#lets completely ignore the fact that they live in different decades

[noramsblog]

Thinking about how a double date between the two main couples of Spy x Family and Buddy Daddies would go. It would be interesting to see how the four interact.

You can tell I had a lout of fun with this

[fozmeadows]

As someone who hasn't read the works of radical feminists like Simone de Beauvoir, could you explain what's wrong and what bothers you about biological essentialism? I'm curious about your opinion after reading your post on radfems (and I'd like a perspective that isn't so based on biological gender essentialism, which I honestly have a hard time moving away from because I don't understand other perspectives well). 👀

The problem with biological essentialism is that purports to answer the eternally unanswered question of nature vs nurture in a wholly one-dimensional way - ie, with biological sex as The Single Most Important Aspect Of Personhood, regardless of any other considerations - while simultaneously ignoring the fact that biological sex is not, in fact, a binary proposition. We've learned in recent decades, for instance, that intersex conditions are much more common and wide-ranging than previously thought, not because scientists have arbitrarily changed the definitions of what counts as an intersex condition, but because our understanding of hormones, chromosomes, karyotpying and other physical permutations has expanded sufficiently to merit the shift. So right away, the idea that humanity is composed of Biological Men and Biological Women with absolutely no ambiguities, overlap or middle ground simply isn't true. Inevitably, though, if you mention this, people with a vested interest in biological essentialism become immediately defensive. They'll start saying things like, oh, but that's only a tiny minority of the population, they're outliers, they don't count, as though their argument doesn't derive its claim to authority from a presumed universality. To use a well-worn example, redheads are also a tiny minority of the population, but that doesn't mean we exclude them when talking about the range of natural human hair colours. But the fact is, even if humans lacked chromosomal diversity beyond XX/XY; even if there were no cases of cis men with internal ovaries or cis women with internal testes or people with ambiguous genitalia - and let's be clear: all of these things exist - the fact is, our individual hormones are in flux throughout our lives.

There are standard ranges for estrogen and testosterone in men and women (which, again, vary according to age and some other factors), but two cis men of the same age and background could still have completely different T-counts, for instance - meaning, even the supposed universal gender factor isn't universal at all. More, while our hormones certainly play a major role in our moods and cognition, so do a ton of other genetic and bodily factors that have nothing to do with the sex we're assigned at birth - and on top of that, there's nurture: the cultural contexts in which we're raised, plus our more individual experiences of living in the world. One of the most common, everyday (and yet completely bullshit) permutations of biological essentialism comes when parents or would-be parents talk about their reasons for wanting a son or a daughter. Very often, there's a strong play to stereotypical assumptions about shared interests and personalities: I want a son to play football with me, for instance, or: I want a daughter to be my shopping buddy. But even within the most mainstream channels of cishet culture, it's understood that these hopes are not, in fact, grounded in any sort of biological certainty. The dad who wants a sporty son might be just as likely to end up with a bookworm, while the mother who wants a little princess might find herself with a tomboy. We know this, and our stories know this! For the entirety of human history - for as long as we've been writing about ourselves - we have records of parental disappointment in the failure of this child or that to embody what's expected of them, gender-wise. More than that: if biological essentialism was real - if men were only and ever One Type Of Man, and women were only and ever One Type Of Woman, with recent progressive moments the sole anonymous blip in an otherwise uniform historical standard - then why is there so much disparity and disagreement throughout human history as to what those roles are? The general conception of women espoused in medieval France is thoroughly different to that espoused in pre-colonial Malawi, for instance, and yet we're meant to believe that there's some innate Gender Template guiding all human beings to behave in accordance with a set, immutable biological binary? And that's before you factor in the broad and fascinating history of trans and nonbinary people throughout history - because despite what TERFs and conservative alarmists have to say on the matter, our records of trans people, and of societies in which various trans and nonbinary identities were widely understood (if not always accepted), are ancient. We know about trans priestesses from thousands of years before Christ; the Talmud has terms describing eight different genders, and those are just two examples. All over the world, all throughout history, different cultures have developed radically different concepts of femininity and masculinity, to say nothing of designations outside of, overlapping with or in between those categories - socially, legally, behaviourally, sexually - and yet we're meant to believe that biology is at all times nudging us towards a set, ideal gender template? There's a lot more I could say, but ultimately, the point is this: people are different. While some aspects of our personhood are inevitably influenced by genetics, hormones, chromosomes and other biological factors, we're also creatures of culture and change and interpersonal experience. The idea that men and women are fundamentally different, even diametrically opposed, at a biological level - that the major separator in terms of our personalities and interests isn't culture, upbringing and personal taste, but what's between our legs - is just... so reductive, and so inaccurate.

We can absolutely have common experiences on the basis of a shared gender, but gender is not the only possible axis of commonality between two people, let alone the most salient one at all times, and the idea that we're all born on one side of an immutable biological equation that cannot possibly be transcended makes me feel insane. According to modern biological essentialism, intersex, trans and nonbinary people are either monstrous, mistakes or imaginary; all men are fundamentally predisposed to violence, all women are designed for motherhood, and we're meant to just hew to our designated places - which, conveniently, tend to echo a very specific form of Christian ideology, but which in any case manifestly fail to account for how variedly gender has been presented throughout history. It's nuts.

[avelera]

Hob Gadling - the absolute maddest of immortal lads

One of the things I love most about Hob Gadling as a character (and as a result, do my best to capture in fic) is how unique his reactions are to immortality and to Dream, and how he so often does the opposite of what one would expect from the genre of "humans granted immortality" but also what the average person and most of the audience expects that they would do with immortality, lending well to the concept that Hob is, genuinely, unhinged and a truly supernatural creature in his own right, which is often lost when the character we see him most often juxtaposed against is Dream, who is even more odd and unhinged if in very different ways

(I've decided to be systematic about this and go through meeting by meeting so strap in, folks it got long, as usual!)

1389 - First of all, Hob simply bragging at all that he doesn't plan to die. OG hipster right there, loving life before it was cool. But also, ok, loving life after being born less than a decade after the Black Plague ended. And in the midst of a great many Black Plague aftershocks! The latter half of the 1300s was a truly abysmal time to be alive, with huge social upheaval, war, plagues, "two bloody Popes fightin'" and in the midst of all this is Hob motherfuckin' Gadling, cheerfully announcing that death is for suckers and he doesn't intend to ever do it.

The man is a soldier! You'd think he'd be more accepting and philosophical about his inevitable death given the time he lives in, the profession he has chosen, the fact that most young men his age were wiped out at age 9 by the second wave of the Black Death, and just, in general, doing all of this while having the misfortune to live in England at the time.

And then when Dream comes up to him, like a complete weirdo, and challenges him on this, Hob is actually pretty nice to him! He gives him a side eye but he also goes along with the question, tells him to ignore his friend's jibes, and cheerfully accepts the wager! I cannot express to you how many turns in the road there are between what a normal person would do and what Hob Gadling does in that moment.

1489 - This one bugs me because the most unexpected thing Hob does is seemingly regress in maturity despite now being 100+ years old.

Now, I'm a huge fan of the theory that he's conning Dream right now and putting on the innocent chucklehead routine to put Dream off from kidnapping him to Faerie Land in exchange for his immortality. HOWEVER, since that's just a headcanon, let's take Hob as he is on the page!

Hob has a job. A Freaking Job. He used to be a bandit and a soldier, things that kind of make sense to do as an immortal (like The Old Guard) when you can't die! You could theoretically make BANK there just by taking dangerous jobs. But Hob doesn't?? He gets a normal-ass job, though in that day's equivalent of getting a job at Microsoft or Apple before they became big, Caxton is like one of the first modern startups in essence, a new technology that made TONS of money once it was imported, and Hob was on the ground floor. Still. HE GOT A JOB as an IMMORTAL. He doesn't seem to have this immortality thing figured out yet? And he doesn't ask Dream hardly any questions about it either! You'd think he'd be frothing at the mouth to better understand wtf happened to him, but once Dream clarifies that he's not the Devil and Hob's soul isn't in danger, that's it! No further questions, your honor! WHAT??

Also, just when you WOULD expect him to beg for death (that IS the genre savvy thing to do, Dream's not wrong!) he DOESN'T. He's more in awe than ever, he seems to be experiencing a second childhood over the fact. He's just vibing and living life. That's so, so unusual in this genre.

Hob also hasn't done any of the savvy things an immortal might do after 100 years! He doesn't actually seem all that angsty about why is he immortal, beyond a bit of fear he might need to pay the piper (Dream) now for this gift. Most vampires in an Anne Rice novel would have gone through about 20 stages of grief after they dealt with the first 100 years of everyone they know and love dying but Hob seems to not only be unbothered but actively gearing up for the next century. It's so bizarre. IT'S SO BIZARRE and I love it because I LOVE characters who DON'T do what you'd expect!

1589 - Hob has a family. HOB HAS A FAMILY. Who in their right MIND would start a family, knowing you'd have to bury your spouse and your children? HOB MOTHERFUCKING GADLING that's who! It's incomprehensible! He does it anyway! It's why I headcanon that he planned to support and nurture his family throughout time, like it was all very deliberate to found a dynasty, but it need not be! Knowing him, he just saw a pretty girl and married her! He didn't even CONSIDER his own wife and children getting angry and jealous with him for having immortality he can't share with them? He didn't even CONSIDER the heartbreak?? WHAT?! Who knows! He just did!

Now, this Hob HAS begun to do SOME of the things one would expect of an immortal - like build up generational wealth, BUT he has a KNIGHTHOOD. What immortal in their right MIND would draw that sort of attention to themselves?? HOB, THAT'S WHO. What are you ON, man, that's INSANE! No wonder he got drowned as a witch the man had ZERO CAUTION AT ALL.

1689 - the man is destitute. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN IF YOU'RE AN IMMORTAL? This is AS puzzling as anything else. Theoretically, Hob could just take a dangerous job with a high fatality rate for quick cash and rebuild his fortune pretty quickly, but he DOESN'T. What went wrong? The possibilities are tantalizing and painfully human that maybe he did do that and failed anyway, or hit even WORSE strings of truly abysmal bad luck.

But somehow, at 300 YEARS OLD it's not until 1789 that we hear Hob has begun socking money away for a rainy day! How does it TAKE YOU that long, sir?? How is that NOT something you figure out in your first century? I've seen a lot of fan writers ascribe a certain amount of immortal savvy to Hob but it's REALLY not there on the page! The guy is NOT genre savvy about immortality AT ALL he doesn't do ANY of the things one would expect, it's absolutely WILD that he falls this low after 300 years after completely failing to, theoretically, CONSIDER this possibility! And then, AND THEN, the guy STILL wants to live. I mean, this one hardly needs saying, that's nuts after what he went through, it's on the page that he's NUTS for this. But the guy is literally in the gutter dreaming of the stars, he is unstoppable I love him so fucking much what a force of nature.

1789 - OK, we've already mentioned that it took until 1789 for Hob to start saving money for a rainy day but let's talk about the fact HE'S NOT ACTUALLY CAREFUL ABOUT BEING CAPTURED?? Again, least genre savvy immortal EVER. You can't die so you'd THINK that being captured or imprisoned or god forbid, thrown down a mine shaft would be the SCARIEST possible fates when you don't have death as an escape, but the guy doesn't even blink at the thought of getting captured by an occultist like Johanna Constantine, dude's totally unbothered! DREAM has to tell him after 400 YEARS that maybe he should be worried about this? THE GUY GOT DROWNED AS A WITCH, picked himself up, dusted himself off, got into some crimes against humanity, and MOVED ON apparently without learning a single goddamn lesson he hasn't had since 1389 which is how to kick ass and look good doing it BUT HE'S NOT EVEN A PROFESSIONAL FIGHTER AS A CAREER, he's just a gentleman of means!

He just... lives a normal human life and seems to expect weird things like being kidnapped by occultists to not happen so long as he stays within those boundaries and you know what? IT SEEMS TO HAVE WORKED! Because to be fair, how many of us outside the bounds of fiction would ever expect the wild stuff like kidnapping to really happen? It's statistically quite vanishingly rare! And that's been all Hob has needed, presumably, to not need to stress since the damn witch trials about his immortality! So yeah, I read fic where Hob is like this very savvy immortal but by 400 YEARS he's BARELY learned to have a savings account under a different name and he STILL doesn't seem too bothered by the possibility of getting hurt or captured! Like, AT ALL?! Absolutely class act right here, top lad, unbelievable, no notes. HOW do you SURVIVE like this as an anomaly, Hob?

1889 - By now, it SEEMS like Hob has bought a clue. He's pretty understated, he's made some amends, SEEMS to have resolved to be less of a shithead, and he's got this immortality thing figured out. It only took him 500 FUCKING YEARS. But again, Hob ISN'T fabulously wealthy as far as we can tell. He's not a megalomaniac and he STILL seems to be vibin' as just a dude doing Just A Dude things like HAVING A JOB and if we borrow from Hob's Leviathan a bit, he's STILL just jumping between industries, just living life down at the normal human level. He hasn't detached from humanity, he lives in the day to day on a level that's just INCONCEIVABLE for a being that's 500 years old.

1989 - Ok, moving on a bit from Hob being an immortal, because getting excited about technology like his brick phone is absolutely so charming I want to squish his cheeks, but he's hardly the only immortal to get excited about that. What I want to talk about is how HOB FORGIVES DREAM for 1889. Because, look, Dream is a prick there. Hob could have been more diplomatic but Dream could have waited for the apology and he didn't.

I have seen SO MANY TAKES where Hob would be MAD after 1889 and RIGHTFULLY SO. But he's NOT. He's not! There are so many fics where he has lingering hurt over it but that's just NOT what the character does! He blames himself! Guy did pretty much nothing wrong except maybe choose his words poorly, but he's blaming HIMSELF for making Dream uncomfortable. Absolute legend. Saints have nothing on this man, that is saint-like behavior. I'd be furious. Hob just misses his friend and BLAMES HIMSELF that Dream isn't there. Not an a single, microscopic trace of anger in sight.

2022 - And then, AND THEN, when he has EVERY REASON to flip out when Dream shows up, finally, after 133 YEARS, after Hob has APPARENTLY stuck around the area just in case, WAITING for him, what does this fucking legend say? "You're late."

THAT'S IT! He's not mad, he totally has a right to be! He doesn't jump out of his chair in shock, that would be a totally expected reaction to! He glances up! He acts like Dream is 5 minutes late instead of over a century WHAT IS THAT?? WHAT IS THAT?! HOW?!! They just settle back with a pint after that like it's nothing. That's not what I would do. I don't think that's what almost any human would do after a shock like that. I still can't wrap my head around it.

So anyway, Hob Gadling, absolutely FASCINATING character from the perspective of just not doing a single fucking thing you'd expect an immortal Just A Dude to do. Goddamn legend right there. Worth remembering for those like me who are obsessed enough to write this guy in fic. He is just so... opposite of everything you'd expect and that is so fucking sexy of him wow

[furiousgoldfish]

I had a conversation the other day, with a person who seemed to have some respect for me, but couldn't understand why I'm still having trauma symptoms, and can't be normal already. I took it as a chance to try and explain my symptoms, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears;  I was told I just needed to tell myself that 'I am a new person now', and forget about the past. The person then explained to me how they weren't always the same person either, and they would sometimes cringe at their behaviour in the past, but then they would be proud of themselves for being smarter and more reasonable today. I couldn't quite explain to them that my situation was not the same.

