#and imperfection is allowed regardless!

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @scribbledquillz! I am still easing back in to writing after my burnout/hiatus, but here is what I've been working over the past few weeks instead c:

The next step on the Fenris scarf is to draw all the tattoos onto the black section with silver Sharpie and then embroider over them. The bottom image is my test piece to make sure this kind of embroidery is something I can do (ignore the variety of stitch types; I wanted to pick one that showed up pretty well and didn't look too messy if I had to turn the work a lot; the one around the border is what it will all look like when done). I found a really really cool yarn to do the embroidered sections with and I'm excited to share that piece when it's all done (but expect it to be a few weeks, because embroidery will take a lot longer than crocheting this did).

I'm pretty happy with it so far! I like the way the favor section turned out and I learned a new stitch for the gauntlet/shoulder bits, which also came out pretty cool. I will take proper, pretty pictures when it's all finished, just like I did with the Cullen scarf, but I didn't have access to the dress form today for this set (so you can enjoy a little section of my library and the pretty table my husband made instead haha).

Thanks to everyone who helped with Fenris's tattoo resources! I really appreciate it.

Tagging back (no pressure, and sorry if you've been tagged already): @greypetrel @ndostairlyrium and @zenstrike

[lith-myathar]

.

[shellforbrains]

the idea of Stolas publicly humiliating Blitzø in Apology Tour needs, needs, NEEDS to be looked at through the lens of their class difference.

(this is an idea that's been floating around twitter. that stolas is going full diss track in the scene the above screencap is from.

and weirdly enough, there's been some people PRAISING or DEFENDING the idea.

so i did a thread about it on twitter & decided to post it here too bc why not. slightly edited of course bc i made typos in the original lmao.)

first off: i am of the belief that one of the big reasons that Full Moon goes badly is bc stolas is off his meds.

i think that both stolas & blitzø will share some blame for the conversation spiraling out, but i think the main underlying reason that this happens is bc stolas is off his meds & not communicating his point properly.

second: i think that if blitzø DOES cross some sort of line in FM & ends up really hurting stolas, stolas is obviously within his rights to be hurt & feel bad about that shit. and especially bc he's going through his second adolescence & feeling a lot of these intense & big feelings for the first time.

him lashing out in some way or being a little petty could be in somewhat understandable. he's not perfect & has flaws just like everyone else.

HOWEVER. i do not think stolas lashing out after FM or going so far as to PUBLICLY HUMILIATE blitzø is what will happen. doing something like this would kinda be major steps backwards in stolas' character growth.

he has done a lot of work on himself over the 1st half of season 2 but he still has a long ways to go, ESPECIALLY in regards to how he treats imps as a whole.

stolas, a very powerful and influential prince of hell showing up to publicly humiliate blitzø, an imp at the bottom of hell's class system, would be... very questionable at best. and potentially dangerous for blitzø at worst.

regardless of how hurt stolas could potentially be & what big feelings he's experiencing for the first time in his second adolescence, the position & privilege he still currently holds are things that always needs to be considered. especially since a huge part of his character arc is that he's starting to REALIZE the extent of that class divide & how he unintentionally took advantage of that with the Full Moon Deal.

i REALLY do not think that stolas will actually belt out a blitzø diss track. i think that he will be using this opportunity to attempt to communicate properly what he WANTED to say in FM but couldn't bc their conversation spiraled.

but i am still writing this to try to get people to look at this from an alternate perspective.

i love stolas. i relate to him so much & i don't want to make it seem like i don't think he's allowed to be imperfect or hurt by things. i am merely REMINDING anyone that reads this that the class difference between stolas & blitzø currently still plays a large part in A LOT of aspects of their relationship.

publicly humiliating blitzø with the influence he has would NOT be a girlboss moment. it would carry a LOT of weight on how blitzø & his company could be seen & maybe even have an effect on their livelihood.

which is exactly what stolas wanted to AVOID by giving blitzø the crystal in the first place.

he is giving the crystal so that I.M.P can keep going & growing, as well as trying to put blitzø & himself on ever-so-slightly more even footing. this idea of publicly humiliating blitzø would be the exact OPPOSITE of that.

[celtic-crossbow]

It’s Alright, It’s Okay

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader {Could be platonic but that’s not where my brain was}

Setting: Alexandria era

Warnings: Mentions of self harm, struggles with mental illness

Summary: You accidentally allow Daryl to see your scars.

A/N: Yesterday sucked for me for a million different reasons. This is really a way for me to vent more than anything. I’ve never done a y/n before so I’m sorry if I screw it up. No beta, all mistakes are cause I suck.

“I got the dishes!” You volunteered, probably a little too cheerfully, before collecting the empty plates from the coffee table and shuffling along to the kitchen. You had a dining table but it had never seen a single use.

It had been a rather uneventful day in Alexandria, for which you were thankful. That meant no one had died just trying to complete what used to be mundane tasks for everyday living. Now, since the world had gone to shit, everything was a risk. Just scrubbing the sauce from those dishes could somehow very well lead to your demise. Regardless, you rolled up your sleeves and ran the water.

Daryl had brought home a deer earlier in the day. It was a large buck that would feed the town for a while if the meat was rationed properly. He had been given his own portion, as per usual, for being responsible for the kill. The archer had used the meat grinder in the kitchen at his and Carol’s place, meaning, of course, that Carol had offered and he had shrugged while sharpening a knife.

You had chosen that moment to knock on their door. The silver-haired woman had shown you a cookie recipe but the pantry was out of an ingredient. Carol usually had the things you needed or would at least know something you could substitute.

“Oh, man! My sister used to make venison spaghetti!” You had commented while she had stepped away to get what you needed. You had half a box of angel hair pasta and a can of sauce at your place. “Hey, Dixon?” You continued when he hummed in acknowledgment, “think I could steal just a little of this to make some?”

He had stared at you for a moment before giving a nod. In your excitement, you had thrown him an invite to share the meal just as Carol returned and handed over the ziplock bag with the ingredient you needed for the cookies.

“Alright.” He drawled, sheathing the knife he had been working with.

You quickly invited Carol as well, realizing what you had done, but she smiled knowingly and shook her head. You had at least waited until you were on their porch before slapping a palm to your forehead and calling yourself an idiot.

Still, dinner had gone over without a hitch, even if you did sit side by side on the couch with your plates on your laps. You had laughed when he’d tip back his head to dangle the end of the noodles over his mouth so he could descend the forkful carefully. He had even chuckled when you had dropped half a bite onto your shirt when trying to mimic his actions. It had really been…nice.

Now you stood in your kitchen, rinsing the dishes and placing them in the strainer. You hadn’t heard him enter, but you rarely did. The man moved like a ghost for someone his size.

“S’that from?” His sudden inquiry from just behind you had startled you enough to send the plate clattering into the sink. It didn’t break, thank goodness.

“What’s what from?” You replied, casting him a brief glance before you continued your task. The last dish was quickly rinsed and placed with the others.

“Them scars.”

You were drying your hands on a towel when you suddenly stilled. Fuck. The pale, raised imperfections stood out starkly on your forearms and you instantly felt nausea creeping up your throat, burning at the back of your tongue. “Oh, that’s nothing.” You dropped the towel and quickly started to roll down your sleeves.

But he was faster.

His calloused fingers felt rough against your skin in contrast to his gentle grip around your wrist. You felt electric pulses centering from where he was touching you, but the shame erupting from within you wouldn’t allow you to dwell on how right that felt.

Tears were already forming on your lashes as he studied the myriad of scars littering your arm from wrist to elbow. Some were larger or more jagged than others, but each one contained a story of your past; a hurt you inflicted upon yourself to cope with the hurt done to you by someone else.

