#can’t write without metaphors apparently

[depraveddame]

Me apparently 😫 I’m trying to write a quick and dirty zaundads one shot why am I LIKE THIS

[rottingghosty]

The Realms PR | DC X DP Part 2

this isn’t as good in my thoughts because writing as bruce??? really hard. how am i supposed to write a paranoid man if i am the most chillest person i can be… anyway heres your part 2 food of this au, not sure if i’ll continue writing more parts? depends on how i feel.

errors are made and sorry the the lackluster performance this might be

if you want to use my prompt please give me credits thank you

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny very much prefers to have nobody intervene on his business as the vigilante of Amity Park. He’s essentially called dibs on it if you consider the fact that the entire town is basically his metaphorical grave since it’s his haunt and he did die to make the portal to the Ghost Zone open. He very much ignores that specific can of worms because that’s a heavy topic that he won’t ever talk about because Spectra really ruined his own outlook on professionals. Jazz will most likely want to open that can but that’s for future Danny.

Where was he? Oh yeah.

Danny very much likes being a solo hero with his friends and sister aiding when they can. He very much dislikes the fact that people have been trying to enter his haunt without permission. Does he know why people who tried to pass through Amity Park suddenly find themselves back at where the welcome sign is? No. Is he going to ask? Also no because it allows the residents and himself privacy even when he’s got the GIW on his tail or even his own parents.

He’s not going to rebuke this gift especially with his influx of fame. Which reminds Danny that he needs to post a new tweet, maybe a video of Cujo playing with the kids in the park from a few days ago? He figures people would be more interested if they knew a ghost dog existed. Maybe he can include one of Ember’s concerts or something.

Man he has so many videos to post and such little time to do so, but he thinks Sam and Tucker are having fun being his PR team with the way Sam had a manic gleam in her eyes when Lois Lane and Clark Kent sent her a message of twitter asking for an interview. All while Tucker basically going giddy at Red Robin and Oracle trying to get through the firewall that’s blocking Amity Park from eyes being too close for all their comforts.

Bruce Wayne stared intently at the video before him, it was only thirty seconds but it was thirty seconds enough to cause him to tighten his grip on the arm rests of his chair in the Batcave. His blue eyes staring down at the figure in the video as it replayed on loop. His shoulders tense and bunched up as he inhaled sharply at the frame that happened ten seconds in.

Because right there, staring up at the camera looked too much like Jason. It looked too much like his boy, his son that he had lost when Jason was only fifteen. Normally he would’ve brushed it off but it was the way that it then shifted into Dick, Steph, Tim and then Damian—

Ancient of Hope is what Phantom had called them, the embodiment of hope and how its form switched to what people believed in. Apparently it looked so much like the Robins of Gotham because Gotham was— is the biggest source of hope there is. Yet, this was an unknown.

Bruce couldn’t trust a word that Phantom said, ghosts are an unknown. Trying to get Constantine to talk about it was a struggle itself, the equivalent of trying to pull teeth out because the man was equally as stubborn as Bruce and it was even worse when the man had cursed up a storm when they had a meeting about Phantom’s first videos.

Ghosts are a variable in an equation that Bruce is trying to solve but he simply can’t force his way into solving it, not when this whole thing has turned into a diplomatic nightmare with the fact that Oa has started pressuring the US government about the mistreatment of the Infinite Realms beings.

The Justice League Dark even adding in the pressure— Deadman being one of the more outspoken members as he explained as much as he knew about the Infinite Realms despite not quite qualifying as one of their residents but still considered as one in an odd way. Constantine grumbling about as he came and went, saying how the Ghost Investigation Ward could’ve started a war or destroyed everyone.

Clark and Lane were writing up articles, having conversations with the PR Team of Phantom— two teenagers who were involved heavily and considered ambassadors to the Realms because of their connection to Phantom.

Phantom who is the High King. Phantom who doesn’t want his subjects hunted anymore and took a peaceful route instead of simply declaring war.

Bruce takes a heavier breath, jaw clenched as he watched the video loop one more time before the closed the tab to look more into the GIW and their backers, eyes narrowing in two names.

Vladimir Masters and Lex Luthor.

[tikitakatia]

Fixer Upper — A. Putellas x Reader

"Not My Circus, Still My Monkey"

WC: 1.5k

Summary: A few missed calls, one goat in the locker room, and somehow, you're the one writing apology emails to management.

You wake up to twelve missed calls, three texts, and a voice note from Alexia that just says:

“Hola cariño… There's a goat in the locker room. And I think it’s mad at me.”

You don't scream. You don't even sigh. You just lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the phone pressed to your face, trying to piece together which specific life choices led to you dating one of Spain's most decorated footballers, and also the human equivalent of a disaster waiting to happen.

You call her back.

“Please tell me that was some weird metaphor,” you say, rubbing your eyes.

“Nope!” she replies cheerfully, popping the p. “It’s literal. He even has the little horns and everything.”

By the time you get to the training facility, the goat has made itself disturbingly comfortable. It’s in the locker room, snacking on a protein bar wrapper. Irene is crouched next to it, looking like she’s been babysitting a toddler with questionable decision-making skills.

You walk in, half-expecting the usual football drama, but instead, you're greeted by this. The goat. The snacks. The unsettling calm. Alexia is sitting on the bench, completely unfazed, wearing joggers and a sports bra as if a goat’s presence is just another part of her everyday life.

“You named it?” you ask, eyeing the hastily written “KIKO” on a piece of paper taped to the goat’s side.

Alexia shrugs, completely casual. “Felt rude not to.”

“Kiko’s got trauma,” you deadpan, narrowing your eyes. “I can see it in his eyes.”

“He bit Patri,” Alexia adds with the sort of nonchalance that only someone who’s caused an incident could muster.

Patri, sitting across the room with a frozen peas bag in her hand, offers a thumbs-up. 

“Deserved.”

You close your eyes briefly. You really, really should have stayed in bed today.

“Walk me through this. Slowly,” you mutter.

Apparently, last night’s evening training ended with Alexia “rescuing” the goat from a farm nearby. Why, you ask. Well, the poor thing was outside in a field, “looking lonely and sad” according to the blonde, and she just couldn’t leave him there. He was apparently “baa-ing pathetically” and needed a change of scenery and some friends. So naturally, she decided to bring him to the Barça training grounds. Farm field, football field. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.

Pere walked in, took one look at the goat, sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Without a single word to the team, he turned on his heel and walked straight out, muttering that practice was delayed until “this problem” had been resolved. That’s where the logic train derailed entirely. Now, you’re left standing in the locker room, trying to process how one of Europe's top football clubs has devolved into a petting zoo.

You can’t just call animal services. No, that would be too easy. First, you have to grill Alexia about where she found Kiko.

“Where did you get him?” you ask, arms crossed, eyeing the goat like it’s about to burst into flames.

“I... I can’t tell you,” Alexia says, looking extremely protective of the goat, as though she personally gave birth to it.

“Why? What’s the big secret?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a farm... a private farm,” she says, her eyes shifting as if she’s trying to avoid your gaze. 

“And I think he could be the club mascot.”

You stare at her for a moment, blinking. This is the point in the conversation where your brain asks if you should be worried about the state of your life choices. Of course, you don’t even bother asking if she’s serious. She is.

And that’s how you end up spending the next half hour chasing down the farm’s owner, trying to figure out where in the world this goat came from. You finally reach a very upset farmer, who sounds more like he’s about to implode than help.

“I don’t know who let that goat leave,” the farmer grumbles, his voice frantic. “He’s my favorite goat, I was worried sick! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for him? You can’t just take a goat like that! What kind of asshole steals a goat?! I'm calling the cops on you!”

You swallow hard. There’s no way you’re dealing with a police situation over a goat. Not today.

“Wait, no, please don’t call the cops,” you say, trying not to sound like you're begging, but let’s be honest, you really are. “Look, I’ll send you some tickets to the next game, good seats. VIP treatment. The best we’ve got. And I’ll... I’ll take care of the whole thing. Just don’t... don’t call the police. Please.”

The farmer pauses, his tone wavering slightly. After some back-and-forth that involves you discussing what exactly the VIP experience entails (and throwing in some team memorabilia for good measure), the farmer reluctantly agrees. “Fine. But you make sure he’s brought back to the farm, you hear me? I don’t want him roaming around anymore.”

You let out a sigh of relief and hang up. One crisis averted. Or so you think.

You turn to Alexia, who’s standing in the corner, casually sipping her water like she didn’t just steal a farm animal and bring it into the team’s locker room.

“I got him, okay?” you say, trying to keep your cool. “The goat’s going home. But you need to tell me where exactly you found him. Now.”

Alexia just grins at you, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Maybe it’s better if we keep this our little secret,” she says, winking.

You want to say something sharp. You want to remind her that you're the one who’s been dealing with this whole mess while she’s been acting like it’s all some sort of adventure. But you don’t. Instead, you turn back to your phone to draft yet another email, this time to the club’s management, explaining the situation and the implications for the field.

Typing with all the formal professionalism you can muster, you write: “My client regrets the goat-related disturbance.” You then go on to clarify that Kiko’s “enthusiasm for grass” has “disrupted the quality of the pitch’s surface” and caused the field to be “unearthed” in places. You make sure to mention that Kiko is, unfortunately, not a “FIFA-approved emotional support animal.”

Alexia reads your email, then looks up at you. You half-expect her to apologize, maybe at least offer a hint of regret. But no, of course not.

Instead, she grins. “Why’d you call me your client?”

You blink, trying to keep your cool, but the day's gone too far off the rails for any semblance of composure. “Because I’m trying really hard not to call you my problem.”

Her grin widens, clearly enjoying every second of your escalating stress. She steps closer, and you immediately feel the gravitational pull of her unshakable confidence, like she’s defying the very laws of nature and casually bending your sanity in half.

“I am though.” she says, her voice smug, teasing, and so completely certain of itself that it radiates from her. She’s practically in your face now, daring you to say anything, her confidence as palpable as a weight in the room.

You sigh again, not because you don’t want to kiss her (you do), but because you know exactly where this is heading. And, frankly, you’re not sure if your fragile sanity can handle any more right now.

“Unfortunately,” you mutter, voice flat.

She presses her lips to yours quickly. Just a soft, affectionate kiss, as though this isn’t the third crisis you’ve had to sort before your first coffee. You let her, of course. You always let her.

When she pulls back, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her grin growing wider. It’s the kind of grin that says, “I know exactly what I’ve just done to you, and I’m not sorry in the slightest.”

“Oh, by the way..” she adds, casually, as if she’s just reminding you of the time you accidentally threw your keys in the garbage. “Kiko peed on your laptop bag.”

You freeze, staring at her, your brain still struggling to process the fact that you've gone from a relatively normal morning to this. Your mouth opens and closes, but all you can manage is a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a small, defeated groan.

Her grin widens like she’s just told you the funniest joke in history. “It’s just a little pee,” she says, as though it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to add to your already ruined day. “What’s the big deal?”

You rub your temples, wondering how much more of this you can take. 

“I love you..” she says with a tiny, embarrassed chuckle. Clearly pleased with herself, and yet somehow still acting like she’s the victim in this scenario.

You blink, mind still racing as you try to find something to hold on to. 

“I love Beta blockers,” you reply with a tone dry as dust. At this point, you can’t think of a better way to cope with this absurdity.

Just when you think you’ve reached the limit, Alexia, without skipping a beat, drops her final bombshell. 

“Mi amor,” she says, “when are we getting Kiko a jersey? You know, for the team?”

You don’t even look at her, your voice flat. “I’ll get right on that.”

She grins and gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, clearly pleased.

“You’re the best.”

You resist the urge to scream.

[cripplecharacters]

Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?

[large text: Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?]

(TLDR: No.)

A frequent topic that shows up around facial differences is the self-hatred, self-disgust, self-insert-negative-emotion that we must surely experience. I want to ask* writers without FDs - why? Why do you feel about us in such a way that that's the most common way of depicting us?

*- rhetorical question. I promise I know the answer, but I'm not sure if writers do.

It's frankly worrying to me. Is it really that common to assume that disabled people have this internal, never-ending hatred for themselves? The overwhelming majority of us don't. We hate inaccessibility, when people stare, or some symptoms when they get in the way, or how expensive being disabled is, but I find the concept of us being so completely disturbed by our own disabilities extremely strange. It’s “tragedy porn” intersecting “most basic ableism”.

“But trauma!”

[large text: “But trauma!”]

Trauma of what! People with facial differences don't have some sort of default trauma that we come with like it’s a factory setting. We are a group of people with tens of thousands of stories and experiences.

