#obviously the second part is incorrect

[headspace-hotel]

facts about The Fear, after 20 years of life with her

The Fear is NOT:

an intruder, invader, or some other entity from "outside" You

inappropriate, wrong, or incorrect

a responsibility

a punishment

"irrational" or otherwise able to be understood through a relationship to "rationality"

an "inaccurate" representation of reality

The Fear IS:

an innate part of you

extra-rational—she exists outside and completely independent from "rationality" and does not respond to being judged according to that lens

self-love—her purpose is to protect you and keep you safe

self-sufficient—fear is a 100% whole, complete entity that doesn't "represent" or "reflect" something else

earnest—fear is always a 100% real experience that is exactly as it is felt, and, needing no comparison or reference to any external reality, it is not "dishonest" or "inaccurate"— it asserts a claim about only itself

subversive [not quite the word I am looking for but it will have to do]— is not necessarily beholden to social and cultural norms of what should be feared, how much, and how you should respond. She does not stop existing in the absence or suppression of vocabulary to describe her.

a demand for care— she does not just communicate to you but to the community you are part of; she calls attention to an obligation that this community has toward you, to make sure that you are safe within it and that your experiences are heard and understood.

yeah, so, i've had severe anxiety for my whole life and the way it's been treated and dealt with, and the way I've been taught to understand it, has really fucked me up so I am trying to lay the groundwork for understanding it differently

I think it's pretty fucked up that we're taught to see anxiety as deceptive or inaccurate. Now, obviously the images or projections in my fearful thoughts do not usually "reflect reality," but I have come to see this as...not particularly important?

Teaching an anxiety sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict "irrational" fear is, in my opinion, the same as teaching a chronic pain sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict pain with no clear physical source. You might as well speak of "irrational" pain, and pain has the same relationship to rationality that fear has.

"Irrationality" is a quality assigned to fear that is judged by an outside observer, or by the collective cultural biases and hang-ups of a society, as not appropriate to a given situation. This is total fucking nonsense and we should be talking about that, because...well, the first reason is that it implies some kind of fixed standard for what fear ultimately is and isn't for. i like to tell people to watch one of those Coyote Peterson videos where he's going to get a tarantula hawk wasp to sting him, because he's obviously having a strong physical fear response, even though he knows it won't kill him. Is it "rational" to fear suffering and not just death? How much suffering? Sit with that one a little while.

The second reason, which is even more convincing, is that the "rational" brain is not consulted at any point, ever, when a person feels afraid. It's just a response. The fear response is not routed through the conscious, sapient, reasoning brain. And thank God, because if we needed to hear back from an upstairs executive before we could decide whether to run from a lion, our species would be extinct.

Techniques like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy were absolute fucking shit at making my life any better, but fantastic at wrecking my ability to identify my own emotions, because Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for anxiety basically amounts to trying to brainwash yourself into thinking you don't feel the emotions that you do. It's a really neat way to develop bizarre psychosomatic symptoms and start experiencing anxiety through constant body pain, swollen lymph nodes, and digestive issues.

For an institution that pathologizes having "alters," psychiatry sure loves to encourage a suffering person to view normal and ultimately good parts of themselves as distinct, intruding entities to be shoved in a closet somewhere.

And yes. Fear is ultimately a good part of you, a part of you that loves you.

What began to set me free was feeling that acid terror and sickness and rage course through my body and realizing—really realizing—that I was being illuminated with this ancient, powerful force driving me to LIVE.

I want us to make it. I want you to live.

And you know what, I want me to live too.

I abandoned the doctrine of calming down—Lord knows it had never worked anyway—and started really just exploring and existing in the Fear.

How did that feel? Bad. Very very very very very bad and really not productive or helpful at all initially. Which was unavoidable. Necessary. She had been frantically clawing to communicate with me for so long, and I had been shutting her away, silencing her, resenting her presence in my psyche. I started trying to show gratitude toward the signals my body gave me. I started trying to show gratitude toward her—and i guess the Fear was a Her now, this just seemed more respectful.

And it seemed like nothing happened, but several things happened.

I stopped searching for validation. That was a big one. At some point I just...stopped needing a "reason" or justification for the fear I felt (trauma???? neurodivergence???? neurodivergence trauma????) and the fact that I experienced it became completely sufficient and satisfying to me. So much guilt and confusion disappeared.

I also became steadily more confident about my own boundaries, particularly in regards to recovery.

It's awful now that I think about it, but I think I felt this sense of almost moral obligation towards "recovery," as if I needed to "overcome fear" to be Courageous and Virtuous. It made me feel crushing guilt to feel any hesitation about this.

But then this started to change. It became more real to me that was the only person affected by the steps I did or didn't take toward recovery, and there was no moral dimension to it. A therapist couldn't put me in a box I wouldn't willingly go into.

Freedom from these judgmental frameworks is really important to me. I think that I always hated the idea of getting "better" because it seemed like "better" would mean just getting better at submitting to things I was afraid of while everything felt just as bad as it always did on the inside.

And on some level—even though I could never put it into words at the time—I violently hated the idea of "recovery" from some of my fears because it seemed like the ultimate denial of agency. I didn't want to "become okay with it"—the possibility felt dehumanizing. It felt awful.

And I realize now that this is because The Fear represented something I needed to have a right to. Many of my most life-destroying fears centered around things being done to my body, and if I could have pressed a button and been no longer afraid, I wouldn't have, even though it would have spared me so much suffering, because...I needed it to be okay to want agency over my body. I needed it to be right. The Fear, in this case, was a demand that my body be treated as sacred.

I realized that there were many cases where The Fear was a territorial claim of sorts, a demand that certain needs be honored and met—She needs this. This is FUCKING non-negotiable.

And it really...prompted me to look backward on my life and see The Fear differently: not as a responsibility I had failed to shoulder (me?? a little child??? responsible?? Responsible for being brave, when every day felt like facing a firing squad?????) but as a collective responsibility

Because I was not alone in those memories—I was surrounded by adults that saw me suffering, and often dismissed, ignored or ridiculed it. The Fear grew larger and larger; why?—to protect me. Because teachers, nurses, doctors, and camp counselors did not do any of the thousand thousand things they could have done to make that little girl feel safe. Because my well-meaning parents praised me when I was "brave" but I, a little kid, literally couldn't communicate how awful it always felt.

The Fear was not there to torture me. The Fear was and is doing her best to keep me safe. It's not wrong, there's no need for guilt. It just is.

It doesn't feel good. But maybe one day it will feel better.

[beenbaanbuun]

Ateez with an s/o who's always a little horny right after waking up. That's it. That's the thought.

(This totally doesn't come from the fact that I'm like that and wake up constantly wishing yunho's fingers or mingi's head were between my thighs)

~lyra

OKAY SO THIS?!?!?!? IMMACULATE IDEA!!

(warning for smut and somnophilia but i feel like that’s obvious)

seonghwa

okay so i’m of the opinion that seonghwa will do anything to keep the love of his life happy

if that means letting you grind on his thighs when you wake up first thing in a morning, then so be it!

like i can imagine him waking up to your moans one morning, all bleary eyes and confused while you try your hardest to push yourself to an orgasm

he watches through his lashes for a second while he decides what to do because he’s still tired but he can’t leave his love to suffer!

“just use my thigh, darling,” he mutters eventually, voice still a little scratchy, “i cant sleep with you squirming about like that.”

you’re a little confused, but seonghwa just pulls you closer and slides a thigh between yours

“there you go,” he says as you grind down, “now go crazy, darling.”

hongjoong

hongjoong strikes me as someone who likes to use toys in the bedroom (idk why, he just gives me those vibes)

like he collects them like pokémon cards and just keeps them in one of his drawers for when the opportunity strikes

and it does strike when he wakes up one morning to you moaning and squirming in your sleep

he takes him time picking a toy out before shaking you awake and dangling in front of your tired eyes

“you want this, baby?” he watches as you sleepily nod, “ask for it like a good girl.”

and even though your voice is slurred with sleep and your eyes are already fluttering closed again, you can’t help but quietly beg for what hongjoong is offering

yunho

oh you’re so right about yunho’s fingers - i am a huge fan of them personally and i think he definitely gets off on seeing his partner fall apart on them

so when you have a conversation with him about always being horny when you first wake up, a million ideas flood his brain

“what if i woke you up by making you cum?” he asks as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, “y’know, play with you a little to get rid of that tension.”

you’re practically squirming in your seat at the idea, and of course yunho can tell

so the next time you sleep over, he puts it to the test and begins to play with your clit first think when he wakes up

and by the time you even wake up, he already has two fingers stuffed deep inside of you fucking you mercilessly as he pushes you closer to the edge

yeosang

yeosang would be so nonchalant about it but in the best way possible

like it’s kind of hot when you nudge him awake, a whine climbing up your throat as you struggle to make yourself cum with your fingers

he just grunts at you tiredly and pats his lap for you to climb on, which you do in a heartbeat