“Don’t look like nothin’ to me.”

You had never heard him speak so softly and it made you feel that much worse. Daryl Dixon was anything but soft. For him to pity you must mean you were a real piece of work.

“Please,” you begged, your bottom lip quivering. You were barely holding yourself together. “Just…leave it.”

Those striking blue eyes left your arm to focus on your face. You quickly looked away, lest he see how pathetic you were. He released you and took a step back.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N.”

You nodded and tried to smile, but never met his gaze before you heard the front door close. You sat on the kitchen floor and cried for hours, finally dragging yourself to the couch a few hours before you’d have to be up for the start of another day.

Months passed by and things changed, as they often did. You started to find Daryl sitting on your porch steps, cleaning his crossbow or tinkering with some motorcycle part. Most days, you just offered him a greeting and went on your way. Some days, when you were feeling brave or especially curious, you would ask about his weapon. His replies were always short and gruff but never rude or angry.

Eventually, this became the norm. You started bringing him water or lemonade, sitting with him while you drank your tea. Conversations were never lengthy but enough to ensure any silence was comfortable. You started to miss him when he was gone for runs or recruiting. Then you’d open your door one morning to find him perched in what you had long ago deemed ‘his spot’ and the smile that would grace your features was unbidden yet genuine.

One warm summer evening, while you sat together on the top step, your head was laid against his shoulder while his arm was draped around yours. The first time you had tried to lean on him, he had flinched so hard that he had dropped the water glass and you had apologized profusely while cleaning up the mess. At some later point, you both had started dropping your walls, bit by bit, and now here you were.

Still, even with the contentment you found in each other's company, something lingered.

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?”

You could feel him move and knew he was looking down toward where your temple rested against the front of his shoulder. “I’d like to tell you about it now,” you paused for a breath, “if you still want to know.” You waited for him to ask what you were talking about but, as he tended to do, the archer surprised you.

“Ya can tell me if ya wanna talk ‘bout it. Ya don’t hafta though.”

You smiled to yourself but it faded just as quickly. “I did it to myself.” You took another deep breath before continuing, keeping your eyes on the stars in the distant sky. “My life was hard even before the end of the world. I couldn’t cope with the things that happened to me…that were done to me… so I’d find something sharp—” you heard and felt his breath hitch but you couldn’t stop now. “I’d use anything at first. Anything that could make a cut. Eventually I started using a razor blade.” You just let the words tumble out, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “Everything just hurt so bad and it was the only way I could handle it all. It was the only thing that kept the pain at bay. I know it doesn’t make sense but I just… I needed…”

You felt Daryl shift and quickly found yourself pressed against his chest, his arm around your back while his other hand pressed against the back of your head. He had hugged you before but this? This was different. He didn’t say anything but you already knew that he wasn’t good with words, especially when it came to expressing emotion. So he was offering you this comfort.

And you accepted it without a second thought, crying hard while your hands fisted the material of his leather vest. The more you trembled, the tighter he held you. It was as if he was trying to keep you from shaking apart but somehow you knew that even if you did, he would pick up the pieces and put you together again.

After a long while, your tears had all but stopped, leaving you a sniffling, tired mess in his arms. He didn’t seem to care but had loosened his hold slightly and was rubbing small circles over your back while you collected yourself.

Now came the shame. “I’m sorry.” You managed quickly while you pulled away from him. His hands hovered for a moment like you would fall apart again any moment but he soon let them fall onto his knees.

“What for?”

You could see him trying to catch your gaze from the corner of your eye as you wiped angrily at your face. “I know what I did was stupid.”

“It weren’t stupid, Y/N.” Daryl said softly. You remembered when he had used that same softness when he had first seen the proof of your self mutilation. You nodded but didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually, you went back to staring at the stars, even though you could feel him still staring at you.

“I don’t hate them, you know.” You finally said. With a sigh, you braved a glance at him. He was still watching you, expression unreadable but not hard. “My scars.” Daryl nodded for you to continue. “I had a lot of battles and they are proof of that but… I won.” You looked away and shrugged with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m still here.”

“M’glad.” He replied quickly, drawing your gaze back to him. “That you’re still here.”

You smiled again. It was small but this time, it was genuine. “Me too.” You watched each other for a few moments and you couldn’t help but notice him draw his bottom lip in between his teeth to gnaw at it. As you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, he pushed himself off the step to stand.

“C’mon.” Daryl jerked his head toward your front door. Your brow knitted in confusion but you stood and crossed the small distance to the door.

“Daryl?”

“I wanna show ya somethin’.” He answered when his name had barely left your lips. Daryl reached in front of you to pull open the screen door and motioned for you to enter first. You could hear the deep, steadying breath he took as he followed you inside and began closing your door. “Ya trusted me with yours. I wanna trust ya with mine.”

[sassykinzonline]

anyways lets talk about the actual real problem with boruto aka the massive retcon and plothole that is the heterosexual marriages.

in the original manga its already established that iruka + itachi serve as the platonic foundation of sasunaru: the imperfection of these important bonds highlight the necessity of both boys to each other. iruka tries to accept despite inhumanity and inability to contribute to strength. itachi emphasizes weakness and dehumanizes, but accepts regardless. this is the key significance in the confessions: they make explicit reference to unconditional observation of strength and humanity to each other. these imperfect platonic foundations serve as the lifeline that allows for further "perfect" love to be explored and understood.

so it doesnt make sense that in boruto with 0 explanation whatsoever (this is even accounting for the light novels), sasunaru becomes the "platform" for the relationship for the suddenly more important relationships with the wives. why? if you have an exclusively perfect relationship, youre not gonna look for another. moreover, ideas like "you acknowledged me more than anyone else" and "i cant lose you" and "you alone make me feel less alone" and "only you make my life worth living, only you bring me light" and "you are my prayer and my hope for the future" are randomly attributed to women who were explicitly told the opposite. in those same light novels, sasunaru becomes a relationship exclusively of conflict/desire for space and distance, but in the boruto manga they cant stay away from each other while scorning their wives.

total actual clusterfuck, the character assassination of sasuke and naruto by that point is entirely secondary and becomes borderline understandable when you consider key values and themes are totally abandoned to give way to these couplings.

[lovelicht]

PAC: Your current situation and advice

Disclaimer: As I am not a professional reader, all of the posts are to be taken with a grain of salt. This is a general reading so some things might not resonate. Regardless of the situation, please remember that tarot portrays only one of the multiple scenarios of your life and you choose whether to follow it or not.

(1->2, 3->4)

Group 1

Cards: The Chariot, The World Rx, Knight of Wands (bottom of the deck: King of Swords Rx)

Your current situation:

You are currently in the phase of your life where you are actively navigating through diverse situations in the pursuit of your goals. It can reflect itself both on a professional/academic level and a personal/interpersonal one, given that the effort you are putting in serves to your development. Considering the presence of the reversed King, it’s highly probable that you might find yourself losing the emotional balance in course of your trial, but you keep pushing forward nonetheless. The said misbalance could manifest itself as impulsivity, impatience, arguments with colleagues / friends / family when things do not go your way, as well as a lingering sense of frustration towards oneself at the slightest failures.

The advice:

Embrace your imperfections, for they are what makes you human and teach you to strive further. As I have previously mentioned, at the moment you might be very sensitive to failure, because you give your all on your way to attaining your wish, however this drains you both emotionally and energetically, holding you in the self-made prison of frustration. It is natural to misstep sometimes, because it shows us aspects of ourselves that we still have to work on, and once we finally do so, we will become closer to our goals and inner peace in general. Make a habit of being grateful and happy even from apparently small successes, as, in the end, it’s the small steps that make the journey.

