#anyway I'm writing a post that will talk about this

[homestylehughes]

But Daddy I Love Him

instagram au.

♥︎ luke hughes x zegras! sister

♥︎ face claim: marsai martin

"I'll tell you something right now, I'd rather burn my whole life down. Than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning"

yn.zegras

liked by lhughes_06, and trevorzegras, and 159,678 others

yn.zegras no more moaning and groaning, part 1 of my summer dump is here <3

trevorzegras waiting for me to be posted.

↳ yn.zegras answer your phone and then i'll think about it.

lhughes_06 YESS IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

↳ yn.zegras ME TOO POOKIE BUTT

lhughes_06 i reallllyyyyyyy hope I make the cut this summer!!

↳ yn.zegras baby you're in the first photo..

jackhughes DUMPY!

↳ yn.zegras shit?

↳ jackhughes oh thats not...what I meant...

_quinnhughes so many books, did you read all of those?

↳ yn.zegras i read all of them, matter of fact.

↳ _quinnhughes nerd.

seamsuscasey26 the queen has posted again..gone for a MONTH. how could you leave us high AND dry. where am I supposed to find pictures of mother and father at???? 0/10 never do that again.

↳ yn.zegras IM SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! IM BEGGING!

↳ seamsuscasey26 just this once, I will. next time we all ride at dawn.

your.bsf my pretty girl ( please post me..I'm begging)

↳ yn.zegras you're next bbg, i would NEVER forget about you my queen.

lhughes_06

liked by yn.zegras, jackhughes and 100,705 others

lhughes_06 summer lovin'

seamsuscasey26 I'm first, where is my shout-out!

↳ lhughes_06 SHOUT OUT TO SEAMSUS CASEY GUYS. THIS GUY IS A NATIONAL TREASURE.

↳ seamsuscasey26 thank you. I'm glad I'm getting the credit that I earned.

_quinnhughes little bro back on the gram

↳ lhughes_06 back like I never left

jackhughes WE ARE BACK BABBBBYYYYYY

↳ lhughes_06 BACK BABBBBBYYYY

trevorzegras luke. we talked about this..the first picture is..ridiculous.

↳ lhughes_06 yes father.

yn.zegras my pretty boyyyyyyy

↳ lhughes_06 my pretty girl

yn.zegras ANOTHER BANGER POST!!!!!!

↳ lhughes_06 yn..you sound like seamsus

adamfantilli miss you brotha! see ya on the ice this season!!

↳ lhughes_06 miss you too! they're not ready for us this season

nick_moldenhauer lukie pookie posted!!

↳ lhughes_06 I know you missed my posts sooo much

-----------------------------------♡-----------------------------------------

an: HIIIIII!!! I MISSED YOU GUYS!!! GUESS WHOS BACKKKK!!! MEEE! well I'm kinda back, life has been so crazy and I literally haven't had time to write but I'm home for the weekend from school so I'm hoping to have at least 2 fics out while I'm here!! I hope you all are doing well. also I just realized this series is almost over SAD!!! anyways I'm done yapping. bye for nowwwwww, I love you all sooooo much<3

tags🎀: @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @bruinsfan234 @bunbunbl0gs

[trainsinanime]

I sometimes reblog posts about US Americans being weird here, but honestly I don't love how angry or smug most of these posts are. It's just that angry and smug posts tend to get more traction, and so they get reblogged more, and so I tend to see them and reblog them myself. Hm, maybe there's a lesson for all of social media and for me in particular here.

Anyway, what I want out of these posts is not for any US Americans here to feel bad; it's just "funny" and perhaps, perhaps a tiny bit of consideration for how being US American means you experience the internet on easy mode.

This is not your personal fault. Nor is it ethically wrong. It's just a thing that exists, and it may be worth thinking about it.

Examples of that easy mode include:

It's your language. The vast majority of people on the internet need to know a second language to at least participate passively, let alone actively post. It's not just the internet; for e.g. my job, all documentation for all the tools is only in English, and I was required to listen to English lectures and write both my bachelor's and master's thesis in English, my second language, to pass. That's why e.g. posts about bilingualism tend to cause a bit of a discussion, because knowing a second language isn't a special skill but a necessary survival tool.

It is your world-wide culture. The list of most popular video games, TV shows, movies and songs tend to be fairly similar across the world (in particular the part of it we call it the western world, another discussion that I'll get into below), and they're dominated by the output of US media. There is no equivalent to e.g. Disney anywhere outside of the US.

It's your debates and discussions. Because of the huge importance the US has economically and culturally (not to mention militarily), we tend to discuss US topics a lot, and we tend to discuss them from an American point of view.

This introduces American oddities into a lot of the world. For example, I'm a STEM guy, I have a STEM education, a STEM job and my primary hobbies are also STEM based, so what I notice are imperial measurements like feet and inches. Those are not "one of two equally valid choices", they're the unique hobby of the English-speaking countries, and within them, increasingly only the US. But we still tend to see them here as if they were a normal usual thing, and often europeans (including me) feel compelled to provide translations into these units.

But it's not limited to that, court room dramas are another example where courts in the English-speaking world tend to work very differently from those in the rest of the world. E.g. there's no pleading guilty or innocent in most of the world. There are boundless more examples of that, and these things can be grating every once in a while.

As I said before, I don't think there's any moral value here either way. You're not wrong for being an American (but you're also not better because of it). As I hinted at before, I'm still in a very privileged position myself, being from a wealthy European country, and my culture even without Disney is still far closer to that of the US than it is to most of the rest of the world. I'm sitting in the very same glass house, just maybe a different corner (TODO fix this metaphor before posting).

For example, I'm talking about court rooms and inches versus meters, but if we're thinking about history and ethics, there's deep issues in both of them. When it comes to measurements, it's ultimately the question of whether you use the measurements of London or those of Paris. For most of the world it's a colonial imposition either way. You can make arguments for why one is better for technology than the other (and as you can probably guess, I have strong opinions here), but in the grand scheme of things, neither of them is more "ethical" or more "universal", not really anyway. Same with the way legal systems work, where again, countries either adopted (and more often than not were forced to adopt) either the English system or the French system (with quite a few countries choosing to adopt the German version of the French system as well).

I know that's a boring digression but it's something that's usually missing from these posts, especially ones written by europeans, including some I've written myself. I don't really have a conclusion to any of this either, except perhaps that this is something that's worth being aware of.

[arc852]

A Sewn Surprise

Summary: Grian and Joel try to teach themselves how to sew, in order to surprise Jimmy with some new clothes. But it isn't going well.

Word Count: 1716

AO3 Link

Yay! A new fic! I'm sorry it's been a couple of weeks but I'm finally writing again, so hopefully there will be more fics posted soon. Oh, and this is my first time writing Cleo, so hopefully she is in character!

I hope you guys enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Ow!”