“you can ride me if you want,” he says with his eyes still closed, “i’d fuck you but i’m too tired right now.”

and you’re kind of too tired as well, but the horniness outweighs it and you power through the ache in your bones as you work to get him hard before sliding down onto his cock

and the moment you’ve finished he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to his chest

“10 more minutes and then we’ll get up.”

san

if you don’t think san is doing everything in his power to make his lover happy then i’m afraid you’re incorrect

so when he finds out about your little morning horniness problem, he’s obviously filled with sympathy and compassion (and horniness…)

“you can wake me up, you know,” he shrugs, trying to seem chill about it, “or just use my body, or some shit. i don’t mind, babe.”

and of course you take him up on his offer; you use any part of his body you can think of

his thigh, his bicep, his abs - it’s all on the table for you, and it’s so good every single time

and when he wakes up to see you already a moaning mess, grinding on the muscles he’s worked so hard on, it’s safe to say you’ll have to prepare yourself for round two… and three

mingi

i’ve said it a million times before but this man has an oral fixation and you know i’m right!!!!

so obviously when you complain about how much you hate waking up horny all the time, it’s like christmas has come early for him

“do you want me to sort that for you?” he perks up, eyes glistening like you’ve just given him the moon, “i can sort that for you…”

and of course you agree because you’re so sick and tired of always having to wank first thing in the morning!!

but what you don’t know is that the alternative mingi is suggesting is you waking up to him mouthing at your core like a starving animal each and every morning

you cant complain when he does the job so well though

he always makes you cum at least three times before pulling away and shoving his dick inside of you to solve his own morning wood problem…

wooyoung

again, i’ve said it a million times before but he’s such an evil little shit!!!!

like i can imagine him waking up pretty early in the morning, only to hear the sweet sound of your moans echoing through the room

he turns to you with an amused grin, watching you way your face screws up as you desperately paw at your clit

“want some help?” you nod desperately, “you’ll have to say sorry for waking me up first. i couldn’t sleep with you being so loud!”

and if you weren’t so desperate you wouldn’t even considered it for a millisecond, but you’re right on the edge and you just need one more thing to push you over the edge so…

“m’sorry, youngie,” you say with a sleepy voice, “please make me cum.”

and how can he say no when you ask so nicely??

jongho

jongho is another little devil who i think takes great pride in teasing you for being so horny

“you want me to fuck you while you’re still asleep?” he cocks an eyebrow at you when you first bring it up, “you really can’t get enough of me, can you honeybun?”

and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though he’s right; you really can’t get enough of him…

the next morning you wake up to jongho’s moans in your ear and a heavy cock spreading you open and fucking into you

“g’morning,” he grunts into your ear, “didn’t think you’d be asleep for so long but i guess you’re a slut even in your dreams.”

the both of you finish pretty soon after you wake up, and the moment you do, jongho goes back to being his usual teddy bear self

literally has you pinned to his chest and his soft cock still inside you for pretty much the rest of the morning

[justauthoring]

Shoko Just Can't be Right [2]

a series of snapshots of your life with geto and gojo -> this part: what if shoko's convinced and maybe she's just right?

a/n: finally wrote the second part.... hehe.

pairing: satosugu x f!reader, shoko x f!reader

read the other parts here: one - two - three - four

-

"There is no way."

"Uh, yes, there is."

Sending Shoko a blank look, you scoff.

But, as per her style, she doesn't relent.

"Y/N," she deadpans, reaching across the desk to take your hands in her own, squeezing them enough to pull your gaze on her's once again. "I say this with complete and utter confidence, they're in love with you."

"Shoko," you call back, mimicking her tone; "they're in love with each other."

"True," she offers with a light shrug. "But also you."

Your mind blanks with the utter disbelief and ridiculousness of it all. "Is that even... possible? I mean, to be in love with two people at once?"

You didn't think so.

"Probably," she shrugs, "I mean with love anything's possible, right?"

And you can tell with the shit-eating grin on her face, she's finding this all too funny. Honestly, if you were on her side of things, you'd probably get a kick out of the whole thing as well but alas, you weren't and it wasn't easy to ignore the crushing of your heart as the hope you're desperately trying to hold back tries to sliver it's way past.

Ugh. Hope. What an entirely stupid and ridiculous--

"They do say that."

Back straightening, every muscle in your body tightens at the sound of Gojo's voice. It was, honestly, the last person you wanted to hear right that second; by default just because it was, well, him, but also because with Gojo, Geto was usually trailing behind...

A glance over your shoulder tells you you're correct.

Just as you thought.

You catch Shoko perking up out of the corner of your eye, and instantly a sense of dread floods you; this cannot be good.

"What are you two talking about?" Geto asks, coming to a stop next to Gojo, hands shoved leasurely into his pocket, brow raised with curiosity.

"Well—"

"Nothing!" You cut in sharply before Shoko can finish, sending her a glare over your shoulder (to which she rolls her eyes), pushing yourself to your feet. "Actually, we should be going because we—"

"Awehhh!" A loud whine cuts you off, eyes flickering over to Gojo whose slumped over dramatically; "but I was hoping you'd wanna hang with us."

Hang with them?

Alone?

That sounds like both a blessing and absolute nightmare. Especially with the thoughts that Shoko has invested in your mind—you could barely look at them now without thinking about her words; they're in love with you. God, why did she have to go around telling you that?

Making you think—for even just a second—that that could ever be true.

Because it wasn't. Obviously.

Geto and Gojo loved each other. That was true. Yes, that had been true since the very first moment you'd laid eyes on the both of them. The last to join them in their first year. The two of them, including Shoko, had already gotten aquainted with one another (some more than others). The three of them had spent four whole months with just them and no one else and had been able to bond.

And then you came in.

Clueless about the jujutsu world and about what a jujutsu sorcerer even was. Your whole world had been turned upside down and you were far outside of your element.

And yet, despite all that, you'd walked into that classroom that day and amongst Gojo's rather cocky greeting, Geto's simple one and Shoko's enthusiastic one (she'd expressed her fondness quite plainly for no longer being the only girl), you'd seen how much Geto and Gojo loved each other.

They were pretty obvious about it, even if at the time neither of them had known about the other's feelings.

So, yes, Shoko couldn't be right. She knew she wasn't saying it all to be mean, she wasn't like that—clearly she'd seen or heard something that had lead her to this incorrect assumption.

Because that's all it was.

An assumption.

One you wouldn't let yourself be swayed by for one second.

"Y/N?"

Blinking, you're pulled from your thoughts with a snap, focusing in on Geto who's leaning down to meet your gaze, concerned, with a baffled Gojo slightly behind him, the both of them looking at you rather intensely.

And, when you turn your head to the right, Shoko's gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Where..." Your words trail, in disbelief.

"Oh," Geto mumbles, pulling back as he realizes where you're looking. "She left for a smoke, said that she didn't mind rescheduling your plans. I do believe she added to the end of it, 'anything to get Gojo to shut up'."

"Hey!"

That sneaky little—

You turn to face both boys, quite honestly dumbstruck.

But then Gojo is shoving his face in yours, grinning; "so? Let's go!"

You sputter; "wh-where?"

-

To a sweets cafe. That's where.

Gojo all but drags you there, ignoring your protest to at least let you change, simply calling over his shoulder that; 'you look adorable!' which absolutely was not true. You hadn't worn your uniform that day since it wasn't a school day, and you and Shoko had had plans to spend the day together campus which had lead you to wear a simple skirt with an oversized sweater over it. You weren't expecting to leave or go out or least of all be going out with both Geto and Gojo or else you would've probably dolled yourself up at least a little.

Which, yes, Gojo's words, albeit simple, did leave you even more flustered, cheeks flushed and stuttering for a response all whilst Geto chuckled lightly behind you, clearly amused to himself.

But both Geto and Gojo are dominating of your time and don't allow you even a second of an escape, chatting your ears off happily whilst Gojo goes to the counter to order an array of sweet, leaving you and Geto to find a table.

You have to admit that the cafe is quite cute and the sweets you'd managed to grab for yourself (with the help of Geto, who promptly slapped Gojo's hand away when he tried to steal one of them) were delicious. Geto had gone back to the counter to order you a drink and although you weren't always used to be with either of them alone, the two of them were chatty enough that you didn't feel awkward or tense with silence.

It wasn't that you didn't get along with them. You did. Despite your rocky first impression of Gojo, you got along with the both of the extremely well.

But that was at school. In class. Or, at the very least, with Shoko. You weren't used to having to fend off the both of them and although you cared for them both greatly, they were both intimidating in different ways.

In ways you weren't.

Shoko always said you were too quiet. Too easy. You said yes to anything someone asked you of and you didn't often argue even if it wasn't something you weren't comfortable with. It had taken Shoko months before you properly opened up to her, but Geto and Gojo were confident and skilled and people seemed to bend over backwards for them just because, well, they were them.