What can you do to follow the advice?

Give yourself the freedom you deserve! The expectations you have put on yourself tie you down and do not allow you to fully embrace the experience of living your passions. Wands are a suit that speaks of life and the fire inside each one of us, let that fire guide you through the dark of your mind. For example, if you have an idea you really wish to try, whether hobby or simply an experiment at work, do it, because even if it doesn’t work out, by the end of it you will be able to learn what should be done next time so it becomes better! Do not fear other’s judgment either, for they make mistakes too, whether they choose to show it or not. You are your own person and you live your own life, do not let yourself be confined by your fears and other’s thoughts!

Group 2

Cards: Page of Wands Rx, The Tower Rx, Five of Coins Rx (bottom of he deck: Strength)

Your current situation:

You are trying to embrace your youthfulness, embody the present you always wished to have, but for some reason it all seems to go downhill regardless of how much you try. For some it might be a blockage related to not being capable to let yourself remorselessly behave free, while for others it can be described through a series of unpleasant or even unfortunate events that seem to haunt them every time they try to step out of the box. It’s highly probable that in this group are a lot of children who had to grow up fast, and now that you are given the freedom of age, you are trying to become the wild icon your child self wished to become, but it simply doesn’t work out. An example could be the typically introverted young adult going to a club, and once they finally try to let go of their fears they meet someone there, get into a relationship with that person and they get hurt so badly that it makes the young adult retreat back into their shell.

The advice:

There is some stuff you have to let go of, in order to truly feel the freedom you blindly seek through the said activities. Many of you struggle with unresolved trauma, whether it’s about bullying, parental issues or other sorts of painful experiences. By trying to be the conventional active youth, you are showing your resilience in rapport to your past, but the problem is that some problems bind you, unless you learn to diminish their impact on your life. It is never easy, but a wound cured now, stops a dormant infection in the future, that could potentially affect both yourself and everyone you will grow to care about.

What can you do to follow the advice?

Accept that nobody will come in your life and heal your past, for little who have enough energy to take care both of others and oneself. You are being encouraged to face your trauma on your own and come into terms with it one way or another: whether it’s shadow work that you feel you can do on your own or asking for the help of a specialist, or in general someone you feel that can help you. 

This message might not be for everyone, but stop hoping that your parents will heal the pain they inflicted on you, for they are simply not in the headspace to do that. It’s frustrating, but such is the truth: you ought to take matters into your own hands, because they won’t do it for you, nor for themselves.

Group 3

Cards: Nine of Coins, Three of Cups Rx, The Star (bottom of the deck: Four of Wands)

Your current situation:

At the moment, you are in the stage of reaping the rewards of your hard work in the past. Previously you might have put yourself out there a lot in order to achieve certain goals and now you embrace the results and it’s all coming abundantly. Good things come to you almost from every corner, and you might even feel somewhat overwhelmed by how fast everything comes into your life at the moment, whether it’s opportunities, money or other form of creative energy. Those being said though, you might also feel the need to take a break after all the efforts you put in previously, to make some time for yourself and adjust yourself to receiving the abundant energy that is coming your way.

The advice:

Celebrate your successes and let yourself feel the blessings of your hard work. It is finally the time to rejoice after a long period of trials and tribulations. Even though you might still have certain unresolved issues, fear not, everything has its time, and now is the time you show yourself the appreciation you deserve for building a strong foundation for your future development. Just make sure not to go overboard and overindulge in pride and joys, as even the best of medicine becomes poison if ingested in doses too great.

What can you do to follow the advice?

As I have mentioned earlier, you might find your mind still worrying about certain issues, even once abundance started flowing into your life. You are being advised to leave some things in the hands of destiny and embrace an overall positive manifestation stance. Be hopeful and trust the universe to do its works for you have already done a great deal. Do not get me wrong, life consists of one’s continuous development, but some things are better left to the flow, for they are variables we cannot and needn't currently solve, especially when they still haven’t come into our lives.

Group 4

Cards: Six of Cups Rx, Justice Rx, Knight of Swords Rx (bottom of the deck: Eight of Wands) + 8

Your current situation

Before conducting the reading I was repeatedly counting to 8 without any reason at all so I presume this number might either have a personal meaning to you or it could apply to your current life period in general. Eight is overall a number I associate with karma and karmic events that happen both in our and other’s lives, regardless of what we subjectively might think is right or wrong. It could be that you are currently undergoing a series of events you find unfair in relationship to you or someone close to you, to the point you suffer from it personally, via frustration, anger, perhaps with a hint of self victimisation in relationship to the unjust treatment you/they receive from life. Your perception of life might be still rather immature due to your past, perhaps you have been suffering from bad treatment since early childhood, thus you feel like you deserve better than that in the present. Overall you are a fiery and reactive person, to the point where you might show your displeasure in regards to events or actions you deem wrong a little too violently.

The advice:

Some things are better left up to the karmic forces to influence. Doing your own justice isn’t applicable in every situation, especially when it comes to a subjective, misbalanced, red coloured lens that one might own as a traumatic response. Revenge and general state of clouded lucidity does nothing more than suck your energy and hurt more or less directly both you and the ones you might care about. Universe has it’s own mysterious ways of functioning, which transcend both time and lifetimes in general.

What can you do to follow the advice?

Pay less attention to your past and the people in it, and move actively towards your future instead. You are brave and capable, use your intellect and rebellious nature to break the chains that attach you to your past instead. Try cultivating a more healthy action-oriented view of life to balance your impulsiveness and to harness your inner energy that is currently focused on anger. You have a lot of work to do on yourself, and it requires all the energy and courage you can muster!

[dangerousdan-dan]

Hold up, I need to rant about this because I'm upset with how some of you are attacking My Adventures with Superman's Lois for what happened in episode 5.

Thing is, Clark's desire to keep his secret is valid, but so is Lois's frustration. She was worried about Clark, and she only turned to anger when he didn't let her express her worries and treated her like she was stupid when it was more than obvious that she already knew what was going on.

Again, Clark is allowed to want to keep his identity a secret, but a lot of people are using that as an excuse to call Lois unreasonable and a bitch, when her reaction was nothing but human.

You all loved her because she was adventurous, a rebel, strong-willed, and inquisitive, but now you hate her because she dared point those feeling towards Clark and then got angry with him? Mmh, interesting.

Oh, wow, what a surprise, Lois isn't perfect! Oh, wow, how dare she feel anything but smitten with Clark? What a monster.

You all love your female characters until they show themselves imperfect, or they disagree with the male lead character (regardless of if they're right or wrong). It's a known fact that misogyny is more than present in the comic world and its fandom, but some of you don't even try to hide it. Look me in the eye and tell me they would attack a male character the way they're attacking Lois if he had had the same reaction? Come on.

[mysticraven20]

Chapter 24: First Kiss

@adrinetteapril

Artwork by the amazing @verabraun-art

Marinette watched as Adrien rounded the corner, leaving her life once again. She had wanted to take it slow, but everything about this evening had proven he most certainly did not — he was doing this for her. The kind, caring boy she’d grown up loving had once again pushed his own feelings aside and allowed her to take the lead.

But it was about time she took the lead herself, and going for what she wanted!

Her heart started a rhythmic command to get moving, to go find him and stop this stupid game once and for all.

