#and so is making a mockery of what humans are capable of both with their bodies and technology

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #245

[nhothicket]

is it too late for Halloween?

Some close ups and silly spare thoughts about this half-baked au below the cut ^v^

Some thoughts:

It's extremely important for this au that Etho is very enthusiastic about his clowning, okay? Nobody's forcing him to do this he is a PROUD CLOWN.

The setting is probably somewhere in the 80s-90s at an amusement park with a carnival vibe. I thought it might be fun to have all the Halloween hermits be canon, but I also see this being a world unaware of the more supernatural goings on, so I'm not sure if that could pan out. Maybe some sort of veil from the supernatural might be in play? Who knows.

Anyway! This is about Ethdubs not those other nerds.

> So, in this amusement part there's an oddities attraction of sorts. There resides Bdubs, he is a haunted heart preserved in a jar, not an actual attraction though just set dressing for the creepy shed vibe. As the story goes this jar has been passed around for decades, but its progressively gotten heavier despite being untampered with. The preservatives have gotten thick and changed colors over time. This is actually just Bdubs' spirit taking its sweet sweet time to manifest, as he slowly materializes around his heart, the preservatives turn to ectoplasm.

Most of the time he's sealed up in the jar, thanks to this mystical veil regular people usually can't hear him grouching about the tight space. The jar itself is part of his haunting, which means its technically part of him and he can't pass through it. So, until Etho realizes the disembodied voice he's been hearing come from the little building is not all in his head, Bdubs was stuck there.

> Bdubs' more human less goopy form is also a bit translucent in that form and he's not at all solid. If Etho were to poke him in the arm his finger would go through with some pressure. A firm hug would be fine at first, but he'd quickly start sinking into the ghost. It takes a lot of energy to be that physical, so Bdubs hardly does it. He's capable of leaving his heart in the jar and being a more traditional wispy ghost in that image, but... he feels left out when he can't touch things, so he'll usually choose being a bit gooey over being a beautiful beautiful man.

His heart is the only part of him that is completely physical. It is a real object in the world still, he's possessing it. It's what allows him to be more physical, so if someone were to reach into his chest and pluck it out he'd turn into a wisp. (He and Etho have both done so repeatedly to make bad jokes about heart stealing). How did Bdubs' heart get in a shady unmarked jar? Who knows. The people who ran the place probably don't even know its a real human heart anymore.

> Bdubs frequently lies about how old he was (recalling and inserting himself into historical events he wasn't even born for), Etho humors it.

> Bdubs died before Etho was born, this is the subject of mockery on both sides. (Etho would've been born maybe a decade or so after Bdubs died, he's in his 30s at present)

> Etho's gimmick is being comically good slight of hand and magic tricks. He's not supernatural, but he's like fantastical in his competence when it comes to looking magical. Etho invents (realistically jmpossible) contraptions to make his magic work.

> Horse drawn buggies would've been on their way out as Bdubs was growing up, so he could be nostalgic for that, I thought it might be cute if Etho took him out on one of those horse drawn tours as a surprise. Don't mind the clowny guy carrying around a jar with a heart in it.

> Another funny thought I had, Bdubs asking for a grand sarcophagus after getting jealous of the attention a new mummy is getting in the attraction. Etho doesn't buy him a sarcophagus, but he does get him a novelty canopic jar from the gift shop of a nearby museum.

Okay, that's all for now. ^v^;

[kjzlstuio]

Hello I saw your post, how about tsp headcanons or maybe anything about your au?

OH SHIT SOMEONE PERCIEVED MY AU

I feel like everyone that gets into tsp has an au for their own interpretation and story, so minee uhhhhh I had a plan to make a whole fic + illustration series for it, but I dont have the time or motivation so I'm cool with infodumping. Actually, getting it all down now would make it easier to release content for it, so win win !!

SUPER LONG INFODUMP INCOMING

My au is mostly a character exploration of Stanley and Narrator after years in isolation before it starts getting meta. From adjustment to their new lives, to the evolution of their relationship through insanity, and finally discovering the truth of their world to break free.

The first few chapters are dedicated to Stanley's adjustment from his real life to the game. Chapter 1 follows his daily routine, his commute, his entrance into the building, and suddenly, the silence of his branch. His job wasn't very interactive in the first place, inputting what he was told into spreadsheets or other, but simply pressing buttons is a gross simplification of it. The oddity of the situation hits him, and the narration begins. Truthfully, the Narrator's words align with his thoughts, so while he is uneasy, he does as told because he'd do the same. The Freedom Ending is full of revelations and emotions as he reflects on his life, corners of the office he hadn't seen. Stanley steps outside, the daylight grows brighter, and he resets. Following this is Stanley's spiral through emotions. He doubts the voice in his mind being his own, looks everywhere for clues about his situation, inputs into the pink screens and tests out the story slowly. From barely diverting to a room or two in anxious desperation, to completely opposing the Narrator in anger and spite, Stanley branches into every ending plus some. While it's true that his life had fallen into monotony, the Narrator mocks and berates him not only through dialogue, but through the contents of the world. The building became nothing but a maze of halls, his capabilities as a human limited to button-pressing, his ability to speak lost completely. It was as if The Stanley Parable was made solely to mock his existence. The Narrator and Stanley battle for control of the situation. Stanley reclaims his pride and autonomy through defiance and causing the Narrator suffering while the Narrator retaliates. However, the Narrator always seems to default to wanting a good ending for them both and fulfilling his goal of greatness and artistry. Stanley soon grows to realize this as their time loops progress, and with time, conflicted feelings for the Narrator give in to gratitude and solace in their isolation. (I remembered I had this RP with myself midway through writing, so this might be the best place to put it. Stanley's going through the wringer with his emotions, and at a point, you can get too exhausted to feel what once enveloped you so intensely. Between his anger and his gratitude, there was definitely points of exhaustion. Additionally, even as he "gave in" to the game, he was still exploring every inch, wondering about the true nature of their existence.)

Stanley never would have regained his ability to feel if not for the Narrator. If anything, he should be grateful that his lonely life was brought to someone's obsessive focus. He wouldn't have overcome his anxiety to adhere to instructions, wouldn't have dared explore outside what he was expressly given permission to. Wouldn't have felt so intensely with fear and wonder and anger and self-actualization. He had them to thank. And only them. For years. They only had each other. They couldn't help it that it naturally evolved into something more. Stanley's fear of the situation evolved to desperation once he realized the pattern. Desperation for an exit to insanity for what his life had suddenly become. Insanity to anger, focused onto the source of it all and the mockery of his life. Anger to understanding as the Narrator's intentions became clear to him. Understanding to gratitude. Gratitude to adoration. Adoration to obsession. So on. And the Narrator notices these changes. The Stanley Parable in their eyes isn't a mockery, but an artistic piece and aid dedicated to Stanley. For some reason, even unknown to them, they're very attached to Stanley from the start. While upset to see their piece ripped to shreds by Stanley's choices, in the end, Stanley grows bolder, more expressive, and the Narrator loves to see it. All of this development is slow and takes place within the decade before the next game installment. The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe is introduced to Stanley in the midst of their odd relationship. Not quite a thing, not quite hidden from each other. They've grown into this routine of cycles, and by now, their endings and interactions with each other far outnumber those in the game. When the new content is added, Stanley doesn't know how to feel. The Narrator had been developing it behind the scenes with unknown outside help for a while. Stanley had long given up on interacting with any other sentient beings ever again, so the new content is overwhelming and scary in that sense. The new stimulation is welcome, but new characters? Even hints of an outside presence, seeing the meeting room covered in notes and speculation over collectibles from unseen employees freaks him out. The need for connection leads him to attaching to these inanimate objects, much like his bond with The Adventure Line. The way humans find comfort in one another through touch and interaction is the same way Stanley feels over the Bucket. Stanley eventually comes to realize that the unknown and overexaggerated connection he felt to it was true. The Bucket is a person. In fact, the Adventure Line is a person too. The Wife mannequin is a person. The Settings is a person. That Cardboard Baby was probably a person too. Who knows. Stanley pieces this together from outside reviews of the game, the story of Employee 432, and the Curator. The company he worked for is the same developer of The Stanley Parable and it ran experiments on its workers and environments in plain sight. The Stanley Parable is an interactive recording of the pocket dimension created by these experiments with Stanley's own experiences being put onto store shelves.

There's a whole subplot with the Settings gradually forming a bond with Stanley as well, and it comes to a head when Stanley attempts to escape with the Narrator. Stanley and the Narrator have a heart to heart about everything. The Narrator feigned ignorance to the Escape Pod Ending, but now knowing everything, Stanley wants to escape more than ever. Without him, this fake world can't exist, and all these people will be freed with them. The Narrator gives in with some time, final reviews of their work together, but for some reason, Stanley remains. The Settings wants to make their time endless, but the world rots without the Narrator there, and the Settings eventually has to let go. Stanley wakes up again in his office. He fears that the game isn't over, but stepping foot outside his door, he hears the rustling of objects, the voices of people, and he stumbles through the office, now back to its original form, with all his coworkers within it. It's awkward knowing they've seen so much of him, and over a decade in isolation has destroyed his ability to interact, so Stanley avoids them all in a mad search for the Narrator. When they finally lock eyes, Stanley doesn't know what to feel, but he feels his voice come out for the first time in forever, and he cries. Everyone sets off to reclaim the lives they've lost, wishing Stanley and the Narrator well as the two awkwardly return the gesture. The Narrator, for once, is at a loss for words, and they part ways before exchanging contact information. Stanley stays with his parent for some time, lost and haunted with his experiences, and the Narrator reclaims what he can of his old life, spending many days waiting by the ruins of their company building for anyone who might return. It doesn't take long for Stanley to come back. Living in the real world again is overwhelming, and he took it a day at a time with the help of his family. Coming back to find the Narrator, Stanley shares everything. While it isn't their fault, he can't just forgive them for everything. His feelings are torn all sorts of ways, and they settle with staying friends, there to help each other acclimate to life again with everyone else, but mostly each other. They make it official after some time. Even though it isn't the best decision. They can't let go of everything or each other, so it's a very codependent type of relationship despite how it looks on the outside.