People treated them differently than they treated you because you were quiet where they were loud, nervous where they were confident, and soft where they were hard.

(Little did you know that Geto and Gojo absolutely adored this about you—despite how incredibly self-conscious you were about it yourself).

Still, the day goes on well. And you find yourself rather enjoying their company.

You've all been there for just over an hour when you excuse yourself to the washroom, slipping past Geto in a way that has your cheeks burning red and flustered as you make your way to the ladies room.

It's on your way back that things take a bit of a downward shift.

A firm hand wraps itself around your upper arm, halting you in your tracks and pulling a surprised gasp from your lips as your world is tilted on it's axis briefly.

Then, suddenly, there's a group of boys surrounding you.

"Hey," one of them smiles at you, though it's all cold and no warmth. "Do you go to school around here? Don't think we've seen you before."

"And I think we'd remember a face like yours." Another one pipes up, your head shifting to the right to find him towering over you.

The one on your left steps closer, smirking down at you. "Noticed it as soon as you walked in here," he grins, wide and menacing. His eyes drift across you, low in a way that makes your chest tighten uncomfortably, then back up to your eyes. "You new?"

They're too close.

"N-No," you force out, shaking your head as you try to push them away. "Sorry, my-my friends are—"

"Yeah, those two guys, right?"

A hand falls on your back, and you tense.

"We could show you a far better time, you know?"

"Yeah," a laugh, "why settle for them, when—"

Another hand falls on you. But it's different. Warmer. Familiar.

You're pulled away and tucked against a chest, glancing up to see Geto's familiar figure looming behind you, his gaze threatening but it instantly softens as he glances down at you.

Gojo steps in front of you, blocking you from their view.

"I do believe you're making Y/N uncomfortable," Gojo grounds out and his voice is so unlike anything you've ever heard. It's dark, cruel, all trace of his usual goofiness and teasing gone.

You can't see his face, but if it's anything like Geto's, you're sure the face matches his tone.

"I would fuck off now." Geto growls from behind you, low enough you feel his chest rumble in reaction. "Before we make you."

You don't see it. Geto doesn't let you. But none of the three boys even get a word out before they're scampering off with paled skin and pleading cries of mercy, racing out of the cafe and not sparing another glance back.

What—

Gojo spins to face you and he's grinning, wide and bright, stepping towards you. "Sorry about that darling," he calls out, ruffling your hair. "We got worried when you took a while to come back."

"Should've called for us," Geto mumbles, squeezing your shoulder in a soft, reassuring sort of way. "Let us know you were in trouble."

Gojo's hand falls on your cheek, cupping it, face suddenly serious but not in the same menacing way as before but concerned. "We'll always come when you're in trouble."

Geto nods; "so, don't feel afraid to rely on us."

They're in love with you.

Shoko's word taunt you in the back of your mind, completely stunned by Geto and Gojo as they move to walk, neither of them letting go of you, Geto's hand on your back and Gojo's hand wrapped around yours, leading out of the cafe.

They're close. They still close. Refusing to slip away.

I mean with love anything's possible, right?

Shoko just couldn't be right. She just couldn't...

Could she?

[leclercloml]

Enchanted to meet you | CL16

Part 1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x singer!reader

Summary: after your relationship almost became very obvious you did a hard launch and obviously because everyone's favourite couple (little plot twist at the end)

Genre: SMAU

warnings: google translated french, grammar mistakes, incorrect time line to match the story line

Author's note; as I said before I'm still new to this and will probably do a part 3 🫶🏻

fc: Gracie Abrams

yourinstagram

📍camp nou

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 56,72,362 others

yourinstagram visca barça and forza ferrari till I die 💙❤️

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charles_leclerc

📍 camp nou

liked by yourinstagram, carlossainz55 and 43,86,529 others

charles_leclerc what a match, força barça 💙❤️

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yourinstagram

liked by charles_leclerc , lilymhe and 45,265,236 others

yourinstagram soft launch is overrated anyways

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charles_leclerc

liked by yourinstagram, sabrinacarpenter and 34,562,361 others

charles_leclerc Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close. 🌊💙

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Username i love them your honour.

yourinstagram just in case you foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you 🩵.

⤷charles_leclerc just in case you foolishly forget; you're all mine and I'm not sharing you (yeah not even to Lily or Kika)

⤷lilymhe am I the only one who smells.... jealousy?

⤷francisca.cgomes me too girl, me too.

⤷username my fav wags uniting.

username IT couple.

Twitter

PS: ahhh I just wanted to make a plot twist 😭 I'll do a part 3 as soon as I can!

part 3!!

Tag: @justdreamersdream

[cielur5ww]

୨📜୧ ─────・ It's my problem, not yours.

▭ Synopsis﹕ Scaramouche had heard of you, the perfect student... the one who had it all. Though he had never interacted with you, he found you disagreeable. But it seems this time, you'll be getting closer than he'd prefer... so why does he feel this pressure in his chest and the heat rising to his cheeks?

★ ❪CW❫── male!reader!student x Scaramouche, AU modern, small insults, the reader is a perfect student, Scara hates you a little, Scara's POV, Scara being a tsundere

ᶻz ─── n/a﹕I just vomited this idea, ignore me.. Maybe I'll do more parts, MAYBE (I am very procrastinating and lazy). Any spelling mistakes... sorry, I don't want to review it, I'll probably post something new in another 2 months.

Scaramouche sighed, letting out a slight huff as he rolled his eyes to disguise his mild annoyance.

His delicate hands held the exam paper, and though he had thought he did well, he noted the few incorrect marks in his answers (only three), seeing the red number at the top, an 80. The maximum score was 100, and he had hoped to have scored at least an 85 or perhaps a 90, but he wasn't too surprised either. After all, he had only had a few days to study.

He could glance over his shoulder at his neighbor, who had scored a 60. That at least comforted him a bit, knowing there wouldn't be many with a grade as high as his.

His gaze wandered around the room, passing over each of his classmates' heads until he found your hair... The perfect student.

Scaramouche huffed slightly, feeling annoyed, and kept glancing away, gritting his teeth a little. You were the stupid perfect student, the teacher's pet, who probably scored a 100 effortlessly... But his curiosity drew him back to you in the distance, watching as you held the exam paper in your hands for several seconds instead of putting it away and being done. You were reviewing your exam sheet with the textbook open, as if double-checking your own already perfect answers.

However, in the end, it seemed you had left your exam sheet, flipping it over on your desk and closing the book. Your head was slightly tilted, maybe you had made a mistake in one answer... he thought, but still, you were the 100 student, if you got a 95, you still had an excellent grade. He sighed again, looking away to focus on his own affairs.

As he heard the slight squeak of the chair backing up a bit, he looked up once more, and some strands of his indigo hair bothered him a bit. He quickly adjusted his hair and watched as you stood up from your seat, still with your back to him.

"Teacher, may I go to the bathroom?" It was a simple and typical question among students, but this time, it was you who asked. Obviously, the teacher gave you approval, and you quickly left the classroom, blending into the class's murmur. But he saw you. Scaramouche observed you.

He simply didn't pay it much mind, leaning back in his desk and stretching a bit over the table, lost in his thoughts and staring into space.

Now that he thought about it, he had never interacted with you. Well, he had never spoken to you.

Scaramouche remembered the first and last time you had spoken to him, even if it was just a small accident.

It was in the hallway while he was carrying some books to the office (the teacher had forced him). There were quite a few books, and he struggled a bit to carry them, so he couldn't see well as he walked. Accidentally, he bumped the books against your back.

Ugh, just remembering it seemed like a stupid cliché encounter from love stories, like when the girl bumps into the guy and it's love at first sight. He groaned at that thought, but he continued to recall how you had interacted with him.

After the collision, obviously the books fell to the ground, and you immediately apologized (when he was the one at fault), bending down to pick them up and arrange them in a row. He also crouched down, but didn't say anything, just furrowed his brow.

"Do you want me to help you carry this?" You had asked him kindly, your voice disgustingly soft for his taste, but he didn't say anything. He had already recognized you as the proclaimed perfect student, the teacher's pet, and... the number one in school.

He didn't like you, that was his point.

He wanted to refuse, but he also didn't want to carry those books again alone, so reluctantly he just carried half of them in silence, standing up and giving you a silent confirmation without meeting your gaze.

They walked together to the office, maintaining the uncomfortable silence between them. Scaramouche silently appreciated that you didn't unnecessarily try to fill that void. When they arrived, he immediately dropped off the books, giving a small greeting to the secretary to not seem rude, and then walked past you, distancing himself.

He didn't want anything to do with you, and he easily achieved that. He avoided you and kept his distance.