“Trauma of experiencing ableism/disfiguremisia” - that's better, at least this means something. If you're writing a story about this, please get a sensitivity reader with a facial difference. You can assume how we feel all you want, but in my experience these assumptions are often bizarre and unrealistic. Or just end up writing the same “disability so sad” sob story that everyone has seen a billion times. If you want to write about disfiguremisia, you need to understand the nuance and have more than just the basic level knowledge (which 99% of people don’t have either). If you can’t do that, don’t write about it. Simple as that.

“Trauma of the accident” - thankfully, the accident is an event and a facial difference is a disability. If you want to connect these two like they're one and the same, you're almost surely going to demonize disability. People with traumatic spinal cord injuries, acquired amputees, people with TBI, people with acquired facial differences - we participate in our communities, we have hobbies, we date, we play with our dogs. Disability isn't a death sentence. Media who make it feel like it is certainly don't help people who do suddenly become disabled, don't you think?

Here's a post by @blindbeta about blind characters becoming blind through trauma that’s better made than anything I could hope to write here. I heavily recommend giving it a read.

And, I can't stress this enough - most of us didn't have “the accident”, most of us are born like this. "Traumatic scars" isn't the only facial difference that exists, far from it, it's only one of thousands. It's 99% of our representation and "representation". If you want to make a character with FD - please consider that we aren't a monolith. Just like not all physical disabilities are "wheelchair user with paralysis and somehow no other symptoms", not all facial differences are "traumatic scar with somehow no nerve damage".

The overrepresentation of it is incredibly telling, and sometimes - or very frequently - feels like the writer doesn’t actually even want to deal with us. They want to use our disability as a way to cheap drama, moral metaphors, tragic backstories. Not to represent us as living people who are much more similar to you than you apparently think.

Now, I do have enough awareness to know that that's a big part of the appeal. “Horrific Thing #2456 happens” and boom, instant drama. Of course, it's a reasonable response that they would hide their disability for years, avoid talking about it in any way, and magically change their personality to be mean and reclusive, or at least be constantly soooo sad about how much it sucks to be disabled, right?

Do I really need to say that having your character becoming disabled be the worst thing ever is ableism 101? We have been talking about this for so long at this point. Writing about the process of adapting to a specific disability is better left to people who have actual experience in it.

To give an example that will hopefully resonate more with Tumblr users, I will use the fact that I'm also gay. It's not perfect by any means but probably much more familiar territory.

Imagine, let's say, a character. He's gay. The story he's in is supposedly progressive, certainly not trying to be homophobic. The character has experienced an incident, maybe an act of aggression or a hate crime, that happened because he’s gay, which was traumatic. Happens IRL, sure. So of course the character starts hating being gay. He talks about how gross and disgusting it is, he never lets anyone know that he could be “one of them”, certainly not take a stance against homophobia. You can't mention him without mentioning the accident, they're seemingly fused together. No gay love, joy, even basic happiness, he would actually choose to be straight in a heartbeat if given the option to and complains that he can't. This is shown as a neutral, obvious thing that a gay man would do, no one comments on it. He stays like this the whole time, unless there’s a plot twist in the last 10 pages where the world is now magically perfect ("we fixed discrimination, yay!"). This is the only LGBT character in the story.

Keep in mind that there are people similar to this in real life, living with extreme internalized homophobia.

Reading comprehension quiz time: Is this, in your opinion, realistic and thoughtful representation? How does it feel when written by a cishet writer, versus a gay writer who is recalling his experiences? Do you think that it's reasonable for the majority of media representation to be like this, or very close to it? How would it affect younger gay people who might already be uncomfortable with being queer? Are gay men the target audience, or are they not even considered as a group of people who read books? Is this helping or damaging the general public's idea of how it is to be gay? Why or why not?

The Masterpiece

[large text: The Masterpiece]

From 13 to 19 of May, we are celebrating Face Equality week (what a coincidence!). It’s important to me in general - and I wish it was more important to abled people, but I digress - especially its theme for this year.

“My Face is a Masterpiece”

Great statement, it represents the community well, I do enjoy how bold it is. Very cool stuff, I love the work our advocates are doing.

But why do I bring this up?

Well, to very non-subtly show that we aren’t a self-hating group of people. We are a community, a community saying “our faces are beautiful, look!”, we are saying “treat us equally, and do it now!”. Our activism isn’t about self-disgust. It’s about fighting your-disgust. 

Why can’t writers keep up? Why are you still stuck decades behind?

Is this the only reason I bring it up?

The Call to Celebration

[large text: The Call to Celebration]

FEI, the org behind organizing it, asks a very simple question (emphasis mine):

“Why do we so often see stories about facial difference as a ‘tragedy’, when they should be about triumph?” “Calling all artists, allies, creatives, galleries.  You can rewrite the story to bring about #FaceEquality and celebrate the unique artistry found in every face. Your participation this #FaceEqualityWeek will help to tell the real story, that there is a masterpiece in every face.”

Here. We are calling for you to stop. Directly from the biggest international advocacy alliance group that's out there. If you create, this is for you.

The last argument to not have your character with a facial difference hate themselves? Because we don’t want this. We are tired and frustrated. For me personally, I’m also offended by this kind of assumption. We aren’t tragedies or cheap entertainment for abled people to pity or be horrified by. We are people, and if you can’t internalize that, you have no reason to write about us.

For once, celebrate us. Happy Face Equality Week!

mod Sasza

[aluciahaz]

Mommy kink x reader fix for luci pls, idc the circumstances, I’m desperate here.

arent we all 😔 here u go!! it was pretty fun writing this, i love METAPHORS!!!!

touch of temptation

—lucifer x gn!reader

—includes : sub!lucifer, dom!reader, mommy kink, edging

lucifer’s been alone for quite some time now. yet, when you came around, you made sure to change that immediately.

of course, due to the absence of affection for years, he’s stuck to you like glue, always perking up when he sees you enter a room and running toward you with his stupid little grin.

albeit, adorable stupid little grin.

his desire for touch was not only apparent during daily life, always hooking his arm around you or poking you in jest, but in the nightlife as well.

lucifer was needy. desperate. his longing for touch was one you indulged in without question much of the time, yet some nights the two of you agreed upon abstaining him from such wants. he was the king of hell after all, of course, he’d be a little freaky.

which is why he was sobbing underneath your maddening touch, his head falling back as he cries in dismay from his inability to finish due to your quick reactions whenever he’d get close, pulling your hand away just in time to elicit a noisy whine from the king.

“l-let—me cum, mommy, please!” he wails as you drive into him, pushing him to the brink of insanity as your hand returns to his cock. he bucks up into your hand wildly, only to have his hips held down with a stern push.

“not yet, baby. stay strong for me,” you coo, yet your soft tone goes against your actions, sharp, fast, and most importantly, ruthless.

he snivels before taking in a deep, shuttering breath, nodding his head weakly at your request.

“o-okay! i’ll tr—AH!” his fingers dig into your skin, grasping onto your back like his life depended on it.

and it only gets rougher when you let go of his cock.

the scream of frustration that ripped from his throat was adorable, considering how it would get interrupted by his choking wails. you can’t help but place a kiss on top of his forehead, soothing him just a bit. he always melts at the slightest act of affection, it’s wonderful.

his legs wrap around your waist as though he‘s a snake trying to constrict its prey. he needed to hold onto you like this, to feel you as much as he could. you were his temptation, and he was willing to lose himself in it.

“pl-please please! mommy, i need—! ngh—f-fuck!” he pleads aimlessly, finding himself lost in his seemingly endless pleasure.

“use your words, baby,” you tell him, knowing fully well as you thrust faster that he would be unable to form a single sentence.

“ha—i, you—so goodwait—AH! c-can’t think-!” the fallen angel seemed to find his place back in heaven, considering how far up his head was in the clouds. but, he’s brought back down to hell as your hand finds its place around his shaft again, making him jolt in shock.

he whines louder and louder, tears never stopping as he takes what you give in full stride, never trying to go against your earlier command.

he was as sweet as an apple and red as one too with a never faltering blush across his face and chest. you couldn’t help but take a bite, his neck being the perfect area for a mark.

the shaky moans that leave him are beautiful, and with how well he was taking all of your love, you just had to give him his reward.

“you’re such a good boy,” you huff out a chuckle as you hear him whine in delight, soaking up the praise needily.

“you can cum for me now, my love,” you coo, drinking in his face of pure gratitude as he hears you.

“c-can i? can i re—ah—! really?” he asks as he cries in joyous disbelief, looking at you with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“yes, baby,” you say gently, and without a second’s hesitation, he shudders and screams in mind-breaking ecstasy, the horns on his head slowly peeking from his head as he finishes.

“th-thank—! thank—! thank y-you—mh—mommy!” he wails, his eyes rolling to the back of his head briefly before slowly looking back up at you with a dazed look.

his legs still tremble around your waist before slipping down to the bed, completely exhausted. you take your time to care for him, cleaning and making sure to cuddle your little touch-starved lover as quickly as you could.

he’s already asleep in your arms in the first few seconds, snoring lightly. you kiss the back of his neck delicately before heading off to rest as well.

and it would be peaceful until morning, where, like every morning, he would whine and clutch onto you to make sure you wouldn’t leave the bed, never able to fulfill his endless hunger for your touch.

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist

[delicateperspective]

I think people who assume Harry is completely free tend to overlook a lot—especially things he shows during his concerts and in some interviews. Starting with the queercoding, but also those really vulnerable moments. You can literally see it in his face what it means to him when he waves a rainbow flag. And when he says things like “that doesn’t happen to people like me”—it’s heavy.

And I don't blame them because Harry's public image has been pushed very hard, especially with dwd and that stunt with the director. But If you really pay attention to the details, it’s pretty clear that Harry isn’t fully free. He’s just doing what he can, playing the game with everything he’s learned along the way.

I’m sure he’s negotiated as much freedom as possible over time, and what we see is a gradual result of that. I really hope in this next chapter, with all the leverage he’s gained, he’s been able to secure even more freedom.

I honestly just wish the best for both H and L.

yes exactly. you put it so well — that’s the thing about public perception. in order to see H & L the way that some people do, you have to be willing to accept a version of events that genuinely doesn’t make sense unless you ignore… well, everything.

to believe that version, you have to believe that:

harry was a womanizer from the very beginning. that he dated half the girls at bootcamp and then moved on to older, high-profile women who just happened to boost his image (taylor, kendall, olivia). that he’s a commitment-phobe who’s never had a long-term relationship. that he leans into queercoding and wears obviously queer clothing just to sell albums — even when he doesn’t know he’ll be photographed. that he writes intimate songs about home, about loving the same person through every season of life — despite having no personal experience with any of that. and that he deliberately distanced himself from the other boys in the band — especially louis — because he thought he was better than them.

louis, meanwhile, apparently changed his entire personality between 2011 and 2013 for no reason. that he got angry at a magazine for implying he supports LGBTQ+ rights. that he got a triangle on his achilles heel because he just… liked the shape. that he wears t-shirts and brands with overt queer symbolism (Tchaikovsky, All Out, Only the Brave, Maison Margiela) without realizing or caring what they mean — even though he loves fashion. that he used to call himself “camp” and “flamboyant” all the time, but only as a joke. and that he had a long-term girlfriend during the band, which is clearly why no fans ever had a shot — not because he was gay.

and that’s just the surface level stuff.

the more you pay attention, the worse it gets.

you have to eat a lot of narrative gymnastics to believe that version. honestly? in some cases, you have to make more illogical leaps than even the most unhinged larries do. you have to completely discredit every contestant who’s ever spoken out about x factor. every person who’s criticized modest management. every lyric change — like: “women just don’t feel right”, “i’m hoping someday i could be open”, “i can’t compete with my boyfriend”, "hopelessly devoted to Lou", etc. — has to be chalked up to coincidence or queerbaiting or… misheard. and you have to believe that none of it means anything — even when it obviously does.

i’ll always go back to the metaphor harry gave us in the As It Was music video — the red pill and the blue pill. just like in The Matrix: the red pill means you wake up and see the truth. the blue pill means you stay in a comfortable illusion.

so many people would rather take the blue pill. and honestly? i don’t blame them. it’s easier. it’s lighter. it doesn’t force you to confront how corrupt the industry is. how normal homophobia still is. how much trauma they endured. to accept that kind of truth — especially about people you love — takes a toll.

because once you see it, you can’t unsee it. you’ll always question the narrative. you’ll always feel that unease when something doesn’t add up. you’ll always see through the bullshit.

and yeah — sometimes I wish i could close my eyes too. especially in this world, in this moment, where everything is already so heavy. but i can’t.

so we keep paying attention. we keep listening between the lines. we keep hoping the next chapter brings them more peace, more truth, and more freedom.

because they’ve earned it. and they deserve it.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

just a few more "troublesome" words

fable, parable, allegory, myth

Fables and parables - stories intended to have instructional value.