There's a lot of details I left out obviously. There's a whole Curator and Mariella plot, even more details about Stanley and the Setting's dynamic, all of the secrets in the game that Stanley experiences and their corresponding emotional developments, more character exploration for the Narrator and more of how the world worked (The Narrator was actually an invisible floating mass btw), I COMPLETELY FORGOT THEIR IRL RELATIONSHIP BEFORE THE GAME JESUS. But yeah, that's the gist of it. I'll definitely make more content of it soon.

Phew

MS Paint Concepts

[killersnarl]

// sfw alphabet for nine under the cut because i am sick and cannot work on cooler content rn 😔 go crazy

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

as a baseline i’d say he’s a very affectionate person. he’s not afraid of initiating it either, even in tense or violent situations he can be very warm and cordial. in situations like these i think a lot of people can take it as a mockery or some sort of weird threat, which can be partially true, but not always. sometimes his comforts are genuine but just happen to scare the shit out of people, he doesn’t give up tho.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

i’ll say that he’s very elusive and just disappears for days at a time sometimes. he’s a very hard person to be friends with because he’s notoriously hard to get ahold of. you’d never know much about him or his life, but he’d end up knowing everything about yours.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

nine is naturally a very touchy person i think, that’s kind of just how he is, very into tapping on shoulders and such. when he does actually hold people though it’s very very lightly because he’s always conscious of how much force he’s using. he’s automatically very heavy handed so he really has to be aware of himself.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

there will be no settling down ever. he’s mediocre at cooking it’s definitely not that bad but he’s no chef, i would trust him to cook me food and not kill me while also having it taste relatively good. nine is a very very clean person so even though his spaces might be kind of cluttered sometimes he’s very good with cleanliness upkeep. i will say there’s at least 5 empty water bottles on his nightstand tho.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

the most horrible way possible actually. nine will do almost anything to convince people to dislike him because he loves self sabotage and ruining everything that makes him happy. no matter what he will find a way to make you leave him eventually.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

don’t even get me started on how deathly allergic he is to the idea of commitment

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

very much so. physically it can be a litttle difficult because he has to be very careful with how much force he applies all the time but he does his best and usually he does it very well, very soft touches. emotionally he can be very gentle with people which might be surprising, even if he’s dropping his whole murder monologue bomb on you he somehow finds a way to be very calm and gentle about it a lot of the time.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

nine hugs are warm and all encompassing. very very nice and cozy if nine hugged me i would immediately fall asleep. he’s very soft and cushy. and i think we all know he doesn’t mind people initiating physical contact with him.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

genuinely do not know if he’s ever seriously told another human being that he loves them except for his mother. it’s not that he doesn’t like or love people, he just doesn’t express it that way. i think part of him thinks it’s embarrassing to the other person so he just never verbally expresses it seriously.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

there is not a jealous bone in his body actually i don’t even know if he’s capable of this. maybe when he was like 17 and always mad idk. it’s actually comical he is not jealous or envious of anyone he’s like 31 and has already accepted that he is a depraved useless person that deserves nothing.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

very good actually. he talks to them like tiny adults and they tend to like him cause he’s big and nice. i will say he might curse around them though because he forgets.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

this is assuming you’ll ever see the day where you find a way to wake up before he dips

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

it varies very heavily because there’s a lot of things that could be happening at night and some of those things are nice but some of them are scary.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

never ever. he will actually go to great lengths to avoid telling people about himself, his only interest is knowing about other people. he’s somehow mastered switching the topic of conversation onto others.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

nine has absolutely incredible patience and he does not get mad ever, not outwardly at least. there’s not really anything for him to be mad about regardless. he’s a very calm and patient person no matter how intense the situation might be, he’s really just never in a rush. however in his late teens he was very different.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers everything, more than you probably remember about yourself. that’s the one joy he’ll allow himself to have, knowing things about people and asking questions about them. it’s a little scary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

we all know how nine feels about the concept of relationships

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

very actually. nine doesn’t want to be protected in the slightest, but he does want to protect other people. he doesn’t want any harm brought to people that haven’t done anything, but i will say that most people have probably done something in their lives.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

nine does not do dates or anniversaries or gifts. on a broader spectrum it’s not that he doesn’t try at things it’s just kind of that he’s pretty mediocre. if you asked him to draw a cat for you he would definitely do it but it would be ugly.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

okay well i would say the constant self sabotage and destruction is probably not good. and when i say constant i mean constant sometimes it’s so stupid. sometimes he’ll get his favorite soda and then give it to someone else just so he can’t have it.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

very but not in the way you’d expect. he’s concerned because he wants to keep himself ugly and hide his face from people. he doesn’t really put any effort into making himself “pretty” aside from basic cleanliness and hygiene but that’s only because when it comes to his body he’s a complete clean freak. plus all his clothes look pretty stupid.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

no ! to be honest he will never feel complete because he will not allow anything to make him happy and he likes it that way. there will always be something missing and he’s destined to walk the rest of his life like that. he thinks of himself as some sort of pyramidhead like figure, some sort of executioner and purveyor of doom cursed to do this until he can’t walk any more. there is no suffering but there is no lack of suffering.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

i can’t make headcanons because i made him so here’s some ezzy made:

dad mannerisms. he makes the most heinous dad-like noises when he sits down or gets up.

exclusively wears those dc shoes with the tongue halfway up the calf.

nails and nail beds are disturbingly well kept.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

the one thing that really grinds his gears is people who are ungrateful to be alive. he’ll make you happy to be alive in the most unnecessary and gruesome way possible. he does not like it when people don’t appreciate the gift of life and living and he especially doesn’t like it when they attempt to throw that opportunity away.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

overall he’s a very sleepy guy and he does have a bad habit of taking cat naps and not having an actual sleep schedule. i think i can also mention his horrible snoring and sleep apnea LOL

[televisionenjoyer]

where’s the list

Oh gladly. Gonna pull up the post that kept me up at night about it. This might be long so ↓

1- There's a common misunderstanding that those of us affected by the united states' system and governments and culture have a direct hatred towards the individual people themselves, which is not particularly accurate.

2- Any instance of individual hatred towards usamericans is precisely because of this sort of behavior tbh. I know OP's intentions aren't inherently evil or whatever, but it just feels both like an insensitive mockery towards those affected by the US's imperialism, and a huge sign that says "I'm uncomfortable talking about my country's wrongdoings and what I as an individual could do about it."

3- There is literally active action you can take about many of these. Get political. Educate yourself on whatever matters you think need to be resolved (whether it's whatever internal issues you have, or external issues such as the present day consequences of plan condor, or the economical extortion the country holds over the global south in order to exploit their resources, etc). The more educated you are (sidenote, talking to those affected might be a great idea) the more you can educate others, the more people become aware of an issue, the more power you hold over your country's political forces. This is literally how all social movements happen. Of course it's easier to empathize over things that are happening inside than the things which happen outside, but were you so pressed about the way the rest of the world perceive your country, you've at least shown a minimal interest.

4- Using the term "american" in a post that claims "we have no control over everything the rest of the world hates us for" completely invalidates the whole statement, taking into account latinoamerica's fight to reclaiming the american demonym. Of course this could have been a slip but, yeah.

5- it's totally fine if you don't want to get political or get involved, we all know how much we can manage our lives in terms of how much we do for ourselves and how much we do for others, activism is merely born as a desire to do good things for others, and everyone focuses it on the people they particularly hold affinities to, and to the extent they're capable of. This is human behavior. I'm not saying everyone should dedicate their whole life to political activism - being alive on itself is pretty hard! But the thing is by making this sort of post you're already getting political. It's literally that simple. Now you can do it in useful and constructive ways 👍

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Nineteen: Scarborough Fair Pt. 5

“Look Snow White, the Evil Queen is out for your blood right now and we dwarves are doing what we can with the crap hand we’ve been dealt with. Sure I had no clue that it was legal to own an elephant rifle in this country, but it is what it is. Plus, Envy is going to be alright, the asshole is likely having a time with eating people and cattle at this point, we should be grateful that the reptile didn’t get fire breath too.” Freddy snarked a little, smirking just a little bit just to hear Dolly chuckle a bit at the fairytale comparison. 

 “Okay…that’s fair, Envy being able to breathe fire would be horrible given the area we’re in…” Dolly chuckled a little while longer before perking her one good ear and standing straight up, looking closely at something.