They gave me various suggestions like 'just don't think about these things anymore', and 'these people are not going to hurt you anymore', which I strongly doubted was true. I tried to explain that I am not purposefully thinking about it; in fact, I was doing everything to avoid it. But with intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, nightmares, and the symptoms of the dissociative disorder, I had no control over it, the past was at my throat, holding me and unwilling to let go. I could tell that they still believed I was doing it on purpose, holding on and refusing to stop living in the past.

I very rarely get a chance to talk to someone about anything trauma related, so I was originally grateful that anyone was even showing an interest at 'attempting to help me', but later when I thought about the entire thing, I got pissed off.

Firstly it doesn't make any sense for me to be 'normal', in any timeline, regardless of how much time has passed. You can't have a person living first few decades of their life in belief that their life is worthless, in environment where they're getting locked up, beaten, humiliated, tortured, threatened with death, brainwashed to believe they're not human, severely neglected, and without any kind of genuine caretaker or a parent. And then leave it to this person to 'deal with it alone', never getting any help, never even getting reassured that what happened to them was wrong. That is complete abandonment by human society, and I find it sick and twisted that this person should be expected to adhere and integrate into society afterwards, for what? This person will logically feel betrayed, untrusting, bitter, feral and unnacepting the society's standards, especially their standards for victim blaming and ignoring abuse. Society continually fails these people expects them to 'fix themselves' so nobody would feel uncomfortable about it.

Secondly why is it up to me to change as a person? I am not like this because 'I was not a good enough person', I am not the one who needs changing. I am good as I am. It's worse that after being failed in every aspect, I am now being seen as the one in 'the need of change', for not acting normal and being haunted by my past. I am not hurting anybody! I am the only one suffering from this. God forbid my reality leaves someone uncomfortable, I better try to hide it better. Which I actually do unless sometimes is actively asking me about it.

And the last bit of my anger is about making it seem like the actual problem is 'me holding onto the past', and not my life being severely different and harmful in a way that isolates me from other people. I don't have the same formative experiences other people had. I don't remember being cooed at and hugged, I don't have endless experiences of being taught that I'm important, that someone will care and intervene when I'm in pain, that the figures of mother and father are safe, warm, comforting and reliable. That childhoods are a positive and fun part of life. That families work as an environment for children to be raised on. I don't have the experiences that formed all other beliefs that this culture holds, I hold nothing sacred that is sacred to everyone else, I don't believe in the authorities, I don't believe in family, I don't rejoice with holidays, I don't want children, I don't trust religion, I feel contempt towards capitalism, I don't relate or connect to people who are receptive to any of it.

And it turns out I'm right to feel as I do. Because people in this society will actively come to me asking me to 'stop being like that', while never asking any abuser to 'stop being like that'. Victims who make them uncomfortable can be spoken down to, should be told to stop being traumatized, even in private, while the abusers just need to be 'ignored' and 'hopefully they stop doing it'. What a great plan. Surely it will fix everything.

Humane thing to do would be to approach me with awareness that I've been treated like a worthless creature and address it and allow me to act genuine about it. If I'm still feeling betrayed, abandoned and outcast from society, I should be able to express that. I deserve to react with genuine responses rather than this insane preformance art I have to do every single day to make sure nobody else is aware or uncomfortable by my peril.

[vikkirosko]

📚 Ford Pines x Reader headcanons Features 🧫

Since childhood, Ford listened to the name-calling of his peers when they noticed his fingers, but he had a brother who always stood up for him. But after the quarrel, he did not see his brother. After entering the university, he worked a lot and it was during his studies that he met you. You studied together and some people paid attention to you because you hid your right eye behind your hair. At first, Ford was sure that it was related to fashion, until he saw your eye, which you were hiding. Your eye was red, which was unusual even for heterochromia

You both looked different from the others, and because of this, you were able to get along. That's why Ford invited you to go with him to Gravity Falls. Living in a small shack away from people was unusual. You worked together, getting closer to each other every day. You periodically went to the city to buy groceries or supplies that you needed, while Ford stayed at the shack. Living there has helped you both get to know the anomalies better. Among other things, you learned more about the fact that your red eye was unusual. You could see things that you couldn't explain for a long time. It was thanks to your eye that you quickly noticed that something was wrong with Ford

You saw a yellow aura around him, and his eyes sometimes looked like demonic. You were scared, it was like he was going crazy. You didn't know what it could lead to, so you decided not to take any chances. You left, leaving him a note that the changes in him and his connection with something otherworldly scared you and you hoped that he would be all right. You haven't seen Ford in months, but your conscience has been driving you crazy. You felt guilty for not staying by your side, so when you heard about the tours at shack, you decided to find out what had changed at Ford. But when you saw the one who called himself Stanford, you realized that it wasn't him. You didn't know where Ford had gone, but you intended to find him, and for that you had to stay in town

Many years have passed since Ford returned to Gravity Falls. He met his brother again and met his great-nephews. But when the shack was closed, there was a knock on the door. Ford ignored it, sure it was one of the locals, until he heard his name called. When he turned around, he saw you. He recognized you even though your hair was almost completely gray and there were wrinkles on your face. You've both aged, but you've met again. He looked into your different eyes again and wanted to say something, but you came up to him faster than he could say anything. You hugged him tightly and then told him that you missed him

Stanford didn't have many people he could completely trust, but you were one of those people he let get very close to him. You have been separated for many decades, but now you intend to make up for the lost years. You were doing research again, spending time together. It was as if you had become part of their family and some of them didn't mind the prospect at all

[mixvyu]

Parfum d’étoile - episode twelve part two

scaramouche x reader smau

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★-

"Weren’t you suppose to be smart?"

"Fuck off Scaramouche, this shit just doesn’t make sense how am I supposed to link those three completely different subjects together?"

"I hate to side up with him, i really do, i swear, but it’s actually kind of easy frankly the hardest is to pick which info we keep and which one we ditch."

You could Scaramouche snicker beside you but you decided not to give him the time of day

"Let’s just save that and come back to it later, yeah?" You suggested, trying to shift the conversation to another topic.

“It’s getting late we should probably just call it a day" Kazuha said, looking at the time on his phone.

"Thank gods i don’t think i could spend one more minute working with her" Scaramouche added, pulling out his own phone "What do you guys want to eat?"

"Aww, you’re not throwing me out? I’m flattered, Kuni." you emphasised both of the syllables of the nickname.

You could hear Kazuha choke on his 4th cup of tea of the evening "Wow I didn’t know you guys were close like that" he said in between coughs.

"Neither did I. Don’t call me that." Scaramouche replied, almost instantly, while looking deep into your eyes. The humour in his demeanour long forgotten.

"Why does Kazuha get to call you that but I can’t? It’s unfair if you ask me." you said, trying to lighten up the mood even just a little bit.

"I’ve known him for more than a decade it’s completely different." discomfort settled in before Scaramouche continued with a more lighthearted tune "What food do you like, Y/N?" The question made you sigh in relief. Maybe he wasn’t mad, maybe it just caught him off guard.

"I like Italian food!" You exclaimed enthusiastically at the thought of a meal that you wouldn’t have to pay with the small amount of money left in your bank account.

"Ok so not that. Kazuha?" Scaramouche followed, eyes focusing on the other man beside you.

"Japanese sounds good right now" he answered immediately. He looked so focused on the ceiling on top of him the fact that he even listened to Scaramouche’s question had you shocked.

"Can’t believe you out of all people is letting me down."

"Sorry, a sacrifice had to be made." Kazuha teased, still looking at the beige ceiling

Scaramouche replies a lazy "mkay" to his friends request and gets up to call a japanese restaurant he apparently already had in his contact, probably because of the frequency of take-out the two boys regularly ordered. Judging by the fact that he hadn’t asked any of you what you wanted to order, you assumed he already had his and Kazuha’s orders memorised and that you’d just have to be okay with whatever he’d order for you.

If he even ordered for you, that is.

"What in the world possessed you to call him that?" Kazuha hushed voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

He wasn’t looking above him anymore and gave you what appeared to be an alarmed looked.

You didn’t get what he was talking about at first, but without thinking much you realised this was about you stealing the nickname he used for Scaramouche and the not-so-great reaction that followed.

"I just wanted to get his reaction, didn’t think he’d get all serious." You explained. It was simply reasoning really.

"Yeah, he really doesn’t like his birthname. At all."

"Why?"

"Uh… I think it’d be best to ask him directly." Kazuha said, looking away for the first time during the conversation

"He’d kill me if i did that!" you whispered-yelled

He looked back at you, then looked to the left. He seemed deep in reflexion, pouting a little and letting out a small "mm" sound before staring at you again "I don’t think he’d do more than manhandle you a bit, frankly, maybe a punch of two."

"Why are you acting like it’s nothing much?? I don’t want to get punched or manhandled! At all!" You grabbed your own cheeks out of instinct, as if you were protecting yourself from Scaramouche’s imminent hit.

"Then you’ll have to live in ignorance." he shrugged, grabbing one of the snacks on the table before realising that dinner will arrive any time soon and putting it back down.

"Can’t you tell me instead?" You pleaded, attempting to woo him with puppy dog eyes

"I don’t want to be the one he’ll pick a fight with." The wooing was ineffective

"I sacrificed Italian for japanese food, you can sacrifice that!" you were shaking him by now, you’re sure that, if he’d ask, you’d go as far as to plead on your knees for him to give you the answer you so deeply wanted.

"It’s not remotely close! You can have Italian later but i can’t get unbeaten up!" He said, still whispering

"You’re just a coward."

"What are you guys whispering about?" Scaramouche came back, having seemingly finished his phone call.

You were sweating a bit and your eyes were wide open, you looked like you’ve be caught red handed.

A long "uhh" left your mouth, you looked back at Kazuha hoping he’d be the one to find a non-suspicious reply to give to the man standing in front of you both.

"You."

You wanted to slap him so badly.

"What about me?" Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious of the topic you guys were discussing, and you couldn’t blame him : if someone told you they’ve been murmuring about you behind your back (literally), you’d be curious too.

"Y/N wanted to know why you changed your name."

You kicked Kazuha’s legs and he let out a soft, almost inaudible, "ow"

Scaramouche squinted, analysing your face. You gulped nervously, praying that there was an option other than the punching or manhandling.

"Not telling." He simply said, making a "umph" sound as he crossed his arms.

You simply looked at Kazuha, who was already looking at you, amused.

"Sorry, i might have exaggerated." he stated, a huge grin creeping on his face

Before you could curse him out he got off of the sofa for the first time in hours. Right as he got up, the purple head let himself fall down on your other side, apparently tired from standing for 5 minutes.

"I’ll go get the cans of beer i bought" the white and red haired man said, stretching before making his way to the kitchen

"You bought beer?" Scaramouche asked enthusiastically

"What? You didn’t even unload the groceries?" You could both hear him from the small kitchen, the sound of rustling through the groceries he bought some hours ago making itself audible

"No, I was lazy so I just put the bag up on the counter and left."

Kazuha sighed and mumbled "There was ice cream in there…"

He came back a few seconds afterwards, a pack of six cans in hands.

"Ooh nice." Frankly, you didn’t really like the taste of beer but maybe drinking with the two guys would make you all closer and you were excited at the thought.

Scaramouche leaned in and whispered into your ear "Don’t get too excited, he’ll drink all of this before you even get the chance to lay your hand on one of the can. He has a serious substance abuse problem."

"Maybe you should call a doctor or do an intervention or something." you whispered back

"He’ll be fine. Probably."

— timeskip :3

Not even 2 hours later, Kazuha was already asleep. His lower back resting on your laps and his head on Scaramouche’s who used that as an opportunity to play with his friend’s hair, undoing his signature ponytail and trying out a variety of haircut on his longer hair.

A comfortable silent had installed itself, only the soft sound of the raindrops crashing against the window was audible.

Your phone was next to you but the idea of being on it during the moment felt impolite. You glanced at Scaramouche, for the nth time since Kazuha fell asleep, a small smile was plastered on his face.

Being abled to run his fingers through Kazuha's seemingly soft hair apparently made him euphoric.

The sight of the two boys made you chuckle, a chuckle that Scaramouche caught up on.

"What's so funny ?"

"You look so happy, it's unsettling."

"I never get to touch his hair, it's super soft."

The conversation ended here but, for some reason, you wanted to keep the conversation going.

"I didn't know they made them cropped."

"Huh?" Scaramouche finally looked up to you.

"The compression shirts. I didn't know that there was cropped ones."

"Ooh!" He looked down at his shirt as if he'd forgetten which one he put on "I don't know if they exist cropped. I cut this one myself to show off the piercings." he let out a chuckle, a low one, before staring back down at Kazuha's sleeping face.

You looked up at the clock.

10:29pm

The gates of the school closed at 11:30 which meant you still had an hour to learn more about the boy next to you.

Scaramouche had always intrigued you but now that you were closer to him you really wanted to get the answers for all the questions in your mind.

You looked at his face deeply, analyzing the features of his face.

Scaramouche really was a pretty boy. Big purple eyes complimented by the red eyeliner he wore everyday, porcelain skin, long fingers and a small frame. He looked so ethreal, almost like a doll.

Scaramouche picked up on the looks you gave him, he could feel you staring without even looking at you.

"If you have something to say just say it."

‘You look really pretty’ was what you wanted to say to him— because he did look really pretty.

But you uttered something completely different in the end,

"Why’d you change your name?"

He groaned before looking up at you for the second time in an hour.

"I didn’t like it. I already told you."

"Yeah but why?"

"Why do you even care anyway?"

"I don’t know, you’re an interesting guy, i just want to get to know you more." You shrugged as he raised his eyebrows, not really convinced by what you were saying.

Since he wasn’t replying you added "You don’t have to tell me! It’s just— I’m just curious is all."

He chuckles lightly and says in a serious tone "I know I don’t have to, I don’t owe you anything."

Silence installed itself again.

God why did you have to be so pushy about it ? He obviously didn’t want to tell you, it’s some personal issue that he only share with his best friend, you’re not remotely close enough to be given the same amount of trust than his best friend of a decade. He was warming up to you and you ruined everything : Why do you always ruin everything?

You fidgeted with your fingers, trying to find something to make it up to him. Maybe you should just apologise again or—

"It’s just that…" all of the thoughts in your head suddenly went quiet as he started to speak "…I don’t like the history behind that name. It being related to my mom and all, you know?"

You actually did not know.

You never heard about Scaramouche’s mom before so hearing him mention her was surprising.

"Ooh so it’s like a mommy kink typa thing!"

"I’m pretty sure you meant mommy issues but whatever." he sighs before mumbling "I don't even know why I'm telling you that."

"I won't call you that again if it makes you uncomfortable"

"No, it's fine, you don't have to stop."

"Scaramouche?"

"God, what now?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

The man in front of you paused before straightening his back and laughing softly

"What's with all the questions?"

"Dunno, just curious I guess. Don't you think it's fun? It's like 21 questions."

"21 questions? How old are you?"

"You're the one that wanted to play last time"

"Really? I don't remember that."

"I know you do stop lying."

"Why do you even care ?"

"Just say you're a loser virgin, no need to circle around it."