They differ in that parables are always concerned with religious or ethical themes, while

fables are usually concerned with more practical considerations (and frequently have animals as the characters).

Allegory - an extended metaphor—that is, a narrative in which the principal characters represent things that are not explicitly stated.

Orwell’s Animal Farm is an allegory.

Myths - originally were stories designed to explain some belief or phenomenon, usually the exploits of superhuman beings.

Today, the word can signify any popular misconception or invented story.

florescent, fluorescent

Florescent - in flower

Fluorescent - radiating light

forbear, forebear

Forbear - (verb) to cease or refrain from

Forebear - (noun) ancestor

forceful, forcible, forced

Forcible - indicates the use of brute force (“forcible entry”).

Forceful - suggests a potential for force (“forceful argument,” “forceful personality”).

Forced - can be used for forcible (as in “forced entry”)

but more often is reserved for actions that are involuntary (“forced march”)

or that occur under strain (“forced laughter,” “forced landing”).

forego, forgo

Commonly confused, as here:

“The independents must destroy all documents obtained during the case and agree to forego any further litigation against the chains for three years” (International Herald Tribune).

Forego - means to go before, to precede.

To do without is to forgo.

former, latter

Former - properly used, should refer only to the 1st of 2 things

Latter - refers to the 2nd of 2 things

Both words, since they require the reader to hark back to an earlier reference, should be used sparingly and only when what they refer to is immediately evident.

fusion, fission

Both describe ways of producing nuclear energy:

Fusion - by fusing 2 light nuclei into a single, heavier nucleus

Fission - by splitting the nucleus of an atom

gabardine, gaberdine

Gabardine - a type of worsted cloth

Gaberdine - a long cloak

grisly, gristly, grizzly

Grisly - horrifying or gruesome

Gristly - applies to meat that is full of gristle

Grizzly - gray, especially gray-haired, and is a cliché when applied to old men

hanged

”It was disclosed that a young white official had been found hanged to death in his cell” (New York Times).

“Hanged to death” is a tautology.

So too, for that matter, are “starved to death” and “strangled to death.”

The writer was correct, however, in saying that the official had been found hanged and not hung.

People are hanged;

pictures and the like are hung.

harangue, tirade

A tirade - is always abusive and can be directed at one person or at several.

A harangue - need not be vituperative but may merely be prolonged and tedious.

It does, however, require at least two listeners.

One person cannot, properly speaking, harangue another.

heir apparent, heir presumptive

Heir apparent - inherits no matter what

Heir presumptive - inherits only if a nearer relation is not born first

impractical, impracticable, unpractical

If a thing could be done but isn’t worth doing, it is impractical or unpractical (the words mean the same).

If it can’t be done at all, it’s impracticable (the word means “incapable of being put into practice”).

in, into, in to

Generally, in indicates a fixed position (“she was in the house”)

while into indicates movement toward a fixed position (“she went into the house”).

There are, however, many exceptions (e.g., “she put the money in her pocket”).

As so often with idiom, there is no describable pattern to these exceptions; it is just the way it is.

Whether to write into as one word or two also sometimes causes problems.

The simple rule is that in to is correct when in is an adverb.

The distinction can perhaps best be seen in paired examples:

“He turned himself into [one word] an accomplished artist” but

“The criminal turned himself in to [two words] the police.”

Source ⚜ On Grammar & Vocabulary ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers

[gublerie]

suburban legends - in depth of a theory that the song is written about matthew gray gubler

this theory was made by me and rafa (@bendthwrules on twitter) cause we’re both delusional and have lots of free time apparently lol please take this lightly this is just to have fun. if you have any thoughts to share or add to our theory dont be shy !

first and foremost, we’ll start with a timeline then dive in to analyze the lyrics! it all starts with taylor’s infamous 4th of july parties, as most of you probably already know, matthew was in one of her parties in 2013, she threw the party at her house in rhode island.

on july 3rd, matthew tweeted that his next stop was new england, later that day, he took a photo with a fan during a flight to connecticut. the rumors that he was at her party started when he posted pictures with face paint and sparklers and people started to notice similarities between his and taylor’s pictures, he later deleted said pictures.

for reference, first are the pictures he posted and the pictures taylor took with other friends on the same occasion.

later on, we got this picture of the of them together, confirming that he was at her party indeed. (i can’t remember who posted this so if you remember please let me know)

his attendance on taylor’s independence party sparked rumors of a possible romance, although they didn’t officially date, it’s common knowledge that they did have a fling (also for the sake of the theory we’ll accept that as true lol).

let’s fast forward to 300 (and almost 65) days later, a new movie premieres at the fantasia international film festival on june of 2014, the movie is suburban gothic. and this was the starting point for me and rafa i mean suburban gothic… suburban legends…

taylor announced her first pop album ever, 1989, on a yahoo worldwide livestream on august 18th, 2014. by the time she announced it, of course, the album was already finished and the tracks it would have were already determined so anything taylor wrote after that, wouldn’t be in the original version of 1989.

our grand theory is that the premier of matthew’s new movie, suburban gothic, made taylor think back on her (very very) brief relationship with him, therefore, inspiring her to write suburban legends, a direct reference to the movie title.

without further ado, let’s get to the lyrics!!

taylor start the song by singing

“You had people who called you on unmarked numbers

In my peripheral vision”

which led us to associating it to mgg’s previous girlfriend and also his co-star in suburban gothic, kat dennings. since they were doing a movie together, they probably were in contact a lot and that’s possibly what taylor was referencing in this verse.

she then goes

“I let it slide like a hose on a slippery plastic summer

All was quickly forgiven”

keep in mind all the 4th of july parties are in the middle of summer, this verse could be a direct reference to that since the very first rumors started with a party in the middle of summer.

“And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever”

do i even need to say anything else?

“I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school”

when sharing my thoughts on the lyrics with rafa, i reminded her of what taylor wrote in state of grace “just twin fire signs”, this could be about taylor and the person she’s singing about sharing star signs (of the elements fire) but also about them being twin flames (or at least she thought so). just like she purposefully mentioned matching signs in previous lyrics, i do believe she would mention mismatched signs, mind you that taylor is a sagittarius and matthew is a pisces.

that verse could also be a metaphor about how would people view their relationship, they are from different parts of the industry and didn’t share many mutual friends. “surprising the whole school” could be about how shocked the general public would be about them being together.

“When I ended up back at our class reunion walking in with you

You'd be more than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out”

here i want to highlight the expression “you’d be” and in the previous verse “i had a fantasy”, when using these expressions, taylor is taking a position of someone imagining something, someone wondering even daydreaming about what things would be like. all the other theories about who this song is about revolve around people who taylor actually had a relationship with like harry styles and it just doesn’t make sense to me why she’d be having a fantasy of how things would be like when she knew how things were. personally, this verses make much more sense when placed in a context of someone who taylor didn’t have a real relationship with, like matthew.

“I know that you still remember”

if we’re starting from the assumption that she wrote the song almost a year later looking back at what happened between them, this verse could be how she is directly talking to him, she is remembering what happened and she knows he still remember as well.

“When you told me we'd get back together”

this could possibly hint to him wanting to get back together with her, wanting to actually evolve into a true relationship.

“I broke my own heart 'cause you were too polite to do it”

although i think there’s something almost sarcastic to this verse (like you were sooo polite you couldn’t even break my heart 🥴), i still do think it makes a connection to the previous verse i mentioned, perhaps he wanted to have a real relationship with her and when she realized it wouldn’t work, she had to break her own heart so she could move on.

and some other verses that just scream matthew gray gubler (iykyk) but i can’t quite put into words like “You were so magnetic it was almost obnoxious” or “We were born to be national treasures”.

well, that was too much ! i think it’s pretty clear that i’m not the most skilled writer (😭) but this was just to share the thoughts that were making me go crazy. huuuuge thanks to rafa cause she was the one to make me stop and think about it also helped me with the writing process and also is big on timeline cause she’s been on both fandoms a long time, ty love 🩷.

please let me know your thoughts on this, love you pookies 🫶

[karinadele]

Budget Walmart Medic

Ratchet x reader

ch7.

Prev (AO3)

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Warnings: Graphic descriptions of incorrect medical procedures, Character on the verge of death, Bad writing, Drugs, Mentions of suicidal ideation, PTSD, its 4am and im not proofreading or reformatting, saving that for when i post on ao3

“Fuck this shit.” You utter to yourself as you slam the door of your apartment closed. Sliding your back down the door to fall to the ground as you clutch your hair. Is it really too much to ask people to respect your decisions? Besides, it was just a metaphor for what you were feeling. Everyone says ‘Oh I’m gonna fucking kill myself!’ but most don’t mean it. Are all Cybertronians this stubborn? Sighing as you push yourself off the door and tossing your keys to the kitchen counter. Fine, sure, you’re a little suicidal, but just passively. It’s been years since you’ve visited grippy sock jail anyways.

But you’re just so mad. Respect is always something to be valued. You didn’t choose to be in this world, and you’d be damned if others don’t respect the choices you do. Even if it means death. Slamming your head against the fridge as you reach to the cupboard and grab a pill bottle. You haven’t been this pissed since your ex. The little white bar with the letters XANAX engraved twirls in your finger before you decide to pop it down. Not even bothering with a glass of water as you just dip your head into the sink and drink it straight from the tap.

Why are you so pissed? It’s just a passing comment that you’ve heard a million times before, yet something boils in you. Is it because your past few days have been nothing but chaos? Have you even had a chance to take a breather and process it? –And no, a cigarette break does not count.

No. There’s something more to it. Is it because Ratchet said it?

Giving up, you decide to end this shit before it gets even more complicated. Classic too scared and scarred to be involved in anything, so you cut off everyone before anything happens. But in this situation, it’s completely acceptable. Alien robots telling you want to do?! If you weren’t being locked up for trying to hurt yourself, you’d be locked up for psychosis at this rate.

One more all-nighter. You tell yourself. Contact Raf and ship the damn guy off and be done with your problems. Poor Raf. Being such a young age and already wrapped in otherworldly business. Either he has a will of steel or just doesn’t know any better. Or maybe it’s not actually that bad. Refusing to entertain that thought, you slide your computer chair back and flop into it.

A child wouldn’t be awake at this time anyways. Typing away as you let your thoughts wander. He’s on the run too right? You feel a pang in your chest as you realize a child can’t even enjoy a good night’s sleep. Probably with that sleek muscle car napping in the back. How you wish you could offer him a hug and a good night’s rest.

Wait.

So why don’t you?

You’re not affiliated with any governments, the Decepticons don’t know you, and you have a spare bed. Besides, you were already on your way to contact him.

Hastily typing out a message as you feel the effects of the Xanax kicking in. Another day saved by drugs. Lord have mercy you probably need rehab after all this. Locating Raf’s number wasn’t that hard, everyone has a social media account these days. Even kids. The real kicker is getting it through without detection. Opening up Scapy as you slog away encrypting each packet.

By the time you’ve hit send, It was already dawn. Another successful all nighter. You take a moment to lean back and relax, knowing it’s now done. Sluggishly dragging yourself over to the fridge as you nibble on a block of cheese –hey protein right? And flop back into your chair, pulling up your music to relax.

You were so engrossed in your music and just catching up with your breath that you didn’t even notice there was a little figure outside your window. Being on the ground floor meant not only bugs, but apparently also creeps.

What the fuck.

Carefully, you pulled back the curtains. If it was any other day, you would have ran into the bathroom and locked yourself up. But viva la drugs! What you find… Is Raf. Along with the black muscle car fully transformed standing on the lawn. Your landlord is gonna be pissed. She spends hours planting those flowers and now..? Yikes.

Hurriedly, you grab your keys and head on out to meet Raf. They sure got here quick? How even? Has it been that long since you sent the message, or can that car just drive insane speeds? Under the dark, you don’t notice much, but the moment you let Raf in, –and told the autobot to lay low and get off the lawn, you realized a surprising problem. Raf is hurt. Barely holding it together.

Scrambling as you pick him up and lay him on your bed, you check for his vitals, the ABCs. Airway seems to be intact, breathing is there, if a little bit shallow. And circulation.. well you don't know. but he’s bleeding with wounds everywhere and you feel your blood boiling. He’s only 10! (he’s 12) how can anyone do this to a child?! You wanted to offer him solace and a good night of rest, not like this!