 “Dolly? What’s wrong?” Freddy attempted to stand up before being gently made to sit down by Dolly who was much more tense than before. “Freddy, stay still and don’t make any sounds, something is here.” Dolly had clearly gone into apex predator mode as she kept still, hearing something coming through the brushes of the forest.

 “Shit, we need to run and…” Freddy whispered before getting cut off by Dolly, who chanced a glance at him for a split moment. “No, Freddy. Remember what I’ve told you so many times when I took you out to hunt, never act like prey when around a predator.” Dolly whispered sharply out of fear of possibly losing Freddy suddenly.

 Freddy went silent as his eyes finally focused in on something massive slithering amongst the trees as though it were grass. It was hard to tell where the head was as the rustling became louder as it got closer to where Dolly and Freddy stood. The familiar smell of fish left out too long in a baking sun started to make its presence known as something large, brown, and caked in dried blood plopped right in front of the two Mancers. It was a buck, a rather large buck that was relatively still fresh despite the dried blood covering it like pieces of a flaking paper mache project. Dolly carefully covered Freddy’s mouth to prevent him from making prey-like screaming sounds as they both looked up above where the dead buck came from. A massive, green, snake-like head loomed over them with a smiling maul of sharp, jagged teeth as though they had been chewing rocks non stop. Fins and horns adorned the serpent’s head like a mockery of a crown as its massive, violet, fish-like eyes staring down flickered a bit with recognition. It took a moment or two for Dolly to get past the dead fish smell of old human blood that had coated this serpent to recognize whose scent she was smelling. 

 “Envy..oh my gods..Envy what did that wretch do to you..?” Dolly gasped as she looked at the monster Serpentine dragon named Envy.

 “Oh Gods…the reptile has leveled up…” Freddy was about to do the reasonable action of pissing himself out of horror.

 “Shove…off…you filthy Face Fur…” Envy hisses through the opened maul like a messed up ventriloquist puppet.

 “....How the hell are they still able to speak…?” Freddy had officially pissed himself upon hearing Envy’s voice coming right out of the messed up nightmare snake.

 “Freddy, cut it out…this is a good thing, Envy can be communicated with still.” Dolly was amazed and thankful Envy clearly had speech capabilities still, the possibility of being reasoned with was strong.

 “Push…the Face Fur off a building?” Clearly the goal of Envy getting to see Freddy being shoved off a building was still a massive deal to them even in that state.

 “....Oh you fucker…” Freddy narrowed his green eyes at the serpent who was still very much hellbent on making his life a living nightmare.

 “Good to know Envy’s single mindedness is still intact..” Dolly was in awe just how deep Envy’s need to see Freddy being tossed off a building was.

 “I have a question now…how the hell did Envy even locate us?” Freddy’s narrowed eyes widened a bit upon realizing that Envy the homicidal dragon was able to find them. “Smell…I can smell….I’m..still…hungry…You eat deer, right?” Envy pointed their massive muzzle at the fresh buck carcass that was waiting to be butchered up.

 “....That was rather sweet that you remembered my comfort meat was venison..Okay, getting back on track, Envy we’re all here to help you out, okay?” Dolly started to open a proper dialog that would hopefully avoid getting Envy gunned down by an elephant rifle.

 “You’ll get me food…?” Envy’s mind was clearly on being fed, likely being some fresh human morsels to chow down on. “Not exactly…but we can totally get you food after we get you out of that massive serpent form.” Dolly gently said, trying to lead Envy into ease about how this thing will work out.

 “By who…?” Envy the unhappy monster was listening carefully to the deal. “Well here’s the thing, you have two choices, yay you! You can have Freddy over here to free you from your scaly predicament or one of the Elrics can help you out if you’re willing…” Dolly put on a warm smile in hopes of selling this deal to only get a snort in return. “Nope…” Envy started to move their massive form back into the forest, not wanting either of those spoken humans being brought into this let alone being touched by either option. 

 “Envy, please don’t be so stubborn, those are the only three options we got here.” Dolly called after as Envy retreated into the woods.

 “I’m getting more food….be back soon…” Envy hissed out as they slithered away, surprisingly fast for a massive creature of Envy’s degree. 

 “Oh my god Envy don’t you slither away from help! Plus I’m capable of hunting just fine!” Dolly called out, her pride as an apex predator being poked at by a massive dragon with severe mercury poisoning.

 “Dolly….even as a massive, deranged, horrifying dragon of perpetual suffering…Envy is still a giant asshole.” Freddy scrunched his nose up a bit as the lingering smell of the dried and old human blood lingered in the air still.

 “They’re just not liking the options…but you know what, Envy is going to be back, we can talk reason into them eventually.” Dolly clearly was still hopeful that conversation is gonna be the key with helping Envy.

[t1gerlilly]

It’s kind of hilarious to me how people try to make the case that Stede is feminine and moral and Blackbeard is butch and evil, when Blackbeard is a huge diva and Stede loves that about him. Plus Stede’s delusional optimism is just as batshit crazy AND he’s as unrepentant and just as amoral if far less competent.

They both contain multitudes, dude.

The other thing I find really cool about Stede is how adaptable he is. Like - I went to a women’s college and I can tell you just how freaked men get in an otherwise totally normal situation where they don’t control the space and aren’t immediately assumed to be in charge. Most guys have literally never been in that position in their entire life and the smallest things make them freak out. (Damn but do I have stories). But when Stede is working as a crewman or front of the house at Spanish Jackie’s he just makes the best of the situation and adapts. No egotism or hysterics. I just LOVE that.

Plus, I’ll be honest, I love masculine confidence. And the kind of guy who lets other men control him - his options, his experiences, and his self definition has always seemed weak to me. Like - so many men are terrified of being seen as tender or soft and …it just gets ridiculous. Because men are people too - capable of tenderness and softness and kindness. Denying that is cutting out your own heart. Plus, empathetic behavior is key to successful leadership. Not just among humans, but in most primates. Read Frans de Waal if you don’t believe me. It’s just awesome to see guys cooking and cleaning and talking about their feelings and wearing what they like. And having it be…unremarkable or supported. No mockery, cruelty, or abuse. Nobody having to give up what they enjoy or stifle their curiosity, or make themselves smaller so they fit into the space other people want them to take up.

[singsongraptor]

Yesterday someone compared AI "art" to photography. I already ranted on it but one of my friends, an artisan herself, tried to defend the shit reasoning that AI is similar to photography, that I shouldnt be offended by the comparison, and that the pushback against AI was similar to being close minded about digital art as a traditional artisan who was trained to make most of her materials (fabric on a loom, glazes, etc). She also made a statement that a lot of art was made through plagiarism, a statement that is particularly offensive to me as a Black artisan, coming from a white artisan, considering how much white people steal and plagiarize from Black people in multiple industries and have done so for centuries, including stealing our lives through slavery.

I'm going to copy here my responses to her. So this will not be a "proper" essay and is not directed at anyone on here.

AI "art" is theft and plagiarism, full stop. It is run *entirely* on theft and plagiarism. There is nothing original or skilled about it. There's no practice or education required. There's no emotion behind it. It is NOT art. It cannot be art.

And, just because some art was made via theft doesn't mean more theft to make something art-adjacent is ok like what kind of messy reasoning is that?

The comparison is insulting to me as a photographer because I work hard at my craft. I work hard to learn about cameras, about photography as an art, about framing, lighting, aesthetics, about post processing and the programs used for them.

An AI doesn't and cannot understand any of that. There's neither effort nor genuine learning. It merely mimics what it's programmers have told it "looks nice" based on the theft of thousands of hours of real artists' work. It cannot dream or imagine, only mix and warp what real people have dreamed and imagined, taking food from their mouths and devaluing the effort and skill they actually cultivated.

AI art is a mockery of art, because it literally cannot create. It can *only* steal and is a glorified copy-paste-morph tool.

I find this comparison offensive because it DOES take away from photography. It actively denigrates how photography as an art is accomplished, and the effort and education and time and technical skill and artistic eye that must be developed.

My camera is not less complex than the glazes and fabric you learned how to make. To take good photos requires you to understand the breadth and depth of your camera's limitations and capabilities, along with your lenses. It requires knowing how the various settings and components work together to capture your intended shot. Understanding color and light are critical, as well as understanding how the camera and the human eye see and utilize both.

Understanding perspective, and other artistic concepts of drawing, painting, and even sculpture, are valuable knowledge points that need to be developed just as much for photographers as artisans and artists, particularly if you're trying to capture motion and small subjects, or unique perspectives, such as in macro photography, which is the kind I do the most.

Post processing is its own skillset, not just in managing the programs themselves but in how they can be used to craft the piece you want from the photo you took. And that's just digital photography. Analog photography is an entirely different ballgame and the dark room skills are not something that can just be picked up by any schmuck with a smartphone or a film camera.

Reducing the years I have spent educating myself and honing my craft, learning hundreds of concepts and skills, which I still can improve and seek to improve every day to "choosing some elements and settings" is a vile insult to me personally and to the field of photography as an art form in general. My camera is not generating art, I am. It is me. I am the one with the skillset, not my camera.

The AI doesn't have any skills either. It has done no work, it has no understanding, just like my camera. The difference is my camera is a tool like pencil and paper, or clay and glaze. The AI is a computer making guesses on what "looks nice" by taking millions of hours of actual humans' effort, education, practice, imagination and labor and smashing them together. Don't insult me and my craft please.