"it's the pot calling the kettle black." he mumbled

"What did you say ?"

"Nothing. No I'm not dating anyone."

"Not even Kazuha ?"

"He's just with me for money, i don't surround myself with that kind of people." He answered while braiding the man's hair ironically.

"Oh so you did know!"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing! I don't mean anything!"

"What about you?"

"Me? I didn't even know you wee rich before Kazuha said it"

"No dumbass! I was asking if you were dating anyone."

A huge grin crept on your face "Why? You wanna take me on a date? I'm flattered really but I'm not interested, sorry."

"I wouldn't go on a date with you even if my life depended on it."

"No I'm not dating anyone. I'm not the kind of person people want to kiss apparently." You laughed quietly

'God why did i say that' you wanted to slap yourself—the last comment was really unnecessary.

"You think so ?" Scaramouche asked but you didn't answer. He continued anyway " I'd kiss you."

"What?"

"Huh? I said I'd kiss you." He repeated, nonchalantly.

You were sure that he just said that to tease you and that he'd reply a sing-songy "Nothing" when you questionned him, but he looked as serious as ever.

"Ah- uh really ? You think ?"

"Sure, probably."

You looked at the clock again and Scaramouche's gaze followed yours.

10:58pm

"Is it time for you to go home ?"

You nodded yes subconsciously even though it was a lie, you still had 30 more minutes before the gate would close.

"I'll help you clean up before I leave" You said looking over at the table decorated by dozens of sheets, multiple empty cups of tea, various snacks, an opened small packages of edibles that magically appeared into Kazuha's hands during the evening, empty Dr. Pepper and beer cans and three dirty plates stacked on top of each other.

"It's fine, it's not a huge mess I can take care of that myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah it should take me 5 mins at best. Let's go, I'll walk you home."

"Oh you don't have to!"

"It's 11pm and your house is close anyway, it's fine."

"I wouldn't want to bother you."

"God you're so fucking annoying, let's just go!"

"Ok! Ok! Geez..."

— timeskip :3

The walk back home was bathed in silence. You wanted to speak up but you knew how much the man beside you hated small talk.

You don't know when exactly you became cautious of what he might think of you knowing that you would've done everything to see him in pain just a week prior.

Maybe it was because he was rapidly warming up to you for some reason, probably because of the proximity forced onto the both of you; you talked to him more these past 3 days than you ever did in the 2 years of being his classmate and self-proclaimed rival.

You didn't know why but you liked the feeling of being closer to Scaramouche, despite all the rumours he was easy to talk to and you could now imagine how a man like Kazuha would find himself drawn to him.

If Lumine could hear you she'd be dissapointed.

Even though he was kind of nice, you still hated parts of him especially those cocky smiles he'd give you that signified that he thought he was better than you in every way, shape or form, or the fact that he always seemed to surpass you in grades but still didn't put up any work while on the project a few hours earlier.

God he was so fucking annoying.

You couldn't refrain yourself from slapping him in the back of the head harshly.

"Ow!" he exclaimed loudly, more surprised than actual hurt "What the fuck was that for?!"

"You're so fucking annoying, Kuni." it was your second time using the nickname and you hoped that he wouldn’t react badly this time.

"I didn't do anything! I-! You-! I wasn't even talking!"

"Your aura threw me off."

"Yeah well I'm sorry my aura isn't good enough for you!"

"I appreciate the apology. You should go home now."

"What so you're just going hit me and throw me away? That's hurtful."

"I live right around the corner and it's..." you checked your phone "...11:13 so you should probably head back. Plus you're tired so you should just sleep."

"Tired? I'm not tired, what are you talking about?"

"Huh? Didn't you say you started talking nonsense when you were tired ?"

"When did I speak nonsense?" it was a real question this time, just by his face you could understand that he was currently replaying the entire day in his head and asking himself when he fucked up

"I mean you literally said you'd kiss me" You looked confused but not as confused as Scaramouche was

"Yeah and I meant that."

"Just- Just go home, Scaramouche."

"Ok, whatever. Goodnight, Y/N"

"Mhm" You managed to mumble before he walked away

God why were you like this??

Extras :

Why do I write Kazuha and Scara so homo w each other

Sorry for the late update (i have absolutely no excuse)

In the draft i worked on at first Y/N and Scara almost kissed before Kazuha called and interrupted them but i decided against it jst because

You ever just write something , think "it's cringe" to yourself but still post it or is it just a me thing

Scara defo fell to his knees and screamed into his hand after turning a corner

Taglist! [open]

@gekkow @aemiko @veekoko @kichiyoshi @scaramouchelover4ever @sukunasrealgf @lxkeeeee @kunisblog @yukiipc @brfrtbrt @simpforsubmissivemen @featuredtofu @fanfictionenthusiast @beriiov @lyzisbitchingagain @bluebelony @ryomiye @reinoodle @bananasquash @mikukksks @sakiimeo @kitanablades @pennyluvr @sakurapeach @crystalsguitar @feiherp @deluluangel @gracefulace200 @apinu @elernity @st4romii @ahseya @yelleloww @prettiestgirlxoxo @yoichiislovie @silly-ez @mitsu-moshi

[magpod-confessions]

it seems like a lot of people, when discussing avatars, fixate either solely on their villainy and how completely bereft of morality they are, or how they are just a poor manipulated pawn of their patron. there’s a large focus on avatars either having malicious intent or a lack of control. and i feel like the thing a lot of fans are missing is that the fears don’t work like that. avatars don’t work like that. yes, a few of them are just shitty people, but the majority of them? what they do isn’t out of malice or cruelty. they are a thing obeying its nature. they hunt and hurt and kill because it feeds them and feeds their power.

as to how much of their actions are taken of their own volition and how much are the influence of their fear, i don’t think it matters that much. free will doesn’t really exist. people make choices based upon their life, circumstances, emotions, situations, and a hundred other factors. it’s a complicated knot that’s impossible to untangle.

but we know that the fears both

a. build off of and enhance what’s already there, what people already desire and feel and do

b. ramp that up to insane levels and twist it around to fit their own agenda (food and rituals)

c. make their avatars unable to back out of servitude without death, and detach them from both their own humanity and the rest of humanity to the point where choosing between their own lives or the lives of their prey is a simple decision.

basically, it’s like a rabbit who becomes a fox that must eat rabbits or die. the fox may be haunted by guilt in the early days, for eating what used to be its kin. maybe the occasional fox is even grief stricken enough to starve itself. but in the long run, that fox is a fox. the rabbits are no longer a peer with the same thoughts and feelings as them, to be sympathized with and understood. they are simply a food source, and the fox is not one of them anymore.

if the fox spends years and decades and centuries killing and eating rabbits, it might feel the occasional twinge of pity or amusement at their antics, but ultimately, they’re just food. feeling guilty about eating it gets them nowhere. after all, they had a choice in what they became, and they made it a long time ago.

it’s kind of like helen and jon’s conversation, where she explained that she felt the same guilt jon did at first, but it wasn’t getting her anywhere and eventually, she had to let it go and choose to eat to survive. jon started this process, too. in season 4, mainly, and also in season 5, but in season 5 he has the constant buffer of martin’s presence as a safeguard so it’s a little more complicated. but within months of his transformation, he started willingly taking live statements, uncaring for the victim’s state, just wanting to eat. it’s either eat or die, and any living avatars chose to eat. there is a reason they all admit that they did what they did not because they were under someone else’s control, but because they liked it and needed it and chose it.

so, trying to assign this narrative of avatars being either innocent pawns of their power with no choice in what they’re doing, or an evil entity with malicious intent who wants to be cruel, just doesn’t work. both could be viewed as part of the truth, but also, neither is really accurate, for the simple fact that anyone who serves the fears is operating off an entirely different mindset and lived experience that human morality just doesn’t really translate well to.

ironically enough, i think michael phrased it best- “There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature? When it embodies its nature? When that nature is created by those which revile it?”

anyways, this is getting pretty long, sorry if it doesn’t make much sense. i’m just irritated by fandom trying to find a Morally Correct way for avatars to exist, and ignoring the fact that being an avatar doesn’t just give people a few spooky powers, it completely upends their entire existence and mindset and priorities and morality.

yeah exactly . morality and avatars is such an interesting concept that a lot of people simply handwave !! i . have thoughts but i can't word them right now but . i do agree with you anon - deceit

Im eating this anon - rosette

[ca-suffit]

I think an important thing to remember when discussing Lestat as a queer icon (since it's a topic on the blog lately) is the fact that he's a queer horror icon. That man was never going to be a good man lol. It's exactly how Dr. Frank-n-Furter is a queer icon despite also being a villain and problematic. It's important to see people that we could relate to or admire in some aspects also be completely terrible, to avoid conflating someone you like with someone you who is good/should be imitated. Especially in the context of domestic violence and abuse in queer relationships. I wish this nuance was more present in fandom, because I don't like how people either treat Lestat like he's just a regular queer icon (as in, they ignore the part that makes him a horror to deal with), or diminish his queerness.

I'm also looking forward to people claiming Louis as a queer icon, I have hopes that it will become a more widespread topic as the show simmers, because I also think that Lestat being heralded as a queer icon in the show comes from decades and decades of him being considered one outside of it. This is the firts time (to my knowledge) that Louis has been compelling to the general public, so I guess with time he'll gain more weight in that discussion. I know it might sound too optimistic, given how black queer characters are usually treated, but I'd rather feel like we can go somewhere with this than feeling dejected.

I would write so many things about Lestat's and Louis' queerness and how they differ and interact and affect their lives and the narrative if I had the time. I'd also like to read/hear more about how Louis' queerness interacts and overlaps with his identity as a black man, so if you (or anyone) have any recs I'll gladly take them.

I think the discussion and even the portrayal of DV in queer (and interracial) relationships is a *huge* one for ppl to sidestep and has been one of the most disappointing things here tbh. we *haven't* seen that explored much in queer stories and it's so fucking *common* irl. there's a *lot* to explore there in so many directions, but ppl skip over that all the time just bcuz they don't want anyone to be "mean" to lestat. u can like things and still discuss and criticize them. as u said, look at the rocky horror picture show and the impact that's had. a lot of queer existence in general is always being "other" somehow, and that's why horror is such a good genre for it. to strip that away bcuz u just wanna play rupaul's drag race with lestat is....I mean, ppl can do what they want on their own, but this collective bullshit of forcing others to conform to this too and thinking ur "right" for doing it is a majority of the reason this fandom sucks. most ppl don't even hate lestat tbh, it's these fans that are the problem. nobody lets anyone meet the story where it's at.

I def think, regardless of what the show ends up becoming as a whole, that amc louis has made a huge impact as a black, queer character in major media. I hope ppl continue to analyze him and be inspired by this character and keep it all rolling forward. nobody expected this to be as good as it was at portraying louis and we're blessed af to have jacob in the part too.

god, I don't remember all the good posts I've seen about louis anymore. I tried to even look but I think most were out of the tags and long ago too. I remember a rly good one talking about claudia's relationship to louis and how he prbly wasn't allowed to play with grace's dolls as a kid, so claudia was kind of his "permission" to do that. it also gives a slightly different perspective to claudia's "doll-like" existence, since this was not something explored in louis in the books or 1994 film.

I feel like, if u or anyone is unfamiliar with james baldwin, reading his stuff will give some irl perspective to amc louis too in various ways. equal in paris is a good S2 companion. I think rolin jones even said giovanni's room was an inspiration for S2 too.

[cialovesklopp]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ➺ k.mbappé

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — realizing that one is actually in love is a process being done with your best friends

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — kylian mbappé x amara imani (oc)

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 6.2k

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — actually don't know why this chapter was so difficult to write so i hope it turned out fine. it's kind of a filler chapter but only preparing you for what's about to come also wanna thank my bestie @cl16version for helping me write this chapter, don't think i would have finished without her

mon amour — masterlist

every relationship is built on love and trust. both so different and yet, deep down, are based on the same fundament. 

the history of love and its different types went back decades; maybe even centuries. in definition, english literature has found it to be a simple feeling of deep affection and intimacy. but it was also the same english literary, that had given the word « love » a much important, higher meaning.

shakespeare’s romeo and juliet had opened the world to different types of love, erasing the standard of the typical love scenarios known to the world and making place for the difficult and painful ones. but whether it was the most powerful one, had never been known to humans. 

were feelings of hatred and disdain turned into passionate feelings stronger than the love, built up on years of friendship? the affection that grew after years of true care for each other? the true kind of love could not find its veritable definition. the connection based on the free will of two people somehow defied physics when it was analyzed deeply. 

but trust was not any easier. in fact it turned out to be even harder because how could one person be able to trust another person blindly? when one doesn’t even trust himself, how would one be able to trust another human, with the same flaws as itself?

for amara, love had always been somewhat suspicious to her. the idea of sharing herself to another person, letting that person into the deepest parts of her did not seem very appealing to her. she could never truly let go of her. if you wanted to love her, you had to satisfy yourself with the 90% she allowed you to have. and yet, even with her carefulness and high-alert to it, she had trusted and given 95% of herself. 

she couldn’t trust anymore — how could she? not when the additional five percent she had allowed evan to have, had been used against her. he had humiliated her before breaking her heart. the stepping and trashing of it did not help her very much. but the trust she had given away and it had been misused, she would always cry after it. 

evan and her had lived in completely different worlds and yet a whisper of media and suddenly they found themselves on the same platform. maybe if she never had gone to that beauty event, he wouldn’t have talked to her. and her so-called friends could have never pushed her to seek after him if they hadn’t been captured by the press. the moment she would have tasted the poison of him — the moment she should read the articles of him and her instead of crushing on him — she would’ve spit him out and left his radar at the first chance she would have got. 

she had been naive back then. a child thrown into the celebrity world with no one to guide her, fresh meat for the hungry wolves, just waiting for a weak lamb to stumble upon them. it was clear that he had used her — the young rising star, being thrown into the industry without any knowledge — it was easy to use her. to amara, evan represented the false friend, the crisis of her faith when she had not been sure whether to even accept his invitation. 

amara had seen the red flags and deliberately chosen to ignore them — her first mistake. she knew she should have left him when he had started downgrading her but she stayed — her second mistake. another door had opened when she had met his parents and they had undermined her, racist side marks the entire evening and she had taken them all and yet she had stayed. another mistake. there had been so many signs that she had chosen to ignore — simply, because he had made her feel loved, desired. and the bullet had hit her when her safety bubble had burst. 

it had never been clear to her what had been her motive. why she couldn’t have just gone on her way instead of blushing and attire his attention. evan had never made it worth staying, amara realized as she looked back even though deep down she knew the reason. why she had never left. 

evan had always given her enough to make her stay, ignore the bright red flags and issues he had. she had been young, a fresh adult with no experiences on love. he had realized quickly, he had enough good to make her stay through the bad. to never even question a leave. she endured cheating scandals because he knew how to win her back, he knew how to make the bad outweigh the good for a moment before all began again. 

in the end, she celebrated his love and he tolerated it. 

she regretted a lot of thing but mostly, the loss of her innocent adult years. where memories used to be things that made her smile and not emotions that could be used as weapon. every touch he had left on her had turned out to be a scar, ugly and dark, carving her for life. she had not planned on trusting again.

and then life introduced her to kylian.

he somehow made the idea of love less disgusting. showed her the kind type of love that also existed. that next to painful and unstable it could also be reassuring and calming. still it wasn’t sufficient for an “us”. and kylian was left, picking up the pieces. 

the longer she stayed in her relationship, the smaller the pieces got, her heart breaking so many times, some pieces would never be found again. but kylian had found a solution — he would fill the gaps with love. and somehow it was working and she found herself falling again, the easy part of love.

their relationship was blooming like the first flower fighting her way through after decades of ice growing over its ground. he broke the high walls that had built around her, had formed a security wall. a new bond had been created between them, building and strengthening over their deepness and the easiness of being vulnerable in front of each other. 

that they knew where they were standing with each other, made it even easier for amara. she could be open with kylian, there were no overthinkings with him, no contemplating.  her relationship with kylian allowed her to be her own true self. 

and the changes of it were quickly recognisable, with smiles becoming more and more frequent. gloomy eyes were replaced with bright grins and her eyes were slowly starting to regain their twinkle back, the origin of her success and career. 

with kylian waiting for amara to get her trust and confidence back, the singer started to open up more, go back to her old sunshine-self as she had been known as. the balance in her life was restoring, equalizing her career and private life again. and amara could go back to living in bliss, actually experiencing the innocent feeling of amore, she had not been allowed to feel during her time with evan. 

she was falling hard like a plane flying straight-down to the ground. the overwhelming rush of emotions flooding her heart, becoming more and more each second she passed with the french striker. the realization had struck her at night, as she had worked on her song, hitting her with the speed of lighting: she was undeniably in love with him. 

she was swimming in a sea of emotions, with no shore or land in sight. her eyes viewed kylian in a different light now — he wasn’t the charming footballer anymore, with easygoing and playful character. instead he had upgraded to the man, who had giving her inspiration again. her muse and for amara, this held higher significance than anything else. 

how she had ever lived without him, she didn’t know. how could she have made all these days in Paris without the air in her apartment spreading the scent of love and comfort, the certain safety that looked everywhere whenever he was there. she cherished every second spent in his presence, treasuring each moment as if it were a precious gem.