 Grian looked over just in time to see Joel stick his finger in his mouth, a frustrated look on his face. “You okay?” Grian asked, though he was only half asking about the prick Joel got.

 “No, I’m not okay. This is stupid! What were we even thinking?” Joel put his head in his hands and let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

 “We were thinking it would be nice to make Jimmy some new clothes.” Grian said and then let out his own sigh, more defeated than frustrated. “But you’re right, this is going nowhere.”

 They had been at it for three days now, trying to learn and sew Jimmy some new clothes. Ever since he had moved in fully, it was easier to notice the fact that Jimmy only had two outfits. One regular and one specifically made for borrowing, apparently. Though, since Jimmy didn’t borrow anymore, he wore the other pair of clothes more often.

 Still though, only having two pairs of clothes was…kind of sad. It was impressive, for sure, that Jimmy had made the clothes himself but when they had asked him why he hadn’t made more, Jimmy had said he hadn’t had enough supplies. But then continued and reassured them he didn’t need much more than that anyway.

 Grian and Joel, however, begged to differ. So outside of their dorm, where Jimmy couldn’t overhear them, they talked about looking into getting Jimmy some new clothes. Of course, they knew they couldn’t just buy them, doll clothing was stiff and way bigger than Jimmy anyway. But maybe, they could make him some themselves.

 And that’s what led them here, in the sewing club's room. They had graciously allowed them to work on their little project and even use their supplies. But sitting down with a laptop open to a tutorial and trying to figure it all out was not working out for them.

 It had been three days, and they were nowhere close to even a single item of clothing.

 “It’s been days. Sooner or later, Jimmy is gonna get suspicious.” Joel said, lifting his head away from his hands. He stared at the mess of fabrics, needles, and threads and glared at them.

 “We might have to ditch the surprise part of all of this.” Grian suggested as he put his own needle and thread down. It was just so hard to make stitches that small, and that was with previous experience with sewing. For Grian and Joel, who had absolutely no experience, it was next to impossible.

 As they were stewing in their own defeat, someone walked into the room. Grian and Joel barely paid attention, people were walking in and out of here all the time after all. What did catch their attention though, was a sudden familiar voice. “What are you two doing here?”

 Grian and Joel looked up to be met with Cleo, a good friend of theirs. She was looking at them with a surprised look, which was fair. Neither of them had ever brought up wanting to sew before. This was also bad though because, well, what were they supposed to say? They were trying to make tiny clothes for their borrower friend Jimmy? Yeah, no, that would be bad.

 “We’re uh…trying to learn how to sew?” Grian said though it came off more as a question. Which only deepened Cleo’s confusion. 

 “Sew…what, exactly?” Cleo asked, looking over them and at the table to see the mess of tiny fabrics and even tinier stitches. Grian and Joel looked at each other, slightly panicking.

 “Uh, doll clothes!” Joel suddenly exclaimed, laughing nervously. “For Grian’s cousin!”

 Cleo blinked and looked between the two of them. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “You two are making doll clothes for Grian’s cousin? Why not just buy them some?”

 “My cousin is…very particular about it?” Grian chimed in, going along with what Joel had said. Though, once again, his sentence came out more as a question.

 Cleo continued to look at the two of them, not seemingly convinced. Thankfully though, she changed the subject, walking along the table to its side and picking up one of the fabric pieces. “Well, this is definitely not where you should be starting if you’re just now trying to learn how to sew.”

 Joel sighed, once again putting his head in his hands. “Yeah, we’ve kind of figured that out already.”

 Cleo hummed, brushing her thumb against the fabric. “Do the two of you care if you're actually the ones to make them or were you just trying to do it yourselves because of your cousin’s ‘particular’ taste?” Cleo asked.

 Grian blinked, a bit surprised by the question. “Uh, well, I guess the second? We would have bought them if anyone made them.”

 Cleo nodded and put the piece of fabric down, moving her hands to rest on her hips. “Well, then the two of you are in luck. I happen to have an opening and I’m sure I can squeeze in making a few clothes for your cousin’s dolls.”

 Grian and Joel’s eyes widened and they both stood up in surprise. “Wait, seriously?” Grian asked.

 “Of course.” Cleo said with a smile. “Just leave it to me.”

  ***

   It was only a day later that Grian and Joel heard a knock at their door. Jimmy ducked behind the lamp on Joel’s nightstand as Grian stood up to answer the door. When he saw that it was Cleo, Joel joined him and they stepped outside for a moment. Cleo gave them a slightly confused look at not being invited in but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, presenting them with a neat handful of folded up outfits.

 “It was a bit tricky but I managed.” Cleo said as Grian took the clothes from her hands. There were three in total. Grian’s thumb brushed over the tiny jeans, in awe at how real they felt. Joel leaned in to try and get a good look himself.

 “Cleo, these are amazing.” Joel said, grabbing one of the shirts and studying it more closely. “It’s like you took regular clothes and shrunk them down.”

 Cleo chuckled. “Well, that is basically what you asked for.”

 Grian looked up and away from the tiny outfits in order to look at Cleo. “How much do we owe you?”

 “Aww, you two don’t owe me anything. Consider it a friend discount.” Cleo said. As Grian and Joel started to argue against not paying her, she held her hands up, stopping them. “I’m the one who offered, so I don’t want to be paid. This time. Now in the future if you happen to need any more outfits, then we’ll talk.” She said with a chuckle.

 Grian nodded. “Absolutely. We’ll definitely be coming back to you for some more.”

 Joel grinned. “Yeah, Jimmy is going to love these.”

 Cleo tilted her head, a smile still present. “Jimmy?”

 Both Grian and Joel froze and looked at each other. Joel looked a lot more panicked though and so Grian was the one who spoke. “My cousin! Jimmy, he’s my cousin.”

 “Hmm, right.” Cleo said, arms crossed with her smile never leaving. For some reason, she still didn’t seem fully convinced. But she moved along, which Grian and Joel sighed in relief at. “Well, I really do hope he likes them. Feel free to come to me if I need to make any adjustments.”

 “Thank you Cleo, really. You’re amazing.” Joel said, after having calmed down from his slip-up.

 “I know.” Cleo said and then turned and left, waving goodbye as she did so. Grian and Joel nodded at each other, grinning.

 “Ready to show Jimmy?” Grian asked.

 “Let’s do it.” Joel said as he handed the shirt he had picked up back to Grian. Grian put his hands together, covering the small outfits as they headed back inside.

 As they closed the door behind them, Jimmy popped his head around the lamp, only fully coming out once he realized it was just Grian and Joel coming back into the room. “Who was that?” Jimmy asked, looking behind them at the door.

 “Just our friend Cleo.” Grian answered. “She stopped by to drop something off.”

 Jimmy blinked in confusion, only because it didn’t appear as though either of them were holding anything. “What did she drop off?”

 Grian and Joel glanced at each other with a grin before Grian knelt down and moved his cupped hands in front of Jimmy. “We’ve got a surprise for you.” And that was all the warning Jimmy got before Grian opened his hand.