One last thing. You said: "people bringing up algorithmic theft have obviously never spent any time looking at other art, or seeing how much art begat other art through theft."

Coming from you, a ⚪️ woman, to me, a Black person, that is incredibly insulting and insensitive. Your people have been stealing from mine in every single industry, including and especially the sciences, art, music, and artisan trades like fashion, for centuries. Your people have stolen my ancestors' entire lives and legacies. They continue to steal our ideas and our intellectual property to this day. All while suppressing and denigrating our cultures and contributions to a massive variety of fields.

Your people do not even see us as capable of contributing to various fields unless we're godlike in skill, cater and pander to your judgment, and distance and debase ourselves from our people and communities. And still your people will steal and take credit even then. Your people's mediocrity is celebrated while our greatness is maligned and denigrated. Ignored. At least until what we made or discovered is colonized.

AI art is a tool sure, but only insofar as it's the extension of colonization and capitalism. Please do not try and justify its use because "a lot of art came from theft." I, far more than you seem to realize, am aware of that, if only because my people cannot even get into our fields while yours get awards and recognition from what we've made.

[blackwaxidol]

i don't want to leave my room to interact with mother but being here alone especially after sleepless night of purposefully obsessively reading about things that bother and make my brain light up with the only verbalised thought it ever produces in duress which is this pleading, drunken-sounding "oh no..." i hear usually when i read an absolutely vile sentence i have to immediately back away from. what was i saying..?

yes. being here alone in my room makes me acutely aware of how i feel like i am starving to death. i hate food. i hate it. i hate eating i hate wasting my time on it i hate how impossible of a feat 500+ calories seem i hate sitting down to eat i hate that all my joints have sunken in and i have accepted i have a stupid eating disorder. i just. don't like eating. i don't want to do it. i fucking hate eating i hate food i hate it i hate it i hate it and i hate that all i can do is obsess over my own mortality i am going to die i am going to end up dead because i can't eat and i don't want to die but i just can't fucking bring myself to eat i don't know what to eat and a lot of things i would gorge myself on will cause me pain because i can't process it and i don't want the inflammation to fuck up my absorption of other nutrients. my biggest calorie intake is the 200kcal energy drink yes i know haha monster energy cringe what the fuck ever it's a nice flavour btw it's called Pacific Punch and it has a nice mermaid on the front.

i just hate myself so fucking much i don't want to leave my room but staying is making the feeling worse i don't want to sit in the living room it will make me feel worse. i don't want to interact with mother even if the human interaction will make me feel better in the moment it just feels so awful as a prospect right now. i can't fix this. i keep saying i can but there's just. so much. and i still haven't replied to something. no part is available to me except hostile part who is capable of both throwing a tantrum because of reasons so embarrassing it makes me want to bite my hands off and also snidely tell me that i have done nothing to earn any attention as if he isn't also orchestrating (amplifying and channeling specific words to a pre-existing emotion is better to explain) my pathetic need for really basal attention.

it isn't even pathetic to desire human attention i have to keep telling myself that but it just doesn't feel right. maybe it's the irrationality of how small of an issue it actually stems from. why am i so stupidly torn up about a post from two weeks ago having zero notes like genuinely what the fuck are you talking about. i can't bring rationality into it because he disappears when i try. "if i address your concerns no matter how laden in mockery will you finally help me" surprisingly yields no response. i don't know why i am bothering with him.

the feeling will pass <- i realise this is a well-disguised "it is fine". it is not fine and the feeling does not pass it festers with occasional remission in the same way i sometimes don't feel the need to perform ritualised movement to be comforted or reassured of reality.

[lupuslxna]

"How to make Lavi cooperate with you? Former Clan Apprentice?" The man laughed before fixing both the Alpha and vet with a dark look that held both anger and envy; ignoring the rest of the people in the room. "Have you seen King Kong, the old one. In black and white? Same thing. I'd drug him. Tie him up and put him in a cage. And even then, I'd be very careful with that young man." A scoff. "This.. Bookman. Certainly has taken a taste for ignoring ancient orders - and rules. Wouldn't expect him to follow yours."

⊰ ☾ ⊱~; Emotions rushed over him like blood did through his body, filling up every part of him the faster the mind and heart raced against the other; those words uttered were nothing but irking the wolf within. Like a tiny, innocent twitch tugging at his flesh as he tried to remain silent, Derek's fingertips dug deeper and deeper into his skin, creating crimson crescents that bled right back into a fading pink. His supernatural healing only enabling the werewolf to bleed without any blood being spilled, silent and unnoticed it only stung him whilst vanishing as the moon did when the morning came to shine.

The only reason why his claws were not piercing and tearing out those vocal cords from the other males throat, was the simple reminder that Lavi was more than able and capable of defending himself; something he had proven so many times. Alas, to bite his tongue and seal his lips, whilst something he had learned to hold up strongly, in order not to be overwhelmed by the rage that his mouth could spark up the moment the lips would part. Almost as if his own bitterness would spread like venom, infecting those who would hear him; by all means it was something he had paid for many times. Derek was simply furious right now tho. What was said with such mockery in the tone, laced with a little of want that Derek very well could recognize, almost triggered him into a full shift. If that were to happen, Derek honestly wondered if he would be able to hold himself back, as the memories of his lonesome roaming through strangers woods ad land came flooding back. Treated like a brainless beast he would be forced to endure whatever his body and mind were put through; most of the time it was the body that forced was into acts which burned themselves into his brain like a negative of a photograph waiting to develop every time the flashbacks scratched at the gray area of his brain. Walls high and wide, those were put up in order to shroud them into full darkness, letting them rest there like an unatoned sins that no holy spirit nor god could extinguish. Teeth gritting together, the lycan let his hands drop down to each side of his body, expression rid of any emotions as he spoke with an even and calm tone, chilling like an icy shower dripping down ones skin. "Careful. Comparing a monkey to a real ' beast', Kong was a mocking example of a human concept how to tame something akin to them.... what you are dealing with is more akin to a wildfire. Only an idiot tries to subdue it into a cage...tch. "A mocking smirk curled those lips upwards, sharp canine teeth peeking just shyly from underneath. "Then again, I shouldn't expect more from a circus chimpanzee. "

[heartfullofleeches]

I hope you don't mind hypotheticals, but I had an idea. What if, through some miracle, love of the reader became intrinsically linked to not just Lee, but her physical form as well, to the point that it might even influence Lucille if she were to become a separate consciousness from Lee. Imagine then the two becoming separated physically, yet Lucille has a completely human body, whereas Lee still has some shapeshifting capabilities you mentioned a while ago. Imagining Lucille as a separate entity that, while more aggressive and distant, is still attached to reader to the same degree Lee is, to the point of "cooperation" being achievable.

(What an interesting idea! I did some slight editing where Lee has the "human" body as she is the "host" personality. Hope you don't mind!) Tw: heavy body horror elements, small mentions of cannibalism and self harm.

-

The young woman stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. Lee, or at least the one who calls herself by that name, gazes into her own sunken eyes. The memories have started to blur together; the ones that make her who she is- and the ones she choose to forget. The crimes committed in the name of love and hunger. The reality of what she is, lying right beneath her skin.

Branding a kitchen knife, Lee braces herself for what's to come. She stabs the blade into her flesh, pulling it up the length of her arm. It takes a moment for the wound to bleed; a single, misplaced second her body takes to replicate a normal cut. It doesn't matter. Even without the passable anomaly, she can see what hides within her body. The red tendrils that make up her entire form; mending back together to repair the muscle and tendrils she'd torn through. She had even felt the knife hit bone.

Lee lurches over the sink, gripping her arm in disbelief. She didn't want to accept this- who she really was, but every time she closes her eyes she sees the what she has done or rather, what the other her had done. The other Lee, who snuffed the hungers of both her stomach and heart. Lucille.

Lee was weak. She couldn’t act on her true nature herself, she couldn't stand between you and the other people who longed for your affection, but Lucille could. She had everything Lee didn't, except for a heart - until recently. Lately, that starved, animalistic side had found a new appetite it needed to satisfy. The lust for companionship.

Lee's love for you had bleed over to that side of her; turning that sentient urge into its own complete conscious mind. A hostile entity with only two goals and would go to any extreme to reach them. Evolve and to protect her new found heart by any means. Lee didn't want that kind of life. She wanted to be free from the desire to consume human flesh and to live a normal life with you. She wanted to be human.

Lee digs her nails into the skin of her shoulders. She wanted to get rid of it all. This body made of roots and stolen flesh. Her fears of being unloved. Lucille- but she knows she's not strong enough to stay hole without it. That she'll fall apart, and become something completely incapable of earning your love. All she wanted was that, but it went so fat beyond the human understanding of the word. Even now, she could feel that other side of her growing; swallowing her doubts as it had done in the past. What is she if not a mockery of nature.

Breathe...

It speaks- she speaks. That voice in the back of her head that now had its own agenda; its own name. Lucille tells her to calm down; to gain control of her emotions. Lee doesn't want to. She just wants it out. Her inhumanity; the burning desire of being by your side.

"Get out. Get out!"

You need me.