She hastily seized the nearest pair of shoes, her father’s cherished boots, slipping her feet into them despite their vast size. Ignoring the discomfort, her heart pounded with urgency as she rushed out into the street, desperate to find Adrien. She couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving again. After New York and then London (twice), she was determined to make him stay this time. He belonged with his family, his friends, and most of all, with her—the love of his life.

Yet, doubts gnawed at her insides. What if their love wasn’t enough to anchor him here?

But she pushed those thoughts aside, clinging to hope as she sprinted down the familiar streets, her heart racing with both anticipation and fear. Catching up with him, she saw him turn to face her, a questioning smile on his perfect, kissable lips.

“Marinette?” he questioned. His eyes glistened and glowed underneath the moonlight. Or was it the lamppost? This was the exact spot he’d proposed to her a couple of weeks ago. A proposal that, regardless of its validity, she’d accepted.

She stared up at him, summoning the courage to speak. “I know they say if you love someone, you should let them go. Well, I did that once and, believe me, there’s no way I’m strong enough to do it again.”

His eyes flickered across her face. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I don’t want to take this slow. Not anymore.”

His mouth opened, before closing again, his eyes burning into hers.

They stood bathed in the soft glow of the light, accentuating every imperfection and detail as they locked eyes. His velvety, green gaze delved into her deep oceans of blue. Silence enveloped them, each absorbed in the weight of what this moment could signify for their relationship.

Amidst the quiet tension, she felt a surge of readiness and determination. She wanted this, despite the uncertainty. Her heart swelled with love for him, and in that intense gaze, she found the courage to embrace whatever changes lay ahead. She bit down on her bottom lip and his gaze moved to focus on her mouth.

“Do you love me?” she asked with all the confidence she didn’t know she possessed.

Her pulse quickened as she locked eyes with him again, feeling the searing heat radiating from his intense, emerald gaze.

They stood motionless, the weight of the unspoken answer heavy in the air. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest, each beat echoing in her ears. Goosebumps raced across her skin, every nerve alive with tingling anticipation, as their eyes remained fixed on each other, conveying a torrent of unspoken emotions.

“Do you love me?” Her voice trembled, as the raw emotion broke through. Why wasn’t he answering?

Her heart raced in anticipation of his answer, breath caught in her chest. With deliberate steps, he moved closer, closing the distance between them, his hand rising to tenderly cup her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed instinctively, savouring the intimacy of his touch and surrendering to the tender caress.

She watched him wet his lips with a nervous flick, before leaning in to whisper the words she had been yearning for. “Yes…I love you!” The breath of his voice against her ear sent a shiver down her spine, his warm breath mingling with her own, creating an intimate moment filled with longing and desire.

Her throat tightened as she watched him retreat, his eyes searching hers with a silent invitation to reconsider. He had an uncanny ability to read her thoughts.

As her eyes met his, she was mesmerised by the intensity of his gaze. It had turned to molten heat, a fire that burned only for her. And in that moment, she felt like the most cherished person in the world – not some distant ideal of beauty, but Marinette Dupain-Cheng, baker’s daughter and retired superhero.

His eyes bore into hers with an insatiable hunger, as though she were the sole craving of his existence. It was a look that conveyed a depth of longing and desire that superseded any other want or need.

She no longer allowed her doubts to resurface. She didn’t stop to question it, to question him or to question herself.

Marinette allowed her instincts to guide her, her hands reaching out and grabbing him by the shirt, twisting the fabric in her grip as she closed the distance between them. Lifting her head, she watched him bite his lower lip, his eyes continuing to blaze in the same way her core was. He kept his eyes trained on her, darkened, his pupils dilating into the green of his irises in a way that made her gulp for breath.

The tension between them was like a tightly wound band on the brink of snapping, the impending release promising a cataclysmic explosion of emotion, reminiscent of a supernova.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice deep and gravelly.

As if on cue, the tension that had been holding them apart released its grip, and Marinette felt herself drawn irresistibly closer to him. Their lips met in a long-awaited kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken desire and heartfelt connection. She could feel the weight of anticipation lift, replaced by the warmth of his touch and sweetness of their lips.

At that moment, he was everything.

The kiss started slow and controlled, slightly tentative, and Marinette could sense the underlying tension and desire building between them. She felt his possessive growl reverberate in the back of his throat, a primal sound that stirred something deep within her.

As the kiss intensified, she sensed his urgency, the fiery passion igniting between them, a mutual need for more, for deeper connection and exploration. In that moment, amidst the heat of their embrace, her thoughts raced with longing and anticipation, her heart pounding with the realisation that this was just the beginning of something electric and profound.

His hands slid up her arms, fingertips skating across her collarbones and along her throat before cupping around her face almost desperately.

She felt something ignite in her body, and her hands moved up to grab his hair. A match lit inside her, and she was teetering on the edge of an inferno.

She suddenly remembered a quote from a book, where the character asked another what drowning felt like. The response was…not everything feels like something else.

Like falling in love.

Like having your heart broken.

Like kissing Adrien Agreste.

She could never have felt anything as jubilant as this. It wasn’t a tentative first kiss like when they were 14, breaking spells and defeating Akumas. This was a full kiss where she finally knew what Adrien tasted like — a flavour she’d desired for over a decade.

Her thoughts flew further, imagining what he would sound like as his hands moved over her body, adding in her own whimpers for more as he touched her. Her fantasies could never fully capture the unadulterated bliss of this moment, the sounds of his pulse quickening, or his breath catching as he finally relaxed and relinquished control to her.

They couldn’t go back to their normal dynamic now. This kiss was more than she ever could have imagined and everywhere he touched it felt like an electrical storm cracking.

He was more than just looks and a name to her. He was her Kitty, her Adrien. And as she remained in Adrien’s arms, breathless and not nearly satisfied, she understood how a simple kiss could bring two grown people to their knees, her own legs barely keeping her standing.

“Nice boots,” he said before stroking his thumbs over her cheek bones and moving forward again, this kiss just as heated and intense as the last one.

She wanted to experience everything with him because she loved him and she was sure now that he loved her. She never had to do anything to make him see her, because this kiss told her he’d been watching for a long, long time.

If this was what drowning felt like, she would be happy to drown forever.

Read the whole story here

[conkreetmonkey]

Curie from Fallout 4 is transfem. Please bear with me.

In the lab where she is found, according to the terminal of the Vault Tec scientist who created her, she was built out of a repurposed Mr. Handy his team already had. She was not a Ms. Nanny out of the box, she was a Mr. Handy who was given a female voice and presumably painted white. True, there is no real mechanical difference between the Mr. Handy and Ms. Nanny, but regardless, she used to be a Mr. Handy. This reasoning may seem flimsy, as she probably wasn't sentient at the time her robo-gender was changed and almost certainly didn't choose to make the change, but this is only half of my case.

Consider her entire character arc, about wanting to become human and eventually managing to upload her conciousness into the body of a synth. An imperfect yet more than sufficient solution, this new body allows Curie to easily pass as human, experience human senses, and for all intents and purposes be a biological being, just a synthetically created one, missing a few features such as reproduction but still far more physically human than machine. She is happy with this compromise, and presumably lives out the rest of her days happily as a human woman.

Like what else is there to say, that's a transition. That's just about as tight an allegory for a gender transition that I can imagine a robot undergoing without them explicitly being transgender. The factory built her as a male model of robot, and she would go on to gain sentience, discover herself, decide she didn't want to inhabit that body anymore, and become a woman.