 Jimmy came closer and looked to see what Grian was holding, only for his eyes to widen in shock. Jimmy could barely believe it. He slowly reached down and grabbed a shirt, looking and rubbing at the texture. If possible, his eyes widened even more, realizing that not only were these tiny clothes the perfect size for him but they felt exactly like Grian and Joel’s clothes. Soft and comfortable and warm.

 “We tried making them ourselves at first.” Joel’s voice cut through and Jimmy looked up. “But learning to sew is harder than it looks. So then Cleo offered to make them.”

 “But don’t worry.” Grian chimed in before Jimmy could overthink anything. “She just thinks she was making custom doll clothes for my cousin.”

 Jimmy laughed at the same time he could feel some tears start to gather in his eyes. “Do you even have a cousin?” He asked as he wiped away the tears.

 Grian smiled softly. “No, but Cleo doesn’t know that.”

 Jimmy held the shirt close to him. This was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. “Thank you. This is…this is amazing.”

 Joel’s smile was also soft as he reached down and gently brushed his fingertips over Jimmy’s back, cupping his hand around him but not grabbing him. Just offering comfort. “Of course. We wanted to do this for you. You deserve to have more than two pairs of clothes.”

 “Yeah. And we’re glad you like them.” Grian said.

 “I love them.” Jimmy corrected and then started looking at the other articles of clothing, feeling them and holding them up to himself. Grian and Joel just watched, happy their surprise had been a big hit.

[hotvintagepoll]

Hi! I feel awkward writing to you to plug something else but my colleague thought it would be a good idea so here goes:

If any of your followers speak French and like old cinema, as well as 2010s mediocre Twilight inspired YA, then you might be interested in my podcast! Our latest episode is about Beauty and the Beast (1946, with hot vintage contestant Josette Day) and....*sigh*... Beastly (2011, yes the one with Vanessa Hudgens).

Despite the offense to cinema, it's fun and we have other episodes out, including bend it like Beckham, the mortal instruments/Ruby red, the perks of being a wallflower, Derry girls (with an episode in English, highly recommend that one, it's an interview with a northern Irish person), and a "triple feature" episode with Bridgerton, never have I ever and the summer I turned pretty (with a journalist guest).

Anyway, that's in case anyone is interested. Link is in the ask. Thank you for your time! Love your blog ❤️

Sincerely, the granddaughter of podcast grandma. She WILL be a guest in English at some point to talk about a classic musical, I promise

https://linktr.ee/2s2a_podcast

We also have a Tumblr where I post occasionally https://www.tumblr.com/2salles2ambiances

BOOST.

this looks wonderful! and say hi to podcast grandma, as always. I'm re-learning French right now so I'll be listening!

podcast link

tumblr link

[buddiekinard]

several sentences sunday

so no one tagged me (this week) but this is the first time in a while i actually have something i'm actively working on. i posted something maybe last week or two weeks ago but that version of the story has actually been scrapped because i regathered my thoughts. anyway i wrote a couple thousand words today and i just wanted to post a little bit of it. i don't think i've been this invested in/stressed about writing something for a very long time. i've been plotting out this fic for months and i've been living and breathing it, so here's a little bit of it for you.

'tis the damn season au, buddie, aka the fic where buck and his parents moved to el paso and buck went to high school with eddie and shannon, and now he's coming back for a visit (set in 911-time during s3 when buck isn't allowed back to work - instead of suing everyone, buck goes home)

His phone starts ringing.  Of course Eddie hadn’t just texted back. 

Of course Eddie is calling him.

“Hey.” “Hey, Evan.  I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to speak again.”

“Please, call me Buck.  Everyone calls me Buck.”

“Right,” Eddie says.  “Right, you said that.”

“I’m in El Paso.” Buck fumbles with the hem of his t-shirt, nervously.  It’s so annoying that he hasn’t just let himself turn up to Eddie’s parents, asking where he can find Eddie.  Helena had always loved him.  She wouldn’t question his presence even a little bit.  She would probably give him a big hug and invite him in for coffee.  He’s just not sure he has that right or place in Eddie’s life anymore.

After all, he was the one who’d taken off.

“You’re - “ There’s a long pause on the other end of the line and then Buck hears the click of a door.  “You’re here?”

“Yeah, I had to get out of LA.  I was feeling a little suffocated and a lot lost.  I’m at my parents’ house.”

“Did you talk to Shannon?”

“Yeah.” Buck closes his eyes.  “You didn’t tell me you were divorced.” “You didn’t exactly give me the chance.” There’s nothing tense in Eddie’s voice, not like Buck would expect.  He sounds light, sarcastic, like the Eddie Buck remembers from all the way back in high school when everything between them was just so easy.

“No, I guess I didn’t.” “Hey, so, I don’t work tomorrow.  Do you want - we can just, you know.  Hang out, like old times or whatever.”

Buck wants to ask what kind of old times he means.  The ones where he, Eddie, and Shannon would waste the day sitting in the Whataburger parking lot listening to shitty music and sharing a cigarette or the kind in that short window of time where the two of them would go find somewhere to park and make out sloppy in Eddie’s truck.  Or maybe the time they tried to get the fuck away from this town together, before they knew Shannon was pregnant, when Buck really thought he and Eddie could be EvanAndEddie for real.  He doesn’t ask.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.  It’ll be nice to catch up.”

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.2 (Anemone) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 4,218

Notes: I don't feel like the summary completely matches this story anymore. I'm also not really satisfied with this chapter, but I'm too tired to really get into a whole bunch of drafts and edits, I've just really been feeling poorly lately. The archive is for writing progress anyways, it's fine. I'll probably rewrite this whole chapter if I ever get to where I'd be comfortable posting finished versions to Ao3. I'm also just not fond of my writing style somehow. It feels too formal, doesn't flow enough. Problem is that I really talk like that lmao. Idk, I'll figure it out.

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part (coming soon <3)

Bangchan clambered into the van behind Felix, Minho and Jisung loading into the row in front of them. It always felt a bit weird to not spend some time swapping seatmates around based on who was clinging to who at the moment, but on days like today it was easier to just board the vehicles as quick as possible.

He's ended up with a relatively quite combination of their cluster today, and Chan was grateful for it as he settled into his seat with a pained grimace.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, but a persistent on-and-off pain had been roaming around his back for the last twenty minutes as they’d said goodbye to Stays and prepared to leave the venue. He’d be more worried about it, except the sharp, needle-like, pains would settle into a gentler ache before kicking back up again.

As it was, Chan was pretty sure he’d pinched a nerve or strained something and would simply rest when he got back to the hotel. Maybe call up the PT. For now, as three of his soulmates settled in around him, Chan was content to leave it be.

Well, almost. Another twinge of pain makes him wince as he twists to buckle in, and Chan decides that maybe it’d be a good idea to know what he was working with. For comfort’s sake, if nothing else.