Flying out your door once you made sure Raf is breathing, as you head to his car companion to find some answers. Only to be replies with bleeps and bloops. Great. An autistic boy with an autistic car. And Raf is in no shape to translate, so the next best is… ah shit. Ratchet. The same one that’s got you all stressed out. Shoving your emotions aside for the nth time of the day, as a life is more important, adrenaline pumping through you, you bolt downstairs into the garage.

“RATCHET! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” You yell out at him, huffing and panting from running.

Ratchet, still in his little world, under stasis, does not budge. You don’t have time for this! For fuck’s sake! Not another near death’s door! Completely pumped on adrenaline, you smack him, kicking his wheels, banging on his windows and eventually climbing into his hood to smack the windshield. Gosh you wish you brought a crowbar.

Just as you were about to pick his lock and just drive him out, when the medic stirs.

“WHAT IN PRIMUS’ NAME ARE YOU DOING?!” He shouts back. Clearly not liking being forcibly woken from stasis, or appreciating some human crawling all over him causing damage to him.

“We have a situation, Ratchet.” You try to explain to him as calmly as you can. But underneath that, there’s a tinge of stress and panic. “Raf’s not doing good. He’s here.”

For the second time of the night, Ratchet nearly forgot he’s underground and smacks the ceiling trying to transform. Pieces of concrete fall down between the two of you.

“IS HE INJURED??” Optics widened, half transformed, half kneeling down. Raf. He’s been through so much. Dark Energon, and now this! FRAG! And he can’t even contact June or anyone without endangering everyone. He feels so helpless again. Panic also waves through him. realizing just how useless he is again. Again.

Your voice snapped him out of it. “He’s in my apartment right now. His breathing is shallow, airways are clear, he’s losing blood as we speak… ah! But that Camero is here too. I can’t make out left or right about what he’s saying though! Ratchet! Lets go!”

Still grounded in fear, his processors disconnecting as he’s reliving his trauma of how he couldn't do anything for Raf the first time, and how Bumblebee is here too –Another reminder of how he’s failed everyone. Optics widened as he shakes in place.

“RATCHET! FUCK! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

You call out again, as you kick his leg.

“OW! YOU FRAGGING-”

He caught himself before he did anything, realizing you just snapped him out of it. Transforming fully back into his vehicle mode, as you scramble in and direct him over to the main streets, where the other Autobot is.

You let the boys figure out what happened, as much as you’d like to stay back and have a full recount on what happened, Raf is your priority. Running fast as you can back into your building, with how stressed and uncoordinated you are, slamming into the door before you even turned the doorknob like an idiot. When you finally make it in, you’re greeted with a child that’s half your side barely hanging on a thread.

You want to just break down and cry. You don’t know him, but this is not it. Everyone deserves to enjoy life. With the last of the Xanax countering you adrenaline, you get to work. “Sorry Raf. Sis is gonna have to take a look at you. Or try anyways.”

Ratchet and Bee are busy arguing about what happened. That a decepticon managed to trace his alt mode– even with the new paint job. Particular because they noticed Raf. Gunning for the child, relentlessly firing one after another to him. Bumblebee did everything he could to protect Raf, but it was not enough. Both of them sustained severe damage. Ratchet nearly wanted to scream and shout at Bee for being so reckless to have gotten Raf into this situation, but Bee interjected that after they managed to get into hiding, Raf’s phone got a notification. With whatever strength the kid had, he relayed that contact with you was established. And instantly they peeled off, going way above traffic limits, speeding off on the highway in the night to meet you. After all, Ratchet is with you.

Ratchet’s energon lines were nearly boiling. He snapped at Bee. He can’t do anything for humans! And he can’t even contact June! He couldn’t even fix Bumblebee’s voice box! He feels like a failure! And Raf! The one child he’s gotten close to, is now utterly helpless!

As the two boys argue outside, you’ve already started to work on Raf. Context to what happened would be nice, but a critical situation does not afford time for it. Raf is drifting in and out of consciousness, but with whatever words he can explain, he’s pointed out he’s gotten shot, as well as several metal shrapnel had embedded into him.

You’re full of rage. But thankfully for you, stress fuels you. Instantly snapping into work mode, you bring out your medkit. A kit that’s more of a duffel bag littered with supplies that’s probably half expired. Regardless, it’s the best we can work with. You don’t even noticed the two autobots staring outside your window as you work away on Raf.

Do they send him to a human hospital? They certainly can, but will human doctors know what to do when these are energon infused weapons? Would Raf’s family be contacted? Will that endanger the whole hiding in secrecy more? Ratchet is losing it, kicking away plants and punching trees, while Bee is desperately trying to calm him down, despite being hurt himself.

You hear the commotions outside, but are completely tunnel focused, locked into working on Raf. Raf explains he’s struggling to breath, and you noticed one of his lungs is working over time, and the other is very shallow, rather than breathing together, they’re alternating. Considering he was hit with a chest, its not uncommon for it to have developed into tension pneumothorax. You really hope it isn’t, as that’s not a procedure that should be performed in some drug addict’s apartment, but shortly after, his breathing stops. This is not good. There wouldn't be enough time to call for emergency services. Technically you have an emergency vehicle already, but said vehicle is not versed in human medicine. The good Samaritan law right? Either you do something now and hope it brings him back, or he’ll die. or die trying. There’s only one logical option.

Hurriedly cutting his clothes off, as you feel around on his collapsed lung. A child should be two ribs down. Digging on your bottom shelf for vinyl gloves, shoving it on and praying Raf isn’t allergic to anything, you grab your box cutter and quickly swap out the current blade with a new blade. Snatching the vodka on the coffee table and pour it all over your hands, the blade, and a plastic tube you’ve managed to fish out.

Following along the collapsed lung, tracing along his ribs till you’ve counted two, as you press the tip of the blade into the skin, slowly with accuracy, cutting in inches deep before making the cut horizontal across his ribs. If you had more supplies and time, you would have done this with a needle for safety, but fuck! You're convinced you've used up the last of the needles shooting up morphine! Coming back to reality as you work swiftly inserting the tube into his lung, and instant 'pppssshh' hisses out from it.

Ratchet and Bee at this point, have basically glued their faceplate and optics by your window, zooming in into what’s going on. Ratchet recalled that you said you were not a medic, but yet you’re performing with accurate precision. This may be illegal in both Earth and Cybertronian terms, but he can't help but be in awe with how steady your hands and focus on Raf is. Bumblebee however, noticed that you’re completely stressed. Vibrating like a leaf as he points it out to Ratchet. He takes notice as he pulls his optics away from your work, to realize just how scared you are. Clenching your teeth until it’s sore, then swapping to biting your lips until the blood is cut off, moving back to gritting your teeth. He can sense your breathing is all over the place, mostly forgetting to breath as you hold your breath until tears are welling up.

With a gasp, Rafael manages to suck in a breath.

“Easy there Raf. don’t breath too hard. You have a collapsed lung. It probably hurts right now." You tell him.

Subconsciously, Ratch runs a scan on both you and Rafael. You were correct. He did in fact, had tension pneumothorax. And he now is breathing. Still gravely wounded with blood leaking, but able to breath. You on the other hand, physically are safe, but the amount of adrenaline is sky high, and he can see your blood pressure and heart rate reaching the unhealthy range. Powerless to help you two, he wanted to beat himself up. Thankfully, Bumblebee bleeps a few beeps reassuring that you know what you’re doing, and Raf is in safe hands. (Little did Bee know, you in fact, do not know what you’re doing.)

The poor barely conscious boy gives you a nod and you can feel your adrenaline wearing off. Not yet. We still have things to do. He still has bleeding wounds to stop before he’s stabilized. Poor kid is bleeding all over your bed. Fishing in the first aid kit as you grab an EpiPen (totally expired) and stab it into yourself, followed by popping a few pills of Ativan to help sedate the effects.

Ratchet does not understand what is going on, but detected the adrenaline wearing off, cortisol levels rising, only to instantly be replaced with another wave of adrenaline. Is that what you injected?! Why would you purposefully do that?! He was caught in these thoughts when suddenly, a flashback came to him. When he was so desperate to figure out the Synthetic Energon that he tried it on himself… You weren’t testing drugs on yourself… you were desperately doing it to make sure you can continue to save Raf’s life…

Last push you tell yourself. Stop the bleeding and you can have a break. Fueled with too much adrenaline, you instantly start working. Raf will be in such pain you thought. Digging your hands back down the bag for the last vial of morphine you have, -graciously stole from the hospital during your last visit. You mentally calculate how much you need, for a boy this age. You have his age and estimate of height… but his weight? You’re terrible at guessing weights. With no time to think, you suddenly realized something. If Ratchet was able to scan out that you had energon in you, can he scan Raf’s weight? Last thing you want to do is accidentally overdose the poor boy into death. Spinning your head back as you nearly get jumpscared by two bots glued to the window, you slide open the glass.

“Quick Ratchet. What’s Raf’s weight?”

Caught off guard as he was completely focused on your wellbeing, he quickly resets his vocalizer and take a look at Raf’s weight, Giving you an estimate.

Wanting to be on the safe side, you decide 1mg should be enough, not enough to knock him out, but at least subdude the pain. Not like you have local anesthesia or have time for lidocaine creams to work. Realizing you in fact, did have one last sterile needle that you saved from safe needles exchange clinics. Never did you think this was what it was going to be used for. Drawing out what you feel is about 1mg as you tie a tourniquet around Raf’s arms, slapping it a couple times until you can see the vein. Children have small veins, and you’ve opted for a butterfly needle. Thankfully he seems to have better veins than you, and you push the morphine into him. Telling him he’s okay, he’ll feel better soon.

In a moment’s time, Raf is peaceful sleeping, no doubt from the stress and his body finally giving up. But also a symptom that the drug has kicked in. It’s showtime. Making an effort to clean his open wounds with rubbing alcohol as that vodka is totally gone. You work as swiftly as you can, with nothing but a fucking sewing needle and nylon fishing wire, you zone in and start his sutures. It’s been a while since you’ve ever sewn up anything, but once you got into the groove, it was surprisingly relaxing.

Half an hour later, you find yourself done with the major bleeds, finishing off the smaller cuts with a mix of butterfly bandaids and normal one, you proceed to apply medicated gauze over the larger more likely to be infected wounds. Mentally drifting off to how expensive these were, but instantly pulling back to the problem at hand. Finishing up as you bandage him up with rolls of gauze and securing it with medical tape.

Ratchet at this point, could not believe what he was seeing. You, who claimed to not have been a medic, just went through with a complicated surgery, as well as sutures. He wondered if the day he met you was also a life saved by you.

By now, the adrenaline has started to subsided. The parasympathetic nervous system is now starting to take over. Making your way over to the bots as you tell them, Raf is out of critical condition, but he still needs to be in a hospital.

Ratchet is in a turmoil, he know Raf needs to be seen by a proper medic, yet he also know they not only need to lay low, but humans would not know how to even begin diagnosing Raf with energon blasts. “If only we could contact June…” He mumbled.

“June? Who’s that?”

“Jack’s mother, a nurse. Someone who’s aware of our presence.” He curtly replied.

Who is even Jack??

“So– We just need to contact her right?” You already know where this is going, seems like the day is far from over.

“Without detection of course.” Ratchet tagged on. “I have her number if you need it.”

That’s all you needed to hear. Giving him a nod as you flop back into your computer chair and once again, send an sos signal –fully encrypted to this said “June”. You’re fighting your body to stay awake now. The cortisol and benzodiazepines are practically taking over. With the message sent, you slice a little of your windscreen open, and shove the spare keys into Ratchet’s servos.

“I sent her a message. You let her in when she gets here, okay?” As you look out the window. Ah shit. They’ve ruined the whole front yard now. Is that a broken tree?

Ratchet, still having a hard time processing what in Primus’s aft just happened, and Bee just as lost. Without a second thought, you pass out right at your computer desk. You could just hope the bots don’t get in any trouble until June arrives…

[unnamednarrator]

1. “Believe me, I will never be tired of you.” From the fluffy dialogue prompts if you’re inspired 😊

this was sent in a month and a half ago lmao. anyway, i’m trying to stretch my writing muscles a little again and this was a lovely way to do that!

a little continuation of broke your every heartbeat inspired by this prompt from this post! thanks for sending it in @distractionsfromthefood ❤️

I end up leaving my own twenty-first birthday party, because I know Katniss wouldn’t want to explain anything to anyone at the party and I’d rather spend time with her than anyone else. We get into her car and drive back to her apartment.