Curie from Fallout 4 is trans. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[junowritings]

Hi friend, I hope I'm not bothering you. I stumbled across your twisted wonderland writings a little bit ago and fell in love with them. They're so good! I was wondering if you could do an angst comfort imagine with Jamil or Kalim where MC overblots? In game, Crowley piles so much work on poor MC, along with MC being the college's resident problem solver, and some of the students have called them worthless due to their inability to cast magic. I was wondering if you could play around with that idea? Regardless, thank you for doing what you do! Hope you have a lovely day.

Hiyya friend thank you for the love <3 I'm glad you've been having fun with these~! I'll admit this started off as a little thing but then the overblot brainrot kicked in thinking about the effects of blot on a non magic user and it spiraled from there lmao. Please do enjoy this though I had a bunch of fun giving my Scarabia boys some love,even if it is filled with angst!

The realization of what’s happening comes too late, as it always does. 

Eyes have been everywhere, watching your every move since you clawed your way from that coffin into this twisted wonderland. And each of them have expected something from you, saw fit to use you and take advantage of your situation for their own gains. Making yourself useful seemed to be the only way you could earn any modicum of respect, and so the pressure mounted and mounted as every day saw you taking on more responsibilities than you could handle. But you’d been so hopeful that it wouldn’t be that way forever - things would get easier, and you only needed to put up with the pressure until you got home; Crowley promised you that the day you enrolled at the school, and he wouldn’t lie when he was the only one capable of making that a reality, right?Right?

You should never have believed him; maybe that would have saved you.

This shouldn’t have been possible; with no magic to your name or even a magical presence to call your own the thought of you of all people overblotting was laughable, some cruel joke that was humored for the few seconds before you were deemed magicless, and thus no longer a concern. And yet the impossible pools at your feet and clings to your skin and clothes like a parasite as your brain spirals into a frenzy. All you can think about is what they’ve done to you, what they made you do. You were so useless to all of these people until you had some kind of purpose to serve, was that it? Running their errands; being a personal therapist and caretaker to so many dorms when you were still nursing your own wounds; having to take care of everyone else's problems only to return to your dilapidated corpse of a dorm at the end of the day. 

Perhaps it’s the stress, the mental fatigue drawing in all of that leftover magical waste with nowhere to go that accumulated the blot, allowing it to take root after months of being subjected to the worst that magic could do. It’s there which it festered until the pressure became too great, until it now seeps through your bones, your eyes, your fingertips in thick, viscous globs of ink for all to see. And from that blot comes the monster, a patchwork mockery of all of those overblots you’ve dealt with before taking shape of your deepest insecurities and regrets; and your own despondent sobs are drowned out by the screams of its birth as it rises to its full height, writhing and looming overhead.

But it’s imperfect; with no stable magic source to siphon its energy from the blotted creature latched onto you fights only to stay alive. The noises it releases are distorted, a hollow rattle that has the students taking an unconscious step back as a chill settles in the air. Many were smart enough to flee, yet there are those that stay, either foolish or frozen in fear at the sight in front of them.

You’re conscious, barely, the remaining dregs fading in and out of your control as your eyes, half blinded by the inky mass that pours from the blotted thing above you scans the sea of horrified faces. Friends, dormmates, and finally….

…Jamil

♡ Jamil feels the rush of students tripping over themselves to flee, can hear the screams of people too confused or too terrified to understand the impossibility of the situation, but his focus is trained solely on you and the thing that leeches off of you to stay alive. He watches it twist, heaving ink as it takes a defensive stance ready to attack anything that tries to get in its way. Your friends around you all make vain attempts to reach out to you; Ace and Deuce are frantically screaming out for you as they bat away an onslaught of inky limbs, and Grim gets close enough to barely brush your shoulder with his paw before the frantic swipe of the creature nearly sends him careening back in a torn mess had Jack not yanked him back to safety.

♡ For that moment he takes in the scene unfolding in front of him, watching the person who has fought to earn his respect and gain his trust being taken over by the flood of bottled up emotions preyed upon by the blot, and it hits him. Is this what you’d seen during his overblot? Is this how you felt seeing the person you cared for being reduced to a shadow of their deepest hatred and pains? If he closes his eyes he can vaguely recall the horrified look on your face in the muddled memories from his own overblot, but there’s no time to dwell, no time to panic, or scream, or cry when the most important thing is separating you from the blot and making sure you survive. And so he takes a steadying breath, steeling his resolve and shelving his emotions until you’re freed.

♡ Your friends are already mounting an offensive against the overblot and Jamil is right there in stride acting as a defensive force for those better equipped to attack. Each hit has the beast screaming, chunk by chunk being wrested away from its patchwork frame that’s barely holding itself together as is. Your screams echo along with it, only making the fight harder as hesitation hits your friends, Jamil himself almost making the mistake of stepping towards you before catching himself and refocusing on the fight at hand.

♡ He’d caught glimpses of the strain your situation had forced you under, he’d be a fool not to have noticed the pressure you’d been settled with. He knows the pressure well, having to play the part and live your life restricted by the whims of others. And yet every time he’d reached out to you, pulled you to the side away from prying eyes you’d only smiled and told him that you were fine, even if the sallow eyes and the constant tremble in your hands screamed otherwise. Jamil should have never taken you at your word, so sure that if whatever you were dealing with became overwhelming you would open up to someone - open up to him - before it was too much. Who could have ever imagined that it would get to this point? Jamil feels a sickness welling in the pit of his stomach just thinking about it, and the momentary lapse in attention nearly costs him a limb as a writhing hand slams down at his side when the overblot monster lunges forward, warbled voice screaming “-𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐...𝔾𝔼𝕋 𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐-!” again and again.

♡ Your overblot fights harder than anything they’ve faced before, even as the half formed twitching mass of energy that it is. Like an animal caged and surrounded it’s got no qualms pulling every ounce of power it can muster to ensure its survival even if it means turning you into little more than a husk. All it takes is watching you crumble, heaving and choking on some invisible force that saps everything from you for everything to finally snap. Whatever strength the creature pulls from you isn’t enough to keep it standing, and no sooner have you dropped the blot caves in on itself, still reaching out to you for more even in its final moments. In the wake of its dissipation the air is thick with an unspoken pressure, and the remaining students even torn up and bruised all make a beeline for your crumpled body, surrounding you in a wall of frantic calls of your name. 

♡There’s a lump in his throat as Jamil approaches the crowd, elbowing his way between Ace and Deuce kneeling before you. His breathing all but stops at the glimpses he catches of you among the hands cradling you, body limp as the remaining blot flakes from your skin and turns to whisps. Those seconds last for an eternity, bated breaths unwilling to ask the question that’s burning on everyone’s tongue. 

♡Are you…?

♡The next moment you’re gasping for air, rocketing up and narrowly missing headbutting the vice dormhead as you all but throw yourself up to retch. You miss the collective breath that everyone releases as the world starts to turn once again, relief flooding the atmosphere now that the imminent danger has passed. Someone mentions making sure you’re taken to the infirmary and Jamil can practically see the cogs turning in your head as you panic, finally coming back to your senses. You insist that you can take yourself there, scrambling groggily to your feet and shaking away the mass of hands supporting you only to immediately buckle the second your feet touch the floor. 

♡How lucky you are that Jamil catches you before you fall, one arm firmly gripping your elbow and the other pressed against your back to make sure you don’t try getting away on your own again. Surprisingly you don’t argue, in fact you hardly even say a word as Jamil whisks you away from the crowd; the silence is only broken on the walk there when Jamil has to stop you from nearly bucking again. You’re gripping his jacket for support when you ask “Did I hurt them?” focused on your hand wrapped into the fabric and not willing to look at him. There’s a pause, and Jamil watches your knuckles turning pale from your grip like you’re afraid of the answer. “It takes more than that to hurt any of those guys;They’ll be fine.” 