“Felix,” He prods the blond next to him, “Can you look at my back for me? I think I pinched something.” He motions toward his lower back, where the majority of the pain had been accumulating.

Felix immediately nods his acceptance, their group’s resident massage expert always willing to lend a hand. Especially if it let him lay hands on his very well built soulmates.

Chan scooches forward and rotates around, balancing with his hand on the headrest of the seat in front of him. He helps Felix shimmy his shirt upwards, struggling with it where it gets caught in the seat-belt.

Chan ends up stuck struggling on his own as Felix chooses that moment to direct his eyes and hands to the afflicted area.

“There’s your first issue,” Felix tuts, “You’ve left your concealment tape on. You’ll give yourself a rash one of these days, hyung.”

Chan gives a sheepish smile from where he’s managed to trap himself in a cloth prison. His head is free, and the shirt his appropriately bunched up over his shoulders and around his neck. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to free his hands, so he’s got a bit of a t-Rex thing going on right now. It’s fine.

“I forget it’s there,” he confesses with a whine, “I can’t see my own back, y’know?”

Felix rolls his eyes at their oh-so-glorious leader, carefully peeling the thin material away from Chan’s skin as he scolds, “You still need to take it off. We sweat way too much to not at least change it after a performance.”

He’s bunching up the extra-strength tape to maybe toss at Jisung in the front seat (maybe Minho, if he’s feeling very brave), when he spots something off.

More than half a decade into having found each other, the members of Stray Kids were intimately familiar with each other’s soulmarks. Every drop of color, every line, every curve.

So when Felix looks at the freshly uncovered canvas on Chan’s back, familiar trees, bushes, and rocks painting a forested landscape that describes their impact on their eldest, something new immediately catches his eye.

There, on the fallen log that bridged two banks of a crystal-clear creek, was a moss blanket and a cluster little shelf mushrooms. They added life to the previously defunct object, a little bit of color that couldn’t have been said to be missing until it wasn’t.

The closer Felix looked, the more he saw. A mushroom here, a mossy patch there. Little signs of life and decay that he could have sworn weren’t there the last time he looked.

He looks to Jisung, who’s blissfully unaware.

As the first of their cluster to paint Chan’s skin with color, he was the most familiar with their leader’s mark. Jisung had been too young for his own mark to have appeared when he’d met Chan, but that didn’t stop him from influencing their eldest’s. They all knew he’d spent a lot of time studying Chan’s mark (and Changbin’s when it had appeared, already partially colored in) while waiting for his own.

If there was anyone who’d be more than certain of a change in their soulmarks, it’d be Jisung.

Felix swiftly removes his hands from Chan’s back, earning him a little noise of confusion from the prone man, and reaches over to poke Jisung harshly in the side.

Jisung immediately flinches away from the offending fingers with a loud yelp, attracting the attention of Minho, who’d been peacefully scrolling on his phone. Jisung swiftly fixes Felix with an offended glare, ready to retaliate, but is cut off before he can even try.

“Look at Chan’s mark for me.” Felix demands.

“My mark?” Chan echoes, baffled and alarmed. “What’s wrong with my mark?”

“Nothing, hyung,” Felix assures, “I just need to check I’m not seeing things.”

A series of furtive, silent, and, on Felix’s part, urgent, gestures are exchanged before Jisung finally relents and leans around the back of his seat, grabbing Minho’s for balance as the van departs.

Jisung lazily traces his eyes over Chan’s soulmark. All of Stray Kids had huge marks, but Jisung privately thought that Chan had them all beat. His mark spanned his entire back, not an inch untouched by the image. From shoulder to hip was an oil painting of a mark, filled in from what used to be a desolate landscape to what was now a thriving forest.

Jisung used to think it was so overwhelming to be part of such a mark. To be loved so much, and so deeply. It was evident in every brushstroke of the image on Chan’s skin, and in every action of the man himself.

These days, he found great comfort in it.

He’d gotten so lost in thought as he studied his soulmate’s mark that Jisung had almost missed what had caught Felix’s attention in the first place. But sure enough, his eyes catch on the same log that Felix’s had.

“Oh.” He whispers to himself. “Oh.” He says again, as Minho shoves his head under Jisung’s arm to look himself.

“No, yeah, that’s different.” He confirms, Minho nodding against him, having already spotted it for himself. The two of them find their eyes glued to tiny mushrooms, only sparing a moment to glance at each other before returning their gaze to Chan’s skin, each with their own racing thoughts.

“I thought so.” Felix nods to himself.

“What?” Chan questions, becoming more alarmed by the second, “What’s going on? What’s happened? What’s wrong with my mark?”

Felix lays his palms flat on Chan’s back and begins to rub gentle, soothing, circles. Any changes to a soulmark were stressful at the best of times, and they all knew how much Chan treasured his.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Felix soothes, letting the warmth of Chan’s mark resonating with his touch calm them both as he searches for gentle words.

“It’s just,” He begins hesitantly, “Well, the good news is that you haven’t pinched or strained anything.”

“Good news?” Chan echoes, “Is there bad news?” He lets a nervous giggle fall from his lips even as he relaxes into Felix’s hands.

“Not necessarily?” Felix says uncertainly, “It’s just. Well. Your mark has changed.” He pauses a second and pulls out his phone, quickly snapping a picture and then passing it around so Chan can see. “Something’s been added.”

Felix lets the implication of his words sit untouched in the air as the three of them wait for Chan to process what this means.

Ironically, Chan was the least familiar with his own mark out of all of them. His and Minho’s both resided on their backs so it stood to reason that the two of them didn’t see their marks very often. So it was no surprise that it took Chan several, very long, moments to spot the tiny changes.

When he does, Chan pulls in a deep, stuttering breath. The pain is already fading out to an ache now that it’s been acknowledged and Chan isn’t sure how he feels about the extra confirmation.

He carefully pulls his shirt back down, breaking his soulmate’s line of sight like they hadn’t already burned the image onto their retinas. He doesn’t remove his eyes from Felix’s phone.

“I...” He trails off, “I have another soulmate?” His voice is filled with wonder as he marvels at the picture of his mark. He looks up at the rest of his soulmates currently in the van with awe. “We have another soulmate?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispers, voice choked with emotion, “Yeah it looks like it.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Chan to fully turn around before he’s pulling their leader into a bone-crushing hug, giddy, disbelieving, laughter spilling out of him even as tears prick at his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Felix celebrates quietly as Chan wiggles to return his hug just as tightly. “Oh my god.” The other man agrees.

Even as his soulmates celebrate around him, each feeling their own storm of emotions, Chan can’t quite grasp the reality of the situation.

Stray Kids was a uniquely large soul cluster. From the beginning, when it had become evident that Hannie wasn’t his only soulmate, it had caused issues. Then came Bin, and the rest had followed like dominos. Each time their circle expanded he’d thought “this has to be it, right?” and each time there was a little voice in the back of his mind saying, “No, not yet.”

