#also i did some experiments with filters can you tell?

[shyhandart]

♡♡

[jonnywaistcoat]

When writing, did you ever suffer from a fear or underdelivering or misrepresenting a topic? If you did, how did you overcome it? I enjoy writing but rarely bring it to the public out of fear that I am either not doing good enough or badly portraying the themes or aspects of what I write.

Absolutely, and on the one hand it's a very healthy fear - it prompts you to do your research and be thoughtful in how you write. On the other hand you've just got to accept that occasionally it will happen. Inculturation is a hell of a thing, and leaves us all with a thousand kneejerk preconceptions and perceptions of the world, some benign and some downright awful. And sometimes they crop up no matter how thoughtful you try to be. And you gotta understand that when it happens and people call you on it, you just have to take your lumps and learn what you can from it.

It doesn't help, of course, that the words you write are only ever half of what your audience reads: five people reading the same book are reading five different books, each filtering the text through a lifetime of psychology and experience. And they will find themes and problems in there you never even considered, and they will also find resonances and beauty in your work that you could never have foreseen.

At the end of the day, writing stuff thats meaningful to you (hell, writing anything at all) is a messy, bruising business, and anybody who tells you there are simple solutions or clear rules to follow is either lying to you or to themselves.

But you can't let it paralyse you. Its like if you're playing football and you're worried about falling over. It's a reasonable fear and you should do your best to avoid it, but occasionally it's gonna happen, and unless you want to spend the whole game just standing still in a field, you've kinda just got to get on with it. Just try not to be one of those writers who's always taking dives and... screaming for the ref to get a free kick? Hm. That analogy may have gotten away from me. I don't actually know much about football.

Point is, I'm aware that this isn't the most reassuring writing advice I've ever given, but yeah, its a messy, scary business. Just do your best. Be thoughtful. Be kind. And always do your research.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

what's keeping you away from genuine ways of expressing yourself?

this is a pick a pile tarot reading inspired by the new moon in leo, but is not specific to this particular moment in time. in astrology, the moon represents the unconscious mind, your emotions and in which ways your intuition works, while the zodiac sign leo is more oriented towards the ego, creativity and social relations. all of those things that tend to characterize this sign, usually means that some level of efficient and assertive communication is valuable for keeping away drama and misunderstandings, therefore, i thought about making this general reading to see what advice the cards have for something quite difficult for almost everyone: remaining true to our essence and being able to communicate that in a way that is genuine to us, our identity, our desires and our feelings, no matter who is listening.

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

images from pinterest and dividers by @fairytopea

꒰ঌ ✦ scroll down for the results ໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ Masterpost and Tarot Menu ❁༺ ˎˊ-

˚ ༘ ೀpile number one ⋆｡˚

Your card for this reading is the King of Swords. What this tells me is that you value intellectual honesty, and you’re willing to go against your own emotions if that means that you’ll find the truth and that you are very likely to be perceived as someone who doesn’t have a filter or is too honest. It’s key that you understand that even if you don’t allow yourself to be guided by emotional attachments, other people do. Being highly logical or highly sensitive are both valuable, and both ways of thinking and acting have their pros and cons. But this card wouldn’t pop up if the logical ways of approaching things wasn’t causing some issues. Although holding yourself to a high standard of rationality when it comes to manifestations of the unconscious or the way you naturally relate to others can be beneficial, I feel as if that is also causing you to react coldly to your own emotions, instead of embracing them. You need to let go of the idea that things must be coherent and make sense all time, we are humans, and many of what makes us human doesn’t make too much sense or doesn’t work according to logic. Seeking order, patterns and structure in places where there’s not a big need for those, is not going to give you the truths that serve your personal development. It’s key that you take some time to embrace what seems absurd about yourself, without looking for logic, but looking for experiences that will guide you to the answers you need.

˚ ༘ ೀpile number two ⋆｡˚

The card for you on this reading is the Six of Wands. What I see here, is a lot of well deserved feelings of pride that you are protecting at all costs. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being proud, and I don’t even think this is the actual issue here. What’s blocking your most honest expressions is the fact that you are not allowing yourself the possibility of making a mistake, as you might feel this could take away from all the achievements you’ve had before. It’s key to know, when to be vulnerable, when to take a risk and where you are safe to try things out for the first time, but you are still not comfortable enough to embrace things about yourself that make you insecure, which is completely valid and understandable. In your case, I think that is okay if you want to preserve a sense of control over how others perceive you, yet it wouldn’t be healthy to allow others to expect things from you that are far too demanding to keep up with sometimes. It is necessary that you start setting honest boundaries with others and with yourself, in order to preserve a healthy sense of worth. Your value as a person is not defined by your achievements, or your failures, it is defined by how and why you do what you do no matter the result. When your intentions are honest and you are trying to better yourself or help others, it doesn’t matter what the final outcome is.

˚ ༘ ೀpile number three ⋆｡˚

Your card is the Chariot. The meaning of this card has to do with life experiences, movement and some level of chaos that is necessary in order to grow. I see that you are capable to maintain a certain level of peace of mind even when things around you are hectic, and this is something that might attract some people who are either amazed or envious of this.  In your case, I think that being all over the place (socially, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally) means that you are not quite sure yet on where you stand in relation to certain aspects of your life. This might seem like a problem, because some people are more settled on their beliefs or have more stable lives than you, but in reality, the fact that you are willing to try everything you can before committing is actually something that makes your life something richer. It’s completely normal to feel uncertain, confused and lost, but this shouldn’t keep you away from giving yourself the credit you deserve for the way you have chosen to experience life. Take some pride on what makes you different, and take pride on the process of self exploration you are, even if you are far away from finding a solid philosophy or stability in your life, embrace the fact you are capable of experiencing things without many attachments.

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ Masterpost and Tarot Menu ❁༺ ˎˊ-

[peargreen-jellybean]

too fuckin long, so sorry about that, but enjoy a 3k word count poolverine hurt/comfort ficlet from the prompt idea i posted

my writing skills suck a bit and i wrote this on my phone but i did my best. enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan’s woken up in alleyways, face down, with clothes torn from a brawl he instigated and the glass bottles he’d fallen onto. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, he wakes up slumped over a table in the back of a bar because the owner was too afraid to tell him to leave.

Afraid of his claws or just his name.

The buzz of alcohol never stays long, even with high proof liquor, but the tiredness of a fucked up life still lingers for awhile more after several bottles of booze.

So waking up exhausted isn’t new. It's about the only way he’s woken up for a long time.

And that’s what Logan expects, slowly coming back to consciousness.

Exhaustion. Some hard surface. Hopefully most of his clothes intact.

One eye begrudgingly cracks open.

Yup, definitely a little fucked up. His joints ache deep into the bone and his head is cotton-y.

But… Nothing feels hard or sharp beneath him. In fact, he feels… comfortable.

Huh.

Turning just a bit, he finds his face buried in softness. It smells lived in; skin, spilled food, a hint of… gunpowder? And, after a moment, he hears the soft sound of music- too quiet to be bar music but not muffled enough to be from a building he isn’t inside of.

Huh.

“Mmm.” Using his forearms, Logan props himself up just enough to leave the softness and get a look around him.

Not an alley. Not a bar. Not even a cheap, seedy motel.

A house- er, an apartment more likely. And he’s sprawled, a moment ago face down, on top of an old couch with a blanket over him and pillow under him. Neither the couch nor the general space is all that large, he’s practically spilling off the furniture, but everything feels warm and lived in. Home-y, if a little messy.

There isn’t anyone else here- the living room, a good guess- but noises, once he registers them, coming from an adjacent room says he isn’t alone. The soft music seems to filter through from there as well.

Logan flips himself over, a bit too groggy to be elegant about it, and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The feel of gritty grime on his face, more than he usually gets after a night drowning in alcohol, confuses him.

And then-

His head slumps back into the pillow and he groans. “Fucking hell.”

The TVA. The Time Ripper. The Void.

The red spandex-ed asshole who stole him from his timeline.

… Who, after everything, took him home, here, introduced him to his blind roommate- Althea, if he recalls- and offered him a place to stay and sleep for a while. And, vaguely remembering being too tired to shower, who also gave Logan some clothes to sleep in.

Groaning, only half heartedly after remembering the comforts offered and taken, Logan pulls back the blanket and, likey for the first time, actually checks to see what he’s wearing.

A gray, “I eat cement” T-shirt and blue, rubber duck shorts.

Yeah, that seems about right.

He huffs, but sits up to get his elbows onto his knees and scrub more of the sleep away from his face. Instant regret again. Both he and Wade- battle worn and disgusting- had forgone a shower in favor of just near instantly passing out. He is fucking gross; dirt, blood, and god knows what else covering him in a disgusting layer.

Logan feels a pang of shame for getting onto their couch with this much dirt and sweat coating him- maybe he can wash the blanket and pillowcase as an apology- but a clattering from the room with the music recatches his attention. The volume of whatever song is playing- a woman singing, pleasantly raspy- increases afterward.

Too interested to ignore whatever’s going on, Logan gets up to stand- with only a small groan, thank you- and, after a quick, satisfying stretch, slowly pads over to the doorway. Nothing outright sounds or feels dangerous, but from his experience and especially after the past few days, the need for caution can’t be shaken.

He must still not be fully awake, because the smell hits him only a few creeping steps from the doorway; pepper, eggs, something a bit burnt.

Food.

God, he didn’t realize how hungry he was until now. Even the burning smell is appetizing.

Popping his head in, the sight inside startles him awake completely.

With “I <3 hot dads” shorts, a red apron, and fucking crocs on his feet, Wade shifts around in front of the kitchen counter, swaying to the song he has playing from a radio somewhere. The place is a complete mess of egg shells and plates, but the table has a, rather large, plate of scrambled eggs, another plate of half burnt toast, and an assortment of other breakfast items. The smell of coffee also hangs in the air. And for the first time, maybe since knowing the man- and when he wasn’t unconscious- Wade is happily content not saying a word. He simply turns a toaster, with a fucking butter knife stuck into it, this way and that, and shakes it like he wants information from it.