On the way, I text Annie to ask her to lock up, since she knows where I put my spare keys. But apparently Johanna stole her phone, because her reply is LMFAOOOO i thOUGht i saw her car behind us. get it birthslay king which makes me feel very justified in my decision to not go back to the party.

In the car, we talk a little about our classes and how we can’t believe it’s almost time for finals again and the fact that neither of us have any summer plans yet. Neither of us says it, but I think we were both waiting to hear what the other was doing for the summer, even if only through the grapevine, before organising something for ourselves. I don’t know if it would have changed what we’d have done, but I’ve become so used to reaching for Katniss — literally, metaphorically, digitally — that not checking in with her would be like not having a heartbeat.

When we get to her apartment block and she turns off the car, neither of us move for several long moments. Then, without looking at me, Katniss moves her hand from the gear control to my hand. I hold hers tightly. I can feel her trembling just slightly and lift her palm to my lips to kiss. This makes her turn towards me.

‘I want to believe this is real,’ she says. ‘But I’m so scared you’ll get sick of me.’

I shake my head, letting go of her hand only to draw her towards me over the centre console. ‘Believe me,’ I say, kissing her on the forehead, ‘I’ll never be tired of you.’

Her shoulders relax underneath my arms. ‘I was hoping you’d say something like that,’ she says.

‘Do you think you’ll get sick of me?’

‘No. Never. You’re the only person I can tell everything to.’

‘Same here.’

[maxdibert]

These are the comments you received on the James defense post. I’d love to see your responses to them if you’re interested in answering.

what i don’t understand is how someone defending a 15yo james potter (thus apparently making them a classist which u think is tantamount to death lmao) is better than y’all defending snape? like. how is That not fascism considering mans was a literal DE who agreed w the ideals from a young age and also created torture curses that he used frequently enough to become his ‘signature spell’ and also became an adult who went on to bully literal children from his position of authority (and even becoming a kids boggart as well as actively harming other kids) whereas james was a kid who was a bully and went on to die at the age of 21. snape lived til his mid 30s and never stopped being an asshole. so. being a fascist defender of a racist bigot, how are you throwing stones at classists? also. if you’re talking ‘european cultural context’ pls remember this is not post-industrial britain and is a society of its own separate from the trad class system of the muggle world. money might play a role but so does blood politics and james was considered a ‘blood traitor’ which would’ve been a stroke against him during voldy’ speak war era. snape, on the other end, actively supported and endorsed the rhetoric. that’s just one layer to it. u can’t just juxtapose any theory to any context without considering the difference in that society from the one marx envisioned. that’s just lazy work.

You really talk a lot about class and aristocracy and brag about your experience and education and how much of an intellectual you are, but you still don’t understand that classes in the wizarding world are not the same as classes in our world. You use big words, brag about your experience, and clearly assert your moral and intellectual superiority over others, yet you don’t understand the meaning of “eat the rich”, the concept of class, the accumulation of capital, or even what capital and the means of production are. Or, most likely, you understand, but you just manipulate with these words to defend Snape thinking that no one can see it.(If you want to debate more substantially, I can send you my meta about classes from a Marxist perspective in the wizarding world. ( though you’ll probably say I don’t have enough neurones to write anything coherent😄)

Regarding the first person, I’ve already talked about this many times, and they’re mixing up concepts. First of all, I don’t understand what adult Severus has to do with James, because the relationship between James and Severus is limited to their teenage years. It makes no sense to bring adult Severus into the debate because we’re not talking about that Severus. We’re talking about the teenager in a teenage context with a teenage bully.

And, even so, if we were to talk about the adult, we could discuss how the violence inflicted by James Potter probably influenced his character as he grew up, precisely because it left him with a host of unresolved traumas. These include an inability to manage his emotions or deal with stressful situations as a functional adult, due to a significant developmental delay directly tied to his experiences at school and the importance he still places on them as an adult.

In any case, that’s beside the point. On the other hand, these people seem to be willfully obtuse. Rowling didn’t create a world out of nowhere; her world is the British Wizarding World, and throughout the series, she uses analogies for real-world political and social issues (like discrimination against Muggle-borns, which is supposed to be an analogy for racism but comes off as ridiculous, or Voldemort being a sort of Hitler figure but not even reaching the level of a nationalist terrorist party leader, or the werewolves being a disrespectful metaphor for HIV victims). So, it’s based on the real society she lived in, which is specifically post-Thatcherite Britain. For these people to claim that Severus was some kind of fascist racist and then have the audacity to deny that Rowling’s world is connected to the real world—when it’s closely based on real-world social dynamics and constantly shaped by her bourgeois, reactionary perspective—is as contradictory as it is ridiculous and even shameful.

And I’m sorry, but class is something that permeates everything. Class is the trunk of the social structure from which other branches of intersecting social issues emerge. Homophobia is also tied to class; feminism is tied to class; racism is tied to class. All the problems and axes of discrimination in our society have a class-based foundation because the social pillars on which it is built were based on class castes that date back to pre-Medieval societies. The Roman Empire was a class society; ancient Egypt was a class society. Our cultural references are strictly linked to class. Ignoring this and claiming that Rowling somehow created a completely isolated bubble uninfluenced by the politics of a world closely modeled after ours, and with issues she constantly alludes to in her work, is basically not understanding a thing, having the reading comprehension of a monkey on amphetamines, or simply refusing to acknowledge the obvious to avoid re-examining personal prejudices or deconstructing their neoliberal perspective.

As for the second message... Yes, I mean, I would tell them that not only am I an intellectual, but I also studied Law + Political Science, have two master's degrees, and have worked in unions. So, it’s not a matter of what I think; it’s that I literally have qualifications in this. I’m a criminal lawyer and political scientist. It’s not like I’m drawing my conclusions from a handful of Tumblr posts I came across.

They’re telling me I don’t understand the concept of means of production or capital accumulation to defend a character who literally lived off the wealth of his ancestors and used that economic and social capital (because there are various types of capital) to maintain a position of power over others during his school years. A character who, precisely because of his accumulated capital, managed to sit at the top of the social hierarchy without lifting a finger and who had nothing to lose by acting like a tyrant because he had an economic and familial safety net (another type of capital) to fall back on. All this while the character he attacked was on the opposite side: working-class, with no resources or financial support, and zero accumulated or generated capital.

I don’t know what the hell they’re talking about, and it seems quite incoherent to start posturing as a Marxist intellectual while defending abuses of power by the magical equivalent of an aristocrat against someone from the working class. And I’m sorry, but the social structure of the wizarding world functions exactly like the social structure of any society that still maintains class-based castes rooted in aristocracy. Pure-bloods are basically nobles, aristocrats, members of families with great lineages—they’re essentially lords. It doesn’t take much insight to find the parallel, nor does it require much knowledge of British culture; just a glance at how modern European monarchies work makes it evident.

But anyway, what do you want me to say? They can bring whatever meta they want, but I’m not going to change my opinion. My issue with these people is basically this: one knows what their strengths are, and I’m not pretending to be an intellectual or acting like I know it all. It’s just that I literally have experience in activism, paid work, and university-level studies (master’s level) on these topics.

I’m not going to share my opinions about physics, theories on how spells or magic might work, or whether certain things are plausible from a logical point of view because I don’t have the faintest idea about those things. I don’t know math, I don’t know physics or chemistry, and I don’t know engineering. I’m an absolute illiterate when it comes to equations. But I’m not when it comes to political theory. I’ve earned honors in political theory.

So, as you can understand, these people are hardly going to change the mind of someone who not only has expertise but also has a damn university degree. And frankly, I don’t think degrees are everything, but aside from that, I’ve spent 10 years actively participating in Marxist union activism, leading the university union, and I also worked for a year in the field of labor law after finishing my degree. So, I don’t know—they can say whatever they want, but I don’t care.

[d-is-humming]

Lullaby and an elephant in the room

Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic)

Summary: James Barnes has nightmares; his neighbor has insomnia. Maybe with a lullaby, things can get better.

Warnings: (I would say none, but to be sure) nightmares, insomnia.

Hello dear, apparently I'm trying again to write in english. There will probably be mistakes and some repetition, I'm sorry. This came out more as a scenario than a real story, but I needed to take this idea out of my head and here it is. Also, I don't really know why the metaphor of the elephant took so much space. The song quoted is Come wander with me by Agua de Annique e Anneke van Giersbergen, I heard it on Spotify and it stuck in my head. Enjoy (I hope). D.

•°*”��¯`´¯˜”*°*”˜¯`´¯˜”*°*”˜¯`´¯˜”*°•

One last scream.

And then silence, mixed with frantic breathing. His torture has ended, for tonight. He will probably wait for daytime watching the empty walls of his room or swallowing whatever is on tv, everything just to not fall asleep again.

On the other side of the wall, you take a long breath, but it’s not relief. Sitting against the headboard of your bed, knees to your chest and your head on them, you want to relax, to let your anxiety dissolve, but the last half an hour of someone else’s nightmares has left you with a deep uneasiness. You think to yourself, the worst part it’s not being awaken in the middle of the night by the screams, even when you’ve just closed your eyes after hours of your own insomnia. You surrender to another sleepless night, watching your still empty room walls or anything is on tv.

In the morning, when you and Sargent Barnes cross paths outside your adjacent rooms, you politely greet each other with a nod of the head, ignoring the elephant in the room, not wanting to embarrass each other. You have no right to meddle; he has no intention of acknowledging with a co-worker, a stranger, his own problems.

And again, another night, another day, another nod of the head, another week and another again.

It's been almost a month and the lack of proper rest it’s getting you. You already had a bad sleeping habit before moving to your room at the compound, but at least you didn’t have to cope with the infectious anxiety of a traumatized neighbor. You’re not blaming him, you would never. But it became a problem.

Because the worst part of it's not being awaken in the middle of the night; it's not even the screams themselves. It’s that they’re incessant, continuous, lasting minutes, hours, sometimes more. Entire sessions of skin-crawling screams and dreadful cries, with intervals of dire silence, when you’re not sure if the man next door is finally resting or if he’s in one of those dreams where your mouth just can’t produce sounds and you feel like drowning.

In the dark room, you press your hands a little harder on your hears. You already tried with tv or music, or just earplugs, but somehow knowing the screams were just hidden made them worse. Made you feel guilty – for listening to something so intimate without permission and because you can’t do anything for the man.

Still covering your ears, you quietly start humming the first song that comes to your mind, more to soothe your nerves than to cover his cries.

He said / Come wander with me, love / Come wander with me / Away from this sad world / Come wander with me

It’s really not much, but enough to distract you, so you keep singing, softly, ending the song and repeating it again. You manage to lose yourself in the melody, to loosen your tense body in the hypnotic repetition, letting your voice grow a bit firmer, a little less affected by the nightmare next door. After a while silence comes from the other room. You sing some more, slowly turning to humming and finally falling asleep.

Next door, Sargent Barnes has just awakened and while he tries to remember how to breathe, he listens to your voice and, somehow, tonight it seems a tiny bit easier finding his foot on this world again.

In the morning, when you and James Barnes cross paths, you politely greet each other with a nod of the head. You’ve become good colleagues, you work well together, grew a bit closer, even though you’re not properly friends. Therefore, the elephant stays in the room, unbothered. You know he goes to therapy and you still don’t feel the right to meddle; he’s still too ashamed of waking up every night his nice neighbor.

And again, another nightmare, another song, another day, another nod of the head, another week and another again.

You’ve started to sing every night, a bit longer following the last cry before he wakes, a silent agreement to sing him to sleep that you two sign every morning with your polite nod of the head. It seems like he has started to scream a bit less. He awakens a little easier from his nightmares and, apparently, he’s also getting some proper sleep after. You feel more at ease, your faithful insomnia is still there, but you’re getting more sleep too.

Months pass by and in the end you and Bucky become friends. You still nod your head politely in the morning, then you go on with your days spending time together, be it for training of for fun. Bucky’s still going to therapy, more willingly than the first times, and you’re just happy to know he’s feeling better; he is a bit shy of telling you he’s falling asleep every night listening to your sweet voice. That's why your elephant stays there.

But even your polite elephant can't remain silent forever. A mission gone particularly wrong makes more demons resurface from the depths of slumber and the worst nightmare in a while echoes through the wall separating you from one of your best friends. Dread fills you again, a feeling you hadn't in months.

You slowly walk to your shared wall and rest your head on it. You don’t know if it will help, but you can’t - you don’t want to ignore him. Softly, you start to sing.