But oh, surprise! He and you shared three classes together: Biology, Arts, and Mathematics. Still, he didn't attempt to get closer or interact with you; it seemed unnecessary to him. He knew nothing about you, apart from being the "perfect" student. He thought you were arrogant, only showing kindness and politeness to maintain your facade of an exemplary student.

Scaramouche probably imagined that every time the teachers praised you or asked the students to follow your example, you were secretly laughing mockingly inside or looking down on others behind your soft and repulsive smile.

Scaramouche hated you.

Did he have reasons? No, but he found you distasteful for some reason.

The sound of the bell snapped him out of his thoughts immediately. Automatically, he began to pack his things into his backpack, and once finished, he stood up and made his way through the people exiting the classroom, navigating through the crowded hallway toward the exit.

It was break time, and he simply didn't want anything to do with the crowd of stupid people around him. So, he walked through the crowded halls, ignoring everyone. After all, he didn't really know anyone.

Scaramouche's feet carried him towards the stairs leading upstairs, until he reached the door that led to the rooftop. Normally, this area was blocked off, and it was forbidden to go out, but he really didn't care.

So, he easily opened the doors, removing the padlock (he had stolen the keys from the counselor's office). He closed the doors behind him so that no one would suspect that someone had been on the rooftop. He tucked the key into the pocket of his blue coat and took out his headphones and phone to listen to music, the only thing that relaxed him.

He walked across the rooftop, staying away from the edge to avoid being seen, but not too much in the center either. He headed towards the benches, which were strangely clean; probably the janitor also cleaned this place. He sat down, put on his headphones, and started playing music.

Gently, he lay back on his back, with his arms behind his head, starting to close his eyes, immersing himself in his own world of music, finding peace in melancholy.

Song by song, Scaramouche began to feel drowsy, sinking into a state of relaxation. However, when he opened his eyes, he found your face disgusting... again.

Why was God punishing him this day?

Automatically, he sat up, removing his headphones at the same time. He looked up and saw you. You had the impeccable school uniform, clean and strangely soft-looking hair, and your eyes were calm and gentle, in perfect harmony with your hair. You were too close for his liking, although technically you weren't invading his personal space, you were still there, practically in front of him, with your hands behind your back and a soft smile that he felt was fake.

"I thought this place was off-limits." You commented calmly, looking at him with those eyes that seemed as serene as water on the surface, yet so deep that they could easily swallow him whole.

He didn't want to answer how the heck he got into this closed-off place... so he simply averted his gaze with indifference, trying to show disinterest. To him, you were just an arrogant idiot, he told himself.

There were seconds of uncomfortable silence for Scaramouche as you continued to observe him with those eyes of yours. He felt uneasy under your gaze. So, he huffed annoyed, looking back at you and furrowing his brow.

"I thought the model student didn't break any rules in school." He declared, looking at you defiantly. He didn't care if you went and talked to a teacher, pointing him out for being on the rooftop, because you were there too. That place was supposed to be off-limits, but there you were, looking at him.

However, you simply smiled, as if it didn't affect you at all if he told a teacher that you had broken a rule. Although, on second thought, they wouldn't believe him, they would believe you because you were the perfect student, the role model. But if Scaramouche were to prove that you had broken a rule, it wouldn't matter because many teachers would probably overlook it due to your reputation as the responsible student with a bright future.

That's why maybe you were smiling so calmly. He clenched his teeth slightly, annoyed by your mere presence.

"I was just checking who was on the rooftop, as there have been incidents of students smoking here or having gatherings that are prohibited without a teacher's authorization." You responded softly, still smiling at him with that fake smile of yours, and you even sounded completely logical.

Your eyes, looking directly at him, made him feel small under your calm and deep gaze, like that of an animal observing its prey. But he wasn't going to let you take control.

"Do you see me smoking?" He responded, looking at you without hesitation, although the slight pressure in his chest increased with every moment you continued to look at him. Then, you gently closed your eyes and then opened them, looking in another direction, probably gazing at the blue sky.

"No, you're not smoking. I was just... 'investigating', I guess you could say." You said softly. Damn, maybe he understood now why they said you were so kind; it was your disgustingly soft tone of voice.

Although he also silently appreciated that you stopped looking at him. The tension in his muscles briefly relaxed, but his mind raced trying to decide how to act now. Respond? Ignore you? Say nothing? Leave? Any option seemed bad to him.

He decided to go for the first option, maybe then you would be satisfied with the conversation and leave him alone, ignoring him and forgetting about him.

"Are you going to tell a teacher, then?" He said, sounding uninterested because it was the truth. He really didn't care if a teacher scolded him for breaking a rule, as his mother wouldn't have time to go to the school and find out. But he continued the conversation, hoping you would leave him alone afterwards, and also so he would know whether or not he would be accused by you.

"Mhmm.." you hummed to yourself. He watched you step back a bit to lean gently against the whitish wall, crossing your arms, and again... looking at him. "Don't worry, Scaramouche, I won't." Damn, how did you know his name?

He remained still, watching your stupid smile that he disliked so much and how your lips pronounced his name. He didn't even know how you knew his name or why you had memorized it. Even though he hadn't told you, still... he looked at you, processing what you had just said, but at least you weren't going to rat him out. Was that a good thing? One could say yes.

"And this sudden kindness?" He immediately recovered, putting one leg up on the bench he was sitting on, bending it enough to lean his elbow on it and look you in the eyes, adopting a casual and unconcerned posture.

Or so he tried to appear, but his brain fried a bit when you called him by his name. He wondered why you had memorized his name, but he would go on with his intention. He wouldn't let himself be dragged down by you; you were just... ridiculous.

He watched in slow motion as you gently closed your eyes, fluttering your eyelashes, and then opened them again, tilting your head slightly... looking at him.

"I just noticed you weren't in class, the bell rang over 5 minutes ago." You commented casually, looking directly at him.

When the hell had the bell rung? He didn't even realize that time had passed too quickly for his liking... and he remembered that he also had classes with you today, and in math class, adding more weight to the situation. He would definitely be scolded, so he immediately stood up with a clear sound.

"Did the bell already ring? Why didn't you tell me, idiot?!" Scaramouche snapped at you, giving you a death glare as he checked the time on his phone. Even though he didn't give a damn about what the teachers thought, the math teacher punished him with too many assignments, which literally gave him a headache.

Scaramouche hurried towards the rooftop door, opening it. But a hand on his arm stopped him just as he was about to step onto the first step down.

"It's okay, Scaramouche. Let's go together, so the teacher won't scold you." You said softly. Now you were disgustingly close, he could feel the soft perfume surrounding you. It wasn't strong or intense, but soft... His brain went blank from your tone of voice and your strange comforting touch for him. After a few seconds, he reacted, stepping down onto the first step and turning around to look at you, pulling his arm away from your grip abruptly.

"Let go of me, idiot," Scaramouche muttered through gritted teeth, looking at you defiantly. But why did he feel like his cheeks were gently warming up? He lowered his gaze and turned, descending the stairs quickly without waiting for you. However, he could hear how you followed suit afterward.

After a few minutes, they were standing in front of the classroom door they had today, with the math teacher. Obviously, upon entering, the teacher was clearly not happy that Scaramouche had arrived late, but his expression immediately changed when he saw you with him.

He asked why you came back from the bathroom with Scaramouche, and in the end, you ended up lying for him, saying that when you returned to the classroom, you saw Scaramouche sleeping, so you woke him up and told him about the class time.

The teacher had no choice but to scold him for not falling asleep outside during class time and next time, threatening him with punishment if he did it again (basically, thanks to you, he wasn't punished this time). Scaramouche simply remained silent, not even thanking you.

He went to his seat, sighing irritably, trying to focus on the class and ignoring the fact that, in the distance, you seemed to have that stupid smile again. Maybe it was one of triumph for having helped him and now he owed you a favor... you were so annoying to him.

Thanks to your stupid pretty face and good reputation, you helped him this time and decided that you wouldn't tell anyone about the guy on the roof. What did you want from him? He doesn't know but he doesn't want to return the favor.

You were just two-faced, surely..

This was their problem, not yours, you're just a stupid busybody.

Bonus:

Scaramouche was there, sitting... trying to concentrate on Math class but really, he didn't understand at all...

"Where the hell did the teacher get that -26?.."

He simply groaned in annoyance in his seat, his gaze wandering over the others' heads, to where you were... and he thought about the roof.

Oh shit, he had forgotten to put the new lock on the doors.

At the next recess, Scaramouche immediately went through the crowd to the roof, to make up for his mistake, but when he went, the doors to the roof were locked... he was a little relieved, but he wondered if the janitor was the one who did it. And then he looked in his pocket for the key but he realized that only his cell phone and headphones were there... the key was not there.

At what point did he lose it?!

In reality, it was you who had stolen Scaramouche's key when you were with him, and when he was going down the stairs you made sure to lock it with the utmost care that it was silent because you knew that Scaramouche might react badly.

Scaramouche in the end deduced that the only culprit was you.