It’s jarringly warm, and domestic.

Logan is again thrown for a moment.

When was the last time he woke up to clean clothes- even though he himself is gross as hell- the softness of a pillow, to the smell and sight of another person cooking breakfast in a kitchen?

Ever?

That sounds pathetically sad and incorrect, but in the doorway, watching it happen in real time, Logan feels lost and a bit raw.

Lucky for him though, Wade is still an annoying fuck and pulls him from his thoughts.

Like he sensed the presence of the other man half lingering in the doorway, Wade looks back at him and smiles wide. All bright teeth. No mask.

“Well, good morning Peanut! Did ya sleep well? I don't know about you but I think being torn apart and put back together finally got rid of the knot in my back. God, I slept like Al after she goes through waaay too many little baggies.” He motions over to the table with his chin. “I made some eggs and toast if you want. A true triumphant heroes’ breakfast! Hopefully you like them both a bit overdone. And there’s a pot of coffee over there.” He gestures to a machine on the counter now. “You can literally just drink from the pot if you want. Caffeine does not work on me, funnily enough. We don’t have creamer but there’s milk in the fridge and sugar next to the coffee maker…”

Wade goes on to babble about everything and nothing and, while Logan cannot count the number of times he’s wanted to stab the man for not shutting up, he can’t find the want to be actually irritated.

Not in the face of food, and coffee, and just… comfort.

Speaking of…

Logan clears the lump in his throat. “Thanks.” It’s all he can think to say, but he means it, even with the rough rumble of his morning voice.

Which Wade seems to find fascinating.

“Holy shit! How the fuck does your voice get even deeper? God, you would make a killing as a erotic audio book reader. Millions probably.” Wade flashes a flirtatious look before he turns back to the toaster and continues to mumble to himself, or perhaps the broken machine.

Logan huffs, but the call of coffee is stronger than his need for a comeback. The whole pot is grabbed per the offer, the sugar too, and now standing in front of the table he finds himself hesitating. No spots are occupied and nothing says ‘preferred seat’, but Logan can’t help but pause. ‘Make yourself at home’ feels like the unsaid, unfamiliar offer he can’t accept as easily as the coffee.

It feels too easy- another pathetic thought- and he can’t help but feel like he isn’t awake yet, and the reality of a cold, pavement bed will greet him if he gets too comfortable…

“Stupid fucking piece of metal crap!” Wade hisses, followed by the sound of the knife stabbing into the toaster.

Nope, probably not a dream. Logan is not a creative enough person to come up with something like this.

God, so just… sit, you fucking moron.

Picking a chair facing away from the toaster killer, Logan sets the coffee pot down- on a mat he also picked up, he isn’t an asshole- and settles in.

He feels awkward, like a kid at his first sleepover, but the eggs are there in front of him and his stomach is starting to growl. Awkwardness can wait until after a few bites, at least. There’s a lack of something important on the table though. After a quick glance around the plates and cups, and not finding anything, he looks over to Wade who seems to be completely brawling with the toaster now.

Wincing at the sight, and before he can rethink his decision, Logan clears the remaining sleep from his throat and uses that to draw the other man’s attention.

“Do uh, do you got a fork or somethin’?”

“Ah fuck, that’s what I forgot!” Wade sets, or slams really, the toaster down and moves over to a drawer, then rooting through it. “Didn’t run the dishwasher either and all the good forks are in it. Fuck…” He mumbles something else too, but lets out a triumphant ‘ha!’ when he pulls out two forks, one a little more bent than the other.

He skips, almost, over to Logan and presents the utensils. “Here you go Peanut, pick your favorite!”

Grabbing the more bent fork, Logan nods a silent thanks and begins slowly transferring eggs from the larger plate to one of the smaller, empty ones. Wade, satisfied with the choice, simply sets the other fork onto the table and goes back to the counter, and that damn toaster.

But before brawling again, he calls back, “Help yourself to as much as you want Babygirl! You deserve it for all your sexy hero work!”

Logan huffs again but grabs one of the toaster’s victims, once he’s gotten a fair amount of egg, and takes a bite of the slightly over cooked toast and just… enjoys.

The moment is pretty… nice.

Warm food. Morning sun from the window- god, he doesn’t even know that time it is. Wade isn’t quiet, hardly ever is, but he’s not overly inane or loud right now.

It’s all… good.

So… What does it?

An old memory, like deja vu, from another place and time with other people? The still lingering, ghostly sensation of his own body shredding and healing, just below his skin? Wade grumbling at the counter over the broken toaster, like a strange picture of domestic living?

It could be anything, everything.

But all he knows is that it’s twisting into something else. Something darker, and sharper, and cold.

Logan starts to tremble in his seat and the fork in his hand damn near snaps in his grip. The bite of food in his mouth tastes like blood- no, it is blood. He’s bitten into his tongue. His heart is racing, and something is tight in his chest, too tight and still tightening. Crushing.

Air isn’t breathable. His lungs won’t let it in.

Whatever stupid song is playing now is muffled by a white hot pulsing between his ears.

… He knows this.

Panic.

This is panic.

Of all the times to break, after days of one problem after another, pain after pain, this is when it happens? Now? While he’s sitting in Wade fucking Wilson’s kitchen, wearing his worn-soft clothes and eating at his table and listening to some soft song on the radio?

Yes, it is.

Pathetic.

Fucking pathetic.

He can’t focus anywhere anymore- it’s too much, too overwhelming, too fucking stupid to reason with- and burning nausea is creeping up his throat.

He’s spiraling. He’s breaking. And he can’t find the fight to beat himself out of it.

Perhaps that’s the reason he doesn’t hear the increasingly desperate ‘Logan?’s behind him or the quick footsteps moving towards the table.

He does startle, however, at a sudden touch to the side of his skull, making him gasp.

His claws gouge the surface of the table and knock over a half-filled water cup but, remarkably, they don’t thrust into the sudden presence pressing to his side.

It takes a good minute to process the situation, much slower than it usually takes him. But he feels the warmth of another person and the pressure of a hand on his head and his head is bent at an odd angle-

Wade, his mind breathes. This is his scent- gunpowder, spandex, and his own strange, unique smell. The touch to the back of his skull is his hand and the press to his cheek is the exposed skin below his shirt.

He’s cuddling him.

Uh-

And because it’s what he does best, Logan rages.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Logan snaps, and he yanks his head back from the other man’s grasp. Or, at least, he tries to.

“Eeeasy Peanut,” Wade hushes, not relinquishing Logan’s head. It's easy to forget the teasing, ridiculous man is incredibly strong. The battle lasts all of two seconds, and Wade’s stubbornness takes the victory. Logan’s cheek presses back to his hip and stays there under the weight of his hand.

“Easy, easy, easy…” Wade mumbles. He hesitates, only for a moment. “Vanessa did this… when shit got really bad.”

He’s quiet. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to. The meaning and weight of the softly spoken words are enough.

There’s a growl starting to rumble in his chest and while he wants to fight against Wade harder- he doesn’t need sentimental crap or, god forbid, pity- Logan takes a breath just long enough to pause here in the moment, and let’s himself feel.

Wade’s hand is cradling his skull and his fingers are threaded through his hair. The weight of them is firm, but not crushing. No, they’re gentle. And they press his cheek and temple into Wade’s side, where the dip of his waist is. Even at the odd angle his neck is bent to, the shape of the dip fits to his face near perfectly and, if obliged to stay here, he would be comfortable. Wade’s body heat- much like his own, running high due to constant cellular regeneration- seeps into him. Into his skin, and then his flesh, and then his bones, settling deep into his chest.

All of it, it… helps.

The revelation startles Logan.

The weight and solidness of Wade is grounding; constant, steady pressure. His warmth slowly relaxes the painful tightness behind Logan’s ribs. Even his smell- showered now, likely before he started cooking, still strange but not unbearable- settles his mind just because it’s there.

Wade… is anchoring him.

Maybe he really should fight this harder, or be annoyed at the coddling, or pissed just because he’s being handled at all, but Logan can’t keep a grip on any of the feelings. He can’t stop the calm that pulls him in and brings him down. It’s so- He’s feels so-

…

… When was the last time he was held?

Not fucked by nameless faces, or hanging on to another person for dear life, or punch near through the stomach- Held.

Was it before- God does it hurt.

… Was it before, when he had his fellow mutant friends and family? Before that?

After?… Definitely not.

Warmth, gentleness, nothing of the kind was what he deserved afterwards. He could never reward himself with something he never showed, and no one offered it to him regardless.

Logan shudders, his breath likely teasing Wade’s skin but, if the other man feels it, he blissfully leaves the fact be.

Wade- warm, solid, annoying as hell Wade- who breaks his train of thought, unaware of it. “Better right? When Vanessa first did this, waaay back in the storyline, I fucking melted like a kid’s ice cream. It’s like the guilty, trauma victim’s morphine.” He pauses, and there’s a grin to his words now. “I also ate her out that first time, but we can wait to do that until the second mental breakdown session, Babygirl.”

Yup. There it is. Asshole.

But Logan just, non-committedly hums, although it's more of a grumble. Yeah, Wade will probably be insufferable after this, smug and a whole new level of too comfortable touching him, but right now, right here, he’s calming.

He’s- something Logan can’t quite name. Or at least, he’s unwilling to.

Call Logan weak, call him pathetic- because he truthfully is, just below the storm in his skin- and like hell does he actually deserve this, but he’s gonna savor it for as long as he possibly can.

Seconds pass, or maybe hours, and the gentle massage of Wade’s fingertips to his scalp continues during it before his hand slides away from Logan’s hair onto his shoulder.

The loss of that contact against his head is disappointing-a private thought- but when Wade shifts like he’s about to move away the disappointment quickly morphs into panic.