The issue was that that feeling, that little voice saying ”not yet”, the knowledge that they weren’t complete, had never gone away.

By the time they had all met, none of them could spot anything obviously missing from their marks. All of them were completely colored, lines drawn, images complete. And yet, every one of them felt that hollowness of an incomplete bond.

They’d talked about it a lot. Individually, as a group, in pairs and in quartets and seemingly endless combinations. It was hard, as the years went by, to ignore that nagging feeling.

Chan would always remember Jeongin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, crying and apologizing for not being enough. Could never forget taking Jisung to a rage room so they could both break down their feelings or drinking with Changbin and wondering if it was wrong for them to be so greedy as to want more when they already had so much.

After so many years, they’d begun to wonder if they were just broken. If they didn’t have another soulmate out there after all, and it was all in their heads.

It had been hard. It was hard.

And now that little blank space in his soul was painted with someone else’s colors and Chan felt whole in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever experience.

It kind of made him want to cry.

He wanted to cry even more when Felix innocently asks, “So what were they like?” An unmatched eagerness in his eyes as Chan pulled away.

That one guileless question triggers a realization in Chan that has his groaning in despair and slumping forward back onto Felix’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Chan mumbles into the shoulder of the slighter man.

“What was that?” Jisung questions from where he and Minho were still turned toward him, obviously as curious as Felix.

“I said I don’t know!” Chan wails, wilting further into Felix’s frame.

“How do you not know?” Minho questions incredulously. Felix gasps as he connects dots he’d been too excited to before.

“I didn’t even know my mark had changed before now,” Chan explains miserably, “I don’t even know exactly when the pain started.”

Jisung sucks in a hiss of air, sympathy splashed across his face. “Oh geeze,” he breathes out, “How many people have we met today alone?”

“Ok, well,” Felix interjects, “Not ideal, but we’ll figure it out!”

Minho turns his incredulous stare onto the optimistic man.

"How are we going to figure it out?" He demands, "Because there were tens of thousands of people in that stadium and I know every single one of us shook dozens of hands tonight."

Felix wilts a little bit even as Jisung comes to his defense, "We kind of have to figure it out, hyung," he points out, "And soon. We're back to Seoul soon."

"Okay but how?" Minho challenges, "And don't give me any 'with the power of love and fate' crap."

"We might have to rely on fate." Chan shrugs, dejected. "It's not like I have a description or anything to give out."

"It'll be okay Channie hyung," Felix pats Chan's back lightly from where they're still entangled together, "It'll have to be."

The van descends into silence as the four of them contemplate their new situation. After a few minutes Chan leverages himself up and out of Felix's embrace to frown aimlessly at his knees.

"Well," Felix breaks the silence, "We don’t have any more shows after this, and we have some days of break time, right?”

“Right,” Chan confirms, “We have tomorrow off and then we’re returning to Seoul to start working on the next album.”

“But officially,” Felix hedges, “We have, like, an entire week off, don’t we?”

“Not quite, but sure,” Chan hesitantly agrees.

“Well, we know they were in town for the concert at least,” Felix continues, “So as long as they didn’t leave the city immediately after, I mean, there's seven more first contacts to go, right?”

“Are you saying we should spend our break wandering around trying for first contacts?” Jisung asks, “Because I’m all for searching for them, but I don’t know that aimless wandering is gonna help.”

Chan holds up his hands to halt that conversation before it could devolve into a bigger debate.

“Let’s shelve that for now, and meet up with the others at the hotel,” He suggests, “We should discuss this as a group anyways.”

He receives a variety of agreements and the four of them settle in for the short remaining drive back to their hotel. He absently hands Felix’s phone back to him and retrieves his own from his pocket to ask the others to meet them in his room.

Chan looks out the window, post-concert fatigue all but a memory. As the buildings pass by, he can’t help but hope that their mystery soulmate was looking for them too.

You reaffirm your decision to never ever meet your soulmates as Taylor loads you into the car, arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder the whole way.

It was one thing when your stupidly large soul cluster was just an idea. Knowledge you held, but unactionable in any way.

It was another when you had evidence, in the form of little white flowers burning with warmth on your skin, that they were real, physical, people.

Even worse when you knew that they were a group of very famous musicians.

You hadn’t actually been sick when you’d texted Taylor, who’d thankfully managed to get all of the autographs he’d wanted before he’d checked his phone to try to find you, but you were getting there. Anxiety had nausea creeping up your throat like molasses.

You’re beyond grateful when your roommate doesn’t question your sudden illness, the both of you well aware that you were hale and hearty when you’d left the house.

Taylor just buckles you in like you’re something precious and fragile and takes the wheel.

The two of you drive in silence the entire way home. It’s not awkward, but you can’t deny the weight of something heavy in the air. The buzz of the concert still lingered between the two of you, and it only made the silence stifling and itchy.

When you pull into your apartment complex neither of you speak for a long moment.

“Sorry for ruining the day.” You murmur to the air in front of you. Taylor just reaches over to pat your thigh and unclip your seatbelt.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” He assures, “Don’t sweat it.” He hesitates a moment before continuing.

“I’m not gonna push,” Taylor begins gently, “But you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever happened, I’m not gonna judge. I just wanna be here for you.”

“What makes you think something happened?” You mutter mulishly. Taylor just gives you a look that has you sinking into your seat.

“It’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic.” You admit. He bumps your shoulder with his and climbs out of the car.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you feel something.” He tells you as he goes. The two of you walk up to the apartment in silence, contemplative this time.

You think about telling him as the two of you separate to wash the concert off of yourselves. You think about it as you take turns using the bathroom and as you make dinner side by side. You think about it as you settle in front of the couch at his feet as his hands automatically pull your head to his knees, his fingers digging into your hair just how you like.

You want to tell him, you decide. You do. It's just that. Well...

Your sister was right, in a way. You’d known Taylor for over a year now, but the two of you didn’t really know much about each other. You really were just roommates.

You didn’t know what his favorite color was. You didn’t know the names of his parents, or if he had any siblings. You barely knew what he did for a living. He’d only ended up your roommate by virtue of you responding to his “roommate wanted” ad with full willingness to be murdered on the spot.

At the same time, the two of you knew everything about each other. You knew how he took his coffee in the morning, that he preferred his eggs dry and over-seasoned. You knew the bands he liked and the games he played. You knew his hobbies better than you knew your own sometimes, and more about his friend’s drama that you ever wanted to.

You know the important things, you think.

You know that every word you tell him in confidence will be clutched tightly all the way to the grave.

“I met my soulmate today.” You confess, your cheek pressed to his knee, half-asleep.

The words somehow feel like they were snatched from the darkest depths of your soul as they spill from your lips. You make no move to take them back.