[antiphilosophia]

Crowley's pre-fall name is BARAQIEL (THEORY)

THIS POST MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS OR RATHER CLUES FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 CONTENTS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION 🤍

Very well. Who doesn't love the Crowley is the Archangel Raphael theory (I am certainly of those people who do). During my first watch of Good Omens S2 I was even somehow almost confident that that was the case.

However, my second, more careful, viewing of this lovely (but equally heartbreaking) season made me change my mind, likely for good. In episode 4, Furfur's book "Demon's Guide To Angelic Beings Who Walk The Earth" shows us a name of a certain angel Baraqiel. (see photo below) Knowing Good Omens that can hardly be a coincidence.

Unfortunately, the very text is quite unreadable. One thing, other than the name, which is pretty clear is the subheading "Angel of the Sky" and since the episode 1 lets us take a look at how Crowley did indeed take part in creation of what is to be seen in the night sky, one can hardly find that entirely non-fitting. One other sentence I was (at least I think) able to read is "Often draped in red."

(On a different note but certainly worth noticing are scribbles that generally just roast Crowley – his suspiciousness, hair and name (though I am not absolutely sure of the latter) "His hair is bad!" Wow, Furfur really does hate Crowley.)

Then there is something written above the name of Baraqiel, unfortunately in none of the picture frames does it get a bit readable. I wonder though, couldn't it be "former"? Since it comes precisely after mention of Crowley to whom should one report on Aziraphale.

Crowley is very powerful. Dominion

A word that is not exactly readable but can be deduced from its placement (it is situated just as Aziraphale's "Principality") is Baraqiel's rank – Dominion Angel. It should be noted here that I very much lack proper knowledge of either Jewish or Christian mythology and I would hate to provide any incorrect claims. I therefore think it is better for me not to overly state things, even more so since everyone can look into it on their own and figure out what that might mean for our beloved demon. What I will say, however, is that they are (as I understand it) very powerful and, placed within the 2nd triad in the angel hierarchy, ranked higher than the Archangels. This would go well along with the emphasis that was in my opinion laid on Crowley's powers quite a lot this season.

For example: "A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of archangels could've performed," said Shax to Crowley, to which he replied: "How'd you know I didn't do it?" He didn't get an answer.

What I think (and I may be very wrong, obviously) is that a miracle of this vastness wouldn't have happened simply because of a regular angel and a regular demon did together half a miracle each. What is also worth noticing is that the tool with which Crowley created the Nebula is the same as the one he used to temporarily stop time at the end of season 1 right before Satan's arrival. So much to the size of his powers.

Baraqiel, lightning of God. Fallen angel

Finally, to Baraqiel himself. My lack of knowledge concerning this matter still stands and frankly I don't even know where to find valid information about angels and such on the internet. Baraqiel should, however, stand for "lightning of God" and is also regarded as the angel of lightning. In season 2 there are (as far as I remember) two occasions where Crowley is put in correlation with lightning. (1) His poor anger management issues in episode 1 and (2) his not at all better matchmaking in episode 3 ("I haven't done weather in ages"). Furthermore, Baraqiel is considered to be the one who taught astrology to people. Nevertheless, what points to Crowley and Baraqiel being one even more is that Baraqiel is indeed a fallen angel.

•

So... That is probably it. I usually tent to theorize about stuff in quiet, in fact, this is the first time I've used Tumblr for anything other than reading Neil Gaiman's posts. I didn't even think that I would actually post it but then I've searched on Twitter, TikTok and here on Tumblr if anyone else has already come up with this theory. The only post I could find (hopefully I haven't missed anything) was by @valaza_04 on Twitter (click here) where they refer to the same frame shot as I do here.

Now I know, we are still recovering from heartbreaking (but if you ask me, absolutely amazing) finale and the main thing currently on our minds is figuring out why would Aziraphale choose as he did and the many wonderful theories that come with it. However, considering the utterly virulent look that Metatron shot at Crowley before walking out of the bookshop with Aziraphale and also his "Well, [Crowley] always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too." makes me think that he absolutely does not care for Crowley and whichever angel he was before the Fall. And I reckon it won't remain unnoticed in season 3 and might even be really important (or that is just me wishing for more pre-fall Crowley scenes). Hence I decided that I will post this. And it doesn't matter if no one will see this in the end, it was quite fun to write. However, if there is someone who will read this all the way through, I hope they will accept my apology for the mistakes I have most possibly made (English is not my first language) and also for the ridiculous length this post has come to gather. It turns out, I am just as chatty of a writer as I am speaker.

Well maybe I will come around to write one more post about this theory, only with a proper research this time. Till then thank you and, please, support this season by streaming as much as you can so we can have season 3 of this masterpiece of a show. And be kind to those bringing it to us in your comments regarding the ending, even though it is very frustrating and heart-shattering, it is also maybe the best ending we could have hoped for with the prospects of season 3.

Thank you for letting me talk my heart out, Tumblr.

[coldairballoons]

i've seen a lot of people saying that saltburn (2023) isn't a commentary on class, and genuinely, i have to disagree.

keep in mind, i watched this at 3am last night with my sibling, but i'm also a literature major with a focus in literary criticism of popular culture (including film), so i do know what i'm talking about!

spoilers below the break

first of all, framing saltburn as a conflict between the upper class and lower class is incorrect. in fact, that in itself is one of the major criticisms that comes up throughout it! oliver is quite literally not lower class, but uses the preconception that the cattons will view anyone in a lower social class than them as a tool to manipulate his way into their life. despite this, he is not lower class. and you are not meant to root for him, especially not towards the end.

the marxist theory of literary criticism surrounds the idea that in every story, one of the key concepts is a class struggle. this could be between any class, but the most common is the rich vs poor duality that shows up in most stories - ex. titanic, the fall of the house of usher. the thing is, in both of those examples, the sympathy lies with the victims - the lower class. in titanic, you are meant to feel guilty on behalf of the rich leaving the lower class to die. in usher, you are meant to feel anger towards the mistreatment of those who seek out the treatment the family offers. but while usher is a clear criticism of class, is that its main genre? is is purely a class struggle movie? no. it is a story inspired by edgar allan poe that surrounds horrors of family, trauma, and yes, class, but also morality. meanwhile titanic is supposedly a romance. though jack dawson is young and poor, he is not the only sympathetic character. what i'm saying here is that media is incredibly layered, and while on the surface level, something may not be entirely a class conflict story, those undertones exist throughout, no matter what. even take hit series percy jackson for example. there is still a class discussion to be had there, with percy and his mom struggling with finances, while annabeth and her father live comfortably.

but saltburn is interesting, because the antagonist throughout the entirety of it is, as far as the audience knows, lower class. you are introduced to him, not through judgement for his living condition, but through compassion and generosity. felix offers him a hand, even when he isn't in the same group as him. that in itself is a criticism of class dynamics.

listen. i hate rich people as much as the next gen-z college student. i personally have a hit list with many a billionaire's name right at the very top. but it's undeniable that, despite the class difference, the cattons - at least venitia and felix - are kind to oliver at first. obviously, he is a part of the other, but he is still a person. elspeth enjoys his presence. james treats him as a son. farleigh feels threatened by his presence, because he knows that, if they so choose, they could replace him with oliver.

i want to talk about farleigh for a second.

i literally have not seen anyone talk about farleigh, and i am upset about it. not only is he one of the most compelling characters - a supposed american slacker who lives with his extended family and blows their money on lavish means -, but he is important in the class discussion because it affects him directly. the cattons do not support his mother. she is in america, and although they have the ability to, they actively choose not to. the reason felix is bothered when farleigh implies that it is, in fact, a "race thing", is because it is. why is farleigh the one dependent on the cattons, and risking expulsion from the family? because he is the first other that they encounter.

and then pamela, who not only has sought help from the cattons, but disappears midway through with no explanation. she goes directly from rehab to them, and although she is trying to find a place to live on her own, the cattons offer her no assistance. they offer her nothing, and complain when she is in their space. they offer her NO help, when they so easily could set her up with a small flat and monthly allowance to help her find a job.

and not only is this a criticism of the upper class - the inactivity and extremely single-minded worldview that the cattons have, the amount that they are out of touch with not only the outside world and the lower class, but their own emotions -, it's also a criticism of the upper middle class.

as someone currently in college, whose parents are a college professor and a high school teacher, i am fairly middle class. however, there are so many people in my immediate vicinity - folks i know from high school, in my classes, extended family, etc., - who are Extremely upper middle class. however, they have the comfort of certain things that i, and my family, don't have. that's just part of life. however, in saltburn, oliver milks the "middle" in his "upper middle" class. he milks it, and he runs it absolutely dry.

someone truly in his alleged position would not be able to spend the summer lavishly and hedonistically gallivanting around the countryside of england, playing tennis and smoking cigarettes by the lake. hell, someone in my middle class position wouldn't be able to do that either, especially not while attending oxford fucking university. he would likely need to work, not just to support himself, but to support his mother, especially after - again, allegedly - his father died. and not only is this coming from a place of an oversight on his part, not realizing what his privilege truly is, but it also comes from a place of oversight on the part of the cattons.

do i think that saltburn is a movie about class? nope. at its core, it's a story about a desire for power and possession, ownership and obsession. there is this intense, almost vampiric lust throughout the entire thing, and that's in part what makes it the perfect setting for discussions of sexuality, of madness, and, honestly, class. wealth is power, and the cattons have a lot of it.