He isn’t ready to let go.

He isn’t ready for Wade to leave.

With pure, unthinking action, Logan latches onto the fabric of Wade’s shorts just below the hip he isn’t leaning against. He fists the material into a ball, like he’s afraid the other man will just disappear if he doesn’t hold tight enough.

Like he really is going to wake up, and be alone again with only the memory of coffee and warmth.

Embarrassment quickly reddens his face once he understands what he’s done but, instead of releasing Wade, Logan turns his face into his hip to hide. Clenching his eyes shut for extra precaution.

Weak. Pathetic.

Wade is quiet, his hand hovering above Logan’s shoulder after it was started off but, just as Logan is about to relinquish his hold of the man- he can't bear the unnerving stillness of him- Wade surprises him again.

Quick but gentle, Wade cups the back of Logan’s head and neck, turns ever so slightly to the side, and presses Logan’s forehead to the cushion of his stomach. And just lets the other man stay against him, as he rubs his head and shoulders.

Logan cries a small sound he’s never heard himself make before- something wounded, and relieved, and ragged- but he can’t be bothered to care. Not right now. He releases his death hold on Wade’s shorts and wraps his arms around the other man’s thighs, as flush against him as he can be in their current positions. His hold might be too tight, edging on painful most likely, but Wade doesn’t complain. Doesn’t do anything except this… hold him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you…

“Of course, big guy. Whatever you need.”

Ah, he said that out loud.

… He’ll care about that later. Logan will be pissed, and embarrassed, and in denial at some point, but it’ll all be later. When Wade isn’t cradling him or murmuring soft words. When he isn’t cooking warm food or listening to music on the radio.

When he isn’t making him feel like, for the first time in a long time, he’s allowed to have kindness.

Fucking… Wade.

[uneditedidiot]

i can see you - jamie tartt x reader

i can see you - jamie tartt x reader

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary: Jamie can’t stop imagining you pressed up against the wall and his mouth on yours…will he act on it? Based off the song I Can See You by Taylor Swift from Speak Now Taylor’s Version.

word count: 1.4k

Warnings: COULD be considered NSFW so maybe MDNI (18+) just in case, implied smut, Jamie pining after you, language

A/N: I started this the day Speak Now TV came out, but I didn’t get the chance to finish it until now cause I was moving and didn’t have internet. This gets a LITTLE spicy, so enjoy. :) also THIS GIF 👀

’Cause I can see you waiting down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

And what would you do? 

Baby, if you only knew

That I can see you

Well…Jamie was fucked.

You stood down the hall from him talking with Keeley about the big press conference coming up for the team, making sure you’d scheduled everything for the boys that you needed to.

Jamie couldn’t hear the conversation, just stood gazing at you with a soft expression by the water fountain. He’d told himself that staring probably wasn’t the best idea, as you had a rule that you didn’t date people on the team, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything you did, everything you said, even how you moved…he was hopelessly in love with you.

He had imagined this scenario at least a hundred times. You’d walk down the hall to him. He’d wrap his arms around you, one hand on the back of your neck, the other on the small of your back, and pull your lips to his. Then you’d slide your hands up over his shoulders, reciprocating the passionate kiss, and he’d walk you slowly backwards so that you were pressed against the wall at the mercy of his hands and mouth. And that’s where you would stay; bodies pressed together in a way that made you both want each other even more, ready to find an empty room at a moments’ notice. Then after you’d both spent at least an hour (if not more) drawing pleasurable experience out of pleasurable experience out from each other, you’d both confess your love for the other.

He shook himself out of this enchanting imaginary moment when he saw you laugh at something Keeley said, pat her shoulder, and start walking down the hall towards him.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he noticed you notice him staring. He spun quickly on his heel, pretending to fill up his already full water bottle.

He heard your footsteps approaching, then silence as you came to a halt in front of him.

“Uh, you realize your bottle is already full, right?” you teased.

He glanced up, stopping the spout from sending more filtered water cascading over his hands into the drain. He felt his cheeks grow warm.

“Erm, can’t ever be too hydrated,” he heard himself stutter. “Coach Lasso is always gettin’ on me to drink more water, so…here I am doing that.”

You wrinkled your eyebrows in a confused smile, which sent butterflies fluttering about in his stomach. You were just so cute…

“Ted wanted me to let you know that he’s going to call you up to talk about your assists this month,” you told him. “And Roy wants to talk to you in his office after the conference. Something about…” You checked your phone, frowning in puzzlement. “...Uncle’s Day?”

“Shit,” he cursed. He averted his eyes bashfully. “Yeah, I might’ve…intruded a little on Phoebe’s holiday with him.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. “Oh come on, you know Roy. He acts like he’s some untouchable, rough-and-tumble, aggressive bear, but on the inside, he’s like a cute, angry little duck.”

Jamie let out a huge laugh. He was afraid it might have sounded too eager or loud. The self-conscious, nagging voice in his brain told him that it was dumb to laugh like that at such a small joke.

But you clearly enjoyed that he found your joke amusing. Your face went slightly pink, looking almost a little embarrassed.

“Should I tell Roy you’ve just compared him to a duck?” he joked.

You feigned an attitude but your smile was evident. “Alright. Go ahead. What would he do? Yell at me? He does that anyways.”

“Yellin’ is that man’s love language, I swear.”

“What’s yours?”

His breath caught in his throat. “What?”

You held his gaze confidently, eyes darkening slightly as you asked yet again, “What’s your love language?”

Jamie’s heart was stuttering. His brain had needed a moment to catch up to what you were asking.

“I, erm…” he stammered. His eyes bounced around, not able to meet yours. “For meself, it’s probably…eh, physical touch and, uh, words of affirmation.”

He finally was able to make eye contact. You clearly were paying attention, nodding as he finished speaking.

Jamie decided to be just as bold. “I told you mine, so you tell me yours.”

You smiled back. “Physical touch and quality time.”

He smirked, flirting back. “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

“I’d hope so,” you grinned, patting him lightly on the chest. Then without another word, you walked back down the hall, glancing back a few times to make sure he was watching. His chest tingled where you’d touched him.

Oh MAN…Jamie was really fucked now. Had you been thinking of the same things?

He questioned the interaction over and over again in his mind throughout the rest of that day. He knew he was distracted, especially during the press conference. Ted had to get his attention multiple times so he could answer questions that had just been asked of him.

But after the conference was over and the work day had ended, Jamie decided to act on things.

He stood by the water fountain, waiting for you to come down the stairs to go home. He tapped the top of the cooler anxiously.

You’d both been very professional with each other up until that conversation earlier. He’d never been tempted this much to act on his feelings. He knew that if he had acted on them before, you’d have become an addiction for him, which he couldn’t afford at this point. But, again, that was before the flirty exchange about love languages earlier.

Footsteps.

There you were.

He inhaled sharply, butterflies in his stomach fluttering like mad.

He saw you appear, bag in hand, staring down at your phone as you stepped down from the last stair.

He called your name. You whipped around, puzzled. Your face lit up when you saw him.

“Jamie,” you said, “what are you still doing here? It’s like seven. I thought all the players had gone home.”

He smiled lightly, coming closer to you as he spoke. “There’s not many of us left. I think Sam and Isaac might still be here, but…I have something else I need to do before I leave.”

Your confused expression only grew. “And what’s that?”

He stopped right in front of you, faces inches apart. You made no effort to move away from him, just stared back at him. Your eyes flickered to his lips.

“This,” he replied softly.

Jamie crushed his lips to yours. The reciprocation from you was instant. You dropped your bag to the floor.

His hands wound around your body, hands caressing as much of you as possible. Your arms went up to his neck, one hand on the back of his head, the other over his shoulders.

Your mouths moved hungrily against each other, trying to feel as much of each other as possible. It was like rain had finally come after a drought. You both realized how much you’d wanted each other.

Jamie was licking into your mouth. You slid your hands to tug on the collar of his sweatsuit jacket. His fingers were tracing the sliver of skin between your t-shirt and jeans. Your whole body was on fire.

Jamie wasn’t thinking straight. He backed you into the wall of the hallway, pressing your body against his. There was no space between you at all. His knee moved between your legs, pressing up. You whined against his mouth. He smirked into the kiss and groaned.

This was exactly what he had imagined so many times before.

His lips trailed off yours down your chin and neck. He licked and bit and kissed his way to your jugular. His left hand went up the back of your shirt to trace your spine in an agonizingly delicious manner.

Your breathing was heavy, trying to find some relief on his knee as you ground down. His mouth was relentless on your neck. It was everything you’d wanted for so long.

You fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, pulling slowly down. His mouth was immediately back on yours, but he unzipped the jack quickly and slung it off.

He was only in a tank top, leaving his arms bare. You dug your fingernails into his biceps as he kissed over your jaw to behind your ear. He felt fireworks under his skin where you traced.

You let out an involuntary moan. He pulled away, grinning widely, lips still inches from yours.

“Shhhh,” he whispered. “Can’t have you alerting everyone here what we’re doin’, love. Not a sound...”

You pulled his lips to yours again. 

In between kisses, you suggested hoarsely, “boot room?”

Jamie pulled back again. You could feel his breath against your chin. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, blushing, still giving him some of your signature sass. “Obviously. I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I wasn’t.”

He pecked your lips once more, grabbing your hands and immediately leading you away to the boot room to act the rest of his fantasy…and yours.

[patron-saints]

on morality & madeleine: interview with the vampire meta (written after s2e6)

so far, i’ve found that trying to process my thoughts on madeleine feels really difficult when everyone online has their own opinions and their own biases. this post is kind of my attempt to sort out how i feel about her, and to refute and explore some arguments i’ve seen pop up in her tag.

i think the people who are pointing out that first and foremost these are fictional characters have it right: they’re not real people, their relative morality is only relevant as it pertains to the story itself. and in a story like interview with the vampire, your baseline is that every main character is a killer. in terms of morality, evaluating whether or not a character is a good person is pretty useless and also just… isn’t the point of the story. all characters are functions of a narrative, all characters are tools that you use to tell a story. their morality should not be judged in the same way as you would a real person’s! now. all that being said, let’s have some fun judging* madeleine anyway!