Her nails break through the flesh; splitting tears that rip down the curve of her spine. Her entire body hurts. It feels so heavy. Something, something is growing from the root of her spine. Fingers protruding from the holes in her flesh; extending into the length of an arm as the roots within her body mend into another form. She falls to her knees as the mass continues to grow. A torso- a face. It separates from her as it grows beyond what her body can take; writhing on the bathroom floor as the rest of its tendrils weave together into a humanoid form.

Lee exhales; holding her shivering body as her eyes remain glued to the floor. She can feel her mangled flesh repairing itself as the entity on the other side of the room stands. Hesitantly, Lee looks over at it.

It was like a copy of her, but at the same time not. Its body was still the bright red color of her roots; holes littered throughout the woven structure of its new form. It had no face, only two narrow, grey eyes that bore into Lee's soul as their eyes met. Lucille lets put a shutter of a hush as she kneels before Lee, wiping the tears that stream down the other woman's face.

"Shhhh."

"W... what are you?"

"You already know the answer."

Lee looks down at her shaking hands. "What... what am I?"

"Human..."

Lucille lifts her her arm, stabbing a finger into her "flesh". It doesn't bleed, the roots simply merging back together when she removes her hand. She points at Lee's, blood dried into skin and staining the sleeve of her shirt.

"We are not the same, but we coexist as we have a common goal."

"You mean... them?"

Lucille nods. "Amongst other things. You have a face, a heart. Something we both do not possess, but you coward from what needs to be done. You are my face, I am your impulses. We are one"

She holds out her hand. "Do we have an agreement?'

Lee looks around at the floor. At the blood stained into the tiles. Not a drop of it came from Lucille. She takes her hand.

"...Yes."

[dumbledore-and-grindelwald]

This is an absolutely amazing scene because of the way it establishes part of Albus and Gellert’s conflict.

We know that Albus is in favor of using as little force as possible in any situation? But what is force? To Albus, using force is pushing the boundaries of one’s power in service of a goal. To Gellert force is power and power is force. He deeply believes that wizards are meant to use their gift at its fullest. There is an almost religious zealotry in his conviction.

In essence, Albus and Gellert have different definitions of sin. To Albus sin is succumbing to temptation and embracing one’s poisons: The kind of love that requires blinding oneself, arrogance, naiveté, but most of all, tring to escape one’s humanity. Albus does not believe in defying nature, as much as he sometimes wishes it was possible, and he does not believe in invulnerability. He tries to stay away from this version of sin and failing to do so is what leads to his death.

On the other hand, Gellert himself believes the opposite. He believes that wizards were given superior gifts for a reason, He thinks they are the top of the food chain and of civilization. Muggles are suvages; unreasonable creatures who destroy in their attempt to smother what they don’t understand and to make up for their natural inferiority. Wizards suppressing their powers and hiding goes against the natural order of things. If wizards can beat death, that’s part of nature too; otherwise it wouldn’t be within their capabilities. Turning one’s back on that and not fighting for their kind’s dominance is what he considers the greatest sin.

Of course, it feels that Albus’ idea of sin is shaped with the logic of a man doing penance, while Gellert’s comes from the perspective of someone who considers himself an avenging angel.

Interestingly enough, we are introduced to reanimation before the Global Wizarding War even begins. Albus mentions in the book that he pretended not to know that Gellert wanted to use the resurrection stone to raise an army of Inferi. Naturally, Gellert never got his hands on the stone, but we see him having already touched upon reanimation and there is time for him to develop the ability.

Albus does not believe that death itself is the worst that can happen to a person. Nevertheless, I think that an army of Inferi will touch a nerve; especially if a character from their group is among the dead, which would make the effect even more chilling and heartbreaking. To Albus ‘to hurt is as human as to breath’, and he knows the hurt that comes from yearning for dead loved ones to the marrow of his bones. We also know that he wanted to use the resurrection stone to see his dead family. Gellert resurrecting bodies to use them as puppets, as weapons, would be a blow to Albus; it would be a mockery of his humanity and a depravation of one of his most fundamental desires that mark him for the entirety of his life.

I genuinely believe that these themes will haunt as in the upcoming movies and will lead to a breaking point for both characters, but especially for Albus.

[ayamturd]

kid│technoblade

summary: (requested) an errand run forces techno out of the house; he meets an interesting kid in return

warnings: brief injury description, hinted abandonment, light angst and fluff

pairing: in-game platonic!technoblade

a/n: i took this request and ran so far with it lol. pls enjoy, i loved the reader’s dynamic with techno sm

wc: (4.0k) - m.list

It was hot, the day smothering in the summer heat as the village offered little coverage to the harsh sun. From exploring the lands of the Arctic to walking in the crowded space on the sweltering landscape, Technoblade let out a sigh from how his layered clothing stuck to him; his regal attire was more than slightly uncomfortable and was arguably only for looks then and there. 

Glancing down to the list in his hands once more, he grumbled from the tasks, supplies and ingredients he still needed, openly irritated from being forced on the supply run. Real funny Phil. Hilarious.

He scratched his head, lost to the busy market place as many shoved past him in the busy rush. Technoblade was a warrior, the Blood God, he was someone to be feared and feel threatened by, yet at that very moment he couldn’t be anything less than a lost tourist. 

Technoblade rarely ventured to extremely public places, but he knew he couldn’t return empty handed, the underwhelming mockery he would receive would be just plain annoying. 

With a final sigh of defeat, he decided it best to take each task step by step, that starting with the blacksmith. Now, make no question that Technoblade and Phil weren’t not capable of crafting their own weapon, but at times, the cost of another’s opinion did more help than that of personalized wants. 

It was even hotter once he entered the open store, the burning furnace emitting an almost intolerable intensity that rivaled the burning cold of the Arctic. Rolling his neck, he approached the front desk and unsheathed both Phil’s and his long swords, tossing a small pouch with a chink as payment for restorations and commendations.

Speaking few words in the villager’s tongue, the worker immediately began his assessment when taking the weapons in hand. Techno knew little in the different language, but he understood when the man explained the necessary works and time expectancy. 

He sighed for what felt to be his 15th time that afternoon, but complied when leaning against the counter for the next few minutes; he refused to leave his best weaponry in the hands of a stranger, and would do with the wait until then. 

Picking on the crusted mud that hardened on his fur coat, he jumped when someone slammed into the wood he leaned against, eyes dropping to meet the height of a young adolescent.

Unlike himself, they seemed dressed for the sweltering heat. Their cloak hung loosely from their shoulders, but was bare and thin, either from time or was purposeful from the climate, it was his guess. While they seemed as energetic as someone their age should be, he could tell from experience of the way they stood tall with their chin held high that they were a fighter, someone who seemed cautious of their surroundings by the constant shift in their eyes. 

He also knew they noticed him but was purposefully choosing to ignore him for whatever reason, he couldn’t tell. Coughing, he went back to his useless fiddling. 

They tapped anxiously, their fingers twitching while they looked longingly to the nearest axes, an overwhelming sense of excitement filling the stuffy air. While he tried to ignore them considering how little they could stand still irritated him, he couldn’t deny that they intrigued him. 

“Helloooooooo?” they called out, jumping above the counter and holding themself up with their arms stiff in strength. Techno waited a brief moment while they began yelling louder before rolling his eyes to interrupt them.

“They’re busy right now. Give it a minute, will you?”

His monotoned voice caused them to freeze, and as they slowly turned to meet the sight of him, a huge grin grew on their face. It made his frown grow in return. 

“A minute can be so long in silence, I’m only making it go faster.” Techno scoffed at their words and fully turned his body towards them. His genetics made him tower over them even when slouched, yet while he knew others would cower, the child in front of tilted their head in amusement. 

“By what logic does that make any sense?”

The mischievous teenager followed Technoblade’s posture, mimicking his stance with crossed arms. They jutted their chin out proudly, though it was obvious they were only messing with him further.

“My logic, obviously.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s yours, doesn’t make it right.”

With an annoying quirk of a smile, the small human smirked with feigned innocent eyes.

“Says who?”

Knowing full well that it would a battle in vain, Techno conceded and faced the front desk again, his arms resting against the table as he hung his head down with a huff of air. 

His considered defeat made the young stranger laugh lightly, and they copied his position, but instead held their head in their palms with a small hum. Staring at him intensely, their head rocked in thought for some time before they spoke up. 

“You look miserable.”

It took Techno a large amount of willpower to prevent himself from glaring in their direction, something the child took as a challenge. They filled the silence when Techno left it unattended, leaning closer to him while still in place. 

“I mean, the outfit is sick, I won’t lie. But you just look awful right now. How many layers do you have on anyway?”

Once more, he had to clench his fist tightly to drown out their bothersome questions. The child, as he now deemed it considering how persistent it could be, noted his subtle tensing and bit their lip to smother another coming giggle. 

“Is your crown real? Are you actually royalty? Am I expected to bow in honor or respect? I’m terrible with conversation-“

“So I’ve noticed.” Techno dryly stated, his hand coming to rub the back of his head, exasperated, with a shake. They completely disregard his side comment like he never spoke. 

“-but I never though I’d live to see the day I interact with royalty.”

“I’m not royal, I’m anythin’ but.” Techno’s voice dropped when considering the matter, his narrowed eyes in concentration against his constant fight for Anarchy and destruction. 

His seriousness created a beat of silence in the shop, though without fail, the teenager overlooked his internal monologue.

“Do you have a long, fancy name with numbers and stuff? Like ‘King George the First' or ‘Their majesty, Alas-’”

“No."