He said / Come wander with me, love / Come wander with me / Away from this sad world / Come wander with me

The first times you tried to sing during Bucky’s nightmares, it was to survive. It was selfish. Then it became something like a mutual secret, a tool for the both of you to reach the end of the night as unscathed as possible. And now, now it’s an act of love, your way to try and protect him from something you can’t save him from.

He came from the sunset / He came from the sea / He came from my sorrow / And can love only me

You sing as sweetly as you’re capable of, but you feel more powerless at every cry that resonates in the room, your heart being torn together with his.

You don’t know how many times you start the song again, crying, your voice quivering. You’re scared but, finally, the screams turn into crying. You’re almost relieved when you hear him awake and weeping. You collapse against the wall, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, but keep on humming gently, because you don’t want to leave him alone.

Maybe an hour passes and you don’t hear sounds coming from the other room. You stopped crying but grief fills your heart. You swore years ago to never leave alone the people you love and yet, there you were, hating a wall and yourself for not being able to help a friend.

Then, a sound so soft you would have missed it. A door closing. Some silence. A knock on your door. You bolt on your feet to open it: Bucky stands there and though you can’t really see his face in the dark, you know he’s stressed.

-Can you sing for me, doll, please?

He’s voice is so thin your heart breaks. You take his hand gently and guide him to sit on your bed. You sit close enough for him to reach at you, if he wants. Softly, you start again.

He said / Come wander with me, love / Come wander with me

He tentatively reaches for your hand and you take it, starting to caress it tenderly, with a regular rhythm. You can feel his ragged breathing evening a bit.

Away from this sad world / Come wander with me

He came from the sunset / He came from the sea

He’s trembling slightly, silently crying. You don’t leave his hand, repeating the short lullaby again.

He came from my sorrow / And can love only me

Oh where is the wanderer / Who wandered this way

A third and a fourth and a fifth times you sing for him. At a certain point he’s rested his head on your thighs and you’ve felt the tears through the fabric of your pants. You gently move your fingers through his hair and slowly, so slowly, his body starts to relax, his breathing now regular.

/ He’s passed on his wandering / And will never go away

He sang of a sweet love / Of dreams that would be ...

You softly turn to humming the last verses of the song, rocking both of you to sleep, and, after a while, the soldat seems to find peace, leaving the man to rest.

Tomorrow, you will gently acknowledge the elephant that lived in your rooms for too long. But, for now, you will enjoy your slumber.

[cameliawrites]

ranking all 32 of my kanej fics lol

I’ve never seen anyone do this, and the idea of ranking all my own fics kind of cracked me up, so here we go. (I’m excluding the 2 collaborative fics I’ve written on because that doesn’t feel fair.) I also think it’s valuable to be able to take a step back and be self-critical about my work. I would LOVE to see other people do this with their own fics.

Are these going to be hot takes? They definitely aren’t going to match the order of my most popular fics on ao3. I’d be curious to hear if anyone has wildly different opinions or thinks I’m dead wrong. It’s always interesting how a writer’s personal favorites or the stories they think are “best” don’t necessarily track with what an audience thinks. I have a hard time believing that very many people have read all 32 of these fics, let alone remember most of them, so I think it would be hard for anyone else to have a super in-depth opinion on this lol. But do reply and let me know if you DO have a favorite fic of mine, and if so, which one! (Also, all of these fics are linked if you click the title.)

Without further ado…

Going from the bottom (my worst or least favorite) to the top (what I think are my best or favorite):

32.) let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments - Literally the first fic I ever wrote, so of course it’s going to be flawed. This one makes me cringe and I hardly ever look back at it because I just want to heavily revise it. It’s one of my most popular, but I think age has a lot to do with that, because it’s had more time to garner hits/kudos/whatever. 

31.) see it in your face, i'm relief - It’s pretty short, so in hindsight, it should’ve just been shoved in the Sea Glass anthology. I think Kaz is a little too sappy in this one, and nailing characterization is always hard, but I hate when I feel like I’ve made the characters cringy.

30.) Sea Change - The first multichap fic I wrote. I hardly ever revisit this one. I feel like it’s definitely a bit overwrought and could use some harsh pruning. But it’s kind of the blueprint - a lot of the metaphors and themes are ones that I’ve continued to explore over and over again in the last three years of fics. Everyone has to start somewhere, but I wish it were better executed.

29.) Minor Miracles - Again, it’s short, and should’ve just been added to Sea Glass. And it’s too saccharine. But I still like the detail about the bonelight fish - I think the imagery of that is really pretty. Otherwise, nothing in this ficlet is treading new ground, nor is it treading old ground particularly well.

28.) Something Tender - Overly soft Kaz strikes again!! I know it’s a little out of character; I just can’t help it, apparently. Also, there have been a million kanej hair brushing fics, and many of them done much better than this.

27.) Second Chances - It’s short and plotless, which cuts against it. But I do like that it’s a glimpse at older kanej, which we don’t see enough of. I think it’s hard for me to write kanej at an age I haven’t reached.

26.) In the Wild Soft Summer Darkness - I think it’s a little disjointed. Like, it didn’t do a great job toeing the line between silly and serious. It starts off with ridiculous thirsty Inej, but tries to end on a more sincere note, like it’s trying to have a deeper meaning than it actually does. I should’ve just let it remain silly. I think this fic WANTS to be what “honey, let me be your bodyguard” ended up being. 

25.) secretly, between the shadow and the soul - I think I was trying to be a little bit more poetical and whimsical in this one and experiment more with tone, but again, not sure the execution was great. It ended up a little bit too saccharine and overwrought as well. A frequent problem I have!

24.) someone to watch over me - Another super old one that could certainly benefit from some editing! I think I managed to keep this one light enough for it not to be too cringy now, but I’m not sure. Haven’t revisited it in a while.

23.) Fear Talking - It’s an interesting enough premise, but I think I ended it a little hastily and didn’t explore the issue as fully as I could have. It could have been darker and deeper, but I was just skimming the surface of the concept. And I’m not very satisfied with the ending.

22.) and there’s a drawer of my things at your place - It’s cute, but it’s trying to reheat the “softly sleeping” nachos. Can I say it? Can I say it? Maybe a little too saccharine. Overly. Soft. Kaz. Strikes. Again. Damn me!

21.) Lingers Sweetly on the Lips - I do love a fade-to-black moment. Call me a tease.

20.) in hope, yours - Baby’s first historical au! I’m proud of myself for branching out and trying something new. And it was fun to play in someone else’s sandbox. Unfortunately, it’s got nothing on the fic it was inspired by, so it’s always going to have to live in its Better Older Sister’s shadow.

19.) the heart heeds helplessly - Can I say it? It’s the blueprint for “collision course” that nobody wants to acknowledge. I think this is the first time that I really got into my prose-poetry bag. It’s not amazing, but it absolutely walked so “collision course” could run.

18.) Dirty Talk - I like the premise, but I do have reservations about the execution.

17.) Mirror Talk - The characterization isn’t perfect, but I think the topic is important. Newer fics (this one and the last one) are hard to rank since I haven't had a lot of time to reflect on them in comparison to the rest of my catalog.

16.) Sea Glass - It’s an anthology fic, so it’s a huge mixed bag of things! Some of them are super cringy. Some of them are pretty decent. But I love having this be my perpetual soup of a fic. It puts less pressure on me to publish certain things when I know I can just throw them in here. 

15.) A Proposition - I give it points for being pre-canon, which I don’t usually write because I worry too much about getting the pre-canon characterization right. I don’t think I fared too badly with the characterization here?

14.) Devotion - Another historical au! Points for creativity. I was being lazy and trying to capture a vibe while glossing over the nitty gritty details of the setting, so it loses points for that.

13.) To Give, Then to Receive - Am I allowed to say that it’s a little overrated? Still, I think it has some unique and memorable moments that a decent number of people have adopted into their own personal headcanons. I like when I’m able to come up with specific cute details to flesh out a fic rather than the more generic “they kiss, they hug, they pine over each other.” This fic is all about showing love through action, and “show rather than tell” writing is always a step up from merely telling, so it sort of succeeds on that front. Not perfect though! I think it should’ve been one single oneshot instead of split into 4 chapters, but I was posting as I wrote it, and I was too impatient to wait lol.

12.) give me more than just some butterflies - It’s a silly good time, just like its predecessor. I did like the DeKappel bit, but otherwise, it’s nothing too groundbreaking. 

11.) Sorrow in Company - The philosophy major in me loves having a chance to explore Kaz Brekker’s dubious ethics and the inevitable friction between Kaz and Inej on that front. But I think “the muscle cut from the bone” is the better angsty offering from me. 

10.) (and you know that I'd) swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches - The most personal fic I’ve ever written, so it’s hard for me to rank. I’ll just say that I really needed to write it, and I think maybe a few people needed to read it, and I’m thankful that they did.

9.) love is not love which alters when it alteration finds - A rare case of a sequel being much better than an original lol! I wrote it a year later, so I think my skills had sharpened by then. It’s still in the “tooth-rotting fluff” category, but I think it’s less cringy and tropey than the first installment.

8.) softly sleeping, here in the deep end of someone who loves me - It loses points for an overly long lyric title. It wins points for spanning a timeline all the way from pre- to post-canon and showing the relationship developing gradually over time. It’s super fluffy, but I think it’s fluff done pretty well. I think this is my most popular oneshot by hit count!

7.) sea to the shore - The shortest little follow up to “collision course,” but I think she’s UNDERRATED. Sometimes succinct and purposeful is better than long and meandering (and I’ve certainly done long and meandering my fair share of times). 

6.) The Demon Under the Bridge - Another instance of me challenging myself to write an au! One of my more experimental creative ventures with a dark fairytale aesthetic. I’m proud of this one!

5.) the muscle cut from the bone - Baby’s first breakup fic! A little angstier than my usual fare. I think I’m biased toward it because I love the title (and the poem the title comes from). 

4.) what a mother wants - So proud of this one, and so proud of the longfic it inspired. Kanej kidfic isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but this fic was really more about Inej's relationship to herself than anything. I did some research on post-partum depression for this one, and I hope there’s someone out there who reads this and maybe feels less alone in their own experiences.

3.) honey, i could be your bodyguard - This might be the most fun I’ve ever had writing a fic, so that makes me partial to it. Is it super in character? Probably not. Was it super fun to write this version of Inej? Oh yeah. I hope it’s fun to read too. I think I'm hilarious sometimes.

2.) what a mother was - My underrated fave. The longest fic I’ve ever written, and I am SO proud of this one. Mostly original character work, which was totally new for me. I’m so glad I took up this challenge, because it really stretched me as a writer, and it made me believe that if I ever wanted to write an original novel someday, I might be able to. 

1.) collision course - My magnum opus, I fear. Deserves the hype. Writing this was like capturing lightning in a bottle. I was like a woman possessed as I wrote it, and I still don’t know where the words came from. I almost feel guilty taking credit for it, because I feel like I was more of a vessel than an agent writing it. And maybe that sense of separation I have from it is why I’m able to appreciate it more than other fics. However, I also have a complex about being considered a “serious” writer and not just a silly little fluff writer. Because of course genres that traditionally cater to women (romance, fluff) can’t be taken as ~seRiOusLY~ as more literary fiction. I wish I didn’t feel pressure to analyze my own writing through that lens. But regardless, I am really proud of this fic.