*doing some of my own biased character analysis on

what we know comes to us from a few sources: claudia’s diary, which daniel can read, (decent primary source, but filtered with her biases), louis’s recollection of madeleine’s memories (secondary source that relies on both of their ability to remember clearly) and presumably, louis and armand’s recollections of their interactions as well, which isn’t a whole lot to begin with.

part 1: the nazi fucking

when madeleine talks about sleeping with a nazi to claudia, she’s extremely casual about it. while she notes he brought her food, and cigarettes, she says in a way that invokes a courtship ritual, rather than a direct bribe. it’s impossible to divorce this from the context though: her neighbors are starving, and she was brought food. it likely was a bribe, but what’s important is that she doesn’t relay it as one. her focus when she starts talking about him is on the connection: “it was the comfort, the proof of life,” as she says. if she had been coerced, or if she felt like she had no choice in the matter, i think she would have presented it a little differently. but her affection for the guy is clear, and she even mocks him a little to claudia. in her own words, “i wasn’t inviting hitler to stay in france, i was inviting a frightened boy to cradle my tits.” 

which. let’s be real here: to claudia, she is downplaying it. she slept with an occupying soldier during an occupation. watching this scene for the first time, you could even reasonably assume she doesn’t get how serious that is. but once you see the degree of punishment she faced, and continues to face for her actions, you realize her framing here is a learned defense against genuine violence. she feels she has to downplay it to herself and to claudia because there is an imbalance here. it becomes harder to admit to your wrongdoings when the punishments you face for them feel wildly disproportionate.

madeleine did something she never should have done, something she doesn’t feel remorse for, but something that she’s being punished for in a way that far exceeds what any person deserves.

when she talks about it to armand, her framing changes again. she calls it a love, still, so the affection is still present, but she places a greater emphasis on doing what it takes to survive, implying more so that sleeping with a nazi was an act of self-preservation. regardless of whether this is more true than how she presents things to claudia, she has a motivation here too.

when she shares her experiences with claudia, she’s flirting, trying to make her laugh, trying to make a connection, and this part might be subconsciously, but she is certainly trying to get claudia to like her. when she talks to armand, however, she’s actively trying to convince him to grant her the dark gift. she has to portray herself as capable, as self-sufficient, and discerning, and it works! even though he denies her based on his own biases, armand is visibly impressed by all of madeleine’s answers to his questions.

and all we get from louis was that the experience was sweet. and let’s be real, it did look pretty sweet.

i don’t believe madeleine has any hatred for the boy she slept with. i don’t think there’s any evidence she has any hatred for jewish people either, or for her country, which her neighbors believe she betrayed. i think she chose to prioritize a moment of human connection (and possibly food) over the greater consequences of her actions.

i have been looking for the post again since i saw it, so if anyone sees it lmk! but! the op talked about the fact that madeleine as a collaborator isn’t changing her behavior in any meaningful way now: she watched claudia kill in front of her, and instead of running, she once again invited the danger in, joined up with it. i believe the post said something like: once a collaborator, always a collaborator.

this has really stuck with me and i really wish i could reference it properly.

cuz i think there is something there—i think madeleine’s self-preservation instinct is a little screwed on wrong, i think she is acting similarly with claudia as she did with the nazi, but i think it’s not just about the danger. portraying her choice to follow claudia as a cold moment of choosing survival takes away from her complexity, and from the veracity of her feelings for claudia. so, not just the danger. i think it’s about the connection again.

the connection she has with claudia is real, the love she has for claudia is incredibly real. but madeleine is once again prioritizing an interpersonal connection over anything else, and that is the pattern she’s repeating here.

part 2: the apparent age gap issues

every single person who says their relationship is problematic because claudia is a child owes me and claudia fifty bucks.

i don’t really even want to get into that because i don’t think it’s worth my time. the show has put a lot of effort into demonstrating that claudia is an adult trapped in the body of a teenager, and that experience is hard enough on her without all you people insisting she’s still a kid anyway.

however, there’s a secondary argument i’ve seen which i do want to address, which is madeleine’s perception of her.

in their first meeting in the shop, it’s clear that madeleine is seeing claudia as a teenager. she calls her one directly, and references her “body about to bloom” when they meet again two years later. however, when they do meet two years later, claudia has not grown. we know madeleine has noticed this by the dress fitting scene for certain, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume she noticed that sooner. additionally, in the same breath, madeleine also references claudia’s “mind of a sophisticate.” by the time claudia tells her that her growth was stunted due to the war, it’s extremely likely that madeleine had already reached a similar conclusion. she doesn’t look surprised at all when claudia says it, and it’s because claudia seems like an adult. even if she doesn’t look like one, she carries herself like one, she makes conversation like one, and it’s very easy for madeleine to accept the reality that she is one, because she may have suspected as much already. 

the reason i say all of this is because i’ve seen multiple people saying it’s inappropriate for her to flirt with claudia before she knows she’s an adult.

is their interaction at the shop window flirting? are they flirting outside the theatre, just after the play? both of these scenes are before claudia says her growth was stunted. i think it’s impossible to say they were definitively flirtatious, but i will certainly say there was a vibe. and i think that’s… kind of fine actually ? two people can have chemistry and it doesn’t have to mean anything about them morally. and my coworker andy said it would have been weirder if they had no chemistry and then did suddenly after madeleine realizes she’s an adult, which made me laugh, and which i think is correct. i like the way they get along before the dress fitting, i think those scenes are fun, and the ambiguity of the flavor adds to it.

i did see at least one post that said it was inappropriate for madeleine to talk about sex frankly with claudia if she thinks she’s a teenager, and to that i say. you can talk to teens about sex. even if she didn’t suspect claudia was older, it’s still fine. they are friends, and she’s sharing an experience she had because claudia asked her about it. 

additionally, it’s both a very contemporary & a very american idea that People Under 18 need to be kept from conversations about sex. frankness about sexuality is in fact, very french lol.  

i did originally think that this was after the conversation about claudia not growing, but i just watched the scene again to be sure and it was, in fact, also before, but i think my point stands. 

i don’t know for certain if she intended to come across as flirtatious in these scenes, but i know something clicked for her right around her confession. you can see it, when they lock eyes in the mirror, that whatever the vibe is, they’ve both clocked it. and she finds out claudia’s older than she looks only seconds later, because she’s the one pointing out that claudia hasn’t grown. (but, yes, i’ll add anyway: after claudia says her growth was stunted, and after that moment of connection, madeleine’s expressions do seem a lot more… Interested too, lol). 

i understand and i empathize so much with people’s criticisms of madeleine’s past. i have no intention to exonerate her in that regard (other than her previously mentioned narrative tool status) but i will jump to her defense when it comes to her relationship with claudia.

madeleine sees claudia as an adult, because claudia is an adult.

if they weren’t vampires, and if they weren’t queer in the 1940s, maybe she’d be worried about how others saw their relationship. or maybe it would be weird if she didn’t care how it looked. but given that the only people who will know they’re romantically together are other vampires, i don’t see her lack of concern for the optics being that much of an issue either.

and the reason she’s not concerned is because she knows what claudia is to her. which brings us to:

part 3: the sister stuff

once again i think the show does a pretty good job of refuting this one on its own, but i’d like to get all my arguments in the same place.

so. i see “don’t worry about the blood, it’s the blood that made you,” getting thrown around a lot as proof that madeleine is replacing claudia as her sister.

why would they have a scene that directly refutes this if they were true? when louis asks if that’s what’s going on, claudia says they already “had it out,” and madeleine clarifies that claudia is nothing like her sister, and cannot be a replacement.

“don’t worry about the blood, it’s the blood that made you,” is something that madeleine says because she loves claudia, because she loves the person and the vampire that she is. because she wants claudia to know that her past does not define her. because she wants her to know she doesn’t feel tainted by it, and that claudia doesn’t have to either.

and yeah, it’s not that there’s zero incestuous tones to it! or to the whole arrangement, certainly. but i think any that are there pretty neatly fall under the “iwtv typical wire crossings” flavor rather than the “you’re my dead sister’s replacement” flavor.

so, yeah. despite saying fictional character morality doesn’t matter, i’ve just written several paragraphs trying to figure out if madeleine is a good person or not. really, though, that’s not the question iwtv wants us to ask, or the question i really want to ask its viewers either. is madeleine a good person? eh, probably not. is madeleine a good person for claudia? absolutely.

on this, iwtv is extremely clear. madeleine is an ideal partner. she’s not scared, she’s not surrounded by friends and family she’d grieve, she’s weirdly suited to vampirism, and she loves claudia so much. they share a morbid sense of humor, they’re comfortable teasing each other, they communicate in an extremely healthy way, and every single step of their relationship is based on consent.

the entire time i was watching her scene with armand, i just kept whispering, “oh my god, she’s perfect.” she nailed absolutely every question because she’s perfect for what she’s supposed to do as character, as a function of the narrative she is a part of. madeleine is perfect because she is perfect for claudia.

[genericpuff]

Have you heard of the Canvas Age Rating Self Assessment thing? What are your thoughts on it?

I think it'll at least be helpful to help discern which series are for which age groups, but it's not necessarily going to change WT's moderation policies (which I will say from experience, seem to vary purely on the basis of which moderator spots the offense, some are willing to look the other way, others sound the alarms over stuff as inane as a buttcrack lmao)

plus I don't think a lot of creators are aware that whatever rating they get will bar those who don't meet the qualifications of that rating. There are already people getting YA / M ratings over things that aren't necessarily that obscene and subsequently losing portions of their audience who can no longer access it.