♡ Whether it’s the answer you wanted or not your grip loosens on his jacket but never truly lets go the entire walk there even as the infirmary sign comes into view around the corner. There’s no saying what effect the overblot had on you both physically and mentally, so the staff are on high alert as soon as you’re led into the infirmary. The nurse tries to take you off of his hands but you’re still holding onto Jamil for support and he’s quick to take the lead in getting you onto the bed so you can finally be seen to.

♡Jamil only allows the gravity of the situation to hit him once you’re in the capable hands of NRC medical staff, giving you some space to recover without being hounded by people as he tries to collect his thoughts. A part of him wants to stay there with you, especially with the way you’re so reluctant to let go of him during the initial checkup, but you’re drained both physically and mentally and need time to rest, and he needs to start picking up the pieces of the aftermath.

♡ The work keeps Jamil’s mind occupied, and provides a welcome buffer to the what ifs that are already beginning to creep in. But the moment he’s given a moment to finally rest it’s like all his energy’s been drained, using the nearest surface to keep himself upright as the events of the day finally fully sink in. You’ll live but all he can think about is what if you hadn’t; those few seconds where you weren’t moving, repeating over again and again. It’s an image that’s burned into his brain no matter how much he loathes having it there, and it forces his feet to move without thinking, heading straight back to the infirmary where he’d left you. Jamil needs to see that you’re really there, that you’re really safe in that bed and not taken whole by that creature again, and it’s something he finds himself doing long afterwards if only to set his own nerves at ease.  

…Kalim

♡ Kalim is horrified to see what’s happening to you, watching the creature that rises from your barely standing form like it’s tearing itself free from your very shadow. For a split second it’s as though he’s back at Scarabia watching his childhood friend overcome the overblot and change right before his eyes. That familiar chill of fear that he’s hoped to never have to experience again hits him square in the chest and his entire body goes cold as the reality of the situation settles with the wheezing howl that the overblot creature lets loose into the air. 

♡ Even though he can see it with his own eyes it’s almost impossible to come to terms with the fact that this is you. The one who always went out of your way to help people, who was so kind and there for everyone to help deal with their problems with hardly ever a thanks in return - there’s no way that the trembling, half coherent body looking out at the world with nothing but hatred burning behind ink stained eyes is really you. But it is, and there’s a beat, a split second where your eyes meet his and that anger flickers to grief, a lapse of the real you looking back at him before the hatred consumes you once again.

♡ It’s hard to think straight, and Kalim’s got little concern for his own safety as he joins Ace, Deuce and Grim in trying to reach out to you however pointless it may seem. He has to reach you, has to get to you somehow to make sure that you’re safe and get you away from that thing; he has to-!

♡ There’s a whoosh of air barely inches from his face, and Kalim only has a second to process the mangled claw that makes a swipe for him before there’s a hand winding into the back of his clothes , pulling him back into the dirt before those claws can bury themselves into his skull. It's enough to shock him back into the present moment, only now hearing the panicked voices of his friends and classmates as the chaos unfolds; there’s others here, and every single one of them is in danger the longer that this overblot is free to wreak havoc onto its new domain.

♡He hesitates to fight you - he just can’t bring himself to do anything that risks hurting you even though he knows that standing by and doing nothing it’s only going to make the problem worse. So he calls out to you, shouting your name with a near frantic desperation begging you to come to your senses even as the creature you’ve summoned continues it’s assault, gouging into the earth in its attempts to get at him with half formed joints. His cries are drowned out by the overblot monster’s screams, garbled words sounding like white noise ringing in the air only ever cut off when a sudden blast of magic from behind Kalim has the beast reeling. 

♡Your friends round up to make a wall effectively creating a barrier between it and the students, their faces grave as they realize what it’s going to take to make sure everyone gets out of this situation alive. The last thing he sees before they close in is you, the blot still dripping down your face as you let out an enraged scream, the months of bottled up emotions sending goosebumps up Kalims skin before you disappear back into the overblot’s hold.

♡Hesitating will only result in you getting more hurt, so Kalim tries to pour his focus onto helping elsewhere. Hoisting himself to his feet he takes charge in making sure that everyone not directly involved in the fight has a clear path to get to safety, ensuring that the debris scattering through the air never has a chance of hitting any of the students and causing more damage. All the while he’s fighting not to be distracted by the sounds of fighting - the gurgling of the overblot, the shouts of everyone co-ordinating together and struggling to turn the tide of the fight. He can’t allow himself to think too hard about what’s happening to you; the people he’s helping are looking to him as dorm leader to keep them safe and get them out of there, and if he thinks about it for too long he knows he’s going to slip up and someone’s going to end up hurt or worse. 

♡ A bloodcurdling howl brings everything to a standstill, and all at once something snaps in the air, the pressure on the back of Kalim’s skull dissipating as the blot that has soaked into every corner of the area breaks apart and disappears, no longer held together by magic. That means only one thing, and Kalim immediately drops everything that he’s doing to get back to where you are. The terrain is a mess and he trips up more than a few times on the huge chunks torn out of the earth beneath his feet as he grows more desperate to see you, to get to you. 

♡His heart drops into his stomach once he finds you through the sea of people who were fighting you not moments before, now crowded around you in a protective circle. You’re curled up on yourself, unresponsive and Kalim immediately sinks down onto his knees in front of you, not caring for the last broken pieces of the overblot that try to claw at legs for purchase even as it sinks back into the mindless puddle of waste it came from. Hands trembling, Kalim holds you as close to him as he can, wide eyes scanning your face for any sign of reaction, a sign that you’re back. The time stretches on and he feels his throat burn the longer you go without waking up; he’s here, calling your name over and over again, can’t you hear him? It’s okay to wake up now, everyone’s safe! You're okay right?... right?!

♡A groan cuts his thinking off, and there’s no holding back the sob he almost chokes on when you finally come to. You’re blinking away the haze that’s making your head pound and finally make out his face, caked in mud and debris and smeared with stark tear tracks as he cries. You bring a hand up to try and wipe away the tears and grime but that only makes him cry harder, though you don’t have time to feel bad before he’s pulling you even closer, pressing your face against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around you so tight that your ribs groan in protest. It’s not like you have the heart to push him away though - you’re so tired and drained and all you can think about is how glad you are that he’s here as you zone in and out of him gushing about how he’s so glad that you’re going to be okay.

♡Kalim refuses to let you go even as the others begin to crowd around to check on you for themselves; now that this is all over the last thing he wants to do is leave you on your own again much to the frustration of Grim and your other friends. It takes Jamil stepping in and none too subtly warning him that there’s a chance you’re still suffering from complications unless you get to a nurse and find out for sure before he relents, but even then he’s going right with you to the infirmary, taking a seat right next to the bed you’re propped up in and holding your hand and supporting you through the entire checkup.

♡All he can focus on is how tired you look, the exhaustion palpable now that the blot has washed away from your skin and clothes. He knows that it isn’t from the blot though; Kalim may be naive but he knows you were suffering before the overblot overwhelmed you. He’d tried so hard to help - offered you to stay at Scarabia any time you needed a break, insisted that you could always rely on him for anything, to tell him anything, just say it and he’ll be there! And yet it wasn’t enough to save you from all of this, and he can’t help but feel guilty that he couldn’t help you when you needed him the most…♡ You have to convince him not to call in the best doctors from back home just to come and see you the second the nurses are finished with their tests, insisting that he really doesn’t need to go that far despite his protests that he wants to make sure that you’re really okay. He’s already rattling off about how things are going to be better once you’re all healed up - he’ll come to see you everyday, of course, and he’ll make sure to bring plenty of things to keep you happy so that you can focus on resting and feeling better! It’s almost enough to forget the fact that everything that happened wasn’t just some dream your stress addled mind conjured up; however, even so exhausted you don’t miss the concern hiding behind his seemingly carefree smile, grip on your hand squeezing every once in a while as though to reassure himself that you’re both still here - he hasn’t lost you yet.