If you've made it to the bottom of this list, thank you for indulging me!! This was a fun little reflective exercise. As always, more fics coming soon. :)

[noitsbecky127]

rebecca watches ds9: profit and loss

ah ok we’re doing an in medias res opening

cardassian incoming?

cardassians plural!

cardassian lady! have we seen cardassian ladies yet?

well if we have i forgor 💀

oh and they’re nice cardassians! those are few and far-between

the boyfriends are fightingggg

or debating at least

i’ve heard the fandom talk about them and books, so ig they’re discussing a book rn

“sarek of vulcan?” “actually it was bashir of earth” i’m love him

“you wouldn’t last for five seconds on cardassia” “would you?” julian you are insane for that

outcasts, spies, outcast spies

wait hang on i want to hear about the 12 rumors quark’s started

odo and quark’s beef will never not be hilarious to me

damn quark what’d you do to natima (aside from existing and all that)

alright ig he likes getting slapped

that fully tracks actually

student: is this guy bothering you queen

quark take the fucking hint i stg

somehow i doubt that he was the love of her life

samarian sunsets look so cool i want one

odds on her throwing it in his face by the end of this scene?

oh lord. friend of yours garak?

ohhh these cardassians are not on good terms with the others

guess that explains their being nice

garak and quark are both menaces to society so i worry about their combined power

there is not a single honest statement being made in this entire conversation

garak what the fuck is the dress a metaphor for here. is it the military or political ideologies or just people in general or what

oh you’d know all about flamboyance wouldn’t you garak

girl why did you trust quark in the first place

i want to know more about the cardassian underground

cardassians have very big necks

c’mon quark no means no

the ship will be ready to go in an hour but there’s 27 minutes left in the episode so clearly something will go wrong

ah. cardassian warship. that is the thing going wrong then

julian please come collect your freak of a man. he’s doing things (showing up in ops unannounced)

i don’t think i trust what the cardassian govt has to say about terrorism

of course garak’s not just a simple tailor. i think that’s obvious

everything garak says sounds like it’s being filtered through several layers of deception

drinks on the house??? quark is down bad

what the fuck is he doing now

ah right paranoia about odo

i feel like offering the gift caused quark physical pain

natima might be willing to stay on the station as a sacrifice to get her students safe passage

however i’ve never heard her mentioned online so i’m guessing it won’t happen

alright apparently she is not the self-sacrificing sort, can’t blame her

she did NOT hesitate. she was talking practically the moment he finished

GET HIS ASS NATIMA

wait tf do you mean it was an accident. you should have done that on purpose

she changed her tune real fuckin quick. i can only assume this is a plan of some kind

if she actually did spontaneously fall back in love with him i am going to fight the writers

yeah i definitely feel like this is a deception

or maybe not! off to a cell!

how are they gonna get out of this one

did garak just bite a shirt. he’s so weird. i love him

is this guy your ex

GARAK YOU FUCKER

if bashir didn’t love you i’d reach through the screen and kill you

obsessed with odo reading crime fiction. get my king into a sherlock holmes holosuite

idk quark i think you’ll manage to find meaning without natima, we’ve still got five seasons to go

their dynamic is absolutely unhinged and i love it

time for escape!!!

oh ffs garak

i cannot figure out how they’re gonna get out of this. he’s right there with a phaser

oh god and teran’s here. this is insane

guess if he can’t go back to cardassia garak’s got no reason to go along with the cardassian plan

hence the…disintegration? is that what just happened?

garak’s moral compass is a fucking roulette wheel

i guess natima really did spontaneously fall back in love with quark. men should not be allowed to write

ok before i go, idk if anyone is still reading these but if you are please lmk, because liveblogging is starting to burn me out on trek. my planned solution is to just allow myself to not liveblog some eps but if no one’s reading then i’m just not gonna bother anymore. so please tell me if anyone reads these

[sixeyescurseuser]

(Headcanon)

Thinking about Geto who journals a lot. 

He’s poetic in that he often writes in metaphors, referencing songs or movies or literature he enjoys. 

He’s romantic in that 60% of his entries are about Gojo. 

Geto would have written the mushiest thoughts after his and Gojo’s first official date. 

“He holds galaxies in his eyes  And I, a mere mortal, can only admire from afar and tremble in their sheer beauty” “Our hands brushed a total of three times before I had the confidence to interlock our fingers. I never want to walk down the street without holding his hand ever again”

“Satoru knows he’s the most charming and gorgeous person in the room. What he doesn’t know is I think so too.”

Cheeks burning, Geto slams his journal closed and is like “enough of that”

***

Imagine Geto's entry when they first kiss. 

It’s a whole page just of “AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!”

And then Geto composed himself enough to explain in the next page. 

“WE KISSED, WE KISSED I KISSED SATORU SATORU KISSED ME ON THE LIPSSS”

“I haven't known what breathing really was until it was you who poured your breath into my mouth. I pray you never stop.”

***

Sometimes, Geto writes directly to Gojo. Maybe it’ll be after a tough mission he had, and Geto is pouring out his burdens in his writing.

But the one highlight was of course:

“I didn’t expect you to have cleaned my room and done my laundry for me, but you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Satoru? All because you were bored when waiting for me to return from my mission?”

Geto taps his chin with his pen before adding:  

“…that’s so gay of you.”

Geto chuckles, then continues on. 

“But actually, it really warmed my heart. I think that as long as you’re around, my heart will feel full.” "Don’t change, Satoru.”

***

Then there’s also the entries like:

“GOJO SATORU, COUNT YOUR DAYS!! I HATED YOUR STUPID, CUTE FACE WHEN YOU CAME TO ME TO TELL ME YOU APPARENTLY FORGOT A RED T-SHIRT BETWEEN MY WHITE LAUNDRY - NOW EVERYTHING IS PINK. YOU’RE FILTHY RICH, REPAY ME AT LEAST YOU BASTARD!”

Geto writes and his pen leaves a trail of fire.

You know Gojo is in trouble when Geto says his whole name. 

Geto's penmanship is usually so pretty and neat, but when he wrote this, the lines were angry and slanted. There’s also a little doodle of one of his curses chewing Gojo up.

On the next page, Geto’s entries go back to lovesick paragraphs about a certain white-haired menace. 

***

Geto starts talking about marriage in his journal. His entries are his vows at this point. 

“You better not get sick of me, okay? Better continue kicking ass on your missions and bringing back your cute souvenirs. Let’s go apartment searching soon, yeah? I’ve been looking up places already, there’s a couple that I think you’d like. I can’t wait to move in with you and continue to build our life together. It’s you and me against the world. I really can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you, Satoru.”

***

Geto’s journaling also helps when they’re sent on solo missions abroad. 

“I can’t believe the first time I’m in Italy is for a stupid mission, without you by my side. We always said we’d come here to try the best pasta and sweets. I suppose I can be the navigator for when we do get the chance to visit together. There’s a few bakeries you would absolutely love…”

***

Geto’s journaling comes to light when years later, he and Gojo get into an argument about their first date.

Gojo: “There’s no way I was more than fifteen minutes late to our first date!”

Geto: “Yes you were!! I literally have proof!”

Gojo: “Where??”

Geto: 🤐

Geto: “Iweiebaboutinmtjeosual”

Gojo: “huh? What was that?”

Geto: “…I wrirhwabout it in my jaoruhal”

Gojo: “Suguru, speak properly, I can’t understand-“

Geto: “I WROTE ABOUT IT IN MY JOURNAL”

Gojo: “I-“

Geto: “Man, I was so pissed at you. How could you be late to your first date? With ME? You’re lucky I love you, or I swear to god I would’ve dumped your ass right then and there.”

Gojo: “You have a journal?”

Geto, walking away: “Nope”

Gojo leaps onto Geto’s back, clinging on like a koala: “Suguru~~ where can I find this little journal of yours? Have to make sure the proof you claim to have is sufficient and legit-”

Geto doesn’t react, resigned to carrying his human-sized backpack to god knows where.

No way is he sharing his journal entries until the ring hidden in his closet is finally on Satoru's finger.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[unhappytimeleaper]

Hii can I request yandere Mika hcs please?

requested by anonymous

Word Count; 4,200

Okay, so requests for just general headcanons are hard for me because usually there is just so much I could go off of. I tried my best to whittle down this to where it wasn’t overwhelming but still enough to capture the main points of what I wanted. I ended up cutting out some ideas because I couldn’t keep writing; I wanted to edit and finish this. I’m sorry. 

Kagehira Mika; Unedited. Gender Neutral Reader.

CW; this is a clusterfuck. Yandere everything. Stalking, jealousy, unsolicited photography, stealing, manipulation, violence [against Mika, not reader], isolation, potential kidnapping, power imbalances, paranoia, other characters enabling yandere’s actions, and dismissal of feelings. Some moments can be read with lewd intentions, though never explicitly stated. Seriously it just has it all.

This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.

For a general setup, Mika is. Well, a contradiction in many ways. The best way to put it is just as how others describe him, cat-like. It’s never to say Mika thinks he’s above you, consistently battling himself with the idea of being human over something like a doll, but for someone so ‘below’ you metaphorically, he pulls the strings. In the case of you, his extent of creepy actions, his stalking tendencies, and overall jealousy trap you in the strings of the marionette this time. For someone so below you as he claims, why does he have the power? Why does he not listen to you if he claims you have control over him? Cat-like— pets who rely on humans to bend to their needs and take care of them but still are more of a type to “run a household” rather than wait for the owner to come to them. 

A good example is, say, isolation; you explain to him keeping you alone with little interaction outside of him (and maybe minimal time with Shu or Ritsu) isn’t good; it isn’t healthy. Just a little time together in public, you don’t even need to go alone, just need to stretch and feel the bare sun on your skin even for a few moments; he loves you, right? He cares for you, so this would be better for both of you. He’s so weak-willed and eager to please you for a moment you think he’d easily comply, but it doesn’t work. It sends him more into a panicked frenzy, clinging and cuddling, making all sorts of claims that move too fast to rebuttal. It’s dizzying, and in the end, he remains the one truly in power despite his remarks about being only for your needs. 

Of course, the main this is despite his contradictions in power, overall, he does genuinely often seek to please you. Make no mistake that despite being the one with the upper hand in terms of your future, you still can easily live a life of semi-normalcy if you play your cards right. And even if things get to the extreme, like fully isolated, Mika will bend fate to bring you nearly anything you would ask for. And if he can’t get it, he’ll try anything he can to make it. 

Now to argue, the reasoning behind Mika’s tendencies is pretty apparent. The rooted abandonment issues are a crucial factor, it drives most of his fears and creates logic as to why he feels the need to lock onto people so intensely. He’s a rooted stalker, a mix between being extremely open with it and completely hidden, taking photos constantly without your knowledge, willing to collect all sorts of trash or items he can get his hands on, break-in, and more. There basically isn’t a stone unturned where Mika hasn’t been. Even more part of this comes in despite a fear of talking to strangers; he will threaten them for being ‘too friendly’ and say you two are together even if you aren’t, almost always driving people away from you. This can be found in Mika’s delusional nature of having conversations which he thinks are you giving advice or others telling him, much like how he fantasizes about conversations with Shu when looking for answers to projects. Some of this is attributed to Mika being well aware his emotions are almost always in control. 

Regarding you and others interacting, Mika primarily runs on autopilot. He might not even recall what he says to them; it’s a mix of emotion and adrenaline running the show. The final reason for his tendencies is trying to break out of being a doll. He does have feelings, wants, and desires that he should work to fulfill rather than always being just a doll told everything. It’s a lot of weight and pressure, and one of the things that comes with that is the human desire for love. For attention and validation on a deeper scale, something that the human side eventually craves from you. No longer does he just want to be a doll that falls into the corner waiting to be molded; he knows that as a human, these are things that come with it— even if profoundly misplaced. And as away the human side doesn’t take away from his more meek, submissive attitude that came with a doll mentality, at least not entirely, but it is what makes him realize more the nature of his desires. 

And as mentioned, Mika is… well, gross. Not in a literal sense, okay, maybe slightly literally in the thoughts and extreme hoarding of items he might be willing to take, but it’s more than that. Mika pushes the acceptable bounties; he has little and runs purely on emotions and whims— they control him. His actions are horrendously creepy at times, and his delusions push him to do things that just come off as disturbing. The tragic downside is ES isn’t an ordinary place with ordinary people. The majority of those around him come off more as enablers or too busy to care in the hustle of idol life. Examples being are Shu, Ritsu, and Arashi, all being helpless enablers to Mika and doing little to genuinely help you if it means Mika’s happiness. Cosmic Productions doesn’t care; as long as Valkyrie brings in revenue, then you’re just collateral damage and other companies at ES have little awareness of the reality going in the department. Not to mention I don’t think Crazy:B or Eden has the best members to speak on the subject, with 2wink being the most reasonable you could go to, but often they have enough going on it’s hard to seek solace in them.

And the last main general note is that while things would never be easy and life would always have some level of undertones of there being something wrong seeping from under the surface, Mika is one where you could get away with not being kidnapped and isolated. This doesn’t remove any general problems or underlying creepiness, it might even make it worse, but the idea of available yet moderated freedom might be better than nothing. Nearly all of your attention still needs to go to Mika, and if you would be to play the role of a partner to him, having the chance to still semi-function outside of being locked in some rooms might be a better alternative. This does stems from the fact Mika is willing to bend for you, as long as you comply with parts of his affection even for show. It also doesn’t dilute any aspects like stalking or stealing. But unless there is only full-out rejection of everything, would Mika likely turn to Shu or Ritsu for advice which would supply kidnapping as an alternative route (those little shits). It’s not easy for Mika to transport you to the dorm or Shu’s apartment to keep you locked up, and as mentioned, once isolated, getting Mika to let up and let you leave is nearly nonexistent even if you begin to return his advances (both for show or genuine). Overall, this is to say kidnapping is never a guaranteed ending with Mika, unlike with many others but not ever out of the question either. It can come very suddenly and always a looming presence if you aren’t willing to give into Mika’s fantasies. 