“But what about-”

Techno’s groan cut their next range of questions off, and he pushed himself up to stare them down tiredly. 

“You’re a pretty annoyin’ kid, you know that?”

Sitting up when he did, the teen jumped onto the counter backwards, swinging their legs on the edge while gripping the border tightly. They rested their chin on their shoulder with an eased smile as they now matched his height. 

“So I’ve been told.”

The approaching footsteps from the back entry caused the both of them to turn their heads, the young stranger facing to him while Techno’s gaze still remained. 

“But you can’t deny it, I made time go faster.”

Hopping off before they could be scolded, the blacksmith returned with the weapons’ adjustments and the requested engravings Phil asked for, drawing Techno’s attention away from the young stranger. He opened the cloth the worker brought the swords out in, and lifted his own while gripping the grained handle tightly.

Stepping away from the counter, he swung the blade in front of him, tossing it briefly as to adjust to its weight and consider its balance. The wind it generated in the slices of air brought a dark smile to his face. Satisfied with the result, Techno inspected the finer details up close a final time before sheathing it to his side. 

As he went to grab Phil’s, he caught the teen’s awed gape. He chuckled from their open amazement and moved to walk towards the displayed axes behind them. 

“What’s your name, kid?” With his back to them, he reached his hand outward to the various blade sizes, hovering over the edges with careful pressure. 

His question visibly threw them off, and they stuttered before gathering themself. 

“What’s yours?” they asked, eyebrows raised in defense. Techno felt the corner of his mouth lift from their faltering. 

“Technoblade.” He was patient as they swallowed before responding. 

“Y/n.”

Unclasping a light, yet deadly thin battle-blade axe from the wall, Techno eventually turned around to meet them again.  

“No last name?” 

While they smiled, it didn’t reach their eyes as they glanced away with a careless shrug. No origin or proper upbringing, he assumed.

“Never came up with one. Never needed one.”

“Hmm.”

Lifting the axe in hand, Techno gestured to the empty baldric that wrapped tightly around their chest. By their longing stares and stance as a fighter, it didn’t take much to make the connection that they were someone who fought with an axe. 

“What happened to the last one?”

Surprised by his close observation, they brought their hands to the bare hold as if they were searching for it. Unlike the past few minutes in his company, they suddenly became shy and spoke with a guilty smile. 

“O-oh. I, uh, chipped the blade. Wore it down. It’s been a while since I was able to treat myself, I thought it was finally worth the wait to get a new one.”

Shifting on their feet, they grasped one of their arms awkwardly. Despite their previously loud, outward energy, Techno sighed once he saw them as the kid they were; they were someone alone that was forced to survive in the big world, someone he could relate and understand. 

After a moment passed, Techno faced the worker. They had been watching their interaction the entire time and seemed as uncomfortable as they were bored. Without asking for a price, he wordlessly pulled out a handful of emeralds from his drop leg pouch and slammed them on the table surface. 

The blacksmith made sounds of gurgled delight, gathering the gems into his opens hands with furious nods in thanks. Techno only rolled his eyes and shoved the purchased axe forwards, leaving it open in his outreached hands to the child. 

“Save your money. It’s not worth any price they try to sell.”

Switching their sights from the weapon and Technoblade in disbelief, they breathlessly giggled when carefully lifting it from his hold. 

Twirling it easily before striking near the ground, the pulled the new beauty to their chest gratefully. They were at a loss for words, to say the least, and Techno laughed from their frozen shock.

His laughter died down and he decided to take his leave in quick steps. While the teen tried to shout to him in thanks, they were still dazed and couldn’t form words to yell. 

Techno paused at the entrance and dipped his head back, his hand bordering the door frame. He grinned slightly to the point where his sharper canines were visible, and called out to them in departure.

“See you around, kid.”

Bow raised, arrow drawn, Techno crept low on the forest ground with cautious and calculated steps. 

The overgrown leaves above provided a gentle shading that shielded the majority of the sunlight, only few splotches breaking through. It had been too long since Techno went hunting, the sport lost to him since his recent adventures and scenery in the very south. 

As he had been traveling for days on end to meet with his brothers’ call, he thought to gather food and see through with his lost skill; he had devoted a majority of his time in peaceful solitude to farming and raising cattle, he wasn’t as skillful as he used to be. 

Keeping that in mind, as his eyes narrowed from the close rustling of a bush before him and he approached meaningfully, he failed to noticed the grown roots that broke through the dirt. 

With a small yelp, his foot became stuck and he fell hard onto his face.

A small rabbit hopped out of the shrubbery and stopped briefly near him as if in mockery to his embarrassing failure before bouncing away. 

Technoblade groaned, both from pain and the circumstances, and gave up any hope for moving in shame when the voices began to mock him. 

“Well that wasn’t very royal of you.”

While his memory failed him more often than not, he recognized the voice specifically over the chaos that reigned in his ears. Contemplating the next-least humiliating course of actions, he settled on pretending nothing happened. 

“Like I said the last time,” he sighed while pushing himself up, “I’m not royalty.”

Brushing off the dirt that stained his clothes and skin, Techno turned to the child’s voice and jerked startled when their entertained countenance was closer than what he expected. They were hanging upside down with their legs hooked on a low, but sturdy branch. 

Face smug, they crossed their arms and openly snickered. 

“Agreed, you are far less graceful than what I expect them to be.”

Techno shook his head and searched for his bow, the old relic more traditional and practical in comparison to his crossbow for hunting. He hummed when spotting it and tried to shift the conversation. 

“What are you doin’ out here, kid?”

Pulling themself up in a sitting position, they swung their feet wildly and looked around the woodlands with a shrug. 

“I live here.”

Freezing mid crouch with his bow in hand, Techno’s words were slow following after. 

“Out here?”

“Mhmm.”

There was a pause as Techno looked at them confused. His brows furrowed fro their vague input. 

“In the trees?”

“Sometimes,” they sang. Leaping forward, they landed smoothly onto their feet and raised their eyes to the sky. “It depends on my mood, and whether or not I want to see the stars.”

“Ah.”

With that, Techno turned and started to walk away. His hunting attempt was a mistake that cost him a bullying teenager that apparently lived in the woods and was homeless, the voices adding onto his internal torment; he wanted to leave as fast as he could.

Racing their steps ahead of him, y/n began to walk backwards to address him directly. 

“Why are you here? I assume you don’t live near here since you dress like an old, aristocratic woman with modesty insecurities.”

Techno looked ahead without faltering considering their playful jab, and they tried for an answer again. 

“Plus you haven’t been around for weeks.”

Steps slowing, Techno was genuinely surprised to hear their observation and glanced at them with an inclined head tilt. 

“You looked for me?”

Caught in their own web, y/n timorously avoided his stare. 

“The town’s always busy with newcomers, travelers, royalty,” they emphasized with a pointed look at him, “trust me when I say you stick out like a sore thumb. Your turn.”

Nodding from their reasonable, but untrue explanation, it was Techno’s turn to glance away while formulating a response. 

“I’ve been… uh, explorin’, you could say.”

In a paralleling manner, they copied his previous nod despite their skepticism. 

“I see. And now?”

“Now I’m visitin’ an old friend, old relations.”

“Ahhh. Girlfriend?”

Technoblade stopped walking altogether and incredulity gawked at them. 

“What?”

“Boyfriend?” y/n continued, now turning with their back facing him. Techno rushed to meet there stride and spoke down to them.

“No, stop it.”

Hand to their chin, they pretended to reach another revelation with wide eyes. 

“Ohh I get it now, distant family.”

“You can be quiet now,” Techno grumbled. Smacking his forehead, he rubbed it exasperated while their joy became evident in their cheerful tone.  

“Are they misunderstanding?” the teen asked, their cheeks flushed excitedly from his apparent discomfort. “Is it the person-friend they don’t approve of?”

“I’m leaving now.” Techno hurried his pace as to leave the forest ground.

“They rude? Unbearable? Selfish? Annoying?”

“You know what,” he stated, spinning to them to clarify since they had stopped walking entirely behind him, “yes.”

“Ooo which one?”

“Annoyin’, and you remind me so much of them.”

The trees were now clear as the plains had become more visible during their trek. Strapping the long, recurve barbow over his head and around his chest, Techno thought the exchange done and allowed the sun to bask over him. 

Before he could make his way to his camp, their voice yelled out to him. 

“Aww that’s sweet!”

Perplexed to how anything of what he said could be seen as ‘sweet’, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned again. 

“You consider me like family? I’m touched!”

Eyes narrowed, Techno bowed his head it defeat once again. He could never win with them, could he?

“‘kay, I’m done with this. Goodbye.”

Y/n waved avidly with a wide grin in spite of him not looking. 

“See you around, Sir Blade!”

“You should consider yourself lucky.”

The stillness was deafening. Regardless of the wind that howled outside and forced the shudders to rattle upon constant impact, or the fire the lit the room bright in heat and warm tone color, the quiet was tense when y/n awoke in Techno’s house. 

“I saw the smoke burn miles out. Had the wind changed its course, I would have never noticed.”

As his back was turned to them, Techno pulled the cork from his most recent regeneration brew and poured it briskly into a small mug, its small rippling sound overtaking the room. With a plate of bread he prepared beforehand, he finally addressed them with the sustenance in hand. 