Taylor’s hand, to his credit, only pauses for a moment. Then he treats your hushed admission like any other comment made while you nod off to dramas the both of you know you only watch for him, resuming the soothing movement of his hand and humming lightly to acknowledge you.

You think it’s that casual treatment that lets you find the courage to continue.

“Well, one of them anyway.” You mumble. Taylor hums his interest, but doesn't take his eyes off of the screen and doesn’t stop petting your hair.

“I don’t want to meet them. There’s so many of them and only one of me, y'know? I don’t even know how to love myself, how am I supposed to love eight other people?” Taylor says nothing still, his eyes glued to an episode of a drama you know the two of you have already finished three times over.

“I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. I’m scared they’ll fuck me up.” Your voice cracks as you breathe life into one of your deepest fears. You realize as you say it that you’ve never voiced these thoughts aloud before, even to yourself.

Tears prick at the back of your eyes when you admit, “I’m not ready for them. I don’t think I can be.”

Taylor finally gives in to the seriousness of the conversation and hauls you bodily up onto the couch. You go willingly, but with rag-doll limpness. He rearranges you to his liking and you find yourself in Gossip Position, sitting criss-cross facing him.

“First of all,” He starts in, his usual levity giving way to a seriousness you rarely see from him, “Don’t be mean to my best friend. I’ll hit you.” You ignore his threat in favor of the warm feeling in chest at hearing him call you his best friend.

Take THAT Ma! No friends your glorious behind.

“Secondly, you are literally the most loving person I have ever met in my life. You would fit the entire world in there if you could,” He pokes your chest, right above your heart, for emphasis, “So I’m not that surprised you have more than one soulmate.”

“I have eight though,” You argue, “Isn’t that weird?”

Taylor just shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But weird is basically your brand, so...” He trails off with a teasing smirk.

You shove him a bit in retaliation, but he just grabs your wrists to still you and continues speaking before you can argue.

“I don’t think eight soulmates is enough for you, honestly,” He muses, “I mean it when I say you’re the most loving person I know. I think you’d even try to take care of Danny if he needed you to.” The mention of Taylor’s very creepy second cousin sends a shiver down both of your spines.

The worst part is that you can’t even argue with him.

“But you know, even with eight soulmates, you don’t have to be with them.” Taylor suddenly switches tracks to reassure you, “They’re your soulmates sure, but you’re your own person. They’re for you, it’s not like they are you. You can live without, if you really want to.”

The two of you let that statement settle for a moment. He’s right, you know all too well. Still, the thought leaves a wad of uncomfortable and complicated feelings lodged in your throat.

After a moment’s pause, you break the silence.

“I have too many years of trauma and not enough therapy money to unpack everything I’m feeling right now.”

Taylor cracks first, and giggles come pouring out of the two of you. The joke wasn’t even funny, but you guessed the two of you had been serious for far too long.

Some minutes later, when the giggles finally die down and you return to watching Taylor’s show, you find yourself with your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide, you know I’m here for you, right?” Taylor quietly picks up where the conversation had left off.

“Sure,” you agree, “Like I was there for you when you cried over a boy I told you wasn’t shit.” You completely deserve the elbow to the side you receive for that comment.

“Shut up, I’m being cheesy!” Taylor scolds with a laugh.

“I’m lactose intolerant!” You complain, but obligingly fall silent.

“Seriously,” Taylor insists, “I’ll be here every step of the way. Whatever you need.”

You wrap your arms around the one of his that you’re leaning on and give a gentle squeeze to show your appreciation. “Thanks Tay.” you murmur.

“Of course. You got me front row tickets to a SKZ concert, we’re ride or die whether you like it for not!” You poke his side to scold him for not being serious after just insisting that you be, but end up having to fight for your life when he immediately retaliates by trying to tickle you.

It takes the two of you quite a while to calm down again, Taylor smug in his victory. He holds your ankles in his lap like trophies of war as you stare at the ceiling. The quiet creeps back in quickly, so you speak.

“I’m just not sure what I want, I think.” You tell him, “I don’t want to meet them. But at the same time, I really do, y’know?”

Taylor nods, “Just let the universe do its thing.” he suggests, “If you’re meant to meet them now, you’ll meet them regardless of what you want. But after you meet them, it’s all up to you.”

You nod along, humming your acceptance of his advice. He’s right, again. You can’t really fight fate, even if you desperately want to. But even within that large restraint, you’re a human being with free will. The world is your oyster and all that.

You let your thoughts fade out and just listen to Taylor yap about the drama on the TV as he finally tunes back into it.

It’s nearly dawn when the two of you decide to turn in, post-concert jitters having deserted you and heavy conversations having taken their toll.

“Did you manage to get their name before you bolted?” Taylor asks out of nowhere as you’re walking to your respective rooms. “Your soulmate’s” He clarifies at your confused look.

“Oh, I didn’t need to.” You answer absentmindedly, already opening your door and dreaming of your cozy sheets. “It was Bangchan.”

You close your door on his gawping face, blissfully unaware of the crisis you’d just sent him into.

Perma Tag List: @Mbioooo0000

[niteshade925]

Why the argument of "which system of written Chinese is the 'right' one" is kinda pointless:

All 12 characters below are different forms of the character 剑/劍/jiàn (means double-edged single-hand straight sword) that have been used throughout history. Which one is the "right" way? :P

[bixels]

The Ryoko Kui interview's reception is such a disaster over a pretty normal (yet still flawed) interview between a non-Japanese fan and Japanese artistic. This is discourse for discourse's sake, and it's no surprise that almost every Twitter user I've looked at who's using this interview to parade Kui around as a goated mangaka standing strong against Western ideology is anti-trans.

Like, I do think the interview was kinda wonky with its focus on fandom culture, which Kui clearly didn't have much interest in. But sometimes that happens. Sometimes interactions between two people, especially a fan and a creator, two people who view and interact with a piece of media in completely opposite perspectives, don't click. Does this really need to get blown up into a "West vs. East culture war" issue.

Anyways, Kui saying "I don't consider my audience's interpretations when writing. I leave it to their imaginations, but I have my own read on things too" is the healthiest, most normal thing an artist/writer who wants a non-parasocial audience could say. Artists and writers use this line all the time. If Kui didn't enjoy autistic Laius or Farcille headcanons, she would have probably voiced/signalled her discomfort, like she did on the topic of Senshi fanservice. Overall, Kui handled the interview really well. Props to her to sticking to her guns and keeping a healthy disconnect from the fandom. While I think the interviewer could've/should've been more tactful and restrained, the flaws in their questions is not a symptom of the woke mind virus trying to wriggle its way into the pure Japanese psyche. It's the sign of an over-eager fan who sees a piece of fiction differently than its creator.

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.

Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.

A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).

anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.