[anneapocalypse]

"why do you write/headcanon/see this character as bi" because I'm bi and I like them, next question.

"but there's a STEREOTYPE--" listen, the nature of bisexual stereotypes (and probably others, this is just my particular area of knowledge lol) is such that if you try to avoid every single one, you fall into only being allowed a very narrow specific type of bisexual character. And sorry, I'm not about that. I'd rather have a wider variety of bi characters, and that's going to mean that some of them are deviants, criminals, "too sexual," have too many canonical partners or not enough, or end up with a partner of the "wrong" gender at the end.

"well you're bisexual so I guess it's okay if you do it--" oof. listen. I understand the sentiment behind this, I really do. I know how frustrating certain things can be when they become trends. I absolutely get it. at the same time, I think it is important not simply to identify a problem, but to consider what it is we're asking people to do. what course of action are we suggesting. are we suggesting that queer people in fandom MUST out themselves before being allowed to publicly connect with or write about a character? I disagree with that fundamentally. I don't care how accustomed we've become to people including a detailed list of identities in their blog descriptions and social media profiles; that's a choice, not an obligation. no queer person owes you their identity. full stop. I certainly don't owe you mine, even if I've offered it in good faith.

I also think you're allowed to not like someone's headcanons, regardless of their identity. you can totally think their headcanons suck and not want to see them, and in that case I think the best thing to do in fandom (which is a mirror of the wider culture, and does not itself have the widespread cultural influence of mainstream mass media) is to unfollow them and block them. and then create art and stories about characters in the way that you want to see them, and be publicly excited about your ideas and what you've created.

I know that's an imperfect solution. most solutions are. I just don't see any variant of "You can only headcanon X if you're queer" that doesn't just lead to more queer creators getting harassed.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Sand's First Display of 'Messy' Behaviour

I'll preface this by saying I adore this man, and he's probably been the least problematic individual out of the Self-Proclaimed Friendship Circus. However, what left me with a chill was how Sand behaved when he revealed the affair to Ray.

Since we've been introduced to Sand, I think many of us have been pretty relieved by his largely green flag behaviour (in the midst of a very low bar being set in this group). This has often had me wondering what Sand's wider arc is going to be. The writers are not going to keep his storyline on one setting the whole way through. Therefore it's natural to anticipate we will be given another side to Sand - perhaps a less sympathetic or irrational part of his character. And maybe this was our first inkling into Sand's imperfections. He's also prone to vengeance and acting with an ulterior motive in mind.

Why it left me feeling so uncomfortable is because we haven't seen Sand in this light before. His score card has been pretty blemish-free.

Fuelled by a Vendetta

Nick shared this knowledge with Sand a while ago. However what triggered Sand to do something about it now was his confrontation with Top. We don't yet know what the circumstances were behind Top stealing Sand's ex from him, and how that played out. But it's evidently a sore grudge that Sand still very much holds against him.

Seeing Top again reminded Sand of the information he has at his disposal which could be used to teach Top a lesson. Sand is a very righteous person, and he doesn't think it's fair that someone should ruin his previous relationship, and now get what he wants with Mew as well. He wants Top to be punished. 'You're going to get what's coming to you, just wait'. It's possible that Sand didn't have the resources or means to get back at Top back then. But now he sees an opportunity to do so.

Combined with the fact that Sand has recently discovered that Ray loves Mew, this provides him with the perfect excuse for passing this information on. One, because as an outsider of their group, this can't come directly from him. Two, he knows based on Ray's temperament and his feelings for Mew, he'll be guaranteed to act.

Motivated by Selflessness or Selfishness?

I was originally going to post a deep dive on the scene between Ray and Sand at the bar, but I found myself constantly yo-yoing and ultimately undecided as to whether Sand's intentions were good or bad.

On the one hand, he's sharing this because he knows Ray will reveal the affair and Top will suffer the consequences. Thus, satisfying an act of indirect revenge.

On the other hand, he could also be doing this (as he so claims) due to his sense of righteousness. He just can't bear bad people getting away with bad things. And perhaps he does genuinely see Mew as a innocent victim here, and wants him to expose Top for who he is.

What also had me conflicted is that 'breaking' up Mew and Top doesn't play to Sand's interests. If Sand is romantically invested in Ray, and Mew becomes single again, this would allow Ray to continue pursuing Mew, which means Sand loses out. This is plausible if you're fuelled by unconditional love and a desire to see the person you love be happy. But I'm not entirely convinced that is the case here either.

You can also argue that Sand is 'using' Ray in this instance to achieve his objective, which is very questionable. He knows what a loose cannon Ray can be. Either he didn't think too much about the possible repercussions of how Ray would react, or he didn't care as long as Top got what he deserved. I don't think by any means Sand wishes to cause Ray any harm, but something really primal seemed to drive Sand to do this regardless of how Ray may be affected as the messenger.

So I don't know if I've decided yet. It could be a mix of all the above. This did seem to veer more on petty vengeance under the guise of righteousness. Mainly due to how Sand looks at Ray in that entire scene, which felt slightly manipulative and cold compared to how he usually has been with Ray. Especially when he says, "Mew is lucky though to have you by his side." It's almost with pinpoint precision that Sand triggers an image in Ray, to be the saviour swooping in to protect Mew.

All in all, I found Sand's behaviour this episode to be highly intriguing and unexpected. I saw a clip of First talking at an event recently, where he says something along the lines of 'when you see Sand do this, please forgive him', which implies there will be some further questionable or inexplicable behaviour later on potentially. Hmn.

[leikeliscomet]

Racism in the ace community is seen as a joke from the outside and a confusing concept in the inside but it's pretty bait tbh:

Barbie, Wednesday and Elsa are ace-coded but not canon aces but they're widely accepted as ace icons in the community. Lacking genitalia, disliking romance and being single are not inherently asexual yet the community happily claims them as ace solely on those reasons. But Selah Summers? Nah she actually didn't say the words "aroace" even though the director confirmed it so she didn't really count. Abbi Singh? Nah she had a girlfriend and her superpower is being a succubus and it's not like the Imperfects actually addressed the themes of an asexual lesbian South Asian woman and her sexuality or anything. Fei Hargreeves? Well yeah the actress and producer confirmed it but she never said it on screen. Ace characters of colour always get held "screened" for approval to be "real rep" in a way white aces aren't its so weird (this also happens to gay aces but that's another post)

Almost anything involving Yasmin Benoit. The reason she's unacceptable ace rep is because of misogynoir. She's spoken so many times about never dating and not having sex (which mind you is none of our business and she shouldn't need to explain herself in the 1st place) and yet she's "too sexual" to represent the community. Again with the nitpicking, popular white ace accounts were so quick to dogpile her for not-so-good takes but when she speaks about racism? Crickets. When she spoke about sexual harassment? Crickets and not only that but they defended her harasser. The main ace activists that defended her were other Black aspecs.

Not understanding how desexualisation affects POC. Specifically, Black women are excluded from representations of love and sex because we're seen as undesirable. It's common for TV/Film to pair up everyone but the Black girl, or have a rebound Black partner for the non-Black main character who's disposed of when they're ready for their "real" non-Black partner again. This isn't done for Black aspecs benefit. It's a form of dehumanisation. Friendship especially in m/f is needed but exclusively pushing for friendship between Black women and non-Black men when there is romance coded or confirmed and shaming Black women in fandom or in show for shipping the Black female character is not doing what you think its doing.