All that's to say, I think it's a good system in theory, WT's has been in desperate need of proper ratings for a long time now, but it undoubtedly still needs tweaking.

That said, I'm also not the best person to ask for an opinion on this as I've stopped updating works on WT. The stuff I do have on there now have ratings (both rated M which is hilarious because it's barely any worse than Naruto or Bleach half the time), but I haven't updated anything since before the rating system and I have a very small readerbase so it's really not affecting any of my own experience, I don't think anyone's been explicitly banned from reading my work on there as a result of it (and I mirror it on other sites anyways).

So yeah, not much to say on it for now, it did seem to be kind of buggy in the beginning with what ratings it dished out over which specifications, but I believe that's been adjusted/fixed and it's more accurate now. It doesn't necessarily mean people can post ToS-breaking content - and it's not gonna stop the NSFW Patreon farmers from exploiting loopholes in the ToS - but it at least creates an extra barrier of plausible deniability both for the platform and its creators - meaning, it's not a perfect system that will stop underage readers from accessible explicit content (or bot accounts from spam-posting NSFW ads as comics) but as far as I can tell it works fine as a rudimentary "dead dove do not eat" filter which is pretty much all it's designed for.

Overall, no real complaints here, just a feature that will hopefully benefit creators going forward in properly labelling and advertising their series. What Webtoons really needs is a better filtering system so users can opt out or into specific age ratings / genres / tags / etc. But that's a whole other can of worms that WT's doesn't seem to be prioritizing and is easily in my top 5 reasons of why WT's is one of the most useless platforms out there in spite of how successful it became.

[shinjisdone]

Two Humans in the Demon Realm - Fantasy And Nightmare

What if by the time Luz Noceda the human emerged into the demon realm...some other human did, too? However, instead of being joyful of being surrounded by all they love and taken in by a kind and openhearted witch...they are terrified of this place, taken in by the ruler of the realm?

[Basically I watched TOH again and dammit HUNTER SHALL HAVE A FRIEND I SAY NOT UNTIL S2 but NOW I SAY NOW]

BECOMING THE GOLDEN GUARD'S/HUNTER'S HUMAN FRIEND BECAUSE I SAID SO

Part 2 of this

Things seemed to become okayish.

The visits were more frequent and the Golden Guard would come in with different, hopefully tastier dishes to you. "Your little drawings of human food aren't the best, you know." He said as he returned with a plate of hot...moving...algae? When all you drew for him was bacon.

They don't even have bread here *crying*.

Alongside the questionable food he also brought writing utensils, something akin to a magical board and the like. You were unsure and so let him use the majority when teaching him about glyphs.

The Golden Guard would nod and hum before grabbing everything under his arm and excusing himself off until the next time he visits you. At times he seemed to be in a good mood so you assumed he made progress - yet he mostly returned tired and grumpy so you did not try your luck to ask how much progress he was doing and how much of it was actually successful.

You did not even know what he's doing with the knowledge or why he needs it.

Still...being kept in a room out of everyone's sight can be boring...and overwhelming.

You've asked your guard a couple of times if there isn't any other new places to be. Just for fresh air. Or to feel the sunlight directly and not through the window you weren't even allowed to touch.

However, one day after requesting it a couple of times, the Golden Guard halted with you almost bumping into him, spun around and agreed.

Under one condition: You'd go outside of the castle's barriers and into the wild to practice wild magic.

Learning about it by theory was no problem but the Guard couldnt risk practicing any of it on Belos' territory. The punishment would be too severe.

Besides...he won't ever tell you but he's scared of using it. Wild magic is dangerous.

Not that he wants to endanger your life but you have far more experiences with it, so he likes to believe that things will turn out fine if you practice them out. He can stay back with the theories on paper and you can actually cast them.

So clad once again with the humble scout uniform, you made your way - though you feel like you instant traveled or zapped - to an abandoned shore. The sea and cliffs would shield you from unwanted attention.

The Golden Guard is very much aware of what a risk he's taking - but it could lead to an solution, to healing.

He is still doing his job. Looking after you and making sure you don't kill yourself through careless spellcasting of wild magic. Thats what he tells himself at least.

The hours pass by and the two of you were engrossed in the many glyphs and the possibilities they offer. You so effortlessly draw them into the sand, it leaves him a bit impressed.

You finish drawing each glyph that you know. "I'm sure there are many more but the majority are like...basic ones from nature, you know? Light, fire, plants...they seem like any other magic spell of your Emperor's Coven, I don't know what else they could do."

He trotted over with his staff, inspecting the glyphs further. "They can be. I've read about it." He passed you by, letting the end of his staff draw along the sand and connecting your drawings with his own lines. "Magic has layers even when the core is the same. Light is more than just able to see in the dark, it filters through the atmosphere we exist in and can cast shadows - thats already another path that light glyph opens up for you!" You noted how much lighter and higher his tone gets as he jogs around the shore, drawing more circles. "Back then before the Savage Times witches were able to create more spells with their imagination and willpower alone just through understanding each core-!"

His figure froze mid-drawing as his gaze met your quizzical one. Straightening his posture, he cleared his throat and intentionally spoke sternly. "I, uh, read that. It's history 101 here on the Boiling Isles, nothing...crazy. You wouldn't know that."

You can't help but crack a smile. "You sure know a lot about magic even if it can be scary. You must be a master by now, is that what it means to be the Golden Guard?" You smiled and meant it as a compliment but your companion just seemed to shrink, looking away from you. "Magic isn't scary, well, wild magic doesn't have to be. There's an immense, just...pool of unlimited possibilities, its what this entire isle is made of. Magic at the very beginning was just like this, wild, and kind of endless," Halting, he continued in a low tone, "...but it can get out of control, thats why its wild in the first place. If you're not careful, if you don't know what you are doing, people might get hurt and-"

He hit a rock when shifitng his weight. A part of the circle had been cut by his foot and he gazed down at the grande symbol you two created. It seemed like art but he knew it couldn't ever be.

Taking a deep breath he called out louder with his hand shooting out. "Thats why I am the Golden Guard, yes, I'll take care of this, of everything. So stay back, human-!"

One shift of his foot too much and he came in contact with a glyph. The lines glowed a bright green and before he knew it, the Guard let out a yelp as his staff went flying up to the cliffs, getting stuck in the rocks.

"No! No, no, no!" His hands clutched his head. You jogged over to him and offered the lightest of condolences. "We can get it back. Should be easy with, yeah, magic-" Your shoulders jumped up, retracting your finger that was playfully drawing circles in the air when your companion started clinging up the cliff, only to slide and fall down again and again. You called out to him in assurance but had to snap when he didnt stop even when his uniform got ripped.

"Hey, hey, you're gonna get hurt! Just wait a moment!"

"I can't! This staff was given to me by Belos!"

"Just focus and cast a spell to get it back!"

His sudden silence surprised you. The Golden Guard shrunk in himself and avoided your gaze. He stood still for a few more awkward minutes - until you took a deep and loud breath.

"...Can't you...cast a magic spell? Like something with the wind, maybe?"

Once again, he stayed quiet and you took your book in your hands before drawing a circle in the sand. "Here, I'll go get it. I'll stand right here and jump on the vine, you'll just have to activate the glyph for me." Once again, he looked away before you urged him more with a trying smile. "You can do it, Golden Guard."

Without another exchange you took your position. The Guard hesitated as he kneled down. "I..."

Gingerly he grazed the outline with one finger and a small sprout grew - before he snapped his hand back and it died instantly.

Looking up to you - and somehow you could tell that he asked you on the 'how'. "You just touch it," you smiled, "I need it to be big and strong...you said that witches used to do that with willpower and imagination, right? Maybe...we could try that." You could feel his gaze, could tell how his chest heaved but with a deep breath he slammed his hand onto the sand. At the contact the glyph glowed bright, a sprout emmitted and you were quick to jump on the growing vine.

In an blink of an eye, the staff was retreated and the guard slowly imagined the vine becoming smaller and reshaping into a flower - which it did the moment you landed on your feet.

"Here." You returned the weapon that you so awkwardly held, "...That thing seems more unstable than my glyphs - from holding it at least."

You tried to smile for him but he remained silent. Throwing sand over the drawn glyphs, the both of you returned to the castle without another word.

Back in the discreet room, you took off the mask of the scout uniform with a frown. "Hey...I won't question anything of that...instance if you don't want me to."

He snapped his head back at you before slowly letting it fall. All you got were mumbles under his breath.

With yet another awkward smile that you could muster, you pointed towards his scraped skin. "I found some bandages here the other day...we'd best patch that up before it gets infected...if that uh, happens around here." This time however, he shook his head. "I can take care of myself. I don't need...your help..."

Underneath his mask he scowled as his words trailed off. What a lie.

He's pathetic.

Still, you tried to urge him to let you tend to him with sticking plaster in hand. Begrudgingly he let you - a bit unsure still. Even the act of sitting on that bed - which is your bed now (has been for a while...he wonders how long you'll stay) - has him thrown off. The confident aura of the Golden Guard leaving him and letting him down.

You talk about what you still were able to learn today, how in your world, water is connected to healing or seen as healing - after all, magic was fiction in your realm that you saw in "movies"...whatever illusions those might be - so maybe magic including a water glyph might ease his pain (which no, that's not how it works. However...he does not interrupt you).

It makes him realizes he doesn't know much about your realm despite keeping you here so that Belos can learn more about it. But what he does realize that in your strange human way, you were trying to comfort him.

He thinks. He never has been comforted before, not like this. Belos never comforted him like this.

After all was patched up, he was quick to collect his staff and leave yet stopped before reaching the door. "...Thanks..." You heard him hesitate and could almost not believe what he was saying, "...for today. And...for the other time where you helped me...with your wild magic."

A smile graced your face and your eyes lit up in a way that the Golden Guard did not know what to think of it. "You're welcome." Quickly he avoided your gaze. "But don't go overboard. Wild magic is dangerous, you could get hurt. So don't do anything without my supervision."