Amara had given kylian everything. she was willing to repeat her mistake, let him have a part of her she had never given away before. all the times she stood in front of the mirror and since the entry of his life, all of sudden she saw herself different. as if she had never seen herself before. 

and kylian knew she was scared. he was aware she was hoping to be spared of all this, the process of falling in love again, afraid of all those dark feelings returning from her previous failed relationship. but she wasn’t alone in her feelings. deep down, he was scared too, angst sometimes lurking in his mind as he thought about her and their growing relationship. but just as quickly as those feelings came, they were gone again and it all started to make sense to him again — he would take the leap of faith anytime again. 

they would never admit to each other just how much the other meant to them — both afraid to overstep boundaries. 

it was the reason why kylian would never know how much it meant to her when he would hold her, press tiny kisses on her temple when they sat down to watch a movie. how it was able to change the way she saw herself when he complimented her. she was willing to give herself to him if he accepted the part of her, she had never let loose before. 

and amara would never know, she was the reason, he was being himself again. she would never hold the knowledge that the night they had met, had been for him to grow out of his misery after his own failed relationship. how her messages transferred smiles onto his faces that even his teammates started to grow suspicious. 

a certain vulnerability loomed over them, their hearts exposed to the other. and that same vulnerability was covered with soft smiles, silent confessions of love, glimpses into the depths of each others’ souls. love had the power to transform, to shape and create. it was able to bury insecurities, flaws, hatred… love had the power to give new beginnings to old things. 

especially in her case, love had given her something so important, it had given her inspiration, a new muse for her music. kylian fitted her in every way possible. even more because he loved her just because she — in his eyes. in his eyes she wasn’t amara imani, and he had fallen in love with her plain self, with her just being amara. 

she didn’t need to be more to make his world lighten up, her laugh was enough. and she didn’t need to wear makeup to be the most beautiful girl in the room — she could wear a potato bag and still win miss universe in his opinion.

sometimes even the simplest of loves were the most beautiful ones. the one, where one could see how trust and love were built around moments spent with each other, finding your soulmate, best friend in your loved one. world’s could never describe how this was an entire different feeling from just falling in love. and loving every part, every flaw and still seeing beauty was another different thing. 

even to herself, amara couldn’t explain why kylian’s laugh attracted her so much. it could have been his body, after all he was built very well, his face, his status — but no, for amara the most attractive thing on kylian was his smile. 

she started to drown out, not even listening anymore but just memorizing his smile to the finest detail. the way, kylian couldn’t help but to laugh before even recounting what had happened that made him burst into laughter like this. she gazed at him with so much love in her eyes, adoration, fondness. his giggles filled the air, tearing all of amara’s attention to them as he recounted with animated gestures. the last thing she remembered was that something funny at training session had happened today but what exactly it was, she didn’t know. by then she had already completely spaced out, staring at kylian instead and his smile.

the time passed with amara and kylian are still lost in each other’s company. they both enjoyed the moments where they did not have to wear a mask, could be completely themselves. they were only amara and kylian with each. two normal persons, trying to navigate their way through life. but of course, they couldn’t escape it forever, time and responsibilities always caught up. 

glancing at the clock, she gasped when she saw how late it already was. truthfully, for their standards, it wasn’t really late but she knew kylian had an away match tomorrow and couldn’t afford to be tired there. 

“kylian,” she began softly, nudging the french forwards’ shoulder, “it’s late. you need to go.”

“are you trying to get rid of me?” he retorted jokingly, grinning at her. 

she rolled her eyes, amusement clear on her face, “never. but you have an away match and i kind of don’t fancy you being benched.”

he gasped, putting a hand on his heart dramatically. “omg, you actually care for me.” he exclaimed, his grin spreading wider when she lightly slapped him neck this time. “but are you actually going to watch my match this weekend?”

“you’re acting as if i haven’t watched your last two matches.” she replied sarcastically. 

kylian waved dismissively, “yeah but we lost those. and i’m really sure we’re going to win this one. and, i don’t mean to brag, but i kind of am a big deal so it should be really entertaining.”

amara bursted out laughing, placing a hand in front of her mouth to stop her but it was useless. “sure…,” she trailed off, a mocking tone distinguishable in her voice. “it’s not like i have anything better to do this weekend, no of course not. i can already feel how excited i am to watch you run after a ball for one and a half hours.”

“glad to know this is how you feel about me,” kylian replied, his face scrunching up which made amara laugh even more. 

“you should start selling tickets just for people to watch you, not the team but just you.” amara suggested, “it’ll be called the donatello experience, after all you do kind of look like him. but the wish version.” she added, squirming when kylian suddenly started to tickle her. 

her laughter rang through the entire apartment, her begs going down in laughs as kylian tickled her all over. it was perfect. this moment was everything her and even were not and for the first time in a long time. amara was not thinking about her worries, the only thing on her mind was kylian - her kylian. she knew that god was a woman, but her favorite angel was definitely kylian.

“you think it’s an insult, i take it as a compliment,” he stated proudly and amara raised her eyebrows, an incredulous expression on her face at his words. “but you know, you’re kind of right. i should definitely start the mbappé experience. i mean after all, who wouldn’t want to see this beauty,” he let a hand run down his face, posing extravagantly which started another small laugh flash of amara. 

“people would start reclaiming their money if they spent it to watch you fall every twenty minutes. but what’s money when you can watch the imperialistic, majestic, phenomenal kylian mbappé try to score goals, right?”

 “ha ha,” he replied dryly, glaring at the singer in front of him. “aren’t you funny?”

amara smirked, mischievous glint in her eyes, “i know i am. you don’t have to remind me.”

“and people say, i have a big ego,” kylian muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for amara to hear, “they clearly haven’t met you.”

“your ego is bigger than france itself,” amara retorted, “i’m just trying to match your energy.”

“glad we’re on the same page.”

“of course we are. if it wasn’t for me, who would remind you of your frequent moments of mediocrity and knock you off your high horse?” amara explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “i’ll be here, sitting on my couch, cheering you on as i watch you miss a penalty by a mile.”

instead of answering with another sarcastic comment, the french striker stood up and pulled off  the blue psg-hoodie he was wearing. amara’s eyes widened as she spotted his abs, clearly visible through the tight white shirt he was wearing beneath. he threw it into amara’s lap without another word, the smell of his cologne immediately picked up by her nose. 

“you’re giving me your hoodie? what for? i can easily order myself a psg jersey,” she questioned, looking at him confused.

he shrugged dismissively again, “faut que je encourage mon plus grand supporter, tu ne trouve pas? without whose words, i probably wouldn’t have scored my incoming hattrick.” — don’t you think?

she pulled the sweatshirt closer to her chest and put it on, laughing as she saw how big it was on her body. “aww, thank you. you thought of me. to how many girls have you already given this?”

“none,” kylian replied deadpan, nodding in affirmation when amara raised her eyebrows. “you’re the first.”

“i feel honored, thank you so much. maybe, i’ll sell it on ebay.” she said cheerfully and threw a last glance at the time on her phone. “kylian, you really need to go now if you don’t plan on warming the bench tomorrow.”

he held his hands up in surrender. “d’accord, je m’en vais déjà.” — okay, i’m already leaving

kylian lifted himself up from the sofa, reaching for his belongings. amara quickly put on some slippers and accompanied him to the door, in a way it felt like this was a death march. as if amara would never see him again, which was quite the opposite in reality. they had spent the whole day together, yet it felt like it wasn’t enough. to the two of them not even forever could fill their need for one another, and with kylian going away for a match. their need to be close to each other had never been stronger.

they stood at the door, looking at each other, their regards completely enamored. his hand brushed gently against hers, surroundings entirely drowning out. for some reason, this goodbye felt different. the usual warmth was discernible in his eyes, the smell of his cologne filled the air, intensified this time because of his hoodie that was gracing her body, a comfortable atmosphere laid around them. and yet, neither moved. they were caught in their moment. 

it reminded amara of their first meeting, the morning after. when they had been at his apartment and she was in kylian’s position. they would have stayed there too for hours if her phone hadn’t rang. but this time, there were no distractions. it was just the two of them, waiting for the other to make a move and yet neither of the two wanted to disrupt the moment. 

he contemplated in his head, mind running high — was this the moment he had longed for? when she would finally make a step forward instead of her three steps back each time something like this happened? all he wanted to do at the moment was to take her head into his palms and press his lips on hers. but he also knew that it wouldn’t be fair towards her. 

she needed the time to heal and move forward from her insecurities, her doubts about love. and he had sworn to himself several times to give it to her. he could wait for years, it would be okay. she was the only woman in his thoughts at the moment. they didn’t need to rush. for him, it was the most obvious thing that he liked her in every kind of way. they could be in a room full of diamonds and yet she would still shine the brightest. 

he leaned down, close enough to hear amara’s heart beat pound quickly, his lips brushing her skin swiftly as he pressed a soft kiss on her cheek. for a second everything stood still, the earth stopped in its tracks. and it was just them, as the innocent gesture made them both freeze. was it the wrong decision? maybe. was it too soon? maybe. but all kylian could say was he did not regret it.

the kiss did not leave them unbothered. the sensation of his touch, his skin on hers sent shivers down her spine, the spot where he had kissed her burning with heat. and yet she felt a bit of disappointment. a part of her had thought it would have been more, longed for more. 

and kylian somehow sensed it. he could feel her bit of disappointment that was going through her. he placed her hands in his, smiling at her fondly, so much love in his gesture, “i know you’re disappointed. but i did not want our first kiss to be a goodbye kiss. i promised myself, i would make our first kiss unforgettable and wait till you’re ready for us.”

as he spoke, how could she be mad at him? when he was that considerate of her feelings; when he was able to read her like an open book? she looked up at him, eyes reflecting every of her emotions that she currently felt and a smile broke out on her lips. 

“will you wait forever?”

“if you want me too, i will.”

“you’re too good for me, ky,” amara muttered, still playing with the footballer’s hands. 

he shook his head, her smile mirroring on his face, “not too good. just perfect.” he leaned his back towards the wall, watching their reflection in the mirror. “he didn’t deserve you. he never did.”

as they slowly, with lots of reluctance let go of each other’s hands, another atmosphere built up. they didn’t have to say anything, they knew what they thought. next to the warmth and love filling the air, there was also a sense of safety. they felt safe with each other. she wasn’t just amara anymore, the person he fell in love with and wanted to show her his love. she had changed into amara, the person he felt safe with that he loved. 

the first time they had been in this situation, the roles were reversed and he had to hold on to the hope of it all, that they would meet again. that she wouldn’t push him back, and she hadn’t. so even though she had never been his, he had lived for her. given things up for her because his sense of amore had been so innocent, so hopeful that their faiths would intertwine. 

“so… i can count on you cheering me on from your couch?”

she nodded firmly, “no place i would rather be at that time,” she replied in the same cheerful tone, her soft smile still decorating her face. “by the way, it wouldn’t have been a goodbye kiss,” she added as kylian stepped through the door, her words making the french forward stop and turn around.

“well, this isn’t a goodbye, cherié,” he responded, “just a, see you soon.”

both were grinning widely when amara closed the door behind her. a cocktail of emotions rushed through her, her mind replaying the past few minutes in her head over and over. her hand reached for her cheek, the touch of his lips on her cheek still recent. even as she sat down on the couch, her mind still thought back to the moment they had shared at the door, their step forward. 

even kylian couldn’t wipe the smile of his face as he made his way home. he ignored the questionable look from his chauffeur, his mind still thinking back to the moment that had just happened. the soft and gentle kiss he had left on her cheek held much more significance. it was a symbol for their step forward. 

𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄:

AMARA: i kind of miss you guys scratch that, i actually miss you so much

LIYAH: this bitch drunk again?

r u drunk again?  you’re only emotional when you’re drunk

AMARA: can’t a girl miss her besties

GRACE: nah, she’s definitely drunk we literally talk to each other over the phone every day in case you forgot, i’m your pr-manager

AMARA: choke i’m not drunk i just miss seeing you, it’s been weeks

GRACE: aww, we miss seeing your beautiful face too

GRACE: but she’s kind of right, it’s actually been kind of long since we all saw each other

AMARA: paris is lonely without y’all next girls night out is on me

LIYAH: we’re sorry not everybody can go into hiding immediately

AMARA: acting as if i did this on purpose anyway i’m bored by the way, did you see the article about e*an and his girlfriend at the MTV awards?

LIYAH. i thought we agreed not to talk about this asshole anymore BUT LIKE SAME  AND THE WAY THEY’RE SAYING, YOUR THE ONE LEFT BEHIND

GRACE: we can always sue them if you want this was more than just talking about henderson and his new trophy girlfriend they woke up and chose violence

AMARA: it’s the part where they say ‘i pale in comparison to her’ like, i’m sorry my job is not to just sit still and look pretty

LIYAH: that nepo baby has probably never worked even lifted a finger to work for something

GRACE: don’t worry i’ll take care of it and e*an will definitely eat his words “not truly working between us” THAT BITCH

AMARA: his text messages say different but who cares?

GRACE: do me the favour though and don’t go on social media rn, it’s shitty there

LIYAH: gracey’s kind of right, it does look bad at the moment AMARA: dw wasn’t planning to anyway, i’m over it already so liyah, how was fashion week?

LIYAH: great lots of free alcohol and great clothes

AMARA: where was it again?