[hbystuff]

Process breakdown #1

Here is a breakdown of the butterfly animation. This was originally posted as a twitter thread, but a real blog post seems to be a much better format for it.

Step 1: Static Drawing

I've long wanted to experiment with Bokeh effect in pixel art as a way to avoid drawing background. It ended up being a lot more challenging than just a normal background 😂. Still an interesting experiment nonetheless and I might use it for some other stuff in the future.

Step 2: Rough Animation

I traced the static drawing with a contrasting colour, then roughly sketched the other frames. Seeing it in motion made it clear to me that the form was very obviously incorrect, but I thought I'd adjust as I go.

Step 3: Refined Animation

Before I got to this point, I naively tried to put in the colour. I quickly realized making the "veins" look consistent would be very hard without guides. So I looked up pictures of actual Morpho butterflies to study the wings in detail. Also made the shapes (mostly) correct and doubled the frame count once I was happy with the shapes.

Step 4: Colours

This was the most fun part. I conceptualized the wings as two blue tinted, matte, textured mirrors rotating in 3D space. When two mirrors come together, they start reflecting each other. The closer they get, the less the lighting from the surrounding world contribute to the colours you see. Eventually, nearly no light from the outside world make into the gap and all you see is dark blue/black.

It started looking almost like mirrors as I figured out the rough movements of the reflections; then a shimmering mess of colours as I threw in more details from the static drawing. The key trick to making the complex colours look consistent was to pay attention to every "partition" of the wings to make sure the dark colours creep in and out smoothly.

I also gradually filled in the eye spots and details on the backside of the wings, not sure if many people noticed them but I was pretty happy with how they looked.

Step 5: Shadow

A big part of realism comes from how a moving object affects the lighting around it. In this case: the shadow on the flower. This is a rough version of the shadows as I worked on it. Wasn't too concerned about making it look 100% correct, since the wings probably catch all the attention anyway.

Step 6: Final Touches

I spaced out the movements so it didn't feel quite so frantic. Instead of using the last frame as the resting frame, I used the second last, and only briefly showed the last frame at the begging and end of the motion to add a bit of realism (although in reality, butterfly wings probably don't have enough mass for that to happen, but hey, 🤷‍♀️).

Also spent some time to reduce the palette down by merging similar looking colours. Also reused the darker, subtler yellow in the background to create the illusion of more flowers out of focus.

[five-flavor-soup]

I personally think that basing your interpretation of how Ursa treated Azula on Zuko’s memories shown in ‘Zuko Alone’ is kind… incorrect. You can obviously — they’re the only real images of their childhood we get in the cartoon, other than the tiniest of snapshots in sepia — and that’s fine, but for me personally I just don’t think they’re complete enough.

These memories are from Zuko’s perspective. Not Ursa’s, not Azula’s, not Ozai’s or Iroh’s—Zuko’s perspective, his memories. And they’re all about him and Ursa together: every one of these memories have Ursa at their centre. We see her protect him and be kind to him, see her be physically affectionate and gentle, see her encourage him to be kind to himself and to Azula.

They essentially tell us that Zuko is Ursa’s son first, Ozai’s son second. Ozai remains a hovering, intimidating shadow on the sidelines (we still don’t see his face, we don’t see him genuinely interact with his children, and we see him irritating his father while being a very hands-off kinda dad himself) but Ursa is fully present. And ‘Zuko Alone’ is about Zuko trying to figure out who he is: the memories show that he views being his mother’s son as an exceptionally important part of his identity, which means they are about Zuko and his relationship with Ursa alone.

They are not supposed to tell us that Ursa neglected or abused Azula emotionally—that she only focused on protecting Zuko, while leaving Azula to suffer in Ozai’s incapable hands. Sure, we see Ursa scold Zuko for acting like Azula and cuddle him right after, and we see her scold Azula for acting mean and not cuddle her right after, but the key differences here are that Zuko shows guilt after frightening the turtleducks and Azula doubles down on trying to scare Zuko. The behaviour is different and will be, by any halfway decent parent, treated differently. 

I’m absolutely not saying that Azula wasn’t abused, because she 100% was. She was absolutely abused by Ozai, and I’m not ruling out that Ursa didn’t have a hand in how Azula ultimately turned out. But my point here is: these memories are far too limited and narrow for the viewer to properly determine whether Azula was treated incorrectly by Ursa. 

Zuko isn’t going to remember an intimate, lovely moment between Ursa and Azula when all that’s on his mind is his identity, and how it’s entangled with his mother and what she may have sacrificed for him. Additionally, he’s not particularly fond of Azula at this moment in the show (she did kind of kickstart his being a refugee, disregarding how the audience sees this sequence of events having begun), so he’s not going to remember her fondly either. Why would Zuko try to remember Ursa’s relationship with Azula at that point, instead of his own?

(Small tidbit: we also... don't know if Ursa's last words to Azula were 'what is wrong with that child', disregarding the comics which completely ruin azula anyway. Again, the memories are from Zuko's perspective and therefore won't show any private moments between Ursa and Azula. We're not even certain whether Azulon actually ordered Ozai to kill Zuko, or if that is simply what Azula interpreted it as/thought would be funny to say--causing the sequence of events that ultimately put Ozai on the throne. But whatever)

[ohnococo]

Helping Hand | Bartender!Geto x Server!Reader

Geto is always so helpful when you’re stressed…

❥ WC: 1.2k // SFW

❥ Notes: a request for Geto with a bit of an oral fixation. This one is set in this restaurant au.

❥ Warnings: SFW, light flirting, asshole customers mentioned, ice chewing (I know some ppl hate it lol), finger sucking, gn!reader

minors / ageless blogs blocked on sight

Margarita, Mai Tai, Long Island Iced Tea - seeing Suguru this often during your work day thanks to the new Happy Hour deal would normally make your life a lot easier. He’s kind, flirty, even takes your drinks out to your tables himself, knowing his personal touch usually increases your tips (which he insists on you never splitting with him, pointing out how quickly his jar at the bar fills up night after night). With the amount of assholes that had come in today, even his smiling face - and Yuki’s not-so-subtle attempts to play wing-woman as she helps him with the 2-for-1 onslaught behind the bar - had been unable to lift your spirits.

There was a tipping point between alcohol making customers more pliant (and open to putting a little extra money on the table at the end of their meal) and alcohol making them irritable and impatient. So far today your section seemed to almost exclusively be diving right into the latter end of drinking.

This particular table had more or less cannonballed right into being assholes. Mad that a special from last year isn’t still on, annoyed that they couldn’t get a specific booth during the busiest time of the week, changing their order once it’s already been sent back to the kitchen, eating most of it before complaining it was incorrect. Now they were parked at the table, ordering more drinks, racking up a bill you already knew you were lucky to get the change in the bottom of their purses as a tip on top of.

Suguru has a keen eye, even when he’s swamped and pouring drink after drink, so he’d been extra careful with every order you’d sent back from them. Filling drinks to the brim, low ice, a little extra on the garnishes, and he’d reminded you every time you came over to grab them that he’d have brought them over personally if only he could get a second to step away from the bar.

Alas, even with Yuki there alongside him, you were just that busy tonight. The offer still gave you butterflies, something you suspected that Suguru knew all too well as he seemed to always manage to break away from whatever he was doing if only for a second to send a smile your way as you pick up drinks.

This visit to the bar rewards you with his smile as usual when you rush over to grab the latest batch of drinks, but this time he lingers a little longer than he had earlier in the night.

“Hey.” It’s said softly, barely audible over the chatter of the packed restaurant and the dissonance of the TVs playing various sports games, but it earns your full attention nonetheless. “Take a breather if you need to, they can wait.”

He nods towards your table, and you follow his gaze, wanting to take his suggestion but not wanting to make your work any harder than it already is. “They’ll complain…”

You look back to him just as he shrugs. “They’re going to complain anyway. I think that’s their main hobby.”

You laugh, happy to let a little of the tension building in your shoulders release, and Suguru notices right away, “There you go, just relax a little. Here, I’ll join you.”

He dips beneath the bar for a second, bringing up his own water he had stashed away beneath, and taking a drink as he leans against the bar. He tilts it back far enough to pour a little ice into his mouth, before an idea hits him for while he’s got you captive for a minute. “Want me to pour you a drink?”