[little-pondhead]

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

[coquelicoq]

what i like especially about the pronouns in the goblin emperor is that this language doesn't just have the T-V distinction (aka informal vs. formal second-person pronouns, in this case 'thou' vs. 'you'), it also has informal and formal first-person pronouns. having BOTH of these distinctions in the same language lets you fine-tune your tone by mixing and matching. with only one axis of formality, when you use informal pronouns, are you being familiar in an intimate way, or in an insolent or dismissive way? when you use formal pronouns, are you being polite or standoffish? you can't tell just from the pronouns; there's ambiguity. but a language where you can use a formal first-person pronoun in the same sentence as an informal second-person pronoun allows you to distance yourself (via the formal first) while also being familiar (via the informal second), thereby achieving the conversational tenor known to linguists as Fuck Thee Specifically.

[holocene-sims]

💪💙🎵

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon (later suri laran, after her marriage). her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, but most of her life for like. the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[finniestoncrane]

my thing is, i want to talk to people. i want to be good at socialising. but i've never really had much practice, so i don't know how? i don't know how to carry on a conversation. it makes me nervous and anxious and makes my stomach hurt and it tires me out. i would love to have a constant back and forth. it'd be swell lmao

unfortunately. i cannot and it's confusing. i want to talk, but i can't. and i also don't want to? mental illness cocktail gets in the way

like earlier i was going to speak to people, i'd typed a couple messages out!! but i figured they wouldn't want to talk to me which is fine i know that's likely just the anxiety. so then i thought "i know, mitigate the risk!! i'll ask if people want to chat about a specific topic with me so they have to opt in" and then panicked because that would mean people would talk to me? which is what i wanted? LMAO

confusing and irritating, so i made a meme

[alluralater]

kinda want to start a text post series about the things i've learned/experienced being biracial.

for instance, when i was little i was fortunate enough to have spent plenty of time with my great grandmother in south carolina. she was fully black and she taught me about my heritage, my lineage, where we come from and how we survived as long as we did through slavery and the civil rights movement. one afternoon while at her house she asked me to come sit with her. when i did she seemed hesitant, like she wanted to tell me something but wasn't sure how to do so. i asked her if she needed me to fix her oxygen line and she replied no. it was a long minute or two that passed just sitting there on the couch next to her before she abruptly began telling me what it was like for her growing up.

i had known this particular information already and was prepared to tell her (she was in her 90s and sometimes would forget certain conversations) but then she started telling me what it was like for those she knew that were of mixed descent and the crimes perpetrated against people like me by white people as well as other black people. i will absolutely not be talking about those stories on here because of how graphic and scary they are but i will tell you what she told me afterwards.

she said she was afraid for me. she said that i was loud and outspoken and it was a fine line which i needed to be careful walking. she told me it would have been better if i'd been born black instead, or even just white passing, because my ambiguity put me at risk.

'you won't fit in anywhere. people don't like what they don't understand.'

my great grandmother was a wonderful woman and her fear was held similarly to that of my parents and grandparents. she told me it would be worse as a woman, that my brother would have an easier time because white people would like him and his blackness was less questionable because he was a boy. and she was right of course but i didn't understand why it mattered then. unfortunately i was hurt by many as well as bullied constantly growing up for my looks but i kept that to myself for the most part.

my great grandmother told me i was lucky that i was pretty, because being pretty and sweet might save me. she told me about how she felt when my older sister was born, how angry she was with my dad for having children with a white woman and creating "abominations." that word among others i heard a lot as a child from plenty of people whether strangers or family. she said she hated the idea of us at first but then loved us— me. she had realized most of her hatred was rooted in her fear for what could happen based on the things she knew of and saw in her own experience, on top of things that had happened to her. my dad had previously had a few conversations with me asking if i'd been bullied at school at all for being biracial and i always told him no and lied because i didn't want him to worry. my great grandmother explained to me that it was better to use my cuteness, tone down my intelligence when in the presence of anyone that was not like me, and be careful. she said that i would never be black enough to be accepted fully because i would always be seen as something else, and i would never be seen as white because i didn't look it. i hugged her carefully so as not to pull the tube from her nose. i didn't feel offended by anything she said. the shake in her voice was enough to show me how painful it was for her to say. she loved me and while she said i would have a better life than she did because the world was changing, it would be more lonely.

being biracial i have learned to fit in everywhere and yet still, i fit in almost nowhere. i was a dirt poor kid that wore the same few outfits to school as a child because my mom worked three jobs and barely had enough money for gas let alone new clothes or extra gas to go to a donation center for anything new. i shared a single room with my four siblings and my mom for a long time. while other people were learning to accept their identities and navigate the world accordingly, i was learning to be quiet and blend into the background, not make too much noise in front of the wrong audience, feigning stupidity when people began to see me as a threat as i aged out of the 'cute mixed toddler' category. i was learning to be a mother to my siblings and protect them from a world that hated us. being biracial meant learning that i was seen as entertaining, looked at in the same way as a selectively bred puppy. i learned that i was fetishized by many for my looks and simultaneously looked down on for them. i learned that grown men considered me attractive in a sexual sense because of my mixed looks and had no problem telling me or acting on that. i learned that white women hated me but envied me, cherry picking which attributes they loved about me most and disregarding all others. i learned that being biracial was always about proving myself, justifying my existence to those who wouldn’t accept me fully regardless, fearing the intentions of people who wanted to be with me or have me alone. i learned that many people expected me to pick a side, choose one half of myself and leave the other behind, as if i am not already in existence held together by the parts of my heritage that created me from halves to whole.

being biracial and not passing on either side was and can be very lonely. there were many years as a child that i thought life would be easier if i weren't alive. attempting to find community when you are always seen as 'other' was hard. thankfully when i moved here i met more people like me, and my great grandmother was right. the sense of community i have with people who share experiences like mine is similar to no other. i can be myself, my entire self. i'm black and i'm white, but i am biracial. one day i’ll have to share this information with my children, and even though it pains me to recall these experiences among thousands of others, i understand now why my great grandmother and other family members were so worried for my safety and my quality of life. my experience as a biracial woman specifically is something i don't really ever talk about on here in depth because i have community to have these conversations with irl thankfully and do often, but it matters to me and i'd like to talk about it more.

anyways thank you for reading <3

[clover0101]

haruka and what each animal on his case represents, an analysis

before we begin, general CW for the issues haruka's story deals with (neglect, child abuse, animal death, etc).

Throughout the MVs, animals play an important role in Haruka's story. I think each of these represents a part of Haruka, both how he perceives himself and how he wants to be perceived. Even if Haruka presumably has numerous animal victims, the ones most emphasized are dogs, fish, and rabbits.

1. RABBITS

Haruka is seen on many occasions with his bunny plush. It’s so important that it appears not only in Weakness and Undercover but also in graffart’s collab, where each item is importan on the character's story in one way or another (like mahiru and the mantis). I see it as a toy from his childhood that he’s very attached to.