LIYAH: in the south of france monaco = lots of casinos and alcohol

GRACE: speaking of monaco…

LIYAH: yesssss

AMARA: liyahhhhhhhh

LIYAH: amaraaaaaaaa

AMARA: WHAT’S THIS GRACE JUST SEND ME PRIVATELY? YOU HAVE A NEW MAN? YOU BAGGED CHARLES LECLERC!!!!

GRACE: AND SHE PROBABLY WOULDN’T HAVE TOLD US IF WE DIDN'T ASK AFTER FASHION WEEK

LIYAH: guys….

AMARA:

THIS YOU?

LIYAH: i didn’t know it spread this quick but let me add, his ferrari collection>>>>> and he feeds me pasta everyday

GRACE:

SPILL BITCH

AMARA: yess, we wanna know the deeds how did this shit happen

LIYAH: well, i was supposed to go on blind date but asshole never showed up charles ordered me a bottle of wine and joined me later than, apparently he saw me being sad

GRACE: omgggg

one night stand??

LIYAH: nahhh we went on a few days before he popped the question and he’s literally amazing skilled everywhere

AMARA: damn, girl not even james made you swoon like that

GRACE: she deep in

LIYAH: james could have never let’s not disrespect charles like that james would have never let me drive his pista

AMARA:

PISTA? A FERRARI PISTA

LIYAH: he has a customized one

AMARA:

JEALOUSSSS (don’t you dare quote my song now)

GRACE: but like, how’s it going?

LIYAH: he’s so charming and cute and perfect.  i feel like every adjective i try to use does not fit, it’s too good.  and his smile — his smile is adorable.  especially with his dimples. impossible not to fall for him.”

AMARA:

WE NEED TO MEET HIM ASAP

GRACE: he got our girl down bad

AMARA: she’s actually in love

LIYAH: but like jokes aside, i really like him like him and me are

there are no situationships, no toxic exes it’s perfection — well, more like he’s perfection and brings out the best in me

AMARA: she’s in love let’s hope he doesn’t screw it up like james did.

GRACE: if he does, ferrari red won’t be the only one he’s seeing

AMARA: but we can’t wait to meet him in person

LIYAH: how about we stop talking about my man and focus on the reason, amara’s hyped again

GRACE: YES CAUSE WHY IS THIS BITCH CALLING ME AT TWO O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING

LIYAH: AND DON’T EVEN TRY TO DENY IT WE’VE KNOWN YOU FOR YEARS

GRACE: SPILL THE BEANS

AMARA: don’t know what you’re talking about there’s no one

LIYAH: at least try to sound convincing

we’re your best friends your soul sisters

GRACE: by definition it’s our job to pry into your life

LIYAH: TELL US, WHO GOT YOU DOWN

AMARA: fine so there’s this guy, kylian and we met here

LIYAH: SHE ACTUALLY HAS A MAN

GRACE:

AMARA: not gonna lie my heart is going crazy for him like he is kind of perfect

GRACE: OMGGG WHAT HAS THIS BITCH BEEN KEEPING FROM US

LIYAH: SPILL what’s he like?

AMARA: he’s incredibly talented firstly and his smile could literally light up a room

LIYAH: IT’S GETTING GOOD

AMARA: idk how to describe but like we just click, we don’t have to say anything but immediately understand each other and he’s actually making me laugh and keeps up with my sarcasm

GRACE:

LIYAH: SHE IS DOWN BAD

GRACE: does he know you feel bout him that way?

AMARA: he knows like, we both know that we have feelings but i told him, i’m not ready and he understands that said, he was willing to wait for me

GRACE: KEEP HIM

LIYAH: HE’S PERFECT

GRACE: what does he even look like?

AMARA:

LIYAH: WHO IS THAT? WAIT I THINK I KNOW HIM

GRACE: DAMN AMARA WHAT THE HELL BITCH HOW COULD YOU KEEP HIM FROM US

LIYAH: HE’S THAT PLAYER FROM PSG RIGHT? THE FRENCH STRIKER SCORED THREE GOALS IN THE WC FINAL??

GRACE: A FOOTBALL PLAYER? AMARA??? INCOMING FACETIME CALL:

giggling, amara accepted the call quickly, her smile widening as she stared at her two best friends. her laugh intensified, looking at liyah’s serious face.

“usually, i am the first to veto football players but if he’s anything like what you told us,” liyah trailed off excitingly, “if you don’t go for him, i will personally smack the shit out of you.” liyah threatened jokingly, “that man literally has you smiling like the cheshire cat and—”

“is that his hoodie?” grace cut her off, pointing at the navy blue sweatshirt on amara’s body. their eyes immediately spotted the small number seven, engraved at the top corner of the shirt.

she looked away shyly, nodding and instantly laughing at the shocked faces of her friends. “he gave it to me, sort of support. said that, if i can’t come to his matches, then at least i’ll be supporting him through my phone.”she explained, smiling brightly.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” grace questioned her incredulously, while liyah was still looking for words to describe the behavior of their friend. “HE IS DOWN FOR YOU.”

“girls, it’s not that easy. i like him, i truly do but things are not the same for me as they were for you and charles.” amara muttered, her smile shining less. “i can’t just go for him.”

their expressions were soft, a certain fondness for their best friend recognizable as they looked at her. liyah spoke first, “if this is because of evan, i can promise you, it’s not going to be like that the next time. this time, we’re here and not those fake, backstabbing snakes. and the moment we see a red flag in kylian, we’ll make sure he never ever plays football again.”

she sighed heavily, hands running frustratingly over her face. “i am a mess at the moment. i can’t even step outside because of this stupid scandal. and he’s kylian, france’s golden boy. he doesn’t deserve to be dragged down because of me.” she confessed, a heavy weight falling off her shoulders. 

“amara, the last thing you need to do is think of yourself as a burden.” grace told her in a scolding tone, “kylian is old enough to choose whom he wants to associate himself with. and if chose you, that’s because he likes you. you literally said that he was willing to wait till you were ready to move forward.”

“men like them only come once in a lifetime,” liyah added to support grace’s statement. “and sometimes you just have to trust. don’t take this as me pushing you to get into a relationship but we want you to figure it out. you’re the only one who knows when you’re ready or not and neither your reputation nor your career are going to change that. it’s just you.”

“is it even a good idea for two celebrities to date? i don’t need a repeat of what happened with evan. this thing escalates again and i’m done,” she explained worriedly. “i am trying to rise from the ashes. i can do it once but if this fails, i can’t do it twice. and the risk of it is too high for me.”

amara jumped when suddenly a pillow was thrown towards the camera, rolling her eyes lightly at liyah’s antics. she was known for her way of always overdramatizing everything. 

this time was no different. 

“mar, honestly i don’t really know if kylian is the right guy. the only thing I know though is that he cares. and maybe he’s not the right person. but at least you’ll have tried.” grace assured her, smiling softly at her while liyah held her thumbs up. “sometimes you have to kiss several frogs to find your prince.”

“you’ve got no idea how thankful i am for this,” she replied thankfully, accepting grace’s advice. “truly do not know where i would be without you two.”

standing up from the sofa, she rummaged through her notebooks till she found the one she had opened recently and wrote her newest song down. she brought it back to her place, sitting down again and listening to her two best friends talk as she edited her lyrics. she must have spaced out very quickly since suddenly, a high pitched scream was heard through her phone. 

“OMG, SHE’S WRITING!” liyah exclaimed, making amara look up in shock. she was met with a gleeful expression on liyah’s face, looking at the camera and a similar looking one on grace. “NEW MUSIC IS COMING!”

grace shook her head at liyah even though they were used to it by now. “is that the project you told me about? the one from two o’clock in the morning?”

amara gave a nod and smiled at the excitement in her friends’ faces. “songwriting is on again, i guess.”

“you said, you were taking a pause.”

“no, i was just in a slump because of my mediocre second album,” amara objected quickly, “but now i’m high on motivation again and i’m keen on beating those critics and haters, who called me forgettable.”

“is the song already finished?” grace asked her curiously. “do you want me to arrange something for recording or?”

amara closed the small notebook, placing it on the table in front of her. “no, i want to write several ones before i even think of going to the studio. like i said, this time i need to exceed. not just reach my expectation but exceed them. and i’m going to do that.”

“damn, where’s the inspiration coming from?” liyah exclaimed. 

amara smirked, mischievous glint apparent in her eyes. “he gave it to me.”

𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄:

AMARA: kylian? u awake?

KYLIAN: always

AMARA: i actually wrote a song today

KYLIAN: it’s mine right?

AMARA: score a goal for me and we’ll see

KYLIAN: this is torture

AMARA: writing a song is not for everyone takes time and patience not that you’d know

KYLIAN: can i at least know what it’s about?

AMARA: about a certain football player who thinks he’s the best in world and needs to be humbled with a disstrack

KYLIAN:

a disstrack? when have i ever offended you

AMARA: i rate constantly stealing my food as a crime by the way, shouldn’t you be asleep right now you have a match tomorrow

KYLIAN: one we’ll easily win

AMARA: boy, you’re not man city get off your high horse

KYLIAN: your ego is just as bad as mine i never even asked you what’s your favorite team?

AMARA: olympique marseille a shame, they’re always losing in classicos

KYLIAN: fr now

AMARA: liverpool fc ynwa always cheers me up and now go to sleep before i block you i expect a hat-trick tomorrow

KYLIAN: i’ll even score four if that makes you happier

AMARA: don’t tempt me mbappé

KYLIAN: don’t block me pls

AMARA: then go to bed

KYLIAN: fine maman

AMARA:

[amyispxnk]

It Hurts to be Something, Chapter 2 - Keep Them Safe.

Joel Miller x f!reader, platonic!Ellie Williams x f!reader

Series summary: You and Joel were separated the night Cordyceps overtook the world. 20 years later, you finally find eachother - but things won't be the same as they were before.

Chapter summary: 20 years later, you're settled into Jackson, ready for yet another day at the clinic, when 2 unexpected visitors arrive.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: injury, language, slight pining, tension, guns, slight violence, alcohol mention

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Crisp moonlight illuminated the inside of your home in Jackson, alarm clock blaring in your ears as you sat up in the bed and shut the clock off, rubbing your eyes awake.

It all amazed you, really, the Jackson community. How they managed to get working electricity, lighting, water, comfortable and warm homes for everyone, animals, food.. even hosting events like weekly movie nights. They managed to make life feel so normal again, like it was before the world went to complete shit.

The things you had done to get here were things you would have never dreamt of doing 2 decades ago. Living cosy in your Texan home, working a (mostly) 9-5 hospital job and being able to go home to a loving family. With Sarah, and Joel.

Sarah and Joel who you missed so dearly.

When you arrived here, just under 5 years ago, you had almost gotten yourself killed before even making it past the gates - immediately drawing your weapon, barking threats at people who remained surprisingly unfazed. You realised why they were unfazed when almost a dozen more on horseback arrived with sniffer dogs and a gun each. You were too used to being lied to, abandoned, used and mistreated and didn't trust any of them after your harsh years in the apocalypse, but then you saw him. Tommy fucking Miller, right there, pointing a shotgun at your skull.

Seeing Tommy again was shocking. He looked so different, and you honestly didn't even know if he was still alive until then, yet he was here by chance in the community you had stumbled upon, being the one who was running it in fact.

"Tommy?" You had asked, ignoring the instructions you were being given for a moment.

His brows furrowed. Your voice, it was so familiar, yet new to him at the same time. Surely- no, it couldn't be. He murmured your name, a one-worded question to which you nodded quickly.

"Fuck." He breathed, signalling for the other people to lower their guns as he took his bandana down and got off his horse.

He walked up to you and took you in, noticing immediately just how different you looked. Your face was almost entirely different - a harsh scar adorning your right cheek, eyes more tired where they would normally be sparkling and your lips pressed into a thin line where they would normally be smiling and parting to let your bubbly laughter slip through them.

"Tommy." You repeated, more affirmatively. It was definitely him. Longer hair, frown lines more prominent, but it was definitely Tommy.

"Yeah... Shit, it's really you."

"Really me." You confirmed, before looking around at the literal circle of horses around you. "What- what is this?" You asked, prompting him to follow your eyeline as he remembered you were still an outsider to Jackson.

He briefly explained who you were to the others and the story seemed to make them let their guard down. If Tommy trusted you, they had no real reason to be too skeptical.

After returning to Jackson, you were settled into the community and went to see Tommy later that night.

You nursed a whiskey with him as you shared stories, telling eachother about everything you could remember since the outbreak.

Of course you discussed Sarah. You had come to terms with the fact that she might be dead, but hearing Tommy say it made it all too real and it wasn't long before you were breaking down into tears. She was like a daughter to you, and your love for her was genuinely immesurable. You did everything you could for her and even though you and Joel weren't as far as marriage, you did your best acting as a step-mother for her and it felt like it was biological, the connection and relationship you two had.

Not only did she die, but the way she did was horrifying. Tommy admitted he had blocked it out of his memory for a while, seeing his niece bleeding out onto the ground, onto Joel. Seeing his brother scream for him to do something when he couldn't. All he could do was stand there and watch her die, choking on her own blood.

It was on outbreak day, he told you, and that made your heart shatter even more. Maybe.. if you were faster, if you did more, you could have been there and you could have saved her. You could have taken the hit, or killed that fucking soldier, or something. But you didn't, and you weren't there for them, like you should've been.

You eventually calmed down, a new feeling of emptiness that comes with loss making its way into your body as you and Tommy continued to talk, eventually calling it a night before he led you to your new home and left you to settle in.

Now you were here, 5 years later and established pretty well here. You had started off helping on patrols, having acquired exceptional fighting skills during the apocalypse, but after around a year of this you had showed off another skill at times when it was needed, and it was especially needed now - healthcare.

There used to be a town nurse and a doctor who worked at the makeshift surgery they had set up - but then they got infected with something, not cordyceps of course but another disease, and died. So then they turned to you, one of the only other people with suitable medical experience and knowledge in Jackson, and positioned you there.

After going through your regular morning routine, you trekked through the snow to your surgery, rattling the door open and taking your jacket off as you prepared your daily materials.

Thankfully, the days were quite uneventful here, as most people kept themselves safe on patrol and in the city - the occasional hypothermic patient coming in being the most severe thing you could deal with in a day - but today was different.

Just past noon, there was a clamor of people and two horses riding into the town. You looked up from your book. The horses were normal, and the people looked regular enough - a girl and a man - but the group of Jackson townfolk surrounding them was not.

You walked out of the surgery and took a few steps forward just as you saw Tommy running up to the man and pulling him in for an embrace. Okay, what? Who were these people?

You made your way into the crowd of people when you realised why Tommy had practically sprinted towards the man, why they were hugging and actually close to tears at the sight of eachother. It was Joel.

The realisation made you let out a loud gasp, and Tommy turned to face you before Joel did a second later, eyes widening.

"Joel, oh my god." You said, voice wavering as you stepped closer and stared at him. He looked different too, but you would recognise him anywhere any way in a heartbeat. You did a quick once-over of his appearance, taking in the sight of his face again for the first time in 20 years, before moving down and only then noticing the limp in his leg. It was a small thing, easily missed by the untrained eye, but as a medical 'professional', you picked up on it straight away.