His attempt at sounding stern didn't go unnoticed but as he left, you couldn't find it in yourself to take it personal.

Things have become...challenging. For him.

He stood there with food in his hand right in front of your door, the illusion spell gone for a moment. In his pocket were a few bandages.

He can return your used ones - then again they aren't yours, they belong to the Emperor as everything does here on the Boiling Isles. Well, you could still have some in stock in case you get hurt with wild magic - which isn't something HE can allow to happen as the Golden Guard!

He groans and just goes in.

In time you appreaciated his visits. The extra bandages weren't...neccessary but welcomed. The dishes he brought resembled your doodles more and were *gasp* actually tasty! You asked him if he spend time in the kitchen and he answers embarrassingly (but at least you cannot see the cuts on his hands).

The Golden Guard liked taking his time with wild magic lessons this time though. The outings aren't this far away anymore but each one was at a different place that you appreciated.

You were more open to tell him of your human world. Of quiet nights, of animals like wolves and how the rain is soothing and not boiling. How humans liked to go swim in the ocean as a pass time! (insanity to him).

You mentioned that he'd get it if he would see it...you hoped you'd be able to see it too.

It was interesting...if not fantastical in his mind.

Even with your frequent meetings with Belos who grew more and more impatient, he always stood by your side. Protecting you even with excuses when the emperor chose harsh words. Nevertheless, the man always tried to be a delight in your presence but you could never truly believe him. He did not make ultimatums or threatened or hurt you...did he pity you because you were human?

You always made sure to thank your guard in situations like these even when he had trouble accepting your gratitude or showing any of his own. You assumed he was never upset by it though.

However, when it came to him he was more than reserved. Any questions of his day, interests, well-being, age or even his name he never really answered. It felt all too compelling to just give up on asking him.

The day started off normal enough. What you learned was normal around here.

The Golden Guard announced that he'd go on a mission right before bidding goodbye after his visits. It will be on the airship...not known to Belos but he will be happy with that he'd bring back. No, you cannot come.

"It's top secret, so just between you and me. I won't be back after bringing in victory so don't try to leave this room - okay, byyyeeee!"

There he was again zapping away and leaving you to kill off your boredom all by yourself. It wasnt until the late evening when crashing and guards stomping by your room was heard. In a panic you rushed towards the wall to eavesdrop.

'Airship' and 'Golden Guard' was all you could hear out by a small, high-pitched voice...squealing over the possibility of his death and taking his place.

Your heart skipped a beat and your throat felt dry. Death? What did they mean with him dying? Taking his place? This - This has to be a joke!

But the demon realm taught you quick that nothing was a joke here. Many things could have taken your life and you were sure members of the Emperor's Coven would be more than willing to be the most dangerous things on the isles.

There was no time to think. Your heart was pounding so hard leaving you with a headache yet you did not stop when putting on the scout uniform nor did you falter when stealing from the Healing Coven's closet. It was terrifying but you did not think about it nor about the consequences that could follow if Belos found out. You could imagine that he wouldn't be pleased when the human got out of his castle.

You refused to think about it or else you might shake in your boots with no power to continue to help him.

Sneaking out you were met with rubble and it confirmed your suspicions. You didn't know how to really find him if other witches were already after him. Making sure you stayed out of anyone's sight, you tightly held onto the bag filled with healing potions. You stumbled through the dark and the debris, falling hard enough to lose your mask - but secured the bottles from shattering.

It's alright, you tell yourself and took a deep breath, you can still hide your ears with the cape.

Other scouts searched the area and suddenly you had a bad feeling about dressing as one yourself. Though beyond the orders shouted out, you heard a high voice not belonging to any of the Emperor's Coven and followed it. Without realizing whats in front of you, you collapsed with another person.

You shrieked but caught the bottles just in time. Whipping your head up, you came face to face with another witch - a boy your age with hair pale blonde, scars on his face and ear and heavy eyebags just under his ruby red eyes.

His jaw hung open with a tooth gap peeking from his lips. He looked at you as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

Before he could speak you interrupted him: "Have you seen the Golden Guard?!"

Jumping, he recoiled.

You only stared at him with white panic. "He was steering the airship that crashed here I heard! I, I've got to find him - Emperor's orders!" You hoped he'd take the bait - but only kept staring at you in shock.

In turn you shook your head with a scoff and passed by him yet still stopped and gazed at him over your shoulder. "...You look hurt," Your hand fished out a few potions, "I got these for him but you look like you could use them, too." Without another word you shoved a few potions into his arms and made a run deeper into the debris.

After your figure dissapeared, he still stood there. Beyond the smoke another person emerged through. "Who was that?" Her brown eyes looked worriedly over to him as she adjusted the cape around her round ears.

The blonde frowned before quickly packing the potions out of her sight. "No one. Let's go."

The moment he got back, he barged into your room.

It was long nighttime. You did not sleep, refused to rest your eyes as you skimmed around your book for some kind of glyph that lets you track people. Find their belongings, their status. Anything.

He should've expected it but it still startled him when you rushed over, yelling at him with panicked eyes on where he had been.

The Golden Guard told you the truth - part of it at least and sprinkled a bit of fantasy on it. How he was found and brought back to the castle.

"And what about 'taking your place'?! I saw members of the Coven trying to track you down and..." Your eyes softened, your face grim, "...they talked about getting rid of you."

He looked briefly away from your sullen gaze. "They weren't able to."

"So thats just, a thing that happens here? Scouts and generals wanting to get rid of others for their position?! Thats not normal! Thats something that happened in kingdoms and dynasties and..."

You halt and deflate. Your arms that were wildly gesturing just a moment ago slowly fell to your sides. "...empires."

The Golden Guard assured you while shaking his head. "Listen, I don't know what these are but! I'm fine! I'm fine. You don't have...to worry about someone like me."

"Your airship crashed, thats enough reason to worry - and after hearing the members of your own Coven want you dead, of course I'd come looking for you!"

You saw his shoulders jump. He tilted his head up in surprise and even though you couldn't see it, you were sure he was stunned. It only made you frown more.

"...Of course I'd look for you."

The way you looked at him was the final resolution he believed he needed. A sigh escaped and hit his mask as he avoided your gaze. "...Yeah, you did. You saved me. Thanks..." He saw you straightening your back as your head rose and your face grimaced with a puzzled expression. He bet you must be so confused, maybe hurt - of course you are, you just said it yourself. But still, he put the empty bottles into your hands.

"Human, I have to tell you something..." His voice shook as his hands went up to remove his mask. A gasp escaped you as the same bad but sad boy was looking at you. His blonde hair tussled and unruly as his red eyes seemed to beg you not to he angry. They were bandages on his face which somewhat eased your worries. He was hurt and roughed up but not as much as you feared.

"Why didn't you tell me that was you?" You approached him unsurely and he seemed to back away. He twiddled with his fingers and couldnt meet your eyes. "...No one was supposed to see me. I barely take off my mask anyway, only to Belos. And..." He scowled slightly, "I didn't know what to do. I didn't expect you, you weren't even supposed to be there!"

"I was worried they'd kill you! That was true what I heard, wasnt it? Or is that also a lie?" "I'm not lying to you!" He snapped back with a bit more bite in him, "Kikimora constantly tries to take my place! Thats why it was so weird to see you there with healing potions looking for me! And...I should thank you. I wanna thank you." As quick as his fierce glare came, it was gone again as the blonde shrunk meekly, begrudgingly admitting his fault in a soft voice. "...No one's done that for me before. Not even...Belos..."

You frown was filled with pity. "I figured as much." You softly let out and motioned towards your bed. With hesitancy, he sat down at the edge and you followed to do the same. Now sitting next to him, you hesitated yourself. "Is there anything more I should know?" "What do you want to know?" Looking back up, he saw you glaring slightly at him. "Your name for example. Or are you just known as the Golden Guard?"

"No!"

Your anger was nothing compared to the way he snapped.

But as fast as it came, he slowly shrunk again, turning away and fiddling with his hands.

His voice softened once again.

"...My name is Hunter."

You repeated his name and it left a shiver down his spine. Hearing you out of all people say it is weird, it is all so weird. No one adresses him by his name but you just did as if it were normal.

"Well...it's nice to meet you properly, Hunter." Again, you are acting weird, smiling at him ever so slightly and even if it was forced, it seemed genuine to him. That you'd even say something like that. You even repeated your name as if it really is the first time you two met.

He awkwardly shook your offering hand.

"It's...nice to meet you, too."

"But why are you telling me all this, Hunter?"

His red eyes flickered to the side before a more serious expression graced his face. He took a deep breath before staring into your eyes. "There's something you need to know." He began dryly, "When I was out there, running away from Kiki...I was with someone else. It...was another human, just like you."

Your eyes widened.

"If I'm right, she comes from the same place that you do. I believe she appeared later on the Boiling Isles than you did and she might have the means to return. She is not...a friend, but I can bring you to her."

"There is a way back home?!" Jumping up from the bed, you barely could believe your luck. But it still left you confused. "But...can you tell me even this? I-is that something I'm supposed to know? What about Belos?"

Hunter looked back up to you, his hands tightly gripping his knees. "You deserve to know. You...are the nicest, weirdest person I've ever met. And you want to go back home, to somewhere you belong..." Sadness briefly glimmered in his eyes and they glance back at you, "Human, I - no," Hunter corrected himself by saying your name, "I have to pay you back for all the...things you've done for me. Even if I am just a powerless witch...I want to help you get back to your realm."

You were speechless. Taking a step towards him, you opened your mouth but the next words that were heard were not yours but chirping.

On the window behind Hunter, was a red bird watching you two.

[1800naveen]

Making that post because I don't give a fuck. I don't bother with hiding your user because fuck your privacy.

I checked your profile and you ship Feysand, that tells me everything I need to know about you. Now, let's look at this paragraph again! The whole thing!