Not understanding how sexualisation effects POC. Again linking to Yasmin, POC, especially Black people have been sexualised due to white supremacy. The "allosexual privilege" framework fails to acknowledge this because Black people's sexual attraction and sex is seen as aggressive and animalistic. Black people aren't "allowed" to be ace because of this sexualisation and why Yasmin regardless of what she wears or does is seen is too promiscuous.

Not acknowledging ace POC as ace rep. Again, where was the acknowledgement of Selah and the Spades as groundbreaking rep? The first aroace darkskin Black girl as a lead in any film? Sherronda J Brown spoke about Big Mouth's Black ace character and someone said it didn't count just bc they dislike the show. Again with Abbi and Fei the community didn't make noise for them like they did Todd from Bojack Horseman or Florence from Sex Ed (mind you the gap between how they did Florence vs O is jarring in itself) Isaac from Heartstopper was inspirational for many aspecs and I wont take that away but the way he's instantly credited for ace representation when he has so little screentime compared to the others is wild.

Just tired tbh. "Listen to POC aces!" "POC aces are valid!" Prove it then...?

[universalitgirlsblog2]

💗✨️DO YOU THINK I'M FRAGILE ? 💗✨️

💗I AM ANTI-FRAGILE, FEARLESS & UNFORGIVEN

✨️" No biggie if I were to fall, I am anti-fragile "

💗" Stringed puppets? No thanks , with my songs , I will build my future "

✨️" I will climb higher,the top of the world I itched for "

💗"Rock it , twist it , lock it , baby. All you know is you can't chain me , 'cause I'm gonna break out"

✨️ I embrace difficulties and imperfections

💗Every thing that kills me , makes me feel alive

✨️I'm confident in myself

💗I don't allow others to define me , I define me.

✨️I wear the scars of my past proudly

💗I have the power to bring change in the industry and world .

✨️" I am fearless , a new bitch , new crazy , climbing up , next one "

💗" If my scars are a part of me , I got no fear "

✨️Throw me to the wolves and I will come back leading the pack

💗Even if my voice shakes , I still stand up for what I believe in .

✨️I always state my opinion without any hesitation.

💗I don't survive stress , I strive from it.

✨️I am physically, emotionally and mentally resilient

💗I consistently face my fears because I know I will not grow in my comfort zone.

✨️I put my opinions first.

💗I'm more than a pretty face. I'm confident, smart & talented.

✨️" I ≠ doll "

💗I have a postive self talk

✨️I embrace failure & past mistakes. I learn from failure & past mistakes & come back stronger than ever.

💗The world is my oyster . With my talents & confidence , success is inevitable

✨️I never let anyone steer me away from my path

💗I already got it all

✨️Regardless of what people think , Regardless of people's prejudice , I'm going to conquer.

💗My success was written in the stars.

✨️I set my own rules. I live my life on my own terms

💗I will rise over and over again.

✨️I am not afraid of storms , for I am learning how to sail my ship

💗I am confident in my decisions and my willingness to take risks and succeed.

✨️I am good spirited and determined.

💗I am flawless and free.

[apolline-lucy]

Any tips for writing sapphic romance

I don’t think writing sapphic romance is much different from writing any kind of romance. Feelings are feelings, and human beings are human beings. We all experience love in very different ways, and yet it renders us crazy and desperate all the exact same.

I don’t write romance, but romantic fantasy; the nuance is that rather than having the plot gravitate around a relationship, the relationship supports my plot (usually a magical adventure of sorts). And whether i write wlw, mlm, or else, I don’t change my formula. I make every character unique and imperfect, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation.

What I like is putting them in uncomfortable situations (aka hell) and then watching them suffer, really. I put together people that originally don’t belong together + forced proximity + having them face their fears + having them help & rely on one another + slow burn + making them actually get to know one another + making them doubt and cry and get real with their emotions and feelings + having their beliefs being ripped apart, twice, because betrayals + pain pain pain

Too often, I read romances that start with a physical attraction and never elaborate much deeper. Attraction is great for just dating, it’s great for erotica, but if you want a much stronger story and a relationship to seem believable, they have to go through rough patches, they have to test their limits and see the worst of each other. No one’s perfect. That’s cliche, but that’s true. Your characters can’t (and shouldn’t) be perfect either—that’s boring and no reader will identify with them. Us readers are like our characters, we want someone who will keep on loving us when we’re bleeding and screaming and hurting and making mistakes (deadly or else).

That being said, writing sapphic literature, and not necessarily romance, allows me to get more chances to explore some topics that are important to me: feminism, feminine rage, women’s sexuality, inclusiveness, friendships between women, trans women, women of colour, women being women, women supporting women, etc.

These can all be written into non-sapphic stories, of course, but the more you make space for women into your pages, the more characters are women, the more voices you give them. And us women have so many things to say.

When people ask me why I choose to write sapphic stories, here’s my answer: I simply love writing about women because women can be anyone and everything, and that’s enough for me.

Hope this helps🖤✨

[gynandromorph]

so i'm writing a scene where jessie writes the entire story herself (the irony is not lost on me), and, it's supposed to be the most perfect world she can think of. it's impossible NOT to compare her decisions to ones that i've thought about drake making, their solutions to the same problems side-by-side. for example, jessie assumes that she cannot get around death being a necessity with life. obviously, the planet would overpopulate. people would get tired of being alive. she decides instead that death should be more like getting tired and going to sleep forever one day, without the aging or sickness. drake would never settle for allowing death. i've spent a lot of time idly trying to figure out how xe would change... well, with omnipotence, anything, everything, in order to accommodate this demand -- and there are many different ways, which can be flawed when interacting with other problems. but the important part is that drake wouldn't settle for death. drake makes a mandatory end result, takes the current reality, and works until the beginning and end goal meet. jessie doesn't challenge reality's initial stipulations or the basic arguments about the logistics of non-death, even with unlimited power. we know that jessie is more authority-oriented in her basic value system; it's obvious when she's a child, and it's obvious when she's a god. she had good parents and a happy childhood; the authority figures in her life provided what she needed if she listened (and if she didn't). it was in her best interest to develop a worldview where authority was Good; she had no need to question them. reality says there are limited resources, and we will fix it by making people and creatures die and become resources, and jessie said "okay, got it boss." drake didn't have terrible parents, but nonetheless had experiences of authority's failure that were deeply formative for xem. even if xyr parents had been perfect, the body dysphoria would have always meant the reality that was provided was not enough. if xyr body, arguably the most fundamental reality xe will ever know, trapped in it regardless of all other factors, doomed to die when it dies, was something xe had to question to find any happiness, it must be very easy to apply this mentality to other dissatisfactions with reality. drake's rigid and often extreme moral beliefs, while they may seem more like they should produce a ruthless dictator than jessie's emotionally-driven decision-making style, are intrinsically linked to suffering and a desire for relief from it. ironically, both of these characters deal with similar themes -- a desire for impossible realities, and a hatred for the world they live in with all of its imperfections. jessie's impossible desire may simply be the freedom from desire altogether; to finally for once not feel an emptiness radiating Want. drake's impossible desire is more straightforward and less easily described -- paradoxical self-actualization and ego death. their similarities make them fun to compare, because they really could not be more different. any which way, i wanted to write down these thoughts about the characters -- jessie in particular -- before they Disintegrated Into The Ether