Y/n was completely engulfed in the large bedding they rested in, Techno’s bedding. Their arms were wrapped tightly with gauze that covered their forearms all the way to their chest. Eyes sunken and dark, they squinted heavily from recently awakening with ashen hair that matted to their face. 

“Is everyone alright?” they asked, voice faint yet rough from the intense smoke inhalation and damage they sustained in the event. Coughing from speaking for the first time, Techno was quick to hand them the potion. 

They downed the drink voraciously, and he decided to speak while they ate. 

“Everyone that managed to escape, probably. But those that did fled long before I arrived.”

Glancing at down at them, Techno could only sigh at the sight. They were so small under his gaze, and he shifted his attention to the nearest wall with crossed arms. 

“It’s one thing to help others, it’s another when takin’ on a raid by yourself.”

His pointed comment caused them to snap and try to defend themself, however, they moved to suddenly and winced from the slight movement. Despite his frown, Techno’s hands were raised gently with concerned eyes from their evident pain. 

Breathing in and out harshly, they were still hunched over when they glared up at him in anguish. 

“You didn’t hear them scream, you didn’t hear them yell for mercy. You weren’t there, but I was. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.” Their voice cracked near the end, and with vast tears that escaped, a broken sob filled the space as they hid their face ashamed. 

Techno was at a loss when comforting others, but he wasn’t a jerk to ignore someone after surviving a tragic incident, one they tried to fight yet lost to. 

Slowly, he moved to sit on the bed side. He clenched his fist shut in hesitance, but steadily, he hovered his hand over them before stroking their back reassuringly. 

“Listen, kid,” pausing, Techno caught himself and cleared his throat, “Y/n, I know you barely know anything about me but trust me. I understand how it feels, how it must’ve felt then to be overwhelmed by sudden cries that surround you to the point that you make rash decisions. Trust me when I say I get it.”

Their cries died down from his words, and he spoke earnestly as they listened more closely in smothered hiccups. 

“I respect what you tried to do in the end, but you have to be self aware that you’re still just a kid.”

His blunt statement made them freeze, and when the fully processed what he said, they dropped their hands to scowl at him incredulously. Their red eyes are hard and made him laugh from his lack of explanation to his true meaning. 

“Hey, I never said it was the age that was at fault.”

Pulling his arms away, he grasped his hands together and rested his elbows to his knees, though his focus was still on them. 

“You’re young, and young means inexperienced. Give yourself some leeway and accept your limits that come with time.”

They looked down from his attentive eyes, but still nodded when understanding his perspective. 

Rubbing the bottom of his chin with the back of his hand, Techno attempted to further the conversation amiably. He was out of his depth socially, but he was trying for their sake. 

“Besides all that, I have to say you can definitely fight.” Their eyes shot up to meet his, the acclaim unexpected. Their face was too emotionally soft for Techno to look at, so he turned away before speaking with a joking smirk. 

“Though I’m not too sure about your close combat.”

Gawking at the audacity, y/n lightly smacked his arm and scoffed. A smile crept on their face as they shook their head from the backhanded compliment. 

“You try training with a tree, they don’t always fight back.”

His snicker grew from their weak justification, and eventually, they joined his laughing fit. Helpless giggles replaced the once solemn air. While it soon died down, the elation of each other’s company still remained. 

Techno rose from the soft mattress and crossed his arms loosely in thought. With a single nod, his monotoned voice encouraged them considerately.

“Get some rest, we can talk later.”

Like his past departures, his steps were fast and large as he moved to exit. His hand pulled the door with him, but a shy call of his name stopped him from closing it fully shut.

“Technoblade.”

His head peaked from behind the wooden door and was met with soft eyes that expressed more gratitude than words could convey. 

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed, kid.”

Bonus:

Shutting the door gently, Techno walked into the kitchen space with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes from the hours he spent watching them unconscious after tending to them, and heeded the voices’ command for food (real food for once, not blood).

He leisurely approached the pantry, and without turning to address him, spoke lowly.

“Not a single, word.”

Phil lowered the book in his hand and raised a hand defensively with a shrug. He was sat in the living room, obscured in the large armchair from the kitchen; Techno was aware of his presence, however, and knew of his routine.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Phil called out, though Techno was quick to respond. 

“Phil, you are the least stealthy person on this planet.”

“No, no, I’m serious. I have nothing to say.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Techno murmured a sure and moved to the front door, an apple in one hand and bag full of produce tucked in his other arm. He stated that he was going check on the animals and slammed the door close harshly.

Moments passed as Phil sat in silence, save for the crackling fire that roared beside him, before speaking as if he could still hear him. 

“To think, I sent you to the store and you brought back a kid.”

[autisticandroids]

Hello! Love your blog.

Also, bi!cas truthing?? I’m here for it!

I don’t see a lot of it in fic or in meta, so it’s wonderful to see another perspective! (I have no issue with bi!dean/gay!cas dynamics or with gay!dean/gay!cas dynamics, but it’s nice to see something not as talked about)

It also puts a different spin on canon events that are taken as evidence of gay!cas. (Ex: Castiel’s discomfort when dean takes him to a brothel)

Anyways, thanks for posting!

i guess for me there's some stuff where i prefer gay!cas truthing (i think it's particularly fun in the context of hannah's vessel switch, say) but i usually prefer a bi!cas reading, because i read most of his sexual/romantic interactions with women as genuine, because i tend to read cas as a hedonist who doesn't naturally perform for any gaze, so if he's doing something like kissing meg, hosting orgies, or having sex with april, it's because he is deriving pleasure from it. like he's very much a pleasure seeker.

the thing about free to be you and me is like... i hate it? specifically i hate the sex politics in it, and i hate how cas is infantilized and out of character. it's misogynist in the obvious way (right down to the most unpleasant music stings i've ever heard) but also in less obvious ways, but also like. the assumptions of toxic masculinity are so essentialized through how cas reacts. why would cas be ashamed of being a virgin?

like, he looks down and puts a hand to his neck in an ashamed sort of way when dean says "you have been with a woman before haven't you?" it's an emote that cas never uses before or again and doesn't feel particularly true to his character (similar to how he acts within the brothel, with the drinking the whole beer moment). cas is portrayed as socially anxious in free to be you and me, which is pretty inconsistent with his wider characterization - he's usually clueless and portrayed as a kind of blank slate who is entirely ignorant of human social conventions, why would he be socially anxious? he's not socially aware enough to fear transgressing.

like, compare caged heat, where he cluelessly watches porn in public without shame because he doesn't realize that he shouldn't, and then he becomes aroused from it, and feels no shame from that either, because he's a curious experience-seeker and pleasure-seeker, and arousal is an interesting and pleasurable new sensation. he has no reason to feel shame because he is unaware of human taboos.

and it's not just poor characterization. if cas is a blank slate and yet is still ashamed of being a virgin, that naturalizes the assumption that being a virgin is something emasculating, and that being emasculated is bad.

also cas is portrayed as more stupid than in any other episode. like, in the more respectful episodes, he's frequently portrayed as clever and capable but lacking certain knowledge or skills (see: good god, y'all, when cas is being very serious and menacing and is treated very seriously by the narrative, and then says, frustratedly, "[god] is not on any flatbread," because he doesn't understand what dean's talking about. this is a joke, but cas isn't really the butt of it, or he's not the butt anymore than dean is for making a reference he knows cas won't get (because why would he) in an attempt to trivialize what cas is saying). in less respectful episodes he's portrayed as confused by simple things, but in the end this is still basically friendly (see: the "prime numbers" joke in stairway to heaven). in free to be you and me, cas is an embarrassment for dean and his inability to to function in human society is both worthy of mockery and an active hindrance for those around him.

anyway. all this to say that i don't consider most of free to be you and me worth analyzing because it's ooc in ways i hate. but i'm still forced to think about it all the time because it's one of the few moments of affection and hanging out that we get with dean and cas, especially in the early seasons.

[iamnmbr3]

I saw the ask about having the person feeling like that the Loki show is objectively bad. I liked the show, here is why.

I love Loki, and I love the MCU, but I don’t go into any of it expecting consistency. Tony and Loki are my favourite.

Tony goes through character development in his own movies, IM3 especially that main canon just kinda ignores. So I didn’t go into work he Loki show expecting them to get him consistent or right. I just went in prepared to enjoy the show for what it is in isolation. I also know that no one looks at the stories they write for the MCU critically, so I try and turn off that for a first time watch.

I really like the show, that doesn’t mean I think they made it consistent or in character for Loki. I get why people don’t like it.

I really like the TVA and all the concepts it introduced. I really liked seeing Tom acting his heart out. And I really like Loki/Sylvie because I find something very compelling about a character who hates themselves, meeting another version of themselves and being able to love them. It is not a ship I’m going to write fic about but I like them within the show.

Basically what I am saying is that I go into MCU media with the expectation they will mess up at least one character or plot point badly every time. I like the media for what it is, and I appreciate whatever it brings to the table that I can then cannibalise into da works.

Yeah that's fair. Everyone has a right to their own opinion. Fandom is better when there are a diversity of opinions and we can all respect each other and engage in open and good faith discussion rather than attacking people for having the "wrong" views or trying to harass them out of fandom.

For me personally I feel like the show fails on 3 fronts.