"Starting with meeting with the governors of the palaces and getting them to agree never to serve, shelter, or entertain Keir or ANYONE from the court of nightmares." Did you get that? I hope so.

When Rhysand said anyone, he didn't only mean Keir and his soldiers, he meant anyone who was born from Hewn City. Women, men, children. Anyone who hails from Hewn City will not experience the same comfort as the citizens of Velaris.

The inner circle believes that everyone down there is evil and vile but that can't be true, can't it? If someone like Mor came from there and was a dreamer, that means there are more dreamers. There are innocent women and children who suffer in the court of nightmares but Rhysand and his inner circle leaves them to rot. Mor hasn't done anything for the women and she left centuries ago.

You want to know why I said they would like Jim Crow? It's because of shit like that. People were denied shelter, service, entertainment, get opportunities, etc. That's exactly what Rhysand said about anyone from Hewn City coming into Velaris. They had to deal with Rhysand coming down to Hewn City only to torment them so more in their miserable lives. That little stunt Feysand did in ACOMAF was straight up disgusting. Getting freaky in front of your people? Can you imagine the women seeing that? That Rhysand is acting like this with his lady? They also had to watch Rhysand break Keir's arm for calling Feyre a whore which is well deserved but Rhys doing that but not helping the women who had suffered at the hands of men for many years? Some high lord he is. Here's the racism part I was talking about:

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. Shadows gathered around his wings, trailing off him and onto the thick red rug. "They train and train as warriors, and yet when they don't come home, their families make us into villains for sending them to war?" "Their families have lost something irreplaceable," I said carefully. Azriel waved a scared hand, his cobalt Siphons glinting with the movement as his fingers cut through the air. "They're hypocrites." This is from A court of frost and starlight. Azriel is talking like that about the Illyrians even though HE IS A ILLYRIAN. That is internalized racism in my eyes. Because why would talk about your own people like that?

"Get your facts checked." I got my shit checked, I won't be making posts on this app if I DIDN'T have my facts. I have read the series, I wouldn't make posts like this if I didn't read it. Do yourself a favor and block me.

I hate Rhysand, Feysand (as a ship), the inner circle, and I love to talk shit about them. That shit that Rhysand did to Feyre UTM is one of the reasons I hate that bat bastard. "He had me dance until I was sick, and once I was done retching, told me to begin dancing again." ACOTAR, Chapter 39. He never gave her a true apology for what he did to her and that's fucking horrid. He had no reason to do that. That isn't protection, that's abusing a innocent woman. Don't act like he's a good guy when he did all of this to his "Feyre Darling".

Hating this series is awesome, give it a try. And you didn't reply to my comment, how come? I was hoping we would start a argument. I don't need people like YOU in my damn comments. Please do yourself a favor and block me now, save yourself the pain. Try filtering out the anti Rhysand and anti inner circle tags if you don't want to see shit like that. I saw a little post on your blog about seeing a post from a Rhysand and IC hater. I know it's about me, I be lurking at times.

I do hope you see this and I hope you give me a good ol' block!🙂 Either you block me or I block you. Any comment from a pro Rhysand or pro inner circle, I am not taking it seriously. I don't need bitches like YOU around and I'm sure you don't want a bitch like ME around.

READ THE FUCKING TAGS, YOU FUCKTARD. YOU AIN'T WELCOME HERE. WHY WOULD YOU MAKE YOURSELF SUFFER BY READING FROM ANTI FEYSAND OR ANTI IC PEOPLE? IF YOU'RE A FAN OF EITHER, YOU STAY AWAY FROM IT. I want you to know that I compared Rhysand and Feyre to Donald and Melania Trump, called him and the inner circle fascists, and compared him to Bill Cosby!🥰 Here's one, here's another, and the last one!

🎵Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Rhysand. Then you had to open your mouth with a motherfucking opinion. Well, this is how we gonna do this; Fuck Feysand (Feyre deserves better), fuck Rhysand, fuck the inner circle as a staff, family, and a motherfucking crew! And if you want to be down with this, then fuck you too!🎵

Be sure to read the tags this time, much love and take care! No but seriously, just block me. Make it better for yourself. I say this with genuine.

Made a post, just for you and your dumbass comment.

[anonzentimes]

Except it's not actually a hierarchy he's created in his head. The thing that so many fans fail to get is that what is truly terrifying about Nagito Komaeda is the fact that there are lots of Nagito Komaedas out there in the world of Danganronpa. People who's sense of self-worth has been royally fucked by the culture that Hope's Peak (and later the Future Foundation) helped foster. Nagito is simply the one who says the quiet stuff out loud. Like something that's really telling in hindsight is before Episode 4, Hajime never actually calls Nagito out on his talk of talentless people being worthless. Because as the climax of the game makes clear, Hajime is one of those many other Nagito Komaedas out there.

Honestly, great point anon thank you! While he undoubtedly does have a hierarchy in his head I actually did forget to mention in my ramble that this specific trait is mostly a learned thing from the world that they live in (never let me cook at 3am again smh). It's commonly accepted and believed in, Hajime is the biggest example that we see. The "objective" fact everyone accepts that the talented are better than the talentless. Hajime only cares when he learns he's "worthless," and it takes a toll on his personal self esteem.

Nagito believes his talent is worthless because it harms everyone around him and only benefits himself, and when there's no one to harm it goes after him, so he considers himself on the same level as someone who isn't an ultimate. Just combining this with his unhealthy coping mechanism and obsession with Hope and we get some of the most important traits of his character. His self esteem may come from growing up with terrible experiences and blaming himself, or that he's on the same level as someone who isn't an ultimate.

I do think that it's upsetting they play into how he thinks he's worthless by never caring to give him reciprocation or just not at all being bothered by his absence when he's suspended it just really sucks.

The closet thing he gets to reciprocation is Chisa which her caring about him shocks him, and Chiaki a little bit because she's trying to help the whole class and he's included. In Dr2 he is drawn to Hajime and he attempts to get his attention and approval pretty often, they enjoy each other's company at least before things get crazy and Hajime shows reciprocation. Nagito's more of an actual threat in Dr2 and I can understand more their fear and negligence, I still think tying him up and not letting him go anywhere is a horrible thing to do to anyone. I understand it more but It still feels upsetting.

I'm happy for Nagito that Hajime is in his life though, he seems to genuinely love him/care for him quite a lot. Hajime seems to care for him too, even when he's afraid and upset. It's not to the same degree as Nagito, mostly because of Nagito's threatening presence once he loses his filter, but Hajime does care for him and has enjoyed time with him. Their relationship can and has been healed after the killing game and he can actually have one of the healthier, if not healthiest, relationships in his life with Hajime.

(Also I say love because saying like doesn't feel right it doesn't express enough emotion and relationship as general relationship I don't care what you ship lmao)

I really do enjoy seeing fan works and such where his classmates, even if not the to the extent of Hajime's reciprocation, they genuinely care for him and treat him a lot better.

Anyways!! Just wanted to say with this reply some extra stuff I didn't before, some restatements, and the fact yup you're completely right!! Sorry I forgot to mention it in my original ramble post thanks so much anon! :)

[hauntingsunshine14]

as someone who has experienced being on a collegiate sports team (albeit d3 lax) the life experiences it has given me are so hilarious when I think about them in aftg.

Like who gets the locker room aux? there's normally a couple of people in the rotation bc people get there well before practice to change and get ready - and you can sometimes tell who is on aux depending on what's playing. My team at least has stuff playing before every game and practice as people filter into the locker room to get ready.

Also the refs! you get to know and recognize all the different refs and begin to remember how strict they are on fouls or how good they are at catching them. Furthermore, the NCAA recently made all their athletes sit through a 'respect the referee' seminar because there's a shortage due to people hating their calls - someone like Seth sitting through that is objectively hilarious. And Kevin 100% has refs he hates because they always call him for fouls he thinks he should be able to do but he's known them for ages. (Some of them used to ref when he was at Edgar Allen and they're secretly very happy to see Kevin so free at Palmetto, but not enough to not call that check because yes, it was dangerous)

Also the gear? Like even in a small school with less funding I had to give away clothes because every year I would get at least four more t-shirts that I did not need. Knowing the foxes it would all be bright orange - and they do have this gear despite the scene with Neil getting his stuff - because you don't wear a uniform to practice? you tend to have a different set of specficially practice gear and pennies that you rotate through. (Andrew shoves all his gear at Neil at the end of the year because there is no way that the bright orange practice shirts are staying in his wardrobe and Neil needs the clothes anyways.)

Anyways, odds are that with Palmetto being a bigger state school Neil and all the other foxes have like palmetto and fox branded exy shoes and backpacks and duffels shoved at them when they arrive.

(the foxes' gear haul effectively triples Neil's possessions when he arrives, and it makes it all the more permanent for him - because what are you going to do now that 3/4ths the stuff you own has orange fox paws all over it?)

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

YOU THERE!!!!!! TUMBLR USER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are YOU tired of how Tumblr treats trans people, particularly transwomen and transfemmes? Are YOU tired of how Tumblr treats people of color, particularly black folks? Are YOU tired of fandom trying to police the madeup bullshit you like to draw, write, or read about? Are YOU tired of all this fucking AI bullshit? Are YOU looking for a new online home to settle in?

Consider Pillowfort.social!

I’m not going to go into the nitty-gritty of how Pillowfort functions, because others have talked about that and explained it much better than I can (I recommend reading @/vergesm’s post here for a more general Pillowfort overview). What I’m going to do is explain what I, personally, get out of Pillowfort and why I enjoy it.

To preface, I’m not being paid to make this post or promote Pillowfort or anything. I wouldn’t think that needs to be said, but people make things up sometimes so idk. I’m writing pro-Pillowfort propaganda because I genuinely like the place and want to see it thrive. If you want to take a look at my own fort and get a feel for the place, you can do so here.

So with that out of the way – let’s talk about it!