“Suguru…”

“Non-alcoholic, obviously.” He smiles, in a way that tells you the non-alcoholic part may just be in quotes. The flash of his teeth and his lowered lids actually has you considering it for a moment, then considering other ways to relieve your stress as his mouth distracts you.

His jaw tenses as he bites down on the ice, and his eyes stay on yours as he hollows his cheeks and moves the cold fragments around in his mouth. He pushes it to one side with his tongue, brows lifting in a way that exposes just how obvious you are when he draws your attention to his mouth like this. Not that you were ever able to be subtle when he was always chewing on ice, or moving a toothpick around in his mouth, or any of the other things that he surely must know highlight his perfect jaw and soft lips…

“Don’t worry, you’re allowed to say yes.” His voice pulls you from your train of thought, something you’re grateful for as you know you can’t let yourself get too distracted tonight.

“Sorry Suguru, I’m only half way through my shift. Gotta stay sharp.”

He nods, look of disappointment and acceptance battling for prominence on his handsome face, before chewing the last of the ice that hadn’t melted from the heat of his mouth as he slides the drinks closer to you across the bar. “Fair enough, maybe later.”

“Yeah, later sounds nice.”

You take a breath as you pick up the drinks, preparing yourself for whatever complaint your table will come up with next, and turn to face them.

Suddenly, Gojo goes whizzing by, plates counterbalanced perfectly on his tray, though you aren’t quite so lucky with your balance as you jolt back and out of the path he’d already corrected, spilling one of the drinks down your hand as he throws a quick apology over his shoulder on his way over to his own section.

“Shit…” You turn back to the bar to set the drinks down on cocktail napkins, only to find Suguru already reaching over to top up what had spilled, saving you potential hassle from your table.

You take a few extra napkins from the pile and lift your arm to dab at the drops running down it, happy you at least weren’t going to be stuck with the deadly sticky combination of grenadine and orange juice splashed on your top, and shoot Suguru a relieved smile as he wipes the outside of the glass before resettling it’s straw and sliding it back over to you.

“There you go, good as new.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

You reach for the drink, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on your wrist, with a breathy sigh of, “Wait.” coming from Suguru’s perfect mouth.

You expect an extra garnish, another napkin to clean your fingers further, or one of the other million gestures Geto has in his arsenal to make your job a little easier. You expect anything but what he actually does as he pulls your hand to his mouth, eyes still on yours, and quickly sucks any remaining stickiness off of each of your fingers one by one. It’s quick, an action done with a casualness as if it were entirely normal, though the glint in his eyes as he carefully observes you for any signs of discomfort betrays the reality of it all.

He releases your hand and pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking at it as if it would provide any lingering taste of your fingertips. “All clean.”

Then he sends you on your way, because the assholes at table 6 are waiting after all. Though they’re the last thing on your mind as you leave the bar with your head spinning.

Dividers by @//cafekitsune

[trappedinafantasy37]

Welp, I just did the embrace Bhaal ending with Daedra and I gotta say, this is objectively the worse ending. And it is very much the ending I never wanted for her. Because this was always going to be the ending for a Durge who embraced Bhaal. And Minthara being killed was always going to be her ending too. What makes all of this worse is that Minthara saw it coming too, she just did not realize it.

When she first tells you about Orin, she criticizes Orin by saying that if she could turn the plot of the Absolute towards slaughter, she would take it. Minthara also criticizes Orin for wanting to be Daddy's Little Girl who would do anything to please Bhaal. She perceives these to be character flaws within Orin. Sadly her analysis is incorrect, because these are innate characteristics of Bhaalspawn in general, including Durge. All Bhaalspawn are born with the same urges: kill other Bhaalspawn, breed more Bhaalspawn, and then kill everything. Of course, a Bhaalspawn can fight these urges. But it is a never ending fight, one we see Durge struggle with throughout the entire story. They only "beat" these urges by having Bhaal's blood removed from them.

But because Minthara sees these as character flaws within Orin, she fails to see them in Durge as well. And when Minthara learns that Durge is a Bhaalspawn, of course she is elated. Durge is the child of a god. A deeply religious Minthara would obviously admire that, almost as far as borderline worshiping Durge (cause old habits die hard). She truly believes that Durge is nothing like Orin and would never be anything like Orin, and she has to believe this to be true because she does not want to be afraid of Durge like she is of Orin.

Despite popular belief, Minthara is indeed capable of love and has a strong desire for it. I have always read Minthara as a person who strongly wants what she feels she cannot have. And in Menzoberranzan, genuine love is frowned upon (or at least making it known). So of course she wants it. And there is no shame in that. It is trust that she struggles with, and she always has good reason to be distrustful. And the moment she became an exile, we see her start to deconstruct her previous ways of life, but with great difficulty as it is hard to let go of the only things you have ever known. She wants to love, she wants to trust, she doesn't want to be afraid, and she doesn't want to kill her lovers.

Thanks to the business with the Absolute, Minthara finds herself in a unique position in which she actually can read someone else's mind. And for the first time in her life, she has guaranteed certainty that the person that she loves won't hurt her, or betray her, or use and abuse her, or kill her. And that was a promise Durge made to her. And so she openly embraced Durge with everything that she has and becomes devoted.

Sadly, devotion is Minthara's fatal flaw. There is nothing wrong with being devoted to someone or some god, of course. But Minthara is too devoted in which her devotion makes her blind, and she has spent so much of her life being devoted to someone other than herself, and she does not know how to live a life without being devoted to someone. She does not realize the crux of her devotion until she is turned into a sacrificial lamb by Orin. It is Minthara who questions the worth of devotion if it only leads to death and she starts to become a little more selective of who she devotes herself to. Cause she was once devoted to Orin and was willing to be devoted to Bhaal if given the chance, and yet she was still put on that altar. But this never happens if Orin never takes her.

Edit: I forgot that Patch 7 added in the second part of Minthara's dialogue about Orin. Meaning Minthara can still come to question the worth of devotion, even without being a kidnap victim to Orin. However, she questions her devotion after Durge has made their choice in regards to Bhaal. Despite her beginning to question devotion, she still remains devoted to Durge as she perceives Durge as her savior, and not being like Lolth or the Absolute or Bhaal.

Her devotion to Lolth, still ended with her being abandoned (or so she feels) and left vulnerable to the Absolute, because her devotion to Lolth did not make her an exception. Her devotion to the Absolute still led to her mind being ripped apart, because her devotion to the Absolute did not make her an exception. Minthara may be of a feline nature, but she does not have nine lives and cannot always get lucky. Every time she has devoted herself to someone, it always led her close to the grave. Her devotion to Durge, encouraging Durge to embrace who they are, will get her rewarded with death. And death was always going to be her reward.

And of course she thinks this could never happen to her. She read Durge's mind and Durge did show her that they would never hurt her. That Durge would never do to her what Lolth or the Absolute did, or even previous lovers did to her. That her devotion would be rewarded with mutual devotion. But this is coming from a Durge who has not embraced Bhaal just yet and does not yet want to become Daddy's Special Baby. And Minthara is not stupid for believing that Durge was sincere. No one wants to believe that the person that they love would ever hurt them. That does not make someone stupid or weak. Minthara could only read Durge's mind, not Durge's future.

When Durge embraces Bhaal, she still believes them to be the same exact person with the same exact desires as when she read their mind. Durge has finally followed her advice and embraced themselves, become exactly what she always saw them to be. Durge is now on the path to ascension, to true godhood. And Minthara's proximity to it all will keep her safe from all threats because she would be that god's consort. She can finally have a life without fear or distrust. She will have a god to worship, someone to love, and a new house in Durge's name. She will have everything she could have ever wanted and all she had to do was be devoted. All she had to do was be herself.

In that moment, her devotion to Durge makes her blind to the reality that Durge has changed and has become the very thing she herself criticized about Orin. She still believes that Durge won't hurt her and that Durge won't use the Absolute as a tool for slaughter. Her devotion makes her blind to the fact that Bhaal is like Lolth and the Absolute and most certainly will use Durge like a puppet. Her devotion makes her blind to the reality that Durge has only become a master of their urges, because they are willfully giving in to them and no longer fighting them. And the urge wants to kill everything, no exceptions. Her devotion makes her blind to the knife that Durge will inevitably turn against her, because her devotion was never going to make her an exception.

[solarsturniolo]

pls post an in depth tutorial on ur text messages bc when i try to they always turn green but im like nono i want blue

Of course!

Here’s an in-depth tutorial of how i do my text messages!

(Whether they’re green or blue isn’t really something i know how to control, i just know that mine come back blue when i text myself.)

1. Make your phone number a contact in your phone!

Obviously, you’ll want it to be the name of whoever you’re texting as well as their contact photo. In this instance, we will use Chris, just because he was the last one I used.

2. Go into your iMessage app and start a new conversation with your contact!

You can look it up by number or by name, i find it easier to do it by name!