He noticed your gaze lingering on his leg. "Oh, um, just got shot a few weeks back. S'alright now, but-" he began to explain, but you quickly cut him off. "What did you do to treat it?" You asked, meeting his eyes again.

"Cleaned it 'n' wrapped it up..?" He almost asked. Saying it out loud made it seem like an insufficient treatment, he realised.

You crossed your arms, now looking at Tommy. "I think I should go give it a check, or something. Just to be safe and make sure there's no infection an' that." You told him, and he nodded, bidding Joel goodbye and telling him to come find him after you were done.

You led Joel and the girl to your clinic, sitting him down before leaving to grab your things in another room.

"What're you doing?" A quiet voice sounded from beside you, causing you to jump slightly.

"Jesus! Warn me before you do that." You let out a breathy chuckle as you placed a hand on your chest, setting the antiseptic down and turning to face her.

"Sorry." She said sheepishly. "I'm Ellie, by the way." She introduced herself and held out her hand. You took it, shaking it and introducing yourself too.

"Pretty name," she commented "What's all this stuff?" Ellie gestured to the array of instruments on your little metal table.

"They're just some things I keep handy for patients, it's a load of medical equipment." You pointed out a few and explained what they did to her, smiling as you noticed her genuine interest and enjoyment as she listened to you talk.

"That's so cool." She murmured, before blinking a few times quickly and fidgeting with her hands as she looked up at you. "You should probably do the checkup thingie for Joel, right?" She reminded you.

"Right. Thank you, Ellie." You smiled. "It'll only take a few minutes, but there are some books and things around here you can busy yourself with." You left her in the main room before opening the door.

Joel was sat on a battered old mattress which you used to examine patients on, pant leg rolled up as he looked around and waited for you, trying not to worry too much. He wasn't worried about the leg, as long as it didn't need to be cut off he didn't care. No, he was worried about seeing you. Seeing you again for the first time in 20 years. So much had happened to him, so much must have happened to you, and he wanted to know about it all. Where did you go after the outbreak? A QZ, like him? Or maybe you were on the road by yourself until you got here. Fuck, you were by yourself out there. He shuddered at the thought of what could have possibly happened to you before you entered the room, greeting him with a shy smile and a small wave.

"Hi, Joel." You pulled up a chair in front of him, sitting down and reaching down for his leg.

"Hey swe-" he cut himself off, coughing awkwardly as you looked up at him briefly before going back to checking his injury. He didn't even know if you were taken, but figured you'd probably moved on from everything that was before. And he hadn't found anyone, he was the grouchy old man who'd beat men to death with his bare hands; noone wanted him and you definitely wouldn't anymore.

He sighed, silence enveloping the room. You finished checking his injury and put the pant leg back down.

"Well, I have to hand it to ya, the wound isn't infected at all and it's almost healed up. Didn't know you were that good at usin' gauze and antiseptic, Joel." You joked lightly, turning around to put the few supplies you brought out back into their box.

"Yeah.." he chuckled, standing up and bouncing on his feet as he waited for you.

"So, what's your plan? You and Ellie gonna be stayin' here?" You asked casually, but God you hoped they'd stay and would really be shattered if he said this was just a pitstop. Finally, he was back in your life, and you couldn't let him go now.

"No we-" he chewed the inside of his cheek, pausing for a second. What was the plan? The plan was to get her to the Fireflies. That's what he agreed with Marlene, and then with Tess. The plan was not to get attached to her along the way. And now he was getting too close with her, letting himself slip too many times.

"I don't really know yet." He decided. You nodded quickly, skeptically looking at him before turning back to finish packing up.

"Ellie- she's.. she's immune. To the cordyceps, an' that." He blurted out, and you span around with your eyebrows raised comically high.

"Immune?" You almost scoffed. "Joel, that's not-"

"I know. I didn't think it was possible either, but just trust me." He tried convincing you, but you didn't seem to be. He exhaled deeply. "Do you honestly think I'd lie to you about this kinda shit? I've been with her all the way from Boston to here, and she hasn't infected me in my sleep, so clearly she's alright. They don't really know how it happened, but I have to get her t' the Fireflies. Gonna make a cure or something." He explained.

You looked at him, taking the information in and processing it. It was bizarre. Absolutely unheard of, and everything you thought you knew was telling you that this couldn't be possible.

But it was Joel. And he was right, you knew he wouldn't lie about this kind of thing.

"Okay." You nodded, turning back to face him. You'd taken off your gloves and shrugged the labcoat off, a formality you found annoying sometimes, and he took you in - properly this time.

And shit you looked pretty. Of course you did, you were still the same woman he was in love with all those years ago, still was. But you were aged, hardened by the apocalypse, and it somehow made you look better. He looked at your face, fighting to keep his gaze away from your body, staring into your eyes. He subconsciously got closer to you, not even noticing the tense silence that had filled the room once more as you stared back at him.

He was so close to you now you could hear each others' hearts pounding in your chests if you listened close enough. He looked down at you, expression unreadable with a hint of need as he leaned in without realising what he was doing, getting almost close enough to-

"Okay, I'm sorry, but what the fuck is taking so long?" Ellie threw the door open, standing there unimpressed in the doorway as you and Joel stumbled away from eachother, you spinning around to face her and Joel almost falling back onto the mattress in his hurry.

He straightened up quickly, giving Ellie a look. "Watch your language." He told her, causing her to roll her eyes as her arms folded in front of her.

"Yeah, whatever. What was takin' 12 years?" She asked, waiting as you tried to remember the medical conclusion you came to, all your thoughts blurring together and clouded by Joel.

She took the pause badly.

"Is he hurt or something? Shit-" Joel gave her another look. "Sorry, but are you okay?" She came to his side now, looking incredibly worried.

You softened at the sight of her, going from completely relaxed to panicked in seconds all because Joel could be in danger. You didn't know entirely what their relationship was, but you just assumed that she was his kid. He must've found someone else after the outbreak. Good for him.

You broke out of your thoughts and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her to look at you.

"He's fine, Ellie. The wound is almost all healed up, actually, and you guys will be all good to get going whenever you need." You reassured, and she looked from you to Joel, getting a quick nod from him which seemed to calm her back down.

"Okay.. is there any food around here? I'm starving." She said, placing a hand on her stomach as it rumbled and making you laugh a little. She seemed like a spontaneous, brave, and bubbly kid, and would be such a good addition to the Jackson community, along with Joel.

"Yeah, we should probably head back to see Tommy. He'll have somethin'." Joel agreed, and you nodded, leading them back out the clinic and bidding them goodbye.

That night, Tommy came knocking on your door.

You opened it, peering out through the crack before noticing his worried expression and opening it a little more, standing in the doorway.

"Tommy? Are you okay?" You asked, brows furrowed.

He sighed, looking to the side before turning back to you. "I got a situation, and I really need your help, sweetheart."

"Oh yeah? What do you plan on ropin' me into this time?" You teased, leaning against the side of the doorframe as he shook his head, chuckling as a small smirk appeared on his lips. "What's up?"

"It's Joel. He uh- do y'know Ellie? And about her.. condition?" You nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. "Well he asked me to leave with her to the Fireflies tomorrow, instead of him. And I said yes."

"Tommy.." you began, biting your lip nervously. That trip would inevitably be quite dangerous for him, and you were only just realising that now.

"I need y'ta help manage the town with Maria, since I'll be gone for a while-"

"I'll go." You decided, mouth opening before you could think anything through.

"But it's gonna be dangerous-" he began, but you put your hand up to stop him from talking, effectively shutting him up.

"Do you honestly think I'm gonna stand here and let you go out there, risk your life and do god knows what else when you have a family here, a community, friends? No, Tommy. I've made my mind up." And you really had. That quickly, you had decided you'd rather die than have Tommy go out there. Or Joel. You reckoned you'd die anyway if something happened to him.

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head and chuckling slightly. "You know exactly what you want don't ya?" He said, and you smirked, hands resting on your hips. "Fine then. Y'all can leave tomorrow mornin'." He told you, pausing for a second. "Just don't do anythin' stupid, yeah?"

"Yes, Tommy. Do you need me to remind you of that one time you came into my clinic with your fingers almost fallin' off because you forgot your gloves on patrol?"

"Okay, okay, point taken. Be careful, seriously. I don't want anythin' happenin' to you." He said, his tone more serious now.

"I know." You assured.

"Tomorrow mornin' at the stables. G'night."

You waved him goodbye and shut the door, going to get your things ready then heading to sleep.

The next morning, you made your way to the stables, bag packed and rifle hanging off your shoulder.

You poked your head into the stables, brows furrowing in confusion when you saw the back of Joel's head there as he got a horse ready.

"Joel?" You asked, stepping completely into the stable now.

His eyes widened. Why were you here?

"What're you doin' here?" He asked, turning to face you.

"I'm takin' Ellie.. to the Fireflies." You said slowly.

Oh no. How could Tommy let this happen? He seriously let you offer to take Ellie? There was no way he was gonna let that happen.

Just as he opened his mouth to argue, Tommy and a very annoyed Ellie walked in.

You looked at her expression, picking up on how angry she looked, and how upset she was behind all of that frustration. You deduced that her and Joel weren't actually related, but they definitely had that kind of bond, and had clearly spent a lot of time together, so him making her leave without him surely took a toll on her.

Before you realised what was happening, Ellie was shoving her bag into Joel's chest and getting onto his horse.

"Wai- what?" You blinked, looking from her to Joel to Tommy then back to Joel when he started speaking.

"I'm goin' with her. Change of plan, you head on back." He turned, stepping forward to get onto the horse when you rushed forward, stopping him.

"Let me come with you." You pleaded, met with silence as he stared down at you. "Joel, please, I'm not letting you do this alone." You implored further.

His jaw clenched as he thought it over. He couldn't let anything happen to Ellie, so maybe having you with him would help. But that would put you in danger too. He'd just have to keep you both safe then.

"I think she should come Joel, it'll be nice having someone other than a grumpy old man for company." Ellie chimed in, snickering when he rolled his eyes at her before motioning for you to get onto the other horse.

You got up onto your horse and Joel got onto the one with Ellie before the three of you rode out of Jackson, the gates shutting behind you as you bid your town goodbye for the first time in 5 years, anxious for the new adventure you had just began.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open 💞

[space-mermaid-writing]

The Vamp and the Were [IronStrange]

Summary: Tony would mark the day he met a vampire that did not immediately jump at his throat. Just for once – that would be a nice change.

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: IronStrange, Vampire Stephen Strange, Werewolf Tony Stark, hurt/comfort, idiots in love, angst, fluff

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 1.3k | Previous | Next

Chapter 3: Three time's the charm

Tony stood in front of a door. He didn’t know how or why that was possible when two minutes ago there hadn’t even been a building.

But now the door was there and Tony was looking right at it.

There wasn’t a bell, not even a name plate, yet Tony was pretty sure he was at the right place. He could smell it.

He didn’t know what smell it was because the sorcerers certainly hadn’t smelled like anything, but he did smell something.

He rapped his knuckles on the door.

Some long seconds nothing happened, but then the door that shouldn’t be there opened, revealing Strange.

Tony wore his prettiest PR smile when he looked at the man over the brim of his sunglasses and proudly announced, “I found your secret hideout.”

“Stark.” Strange seemed neither impressed nor intimidated which would both be valid reactions if you lived in a camouflaged home and someone uninvited had knocked on your door. So Tony hunting this place down couldn’t be that bad. “What do you want?”

That was plainly rude, which was why Tony chose to ignore the question. “Don’t you want to let me in?” He glanced past the man, curious about what this weird building might be hiding.

Strange didn't move an inch.

Tony thought he was going to slam the door in his face again, but then he finally stepped aside. “Please don’t touch anything magical.”

“I would never.” He totally would.

Tony stepped inside and found the air calm and almost chilly. The roots of his hair prickled, which was never a good sign. He decided to stay on guard, but remained nonchalant on the outside. He even took his sunglasses off with one hand and put them into the pocket of his shirt.

Then he raised his other hand, in which he was carrying some plastic bags. “I brought food. Vietnamese, to be specific.”

It was a peace offer. Maybe a bribe. Fact was: nobody rejected the gift of free food.

“Thanks, but I just ate.”

Okay, apparently nobody but this one strange individual.

Still, Strange didn't throw him back out immediately. Instead, he asked him, “Tea?”

“Coffee.”

Strange nodded, as if he had thought something like that, and started heading for a hallway. Tony took this as a silent invitation to follow him.

The hallways were narrow and stretched much longer than they should have. At one point Tony was pretty sure they were walking in a circle, but he didn't say anything. Maybe the building was secretly a maze. Or there was magic involved.

He was pretty sure it had to be. They passed windows showing parts of New York that were nowhere near this area. Other windows even showed completely different cities.

Either there was some amazingly good technology at work here – somehow Tony doubted it – or it was definitely magic.

Finally, they stepped through a bland looking door into a cozy kitchen. It was furnished in an old-fashioned way, with furniture thrown together from different decades. None of them seemed from this decade.

Another person was present, whom Tony recognized relatively quickly. “Hey, I remember you. You had some good fighting moves. Food?”

Wong, who was first sporting a similar unimpressed facial expression like Stephen did when he met Tony, changed that as soon as the food was mentioned. He eyed the plastic bags Tony placed on the kitchen table with interest, trying to guess what the other man had brought.

“Chicken?”

“Beef and veggie.”

“This is acceptable.” He took one of the bags and left the room without Tony being able to object.

Stephen had watched that encounter amused. “You can always bribe Wong with food.”

“I’ll remember that.” Tony was glad that the other man’s mood had changed and was less hostile now. “So, I think I was promised coffee.”

Strange did a swirl with his fingers and a mug plopped into existence right next to Tony. Only his fast werewolf reflexes made him catch it in surprise before a disaster could happen.

“Cool party trick. But if you could do that the whole time, why did you drag me through your weird maze of a house?”

Strange shrugged. “I have no influence on the Sanctum’s choices.” There was the smallest of fond smiles on his lips as he mentioned that name. “Plus I thought I would be funny.”

______

Stephen glanced at Wong. “Stop with that silent judgment, would you?”

“I’ve never been silent about my judging.” Wong didn’t even look up from his scroll he was taking notes from.

The two sorcerers sat several yards apart in the Sanctum’s library. Wong at a study table, and Stephen in his regular reading corner. Since there was no one else in this part of the Sanctum – there were some novices that cleaned the relics display cases on the second floor – no one was bothered by them talking loudly across the library.

“Yes, but normally I know what it's about.” Stephen stretched his fingers, using the conversation as a short break to relax them. The cloak reached from the back of the armchair Stephen was sitting in to curl its corners around his hands to help ease the pain. It didn't help much but he appreciated the gesture.

Since Wong did not speak further, he voiced his own assumptions into the silence.

“Is it because I tried to solve the problem of the clogged toilets by summoning an all eating shadow worm that almost broke free and fled into the city?”

That forced a reaction from Wong, who now finally turned around to him. “It what?!”

There was a sly smile on the Vamp’s face. “Actually I just asked someone from Kamar-Taj who used to work as a plumber. But good to know you think I would do something as stupid as that.”

“That’s not funny, Strange,” Wong mumbled and went back to work.

“It was a little funny.” At least seeing Wong’s face like that just now was.

Stephen also fell back into silence, waiting.