The fact that it’s specifically a rabbit is interesting to me, as the rabbit is a prey. If we go to the unique point of view of Japanese culture, rabbits are also quite related to the moon. The lunar cycles are also an important symbol in weakness, showing white, blue and finally red moons over a red sky. The origin of the relationship between rabbits and the moon is debated between admiration as they are perceived as objects of fertility and health because of their reproduction, or a legend that spread from India:

"a rabbit can't tolerate seeing people die and jumps into the fire to become food, then Indra rewards him for his sacrifice and takes him to the moon."

The theme of self sacrifice and the ultimate reward one receives for it is reinforced by Taoism, where the hare, like the moon, dies to be reborn and represents immortality. More popularly, rabbits are also associated with good fortune. It being white also points to innocence, and in turn to the pursuit of something that upon attainment brings discovery, an idea popularized by Alice in Wonderland. Even if it's more seen as a weak and tender animal, it has also been culturally represented as cruel and capable of aggression, closer to what Haruka is than the role of merely a prey. Haruka wants to be seen as weak prey that the strong hunt, to be pitied and loved for it. To be perceived as someone to be protected, as he cannot defend himself, but this is contradicted by his own actions both in weakness and throughout milgram. The prey becomes the predator and gives way to the next animal;

2. DOGS

The dog is universally a symbol of loyalty and the effort it takes to form a training bond between a wild animal and a human. Dogs are seen accompanying men and being obedient to women.

Dogs are perceived as creatures that love unconditionally and are capable of giving everything to protect those they love.

In terms of personality and behavior, they are the closest animals to Haruka, who accepts and actively seeks to be guided and to be faithful for someone, to be used to feel useful and not abandoned.

Even if they are domestic, the dogs whose breeds are distinguishable are large dogs, considered to be hunting dogs. Haruka being represented as a dog also creates a parallel with kotoko, who is represented by a wolf.

Haruka being represented as a dog also creates a parallel with kotoko, who is represented by a wolf. Dogs are the friendlier, "clean" version of wolves, domesticated to be obedient, while wolves maintain a certain solitary air of independence and savagery.

However, whenever a dog is featured on screen it is accompanied by loud instrumentals and rather graphic visuals. In Weakness, child Haruka accepts and expresses affection towards the animal, who apparently is suddenly injured and runs away from him into a forest, where he is disoriented and confused. Haruka follows its footsteps and ends up seeing his hands in horror, realizing that he's the cause of its injury.

The perspective of present Haruka isn't so different, who now attacks it, destroying it until the only remains are the necklace it was wearing, ultramarine liquid and eyes, which I consider represent the opinions of others and looks that judge him.

I think the fact that this dog bleeds the same color as Haruka's is a not-so-hidden hint at the fact that, in a way, Haruka is ending up with a part of himself (this time a bit smaller, not being human yet) to escape people's judgments.

There are also many sayings that by mistreating someone, "you are treating them like a dog", like an animal, something inferior, but that still sticks to what the human wants and believing all their words.

In AKAA, we see that instead of being a mix of at least two dogs, they're now separate entities and different breeds that dissolve as Haruka sings about being reborn. Again, dogs often appear in stories as spirit guides, helping humans enter and exit the realm of the dead safely, representing a middle ground between life and death. Dogs are followers of their owners, not leaders, and no matter how close a bond they form with humans, they are rarely recognized as equals to us.

3. FISH

Most of the similarities between Haruka and fish are presented visually, with Haruka being a passive spectator of his own life, observing others from behind something akin to a glass wall that separates him from normal people. He's constantly surrounded by water drowning, and in one scene is even presented at a fish-eye angle, being watched by his mother.

In AKAA we can see two specific species of fish.

Yellow bobfish: they're very complicated fish to keep in aquariums because they release toxins when stressed and are naturally solitary once they reach adulthood, it's not recommended to have more than two in the same tank because they are territorial and aggressive among their own species, however it's friendly and sociable with fish of other species. It responds to stress with aggression and attacks its own kind (in this case other weaklings) just like Haruka.

Clownfish: they usually inhabit anemones, forming a mutualism in which they find shelter and food. Toxins from anemones don't affect them as they develop immunity to them throughout their lives to eventually live in them. Anemones benefit from clownfishes cleaning its tentacles. Clownfish often eat parasites and are also known to steal more food from anemones than what they give in return. They are also capable of changing sex from male to female. Seeing this particular species depicted tells us a lot not only about haruka, but about his relationship with Muu, as for the first time it's not depicted as a mutual need, a codependency that endangers their lives if they become separated, but a mutually beneficial relationship where both can exist separately, but live much more comfortably by relating to each other in this way.

Extra: Insects (specifically butterflies) and parasites.

The symbolism of transformation and metamorphosis is so present that it even took the title of both voice dramas. Caterpillars can only wriggle and are no different from any worthless worm, but after a season, they manage to transform into a butterfly: beautiful, admirable, much more memorable and lovable. Having been forgiven and meeting Muu, Haruka manages to "fulfill" his metamorphosis and become someone he believes is better. Still, from what is shown in AKAA, it doesn't seem that Haruka is entirely happy with this change happening - the monarch butterflies represents ambition and perseverance, but it seems to be rejected by haruka, who crushes it in his hands

Haruka longs for this transformation, but is unable to fully accept it happening. I think it's because no matter how much he changes and wants to be someone else, he can't get rid of the disastrous image he has of himself, or he has forced himself not to change so as not to be disliked even more by others.

Now, Kotoko is an important figure to Haruka despite not interacting much. It highlights both his codependency (or mutually beneficial relationship) with Muu as much as the fact that he assimilates a parasite.

This is a point I've made several times before, but Haruka's way of socializing is based on taking parts of others and melding them on himself, especially women. It started by stealing his mother's necklace and taking it as his own, continues by killing Mirai and stealing what he lacks, and ends now in a much more obvious way with Muu, imitating her personality, accepting her accessories and the clothes she chooses for him and even copying her sprite pose a bit.

If he had become closer to Yuno and Mahiru, I'm sure he would also start imitating their behaviors in one way or another. Haruka lives by taking parts of the women he surrounds herself with, and he seems to want to take something from kotoko as well, but it's still unclear what he wants.

What does all of this have in common?

Not only is the theme of change and rebirth prominent, but every animal that Haruka comes to hurt relates in one way or another to his desires, thoughts, or parts of himself. Figuratively, we can say that Haruka's case is about him eliminating and hiding every part of himself, until he murders his human victim, Mirai, who at the same time is the closest and most prominent part in him, with whom he wishes he could reconcile and exist together, accepting each other - for, unlike his other victims, Mirai is often presented as a friend and someone Haruka misses. I have yet to write Mirai's analysis on its own, so whether she is also a part of Haruka or not and whether all his kills are figurative is up to each one's choice, I tend to wander between both sides because I like both scenarios. In a less figurative way and taking the case more literally, these facts are simple trivia and interesting symbolism to consider when analyzing Haruka.