!! and it's #valid