It took a few minutes, but Stephen had learned to be patient.

“Do you think fraternizing with Stark is a good idea?”

Ah, there it was. The real reason Wong had worn that judging face in the past few days. But Stephen also heard concern in his voice.

He had asked himself the same question, but that hadn't brought him any closer to an answer.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He hasn’t acted dangerously towards us.”

“Yet.” Wong turned the page of his notebook. “You have been keeping secrets from him.”

That was true. Stephen sighed quietly, his eyes back on Shintaro’s scripts of ’Temporary anomalies and how to avoid them’. He suddenly found it hard to concentrate on it.

„Do you think he is a threat to the order?“ he heard his own voice ask.

“We will be able to contain and eliminate him if necessary. But it would be an inconvenience for everyone involved.”

Of course, a public figure could not be eliminated without questions being asked. And questions could turn out to be dangerous to a secret magic organization.

Stephen did not question that Wong apparently did not think it would be difficult to defeat an Avengers – one of Earth's mightiest heroes. They had dealt with much bigger and powerful beings in the past.

Still, despite all reason, Stephen didn't like the idea of having to go against Tony Stark, nor of stopping meeting him.

He noticed that the conversation had come to a halt, and when he looked up again, he met Wong's eyes. They seemed to look right through him.

Although Stephen was the one with additional superhuman abilities due to his vampirism, Wong always seemed to be able to guess his thoughts. He saw Stephen, his desires and his fears. And that made him a good friend (even if sometimes a very annoying one).

The seconds stretched when they looked at each other.

“Just be careful,” Wong finally said.

Stephen nodded, noting that Wong respected his decision, whatever it would be in that matter.

They both turned back to their readings.

_________________

Tag list: @jekyllhydetrash @goopierthenyou Tell me if you wanna be added/removed

[cosmichighpriestess]

The Dark Empath

We were born into darkness. We lived in the dark for so long that we learned how to transform the darkness into light. From a higher level our soul knew that we would not have to live or even want to live in the dark forever. We were raised by narcissists, sociopaths and psychopaths even some, we can see through any manipulation tactics. The difference between a narcissist and a dark empath is the dark empath or light empaths enlighten themselves and see through the illusions of darkness. Whereas the narcissist stays stuck in a toxic cycle loop, blaming everyone and everything for their problems creating chaos from their unhealed wounds.

The dark empath steps out of the toxic cycle loop, heals their wounds and steps into the truth of the light. It's as plain as day to us what they are doing that everyone else is asleep to in our reality. We are are labeled as being too dark at times, scary, intense and even named the most dangerous personality type, we are-- for the wicked ones for the evil injustices you see in this world because we expose the Truth with our bulletproof boundaries and unbreakable soul.

Trigger warning: We are no threat to the innocent and vulnerable because we were once innocent until our innocence was stolen from us. Who else but us can see through these malignant narcissists, narcopaths, sociopaths, these dark warlocks, dark alchemists and actually change the world? The dark empath exposes these demons we saw through from the very beginning. We were chosen and came here to call these shameless demons out. For a while, we will let you think you have had the upper hand, that you've won the battle meanwhile letting the narcissist expose themselves by thinking they are manipulating and using us successfully. We always win the war. The dark empath can read you for filth in one minute and have these demons terrified of being exposed and shaking and begging for forgiveness. We actually don't enjoy doing this, we wish we didn't have to. But we don't mind confrontation or having uncomfortable conversations. Our silence was for your protection, not ours. We state facts, we speak truth through God, we are not the ones to judge; leave the judging to the narcissist.

Some people will tell you the dark empath is manipulative, emotionless, has no empathy but that is false matrix programming. They say that because they misunderstand our assignment from Source. Understand, these narcissists were murdering and burdening our pure hearts for decades. We're wise on manipulative tactics but an un-evolved empath will only manipulate, lie, cheat only with the narcissist that abused them for a short period of time. We know hurting anyone is a lower vibrational act and we know we will feel God's wrath for hurting someone without just cause. ANY violence, any hate, any lie, any pain, any curse, any abuse or lower vibrational act is inexcusable; telling the truth, and exposing the truth is not evil or lower vibrational. We just speak truth and it upsets everyone not living in their truth. Demons do not like to be confronted with the truth and they will retaliate against us. But we will not be silenced.

Why? We refuse to tolerate abuse and ignorance. Because the holy spirit is within us telling us exactly what to call out. The last thing we ever want to do with all this power is scare or invoke fear in the fragile narcissist because we know being in their body is torture enough. They hate themselves, they are completely disconnected from who they are- we know our loved one is underneath there being used by their demons but if you disrespect us, guilt trip is, blame us, shame us, threaten us, lie to us, gaslight us, betray us, belittle us, abuse us or anyone we love, we will show no mercy for the highest good of all. We've already lived and survived in the darkness we already lived in hell our entire lives, we know how to enjoy our time there and we know what we refuse to tolerate.

We know what we want and we know what we don't want and no one can bend us to their will. No one can buy us, control us, or manipulate us. It's not the narcissist you should be afraid of, it's the dark empath that is the most dangerous, but not for the pure hearted, not for society, but for the evil wicked ones playing in the dark and thinking they are getting away with it. By the time they come across one of us they are done. They are finished. Their karma is the end to their toxic ways. Their reputation is ruined. Any mistruths they speak will be carried by the winds, to the ears of the spirits, angels, archangels, deities, demons, ancestors that watch over and protect the dark or light empaths. They are humiliated by God, not by us. They will never be in our life or inner circle ever again. We do not consent to our energy being siphoned by these demons ever again. They will have to watch from the sidelines for the rest of their lives. We are the definition of resilient and not for the weak. We are both light and dark. We embrace our shadow side from a positive aspect versus a negative one. We are the curse breakers, we are the light bearers in the dark. Beware the wolves in sheep's clothing.

[underturnedapplecart]

Oh, your love language is receiving gifts? Here’s a gift written in my love language: debunking fuckery.

(Merry Christmas. I’m sorry or you’re welcome)

Today’s Moment of Science… Pop! There goes a few beliefs in pop-psychology.

- How much of your brain are you using? In the 2014 movie Lucy, Scarlet Johansson’s titular character takes a drug that allows her to access all of her brain and she gets goddamn super powers. In 2011’s Limitless, Bradley Cooper plays a struggling writer who gets a magic pill that lets him complete a manuscript in a weekend and become a zillionaire, which really under-sells the benefits of Adderall.

There’s some wild misconception that we only use 10% of our brains (Cooper is generously given 20% in Limitless). As much as I claim that drinking kills the dumb brain cells first, we use all of our brains. This myth likely started with early twentieth century psychologist William James. His work suggested that most people did not “live at their maximum of energy,” meaning we didn’t reach our full potential. Which… fair (and rude). This started showing up in print in the late 1920s as the ten percent myth. It’s sometimes misattributed to Einstein. When reached for comment, Einstein said “I didn’t fucking say that.”

- INFJ? ESTF? GTFO. Katharine Cook Briggs and her daughter, Isabel Briggs Myers, started working together on personality-typing during WWII. Briggs got way into Carl Jung’s work on personality, skipped the academic nonsense and went straight into the hard work of making shit up.

The test gained popularity with social science institutions for decades anyway. Some employers today even ask job candidates for their results from the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator assessment (MBTI). But a 1993 article stated there was “insufficient evidence to support the tenets of and claims about the utility of the test,” and reviews have not improved since. I’d critique the peer reviewed studies published by the mother-daughter duo, but they never produced any.

MBTI is largely viewed as pseudoscience, as are most of the popular online personality tests. None will really predict personality over the course of a lifetime because, contrary to popular belief, personality traits aren’t immutable. Hell, these tests are barely predictive of the results from one time a person takes the test to the next. About half of people get different results with the MBTI when taking evaluations a month apart (I’m rarely an extrovert twice in a row). That’s not a personality change, and it’s certainly not science. That’s a shitty MySpace quiz with no measurable benefits over astrology.

- The Bystander Effect sounds terrifying. The way I first heard it, a crowd watched a woman being raped and murdered in broad daylight and did nothing. Witnesses may figure it’s someone else’s responsibility and opt to not get involved. You’re virtually no safer for the presence of strangers than you would be alone. But hey, the cops will definitely be there to help in two minutes if someone just calls them.

This one is lazy copaganda taken from a dramatic reimagining of the 1964 murder of Kitty Genovese. Published by the New York Times a few weeks after the fact, it claimed 38 witnesses ignored her cries for help. In reality, she was attacked and killed at 3am in a neighborhood where 38 people likely weren’t even awake. It wasn’t broad daylight, nobody saw the entire attack, and there were maybe a dozen total “witnesses,” most of whom only heard her yelling but didn’t realize what was happening. Multiple people attempted to contact the police.

Though some experimental results suggest the bystander effect is real, hear me out, reality itself might be a better gauge of how often people help in reality. A 2019 analysis of crimes caught on surveillance footage showed that bystanders intervene over 90% of the time. The more bystanders, the better the chances that one of them would act.

- The Dunning-Kruger effect is often simplified down to “stupid person is too stupid to comprehend the depths of their own stupidity.” This is held in contrast with experts who understand how vast an entire field of study is, conversely leading them to underestimate their skills. When someone drops into my comments section telling me, a chemist, that I should educate myself about their definitely real chemical-free diet, someone might call this an example of the Dunning-Kruger Effect.

But the effect is about skills, not intelligence or being wrong. Someone with a low degree of skill in a particular area may have a bit of unearned confidence specifically with regards to that set of skills.

That is, if this isn’t all just statistical noise. Newer studies (that never even set out to disprove the idea) produced data that suggest people are pretty good at estimating their skill level, but we all have a tendency to think we’re above average. The degree to which this effect occurs and what the cause(s) might be are still being poked at.

So is that ‘chemical free diet’ an example of the Dunning-Kruger effect? Without more information, we just know that person’s wrong. If the effect is real, a more clear example might involve scientists wandering off from their field of study. A Nobel Prize winning quantum physicist who’s high on the smell of their own farts might, with great confidence, say some daffy shit about vitamin megadoses (I see you, Linus Pauling). Similarly, medical doctors seem so highly skilled, lest their confidence propel them to look like utter buffoons when they talk about quantum mechanics (yes, Deepak Chopra is a real medical doctor).

Of course, this isn’t to be confused with the Dunning Kruger Erect, which is when a man is overly confident in his ability to satisfy a woman.

(My Mother is very proud of me.)

- What’s your love language? Author of The Five Love Languages series, Gary Chapman, cracked this special code to help you better communicate love with your partner. Chapman, who has a PhD and hosts a radio talk-show, defines ‘love language’ as how someone prefers to receive love. The list includes physical touch, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and words of affirmation. Sounds plausible. Ish.

But love languages aren’t even slightly grounded in science. These books were initially published as Christian literature, which makes sense since Chapman was a Baptist pastor. Knowing he has a PhD, I thought he might have pulled from experiences in clinical work as a therapist, but this motherfucker has never been a licensed therapist of any sort. His PhD from goddamn bible college is in adult education. He’s also listed as a contributor to Focus on the Family, an organization that’s focused mainly on homophobia. Chapman isn’t promoting evidence-based advice to help communicate love. He’s barely not a bible salesman, promoting a lame version of Christianity.

This has been your Moment of Science, pretty sure Freud would have had a field day with being told by a sweary divorcee with a praise kink how much of his field has amounted to birdcage lining.

[deathisanartmetzli]

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TIMING: The 13th Hour​

SUMMARY: Metzli runs to the center of the town and completes the ritual to stop the chaos from reaching the rest of the world. 

CONTAINS: Death

Living an ingrown life was never easy. The fact of that is constantly ignored solely for the benefit of never having to take the risk of connection. Decades of solitude and a firm belief that meaning nothing and having nothing meant happiness was something Metzli held onto like it was their lifeline.

Maybe it was. 

As their car jerked and hammered against the jagged road and raced against the hurricane winds, Metzli thought about it all. The beginning and how they got themself into such a predicament. Just two years ago, they would’ve left the moment they heard the town was a goner. But there they were, driving toward Vorhees Tower so they could give their life so everyone else could live. The irony of that was not lost on them, prompting a dry chuckle, their hand tensing on the steering wheel, and a roll of their eyes. As they did, their ending point was on the clock. Twenty minutes left.

So, yeah, that old belief was their lifeline. It would’ve kept them alive if they still held it. Back then, they avoided the risk of having anything. Like asking for someone’s hand in marriage. Now that ring would go left unused. That was unless Eilidh wore it like they asked in their letter. The very thought made their heart ache but they wouldn’t alter a thing because everything was so different. Their mind had changed from believing a life long lived alone was supposed to be better than one lived too short with company. They were proven wrong, and they were so glad they gave that gallery tour a chance. If not for that small, tiny decision, they wouldn’t have realized the beauty of loving. They loved many and they loved hard all thanks to that seemingly insignificant choice, and to their surprise, they smiled. 

It replayed over and over again in Metzli’s mind, and they supposed it was true then. Your life really did replay for your viewing and heartbreaking pleasure when you were about to meet your maker. They scoffed out a chuckle and it quickly turned into a small, choked sob while their anxiety ticked like the watch on their wrist. Sixteen minutes left.

Tears streamed down like a heavy rain, and despite that visible vulnerability, a smile began to ease its way to Metzli’s lips. That tug remained there even as the car could no longer continue and they had to move by foot. The car boomed and screeched to a halt, and they leapt and they climbed and they didn’t stop. There was no time to hit the breaks even when they tripped over a sudden burst or crack of earth.

“Come on, Metzli. Come on!” They chastised themself quietly, tumbling and rolling back to their feet as they checked their watch and listened for the tolling bell. Twelve minutes left. 

At the sight of the clocktower, they picked up the pace, encouraging their legs to comply with the urgency of the situation, of the end. They were so close to it that it nearly gave them pause. Nearly. Metzli didn’t let their hesitation get the better of them, and before they knew it, they were only a half-breadth away from their destination.

A tired smile painted on their face and they sighed, a hint of a tremble attaching itself at the end. Their fear got to settle then. They were going to die and being engulfed in the darkness that reigned over most of their life made their knees buckle. An infinite void to fall into was not the most ideal exit, but it was one they would face time and time again for the people they loved. To honor everyone that sacrificed everything only hours before them. "Made it.” They sighed, “Anything for you guys.” They muttered to no one, as everyone was long gone and unable to hear. “Anything, always.” Placing a shaky hand to their chest, Metzli could’ve sworn it beat for a second. If anyone could cause such a thing, it was definitely their loved ones. They sniffled and shook their head, taking their time now that they had it. Eight minutes left.

As Metzli stepped into the center of town, the tremors grew. Like each step was akin to a notch on a dial. Death was such a finite thing. An end and a beginning in its own right, but the slate would be clean. They’d have no recollection of what they were at that moment and what they had lined up. There was so much left to do, but there was also so much they had already done. In a short amount of time, Metzli had created a family from dust. The dusted pile of their master that had been decidedly the moment they truly began to live. No more running. No more torture. No more isolation. 

“Wow.” Metzli said with soot and dirt streaked across their face. The tears created a multitude of trails, making them look like a soldier set out for war. In a way, they were. They were fighting against the biggest tantrum White Crest had ever thrown, but they could say with confidence that it would end there, never reaching the rest of the world. Swallowing, Metzli took a seat in the rubble and looked up. The sky was a shade of gray that practically felt as dark as Metzli felt, and they decided to lay down, fully resigning themself to their final decision. Three minutes left.