Okay, so that is the central portion. Now some more miscellaneous items. 

For one, Mika genuinely doesn’t mind if you use violence against him. Not saying he wants it necessarily; it’s not some masochistic desire to be hit, kicked, and generally beaten by you. But it doesn’t serve as a functional way to get him to stop or go away. He is essentially any attention is still attention. You’re mistaken if you think that while he is crying, clawing at your legs and hips for attention, a quick slap or kick to get him to let go will work. It might somehow many him latch on harder, claiming that it’s okay, you can do it again, it helps you calm down, just let him stay. Keep giving him the attention, the validation. And even worse this behavior is something Mika is willing to do in public if pushed or called out enough. Any terms of thinking you’re abandoning or leaving him creates an overdrive in him, quickly transforming into someone willing to beg to keep you around. In public, it’s made worse because not only does he look like the one being hurt by you— he’s an idol. Well-known one too, and if something terrible happens to him, it will only come back and hurt you. Either through die-hard fans or the company scolding you. Violence not only spurs Mika more but damages your livelihood in the bigger picture, making it null any tactic to help with the burden of Mika’s tendencies. 

However, this extends to one important thing. Your actions don’t really hurt Mika? Even on a physical level. It’s well noted Mika has an extremely high pain tolerance and that it would take a lot for him to acknowledge something hurting him in a way that would temporarily take him out. He doesn’t mind being physically hurt not only because it has some power dynamics and he’s doing anything to please you, but even in the case there is that contraction of him still having the upper hand. He gives you the permission to hit or kick him, likely because he has an awareness of being able to take it without it limiting his hold on you and still giving that outlet to you. Even if these are subconscious choices, it’s unsettling how much control he still has between his physicality benefits, idol career, and connections. Mika truly is a powerhouse in this way, and violence to him practically cannot solve anything as a means of escape, even if he offers it as stress relief or punishment to himself. 

Another big thing for Mika is forgetting the past and focusing on the future. There was before you, and then there is now. Anything before does not matter, and in a sense, he sort of expects this from you as well. Ex-partners, ex-crushes, ex-situation-ships; none of those matter now that he is here, and you better feel the same of these things being ‘dead.’ Photos or any other sentimental item need to be wiped away, and your mind shouldn’t need to wander back to them because you have something more now and forever. This idea of focusing on the future/now also relates to how many delusions and ideas for how things will work out between you in the long term. Marriage, starting a family, domestic life as a whole— Mika spends much of his time picturing and creating pieces that inspire him of this future as well as daydreaming of what life could become no longer attached to his past. 

Some more quick round-head canons; Mika will fill up notebooks and writing your name and his name. Pretty much any cross-over you can think of. Just your name with hearts, your name and his name with hearts, your first name and his last name, his first name and your last name, a teased ship name given from Arashi— the list can go on. It’s scribbled messily, and other times written with such extreme care. It’s only loose papers and trash, on his sketch designs and doodled with his finger on tables. Not only does he do it as a practice of his handwriting and the love of seeing your name written with that, but the combinations he can make feel like a validation of the closeness he has. Much like any early crush, it’s some comfort level of daydreaming— regardless of the actual proximity you have with one another. Also yes, he will lose loose pages and if you don’t know what he’s doing it’s very creepy the first few times. Or hundred. The amount of times he writes your names together is beyond comfort; very heavily boarding on obsessive. 

Mika is also not great at conversations, with mostly everyone but the awkwardness is pushed even more with you. There is too much pressure, and his feelings run in such high control that it often comes out as a mix of self-deprecating, worshipping you, and trying to act like a normal mess. It’s almost always awkward even if you try to ease him and are kind, and it does kinda become worse the longer it goes on because this is when his stalking, photography, and niche personal things become apparent in conversations. If you didn’t think he was stalking you beforehand or at least didn’t catch him, you’d be given many hints the more he talks to you. This extends from the fact he does everything possible to get materials and content he knows interests you. Even if you think it’s something knows one would know you like, Mika does somehow and will in passing bring it up in the weirdest form of trying to have a casual conversation. Books, CDs, and TV shows and stuff are all a part of his hoarding connection about you simply because you like it.  Even if it never would be something he’d look up on his own, he’d do anything to connect and relate even more to you. There never is any proof you can’t call him out other than having suspicions which, once again, little to anyone would take seriously, but you can’t help but feel Mika knows more than he is truly letting on. 

Will do any and everything for you if he can; carrying items, buying you things, cleaning stuff— of course, be careful asking him for this because he might take advantage of you letting him get this close to such personal tasks— but there never is anything he doesn’t offer to do. Idol work might get in the way, though, he can’t neglect his job, but any other time he is on your heels, waiting to do anything he can for you. And sure, at first, it’s nice. It lifts some burdens or comes off as Mika being Mika offering to give more than needed to anyone. But buying you things often comes off with a strange energy radiating off of them, even if there is seemingly nothing wrong. Him cleaning or doing simple domestic tasks, such as laundry, ends up with some things being missing or damaged. You notice so many other weird things in your apartment if he offers to clean. And carrying items,  while seemly harmless, still just makes your stomach churn. He fully just shows up out of nowhere on the most random shopping tasks offering his help and pushing closer and closer to you. What once was Mika feeling like his strange but overall kind, sweet nature stepping up to help an overworked staff member turns exhausting, skin-crawling offer. Even if he usually looks all sweet and innocent offering. Damn, the fact he does have some cuteness charm regardless of his actions. 

Arashi coming in clutch again being an enabler to Mika!! Upon teaching Mika about selfies and the momentum of photos… Mika gets a little too on board with this. He takes photos whenever he can, both blurry and crisp, highly focused or landscape of you, anywhere and everywhere. There are so many pictures he has and collects, often finding it hard to delete any one of them because there is something special attached to each one. Selfies and other photos he can get with you, either to your knowledge or without it are probably the most important to his collections. The second ones are those that either are from dates or situations that Mika dates. He is willing to print them off and keep them all over, even having dedicated spaces and boxes of printed photos or simply made posters. There would probably be some specific photo he becomes horrendously attached to as well, much like having one of Shu he constantly uses to talk to or seek advice from. 

The reason to account for the photos is because, as I’ve touched on, Mika is a filthy hoarder. He will legitimately take whatever he can get his hands on if he thinks it has some value to you. While I think depending on the item, particular trash isn’t seen as valuable or limited value others have much more. For example, plastic utensils aren’t valued at much; you used it once and then got rid of them, which has very little value to you. But say a silverware from your kitchen, chopsticks/spoon/whatever you use daily, has that value level and is worth wanting to keep for his own use. If you wear makeup, an empty lipstick/chapstick tube will be more sentimental or valued than a used tissue. This can also be found in the fact he’s mainly sharing spaces. While he still is a hoarder and does his best to keep his collection out of the main sight or in a place that isn’t easily accessed, there is always a chance someone could come to clean out those spaces. Something like a tissue is more likely to get loaded and thrown away, while Mika could better justify a chapstick holder as being able to be kept. This doesn’t change the fact that he is able and willing to collect a lot of gross things, such as well willing to have a container of bath water of yours if he could easily get it or an old notebook you might forget about. Even if it’s just work notes, he’d take it. And Mika might sometimes try to get rid of parts of his collection until he can secure a long-term and connected relationship with you, such as living together; it’s hard for him to part with anything of yours. These items are fucking everywhere too. His dorm, Shu’s apartment, the sewing station, and his area at CosPro. You might even see things you thought you lost just lying around and be able to “steal” them back with how prolific his hoarding is scattered. 

Clothing is the one thing; sadly, you will probably never get back, or at least if you could not in its original form. Mika loves, even obsessively, uses scraps and parts of your clothing in his. Even in the costumes for Valkyrie if he can, so there is a piece of you on stage with him. His use for upcycling extends back to his past, needing to take clothes and items from the trash to even have things of his own to wear, but now it feels much more special. This is rewriting all of the stigma and pain he carried of having nothing more than trash clothes— discarded by people just as he was. Sure, this clothes was stolen and didn’t have your permission to use, but it has the comfort woven into its threads. It smells like you and has the texture from how you cared for it when you washed it. It has the stains and memories of you, the feeling of someone being so loved by you it’s clearly ready to be thrown out finally, so it’s perfect if he repurposes it. He never takes too much, and if you have a clear favorite item Mika knows not to take it; maybe steal it from the wash pile and use it as a pillow cover for a bit, but always have it returned as well. At that time he’d fantasy the domestic life of being together, where he could openly wear his upcycled material of your clothes patched together [and you can wear them too!]. Or where he can take your clothes and wear them without shame or worry of getting them back on time, and the comments you’d make seeing him in your stuff. All of the fantasies turn him bright red, and even the next day, when you greet him, he looks a little more flushed than usual around you.

However yes, many things go missing, but they are often just as much replaced. Simple things are replaced with Mika spending his own money and then finding ways to either customize or make it so the item is uniquely tied to the two of you. Certain things also have trackers in them, but most are just decorative in some way. You remember how you lost your favorite pair of chopsticks when you brought your own lunch that one day. Weirdly enough the next day a new pair ended up in your bag but one bejeweled on the handle to match a particular sewer’s aesthetic while the other matched yours. Or hair clips that you once got as decorative jokes for a photo you and your friends had been planning; you figured you just misplaced them but these new ones you found are nothing like the previous ones aesthetic… If you look too long in a shop at clothing or accessories Mika might not always be able to buy them due to expenses buts he’s well quick to make them, even with the added benefit of it being tailored now specifically to how you prefer. They always end up at your desk so neatly packaged, many coworkers assume it’s perhaps brands trying to get cozy with you for future deals with idol groups but these aren’t the same as what you saw in the window. No, these are too perfect for you to be just any run-of-the-mill store item. The even more unsettling part is how this person managed to get your measurements so spot on if not for measuring you in your sleep. 

There is also one specific way Mika would get caught for the more,, creepy actions. You’d know he could be a bit of a stalker. He has his moments where it’s oblivious he’s following you or others but those always come off more like a kicked puppy trying to follow someone home rather than malicious. Like he wants to interact, but internal conflict holds him back so much he forgets where he is until he is slightly too far behind and stumbles to keep up. If he really wants to stalk, Mika can keep himself hidden. There are other times all his other more ‘bizarre’ actions are qualified as Mika being Mika, like being fatigued after bouts of practice and finding his way to your desk out of habit in hopes to see you rather than going and getting medical attention/rest, or coming to hover around your desk for inspiration like a cat. If you aren’t there, usually you see cheap candies on your desk as a reminder he was there and is probably off looking for you or went back to the workstation much more disappointed than before. For the most part conversation with Mika, you might not lead to believe anything is deeply wrong with his infatuation levels. He’s always spoken weirdly with his doll-like commentary and the idea of letting others “control” him such as Shu and you. Or that his comments tend to come from a lack of understanding rather than outright trying to harm, so you do your best to guide him in topics. You’ve always known his emotional state can be complex, and his childhood likely made it hard to process feelings, resulting him them dominating his sense of self and backfiring into making them more unsettling than maybe he intended [of course while Mika’s perception of the events being vastly different]. All of these would change when you awake in the middle of the night hearing stumbling in your apartment. The first few times you hear a thump or grunt, you believe it’s just your sleepy brain making up stuff. It’s unsettling, and you always can feel your heart rate spike, but you don’t have anything to assume there is something wrong. But it often continues and you’re getting worried. Everything comes rushing into a close of an era when you manage to shake yourself awake one night, hearing a whine from the floor by your bed only to see a mass of dark hair and clothes. None other than Mika, watching you in your sleep— or well trying. 

See while Mika would love to use the nighttime to stalk around your apartment and get things done… his case of night blindness makes it much harder. Walking into walls or furniture, tripping over a bag that wasn’t always there, or simply leaning in too close that he bonked his head into your trying to look at your face before diving under your bed as to tousle around. It never really hurts, but he does let out a startled noise, or the falling is enough to cause a loud sound. But now, you’ve caught him in the act. And many questions are bound to follow in the morning, ones neither of you can escape from. Finding out Mika’s habits won’t change the outcome for him too much; what will is how you choose to follow but it doesn’t matter. He’ll find a way to be around in your life more no matter how you respond.