1) To me it fails as a Loki show. I really enjoy Loki as a character and I wanted a show about him. And I didn't personally see him in the show at all. I saw a completely different character who does not behave, speak, act, respond, react, stand, emote, or make choices like Loki does. He doesn't even LOOK like Loki because they did his hair and makeup wrong. And that's really what I wanted. I didn't want Larry (as I call the show character). I wanted Loki. That was what was advertised and to me he was so ooc that he was unrecognizable. If I just saw a clip out of context and didn't know what it was from I would have assumed I was seeing Tom in a totally different role.

Thor Ragnarok felt like a different take on Loki that definitely retconned some of his personality and history, but still felt like an alternate interpretation of the same character in the sense that I could recognize the character as Loki (albeit a different version of him); some people liked that, other didn't. But here it wasn't that. It just felt like a completely new (and to me far less interesting and compelling) character. And beyond that it felt like the show went out of its way to make a mockery of the character played by Tom and by extension anyone who ever cared about Loki's character. Like it felt like a mean spirited caricatured parody. Loki is also extremely sidelined in what is supposed to be his own show. And it most certainly didn't feel like a show about Loki, which is what I wanted. So for me the show didn't provide what I was looking for.

2) To me it also fails on its own merits. If I view it in isolation without comparing it to previous canon and just view it as its own thing it also fails. The quality of the dialogue felt very poor. None of the humor made me laugh and it all felt very juvenile and forced. The plotting and characterization seemed nonsensical and all over the place. Like Sylvie sets off those charges and the episode ends on a cliffhanger with that but then it's never addressed later.

The reason that Loki and Syvie allegedly falling in love breaks the timeline didn't really make sense. Sylvie is going around murdering timekeepers and yet Mobius somehow immediately like and trusts her and says he prefers her to Loki. Loki and Sylvie are simultaneously presented as the same person and also totally different people. Loki allegedly learns self love but we never see that - we see him call himself degrading things like pathetic. And we see him think that Sylvie is better than him. That doesn't seem like self love. The romance feels extremely rushed and unrealistic and awkward and we aren't given a compelling reason for why they are in love or what they even have in common. Sylvie doesn't really have much of a character. Mobius and Loki don't interact much and Mobius consistently mistreats him but Loki somehow thinks of him as a friend. Mobius is portrayed as a good guy for cheerfully carrying out the TVA's ends but Kang is a villain for creating the TVA. The TVA seems to be all made up of humans even though it's in charge of all reality.

If Loki did bad things, then the TVA did worse things and thus are not moral authorities. If the TVA’s actions are acceptable then so are Loki’s. If Loki was wrong to violently impose his will on a planet (let’s forget about the context with Thanos for a minute) then the TVA is wrong to violently impose its will on all of reality in order to eliminate free will. If Loki was wrong to kill a few people, then the TVA was certainly wrong to kill trillions. And thus neither Mobius nor the TVA are moral authorities when it comes to Loki because they are infinitely worse. If the actions that Mobius and the TVA took are acceptable, then there is no reason to criticize Loki because he did far less than them. Etc etc etc.

The cinematography is also very poor and unprofessional and the costumes look extremely cheap and unprofessional. The whole story feels confused and disjointed. The directing is bad because the actors are all very capable but the performances often feel wooden and forced and fake. And the pacing is terrible. A lot of it drags and then plot twists come out of nowhere with no setup so it just makes them feel jarring rather than earned or entertaining. 

3) To me it also fails on a moral front. The show contains a lot of problematic depictions and messages and promotes messages that are offensive or even downright harmful.

Mobius gleefully subjects Loki to physical torture by leaving him to be repeatedly beaten in the genital area. This is a very clearcut and straight forward example of physical torture. And Mobius feels no compassion for Loki or remorse over what he has done to him. If anything he seems to find it amusing. And certainly the audience is supposed to find it amusing (which is gross and harmful messaging on Disney’s part). He also subjects Loki to psychological torture. This is a fact. There are multiple instances in the show where the TVA and Mobius subject Loki to treatment that would meet the legal definition of torture under both US law and international law. Furthermore, Mobius and the TVA are holding Loki against his will and forcing him to labor without compensation or any hope of release because they view him as belonging to a group of people (Variants) that they view as inferior and not really people. That’s a pretty textbook case of slavery. So objectively Mobius is Loki’s jailer, torturer, captor, and enslaver. And yet Mobius is presented as justified in what he does to Loki. The writer and director have even called it therapy. And a result many people have parroted this which is very harmful.

The queer “representation” feels straight out of bigoted propaganda. Loki’s personality traits have been retconned to map onto harmful stereotypes about queer men. He is overly expressive, makes grand gestures, is flamboyant, cowardly, dishonest, weak, bad at fighting, lazy, spineless, meek, unused to exercise etc. Now a person could be all these things and also happen to be queer. However, Loki was never like this before. His character was retconned to be this way only in this series where he is confirmed to be queer.

Furthermore, the entire premise of the series seems to be that it is funny and entertaining and justified when Loki is dehumanized, mocked, humiliated, hurt, tortured, beaten, assaulted, and/or robbed of his dignity. That’s the premise. That’s the whole show.

In addition to pro torture and pro authoritarianism and pro victim blaming messaging the show also has problematic depictions of black characters  (see here and here), Asian people (see here) and also has a lot of fludphobia and transphobia issues. And much more.

@nikkoliferous has put together a great compendium here of various posts explaining the various issues with the show if you're curious about why some people disliked it.

[damienthepious]

From ‘Is this-" to ‘Damien can allow his eyes to explore the swamp and its Lord, as he wished to do in the first place.’ (Can’t believe KoTS is back! Would be my favourite if it wasn’t for your pseudo canon chronology)

[Pick a short passage from any fanfic I’ve written and send it to me, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet!]

ohhhhhh hell yeaaaaaaaaaaah!!!! thank you so much!!! 💘💘💘 that is.... a lengthy section, so i might have to do it in a few reblogs, tho! exciting......

["Is this-" Damien pauses to suck in a breath as he jumps over a wet patch he suspects of being a sinkhole,]

Damien was going to ask, "Is this pace strictly necessary?" or maybe, "Is this a test?" However, Damien... somewhat deliberately does not actually ask a question, in this chapter, until The Question. He is being very careful, today, here with this monster. And honestly? It is... irritating the monster to an absurd degree.

[and then he grits his teeth as he watches the monster's shoulders hunch, as if he may have forgotten Damien in his wake entirely. "I thought, my Lord, that you intended to show me your swamp-"]

Arum did not forget him. Arum is just being a fucking brat.

["I am," the monster snaps, not looking back. "This is my swamp, you are within it, pay attention."]

He is being pissy and belligerent and unreasonable, VERY intentionally. It is also... maybe... just a little bit of a test. Partly to see if Damien can keep up, and also to see if this knight actually meant his oaths, or if he's going to snap out of this little play-act with some provocation. Because Arum, as always, is a dipshit of a fatalist.

["Forgive me, my lord-"

"You do not need to do that."]

It always stuck with me that Arum never once insisted that Rilla call him Lord. I don't think he actually cares all that much about formality, especially not when he's in his own home, his own territory. And i think, with the monster insistence on doing what one wants, the idea of Damien pretending more deference than he feels... it smacks of mockery. Also he's just straight up not used to having someone just. AROUND and calling him formal shit.

["But-" Damien blinks, vaulting over a fallen tree to try to keep pace. "But my- my dedication to-"]

ah, poor Damien. he's thinking... please let me cling to these scraps of familiarity in this woefully unfamiliar situation? please? I need SOME scaffolding-

However, he is still keeping pace very well, all things considered.

["To my swamp, little knight. I do not want to hear you twist your tongue to humor my title despite my monstrousness when you so clearly begrudge it. I know how knights of the Citadel - formerly of the Citadel," he diverts sardonically, "oh forgive me - I know how they think.]

Arum has some similar bigoted assumptions about humanity as Damien has about monsters! surprise surprise. He is also, again, progressively ramping up his abrasiveness to try to poke at Damien. He makes sure to point out that Damien isn't of the Citadel anymore! He knows that Damien is still hurting about that, and he does it anyway. Because. Brat.

[Anything with a speck of magic within it will seem like some sort of affront to you.]

Theoretically, this... isn't exactly wrong. Damien is just- already adjusting, thanks to the Keep. It's strange, but he's absolutely trying

[I am not so foolish as to think you might be capable of setting that distaste aside quite literally overnight."]

this is both... aggressive arum posturing, and also... very honest. He doesn't want Damien to say things that he doesn't mean, and he's acknowledging that this is likely really hard for him! And that Arum doesn't expect him to be comfortable, just yet.

Arum is being sorta... really awkward about this, and his reactions keep vacillating between very forceful and very accommodating, in large part because he doesn't have the first fucking CLUE what he's doing, here. He's barely ever had GUESTS, let alone a KNIGHT. he's struggling, a bit.

["But my past should not exclude me from proper formality of address-"]

Classic Damien not listening to what other people are saying in favor of focusing on assumptions and how he SHOULD act. Look at my boy go! also, calling it his past is a step for him, honestly. It's not something he can go back to. He's getting used to that thought.

aaaaaaaaaand i'm so tired i'm falling asleep at my DESK so i am giving up for the night and going to BED, i will continue this tomorrow!!! thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!