The tremors grew with an intensity that startled Metzli. For the first time in a long time, they screamed in fear. Like they were a teenager in a haunted house they regretted paying good money for. Then, for some reason, they laughed. In desperation, in terror, in anxious anticipation? Who knows. Certainly not them. Maybe they didn’t want to sound scared. Maybe they wanted to find a battlecry appropriate for such a roaring ending. So, they roared with laughter. They became a daydreamer and turned the gray sky every other color, on cloudless days. 

Like the dusks they spent with Eilidh planting the garden, painting the land with an array of color that spelled out their love for all to see, leaving a big, gapped-tooth smile on her face that they adored.

Like the mornings they spent walking to the gallery, a new sweet treat for Aylin in their bag and coffee struggling in one hand for Abigail and Ceyda, who were somehow always there before them even though they didn’t even sleep.

Like the afternoons spent under the shade of trees to train Cass to land heavy-handed blows and Muhammad-Ali combos that would give monsters who dared to underestimate her pause.

Like the dawns they spent with Teddy watching movies and helping him reconsider the way he coped with the helplessness he took with him from childhood. Watch his relationship with Emilio bloom.

Like the nights they would try to sneak into the lighthouse to scare Correy just because they loved to annoy him. He caught them every damn time, and threw them over to the side, only for them to head on to see Marina.

Like every day they spent existing and living the life they were told they would never have.

“In your fucking faces,” Metzli muttered under their breath with the biggest shit-eating grin. 

Zero minutes left.

They closed their eyes and controlled when the darkness took over, and they weren’t scared anymore. How could they be when everyone they loved was so good at fighting their monsters? They defeated the one Metzli used to be, after all. Their amazing family paved the way to the person they were always meant to be. With renewed enthusiasm, Metzli outstretched their arms and felt themself sink. A painful heat enveloped their whole body, but they didn’t scream. They laughed with pure joy, and didn’t dare open their eyes so as not to taint the last beautiful images of the family they made. Not even the earth-shattering and ending splits of White Crest could be heard over their battlecry as everything dissipated. 

What a way to go out, Metzli thought. It may have been an ending that was too early, but it helped, if only a little, that their life ended outside of the darkness that plagued their beginning. Eilidh, the first and only love of their life, would be okay. Cass and Teddy would be okay. Aylin and Ceyda would be okay. Nicole would carry on their newfound traditions with Leah, and Vic would move with Rosie and find Eilidh, and…be okay. 

Everyone would be okay. The statement became a chant parallel to the bell in Metzli’s head, and they found themself able to relax and let go, finding peace in the midst of so much chaos. 

A light broke through the black behind their eyes as their final moments trickled near, and they sighed a goodbye. All there was left to do for that little light, from then until forever, was to grow.

And it was all yellow.

[megatownac]

I don't want to talk about Ankha, but I'm going to, just once

To the person who's sent me three asks this week regarding Ankha's status as a meme, both accusing me of not caring about her and then insisting that I must care because of all my totally-normal posts about her:

I'm not going to post the text of your messages, because, frankly, I don't want to. I try to keep this blog safe for all ages, even if I do dance around some adult or risque topics. I'll joke about giving Henry a sound thrashing, or burying Tom Nook alive, or, and this is what seems to have upset you, the fact that NSFW artwork of Ankha exists. But that's where it ends. I try to avoid swearing or using any explicit language, and you went for it in your asks, and that's why I won't be posting that text here.

You've asked me to speak out against the meme of Ankha as a "sex doll," saying that sickos on the internet are ruining her, and making it impossible for people to find normal, work-safe fanart of her.

I'm not gonna speak up FOR that, for sure, but I can't speak against it, because I disagree with your basic premise. I don't think that it's become impossible to find the cute artwork, and I don't think she's being ruined by anyone. As I said myself in my post on Sunday with my latest character poll, on this blog, Ankha is just living her simulated life on Supertown, completely unaware of anything else that might be said or done on the internet. She's just hanging out, like any other Snooty islander.

Maybe it IS hard to look up Ankha on Google image search, or even here on Tumblr, without finding her drawn in ways that differ greatly from her Animal Crossing character design, which is, let's not forget, this:

She looks like a child. She has the exact same proportions, the same mesh, as every other cat, male and female. She's just there, a blob, in fun makeup and with a fun hat that looks like a smiling snake. That's not what's turning people on. They're projecting a fantasy onto her. It's not her. It's them.

And it sucks! And I wish it wouldn't happen! But I do not have some kind of dark and terrible power that I can use to "call upon the Animal Crossing fandom" to do anything about it beyond saying what should already be obvious: you shouldn't post stuff that isn't work-safe in places where kids will stumble upon it. That's not a hot take. That doesn't need ME, of all people, standing up on my soapbox shouting it. You know how many people actually read this blog on a regular basis? Maybe half a dozen, tops. My "last three days" activity view right now says I've gotten eight notes across my most recent 13 posts, man. MOST of my posts get zero engagement with the internet at large.

This kind of thing happens in EVERY fandom, to some degree. Maybe you're old enough to remember when My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic actually tried to embrace their older male audience? It made the online fandom for that show pretty hard to tolerate!

I'm a big JRPG guy. Have been for over thirty years, because, as I've pointed out in the past, I'M OLD. I remember as a teenager, in the early days of the internet, finding NSFW fanart of my most beloved game and cartoon characters and being very upset about it, too.

If you're upset about, say, the Zone cartoon that featured Ankha, I've got news for you there, too: Zone's motto literally used to be a boast about how he's been ruining people's childhoods since 2000. This is a thing that happens, and we all just have to ignore it and move on.

I get it. You like Ankha. A lot. You used a different account, but I'm pretty sure you're the person who did this:

You went back a decade and liked hundreds of my posts featuring Ankha. That's great! I'm really glad that you enjoyed seeing her through the years. I love Ankha, too. She's wonderful. Hang onto that. Don't stress about what other people are doing with Ankha. Ankha does not mind. Ankha is not a real person. Ankha is a video game character. Everybody who has Ankha in their town has their own copy of Ankha, in the same way that everybody who bought a Rainbow Dash figurine has their own copy of it, no matter what extremely gross things they've chosen to do with them. It does not "ruin" Rainbow Dash for other children that there are people doing messed-up things with theirs. It does not "ruin" Ankha that people are getting turned on looking at artwork that other people have drawn and posted to the internet.

Does it make it harder to be a fan? Yes, of course it does. And that sucks. It makes it hard to find the cute stuff that you're looking for. I'm telling you this as someone who first started going online and looking up his interests when he was 1) a young teenager, and 2) a HUGE fan of Final Fantasy 7. The original one, back in 1997. And BOY HOWDY, even THEN, even with a 56k modem that took several minutes to download a single image, I sure did accidentally stumble upon some absolutely gross stuff. It made me angry! And all I could do was focus on the good in the world, and it taught me how to do that, to where now I can play Mario games without thinking about Bowsette, for example.

(Though I actually rather like Bowsette as a concept, I do not like scrolling Twitter and suddenly seeing adult images of the character without asking for them)

If you won't take it from me, take it from Sonic the Hedgehog.

Trust him. If there's ANYONE out there who would know what it means to have fans who are ruining him on the internet, it's Sonic the Hedgehog.

Now, please, go back to peacefully enjoying cute little Ankha the adorable yellow cat in a children's video game, and I'll go back to making silly posts about her that waste everyone's time and clog up the tags so that people have to block me.

[aniksuman]

JULY -AUGUST MASS UPRISING IN BANGLADESH-WAS IT FRENCH REVOLUTION OF 21ST Century in Disguise ?

Comparison between French revolution and Bangladesh current situation might be overbearing ,especially right now. Situation as expected still is very volatile and there is not a single day passes without the heresy of countercoup exploding . 235 years ago when French revolution had blown up revered French monarchy , it had to experience the similar circumstances . Coup ,countercoup ,vis-a-vis .France republic in fact was under in dire stress for a following decade until a military general Napoleon bona parte took the helm and stabilize it. Until then tens of thousands of people died, executed extrajudicial killing became a commonplace ,even the leader of the revolution Maximilien Robespierre was not spared just because he was considered 'soft ' . Having said that, what's very fascinating is the reasons which led to the fall of King Louis xvi played pivotal and almost identical role behind the sudden usurped of Sheik Hasina the former PM of Bangladesh . Discontent already was wide spread among its citizens from various social strata , inequalities of income was ever growing in society, rich and poor were living completely two different lives . In a nutshell , the vaunted economic miracle that Bangladesh has been experiencing over the last decade, it failed to trickle down to most of citizens ,particularly to group of 'the poorest of poor'.

Another reason was corruption and actually it was perhaps the most important factor. 'Venalism' riddled the Hasina government so much so that, every single government organ was paralyzed before her toppling.

Similarly right before the French revolution, French state was bankrupt due to its fatal participation in American revolution a decade earlier. King oblivious to the plight of common people, so called 3rd estate, was continuously indulged in extravagant public spending. In Bangladesh too Hasina government was involved in series of mega projects, large infrastructure development programmes for last decade which in turn might have satisfied her growing middle class support base but poor people were left out or forgotten .

In French revolution it was a struggle between elites vs common people' or so called third estate . Curiously it's the identical scenario in Bangladesh too ,ruling class or party vs rest . But while in France it was monarchy ,in Bangladesh we are dissecting a political party. Now question is how does a grand old political party like Al having such a long rich history of fighting for the rights of people has been shattered into 'house of cards' in such a spectacular way ? When and how did it become a party of few elites or so called 350 Jamidars or MPs'?. Why did its traditional support base among middle class and parochial reduced to zilch or let's say evaporated ?? There are simply too many why, when, how ??

To answer those salient questions, it's important to know that, AL had been in continuous power since 2009 until 5th August, 2024, roughly 15 years. Power corrupts, absolute power absolutely corrupts. It became complacent , ignorant of challenges, embraced hidden enemies in the party. It controlled oppositions tight and fast. Its leader Hasina became seriously susceptible to flattery. It's supposed competing party BNP was brutally demolished . In the absence of a strong opposition party a large vacuum was created .And far right groups secretly and enthusiastically filled the void. When many faces turned red with aghast at country's marching towards south ,it was anything but sudden after all. The stride was rather gradual ,has been in motion for a number of years. All being said ,questions still remain, did the lack of dissent within party itself made AL more vulnerable ? Could be .Did foreign powers meddling in national politics weakened its grip .Possible

When many dedicated activists were forced to periphery , 'chatukars' captured the center role ,they controlled party direction subsequently .During last questionable January election a 'nomination business' was reportedly conducted at the behest of AL general secretary . All immoral gathered in and around AL turning the boat heavy and manufactured the hole beneath. And it sank.

While party became 'house of corrupts' how about the social invisible classes. Upper, upper-middle ,Middle middle, lower middle. Such a beautiful acronym! . How did they fare ? In recent agitation against Hasina , middle class in Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh, participated in numbers which is surprising ? Hardly ! They campaigned, they protested, they overwhelmingly supported the anti government mass agitation . That's where perhaps Hasina lost the mojo. The most important middle class, her reliable partner ! It was exhausted of widespread corruption, weak economy, daily hardship of money inflation. It too left AL at least for a while.

Now how about the bottom percentile of the society ?Who they support and why? It might be exaggerate to say that the lower rung always belonged to Jamaat and all other Islamists thoughts and branches , but it is fact that majority of the people are Muslims and support base of Islamic and like minded groups among poor people was quite understandably always robust ,deep rooted . However do they turn into retinue of them. Hardly. Most Bangladesh Muslims follow Hanafi school of thoughts ,which propagates a softer ,mystic version of Islam. Many Darvish, Sufis, Aaliyah who spread Islam in medieval Bengal were moderate in temper, accommodating in nature . Supporters of AL among them were not also a few.

What is interesting is that over the course of last decade, Bangladesh has become rather more radicalized, shifted towards far right .It is perhaps more Islamic now than ever before in 54 years of history .Now the religion is seriously practiced not only among poor, but also by middle class and rich. Yes you read rich. right!! When a secularist party was at the helm that for 15 years at least. Why such .Just to stay in power ,Hasina compromised with all far right elements that too was so often. She built 540 model mosque across the country ,allowed madrasas to be at par with Bangla medium studies ,changed in curriculum frequently at the demand of far right groups. Taslima Nasrin ,a secularist award winning author living in exile , has not been allowed to visit her country even during Hasina's 15 years reign. Why? Just for appeasement . In the end nothing worked in her favor, no amount compromise saved her throne.

By visiting most an English medium school, a private university in Dhaka and all across the country one can almost instantly baffled by watching overwhelming numbers of students who are radicalized at best who belong to , at least upper class echelon of the society .Op-Ed writers frequently only mention about madrassas. But not these types of sanctuary of rich ,they particularly participated this mass July August protest . Question again rises , why just why ??Ain't the country moving in right direction as we are told? Quota movement, government job had nothing to do with these people ,cause being hailed from upper class clogs they hardly were the jobseekers in the first place . It is mostly because Hasina was seen by young generation as anti Islamist.

So PM Hasina knowingly or unknowingly had created an image of anti middle class, anti Islam, anti poor. Before leaving the country her support base shrunk to dangerously low. Having surrounded by few worshippers especially inside her close circle, she was basically living in fools paradise.

Aftermath of her departure, minorities especially Hindus are targeted, mainly because they are seen as pro Al or sympathizers . But Hasina even ditched Hindu interest during her tenure most notably in 2021 when many puja mandaps were vandalized under the false pretexts . Authority response was tepid, timid, muted . By the time police arrived , a number of mandaps had been turned into a blatant 'picture of devastation '. Many Hindus still despise Al for that 'no-act' .

Not surprisingly , some section of Hindus also took part in recent mass agitation and died . So some section of minorities typically the bastion of AL left it.

Finally Hasina's 'balancing politics' failed to balance her party, her concentration of power as well . It in deed , became a cabal of few corrupt elites who had no political morality, ethics, debauchers apart from being greedy ,power hungry . It's sudden demise hardly came as a shock to anyone who were in touch with Bangladesh politics for at least last half decade.

Now what is next for Bangladesh after Hasina? Where will it all go? If we draw parallel again with French revolution ,it would take some time for cooling down water. In France after 10 years of many false starts ,country at last rested its trust to military men. Will it be similar situation in Bangladesh too ? Current interim government or some might say revolutionary committee which works under no legal frame might resembles more to franc's "National Convention" or "committee of public safety" than a formal advisor group.

Right after the king was dethroned and executed , reign of terror began in France where anyone could be murdered under the suspicion of harboring anti revolutionary fling . What we are observing in Bangladesh now , Al leaders are caught ,killed ,lynched indiscriminately . Many AL leaders are on the run ,out of home ,hiding ,leaving the country for fear of lives .

To conclude the essay it is fascinating how history keeps on repeating itself. Even after two hundred years capture of Ganabhavan reminiscences of storming of Bastille.

The usurp of Hasina only teaches us to be humble , democratic and listen to the voices of common men, not to dismiss them as noise of bunch of hoi-polloi. And never ever to fall prey of 'chatukars' .