Pillowfort is quite a bit like Tumblr, in that it’s a blogging platform, but it’s got a few things that make it better than this hellsite imo. For one thing, you can post NSFW content there. Although I don’t draw much explicit stuff, it’s nice to be able to post art there without worrying I’ll get shadowbanned for a picture that’s just a lil too suggestive. It's nice to know that the option is there. Honestly, it’s freeing not to have to worry about that shit. And it’s also really cool that there’s a built-in system for marking certain posts as NSFW, because as well as being able to mark your own posts as NSFW, you can choose whether you want to see other people's posts marked as NSFW. And for minors, the ability to see NSFW content is automatically turned off. Pillowfort’s got a really good system for both allowing NSFW content and keeping it away from people who don’t want to see it. I really like that flexibility, and how that flexibility isn't detrimental to the users.

And speaking of being able to see or not see certain content, the content filtering is pretty solid. You’re able to block tags and even words in the body of a post, and like I said, you can control whether you want to see posts marked as NSFW. You can even control who sees your own posts! There’s blocking users, of course, but you can limit who sees your own posts even further than that. You can make them visible to anyone, visible only to logged in Pillowfort users, visible only to your followers or mutuals, or hell, even visible to you alone!! It’s cool to have that level of control, and I find it reassuring to know I have those options.

Another big appeal of Pillowfort, for me, is the userbase’s strong “don’t like don’t read” policy. A lot of the people there operate under the mindset of “as long as it’s fictional, whatever dude. I don’t have to like it, but you do you." There are still dipshits, of course, but it’s WAY better than the insane purity culture that’s developed here. I don’t have to worry about some wannabe-conservatives telling me I’m just as bad as Ted Bundy for [checks notes] sexualizing Michael Myers or some shit. Plus, this general userbase mindset is backed up by actual site policy! I’ve heard that Pillowfort is very swift in responding to reports of harassment – whether it’s fandom-based harassment or bigotry. I haven’t had any experience with this personally (and hopefully it’ll stay that way), but I’ve heard good things about it, and it makes me feel more comfortable being there.

Also, did I mention Pillowfort has an explicit anti-AI policy? AI generated images and writing are banned on the website, and staff made this decision once its userbase and community made it clear that they wouldn’t welcome that sort of shit. And GOD, does it make me feel so fucking good as a writer and artist to know that.

And that’s another thing – Pillowfort staff actually fucking listens to its userbase. The website is crowd-funded and relies on subscriptions and monthly donations to keep things running. And because it relies on its community, it relies on keeping the community happy. So complaints, bug reports, suggestions and alterations and things the users would like to see on the site – it’s all taken pretty seriously. And again, it’s just really nice to know that the staff of the place actually give a shit and are looking out for its community rather than trying to suck the dick of the biggest investor.

Really, the only problem I have with Pillowfort is the fact that it’s a bit small. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because the people there are lovely. But since a lot of people aren’t happy with Tumblr, and haven’t been happy with Tumblr for some time, I thought I’d just ask you guys – maybe consider it. Consider making a Pillowfort account. Consider making your own little fort, stringing up some colored lights and cool art and making yourself cozy. Consider offering some money, if you can spare it, because it’s genuinely a really cool place that I want to spend more time in and see prosper.

So far, I’ve had a lovely time there. It’s cozy and friendly and it feels like one of the few places where a queer artist like me is actually welcome. And I think a lot of Tumblr users might really like it too.

I hope to see you there! 💜

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

[coquelicoq]

i know we're all losing it at this sudden insight we've gained in the [tarik voice] uhhh why is there a drone in my face scene, so i wanted to pull out some moments from previous books in which murderbot uses drones to look at people and see how differently they read if we now assume said drones are hovering inches away from their faces. reviewing my notes to look for examples is how i found out that mb doesn't pilot drones to look at people's faces until FT/NE, with one exception, and it's a doozy:

When it [the drone] reached Wilken, I had it stop and hover in front of her face for twenty-six seconds. Okay, so I was a little angry. (RP, ch. 5)

so like, it knows putting a drone in somebody's face is gonna freak them out, and it uses that to fuck with a human that pissed it off. lol.

that's really the only moment in the first four books where mb could conceivably be droning right up in someone's business, and it's made explicit. so i don't think we missed anything there. FT and NE are another story. here are some of my favorite moments:

FT

Indah faced me and asked, "You have experience at this?" Watching her via the drones, I kept my gaze on the Starchy Foods!!! sign, which had little dancing figures around it which I guess were supposed to be starchy foods. (ch. 1)

there's something about having a drone in your face while you're trying to talk to a person who is staring very seriously at a whimsical sign that contains three exclamation points...

Indah stared at Tural. So did I, with my drones. (ch. 2)

MULTIPLE drones in face incident! plus your boss giving you the eyeball?? tural is doing their best u guys please have mercy!

He [one of Mensah's assistants] was used to me and used to confidential council stuff, so he didn’t even glance up at my drones, just nodded to us and slipped out as we stepped in. (ch. 6)

whose job is it to tell newly hired assistants "ignore it" when there's a drone in their face? it's probably part of the standard onboarding procedure at this point tbh.

Then me, Aylen, and Indah were standing in the office looking at each other. Or they were looking at me and my drones were looking at them. (ch. 6)

mexican standoff if instead of guns you had eye contact and also one of the people involved doesn't like making eye contact. or something.

NE

The drone I had watching [Mensah's] face increased magnification, its low-light filter rendering her features in black and white. (ch. 2)

POV you're having a tense conversation about trauma therapy in the dark with a little flying camera buzzing around your head. just little secunit teammate things! (i actually think mensah finds this very comforting though. she smiles at the drone four pages later <3)

I wanted to use my drones to look at [Amena], but while that was calming for me, it wouldn’t be for her. (ch. 3)

hmm would it not be calming for amena to have something hovering in her face right when she's about to be abducted by raiders? ya think??

I had a drone view of Amena watching the hand scanner, her brow furrowed in half-wince, half-concentration. (ch. 6)

it doesn't have to be like this [mb 🤝 performing surgery] when it can also be like this [putting a drone in amena's face 🤝 mb 🤝 performing surgery]. mb has two hands (metaphorically)

My drone watched [Amena] eyeing me. (ch. 20)

every time mb says it sees through a drone that someone is watching it gets 200% funnier if this means that the person is deliberately ignoring the drone invading their personal bubble in order to look at the person that is outside of their personal bubble. like that's commitment.

[Mensah] came and sat down next to me in the lounge and I adjusted a drone to be able to get a view of her face. (ch. 20)

read: "a drone zoomed down from where it was circling above my head and stopped an inch in front of mensah's nose." i mean, you don't have to read it that way, it's never made explicit and i'm not the boss of you. but isn't it fun to imagine?

[ariddletobesolved]

of preferences and headcanons.

Hi! I know I haven't posted real content in over a year, but since I've been on Tumblr the past week, I can't help but notice a discourse happening on Helsa tag.

I believe as a community, we should all respect other people's takes and opinions, especially in a fandom, where everyone may perceive things differently. Everyone has their own preferences that not everyone could get or understand, and that is okay. For example, and also to address the elephant in the room, if you prefer a ship (in this case, Helsa) to not be canon, it's totally fine. And if you would love for it to be canon, then that is fine too. It's not okay when you try to tell people how they must feel towards a certain media (in this case, Frozen) and tell fellow shippers they're not a true shipper just because they don't share the same preferences as you do. Stating an opinion of your preference is not the same as telling others to change that preference to suit the one that you like.

"I would prefer to not have them to be canon."

"If you're a true fan, you would have done THIS instead!"

See how different those two sentences are? The first one is neutral, while the other one is more demanding.

Honestly, I want to respect both, but I believe respect is earned and not given, and if the person is being disrespectful then I will return the disrespect back to their faces. Treat people the way you want be treated, remember?

I've been in between fandoms for over a decade, so I've come across discourses over headcanons and preferences plenty of time. Here's a reminder: Be respectful! It's not hard if you recognise that everyone perceive things differently and that the world doesn't revolve around you and your opinions only. You can always agree to disagree.

Being respectful also means being respectful to fanartists and fanwriters. Have some decency and refrain from using someone else's works without their permission (it's not hard to ask!). Just because you found it on Google does not mean it's public domain. As for appreciating fanwriters, you can start by reading what you want to read. You can start by filtering keywords and tropes or genres that you don't like. AO3 has a tagging system for a reason. If you don't pay attention to the tags, don't blame the writer for writing what they want to write and not how you want it. They create contents for free and you are not the boss of them. If you want something that specifically suits your taste buds, you can commission them.

Learn how to differentiate between what's canon and what's your own headcanon and interpretations, what's canon and what's a mere concept. Maybe you're reading too much into it, maybe it's in your head. Headcanons are fun, being delulu is literally my middle name, but not everything that you perceive is canon. You can disregard canon (like I do, most of the time) but you have to be clear about it, and draw a hard line to separate them, label them with 'canon divergence' or 'canon compliance' (you can look up each definition). A concept that did not make into the final product can hardly be considered canon.

This fandom community is supposed to be a safe space for everyone regardless their reason in shipping Helsa (be it because of their appealing aesthetics or others) as long as they're being respectful to each other. I didn't think I would be here writing all these to address the bad apples. Sure, the bad apples are always there in every community, but when these bad apples are the loud majority, I feel like I have to say something to clear up some misconceptions about this fandom. Helsa fandom isn't exactly popular, even back in the day, and it's mostly because shippers of other ships and fandom purists have already assumed the worst when they interacted with the ship before they did the shipper, which once again is out of the shippers' control.

From my experience, name-calling fellow shippers over these niche stuff will drive people away and discourage some creators from creating content (I already am on this stage). So, in my opinion, let's just agree to disagree. It's probably just me, but it's not like we have the power to make the writers write what we want anyway (Frozen 2 is already a proof that they would write what they want to write).