3. Start texting!

The most fun part; coming up with an idea and playing both roles. I like to make certain changes to make them seem more realistic and to differentiate between the reader and whoever they’re talking to! For instance, i ALWAYS make Matt and Chris use lowercase format. Their messages NEVER start with an uppercase letter so that i can easily tell which messages to delete when i’m going through them. I also make Matt and Chris use the wrong versions of your/you’re and there/their/they’re sometimes since they have a history of being grammatically incorrect.

4. The most frustrating part is having to delete some messages.

Remember: you’re texting your own number. These messages have nowhere else to go except back to you! So you’ll have to go through and manually select which ones to delete to make the conversation make sense! (I have had to start over on SEVERAL of these because of one message that i deleted on the wrong side, so take the time to pay close attention to which messages you are deleting! I literally had to redo my example ones 💀)

5. Review and make sure it all looks good!

Usually if I have longer ones, i like to make sure there’s enough conversation to make two separate screenshots without too much layover in the second one. Too much layover can cause confusion and make the reader less interested in the conversation. One or two messages is okay, just so the reader remembers where they left off at, but i try to keep it at three MAX.

6. Screenshot!

I like to keep the time, wifi, and battery percentage out of mine, personally, but you don’t have to crop them if it’s not important to you!

7. Delete!

I always delete the conversation once i’m done with that particular prompt, so as to not confuse myself when i’m making a new one!

8. Format the post!

Once i have 8-10 really good ones, i set up my format on tumblr and upload the pictures. Make sure the conversations are in the right order and then do your tags and stuff and you’re done!

The process can be tedious, but its not super complicated! Have fun making texts!!

[emo-trash101]

Hello hello my darling!! (/P)

How are you,good? I hope you are!

I was scrolling through for some hazbin-writing blogs and saw that you were,but didn't have any works yet!

"preposterous!" I told myself! "Such a charming blog without any writing? Allow me!"

And here I am! Nina or Weewoo,you may call me!

Now that my big flamboyant intro is done (i do this all the time for my fun,don't mind it-),May you indulge me in some nice platonic headcanons? (If you do those! If not,a single oneshot would be swell!!)

You see,the self-proclaimed platonic asker is thirsty for some platonic!

Anyways,you're probably getting bored,so allow me!

May I please have a platonic! Vox/Husk/Alastor/Lucifer/ anyone you wish to write for (I honestly don't mind anyone,just pick peoplef from Hazbin you feel you want to write for! You can put as many as you want!) with a gn!child!reader (my favorite/p) that's really sweet (even a bit of a pushover) but has a really bad argument with their parent (the characters) for x reason (maybe because the child is too kind?) and runs away for some air,but later,as the characters were looking for them because they're worried or we're forced to (ahem,Vox and Alastor,AHEM) the character finds them all injured and crying somewhere because it's hell and there are bad people there? How would the characters react? Would they do something?

I think that's all for me!

I hope you enjoy writing this dearie! Don't forget to drink,eat and have rest!

Stay proud darling!

-Nina <33

Omg, I really hope you end up enjoying this! I actually really like this idea, and I live for platonic relationships. Also! Feel free to request whenever, I really need something to do with my life 😭

Vox, Husk, Alastor and Lucifer x Child! Reader

THIS IS STRICTLY PLATONIC AND SHOULD ONLY BE TAKEN AS SUCH

Pronouns: Second person, gender neutral

Tw: Arguing, Vox and Alastor (Yes they are warnings), general Hazbin Hotel-ness

Vox -

- In all honesty, I'm so sorry you ended up with this man 😭

- But (as many of us know) he is not a nice person, if anything he's more so the opposite. He would probably take away your toys just to see you cry.

- However, he is very good at faking it, which makes him a very confusing person to be around.

- The argument most likely starts because you end up being too sweet and it ends up pissing him off. He'd probably try to be passive aggressive or ignore it until it makes him so mad he just yells.

- He seems like the kind of guy to be like "Well thats how I was raised." And just see nothing wrong with it. But after seeing you be so upset after the argument, a small part of his almost nonexistent humanity feels bad.

- Considering how busy he is, he probably wouldn't notice you were missing for a good while. Even after he does, he doesn't go after you himself, he sends one of his workers to get you.

- Once he does find you injured, he's undoubtedly mad. Not exactly because he cares too much for your wellbeing, but because he considers you a pet of some sort, and people should know better than to hurt his pet.

- Doesn't really learn much from the experience, however does avoid bringing up the topic of you being too kind simply because another argument like that could provide similar outcomes

- In all, probably the worst of them all generally. (Can you tell who my least favorite is?)

Husk -

- Honestly, he's not that bad of a caretaker, and it's primarily because he has strong morals and tries to teach you that as well.

- However, because of that, he views your kindness as a kind of weakness that needs to be fixed. Which is almost exactly what he tries to do.

- He attempts several times to make you "stronger" and less kind to protect you. He obviously has good intentions but goes the wrong way about it.

- This obviously results in an argument where he refuses to admit that he was incorrect which leads you to try and chill yourself out by going on a walk. He would probably be too heated to even really care about you walking out. That is until later.

- After you eventually don't come back for awhile he does become anxious, but he knows that he taught you to take care of yourself and that you'll be fine.

- Once you do come back he feels hella guilty, nit only for letting you walk away, but arguing with you in general. He resorts to trying to help clean your wounds and provide you with the best comfort he can (which honestly is not a lot but it's the thought that counts)

- He does let up on you having to be less nice, it does get brought up ever so often, but after a few minutes he just lets it go.

Alastor -

- This man is a little special brained, as in he is extremely apathetic to the point where he doesn't comprehend you being kind aside from it being for ulterior motives.

- Which honestly makes sense if you think about how he acts, so it's not like it's a baseless accusation. But after he's taken you under his wing and is trying to teach you he feels almost undermined by you constantly being kind.

- This obviously turns into an argument (more like you being defensive and him just accusing), and you eventually give up and go on a walk.

- He considers this an admission of guilt and doesn't go after you or anything and just lets you do your own thing until you apologize to him.

- When you do eventually show back up to the hotel, he does tend to your wounds, but he approaches you with condescension until you eventually apologize purely out of exhaustion.

- He doesn't really feel any guilt towards it, and will definitely ice you out until you stop being so "manipulative".

Lucifer -

- Now Lucifer himself is at least a people pleaser, so he understands the feeling and actions that you do take.

- However, having seen his daughter take similar strides that he had in the sense of caring for others, he ends up worrying about you being used for others benefit, especially in a place like hell.

- This kinda causes him to try and course correct aggressively, deciding that if he were to act more cold it would rub off on you and work (surprise surprise, it didn't).

- It just turns into you getting upset and while trying to have a serious conversation about the issues (or as serious a discussion that a child can have), he tries to keep up the cold facade.

- This just upsets you more and you end up going on a walk to clear your mind, and that makes him feel terrible.

- He contemplates running after you but decides that it's for the best, it could even help you with being so kind.

- Well that whole thought process changes once you don't come back for too long. He almost turns the entirety of hell upside down just to find you.

- He finds you just as your assaulters are leaving, and let's just say they don't leave in one singular piece.

- After that the guilt almost eats him alive. He feels terrible for not only letting this happen to you, but that he also caused this whole mess. He takes you back to your home and helps clean your wounds (He 100% uses hello kitty bandages).

- He tries reaching out to other people to try and find better ways to teach you more about boundaries and everything just to keep you safe, and takes almost all the advice to heart.

This took less time than I anticipated, but I feel like it turned out good nonetheless. I hope you enjoyed it and have an astounding day!

[eldritch-nightmare]

Mk, so, how about Liu, and any other characters of your choice with an S/O who has selective-mutism, but one day they just randomly decide to say something, but it’s in a completely different language. Idk where I got the idea from.

a/n: i saw liu's name and i couldn't restrain myself. i'm monolingual so i had to use various translation sites so if these are incorrect then i am so sorry. nd i opted to just have the reader randomly say 'i love you' because that seemed like an easy phrase to not butcher. except for liu. with what i wrote, i did have to give a full phrase other than 'i love you' and i put it through multiple translation sites so uhm fingers crossed that it's accurate uhm if you speak danish and it isn't then first off i am so sorry and second off can you please tell me what the actual translation is anyways this is a long note sorry fdhjfh hope you enjoy!!

with a selectively mute s/o that speaks in a different language.

includes: homicidal liu, the doll maker, nurse ann, and clockwork.

warnings: gn reader, it's honestly mostly just sappy, liu downplays a stab wound but that's really it.

HOMICIDAL LIU.

Liu doesn't really think about your selective mutism. You'll talk to him whenever you're comfortable, and if that's never then that's fine with him. All he cares about is your comfort.

Besides, if you ask him, he does enough talking for the both of you. At least... he thinks he talks a lot. It definitely feels like it. And who knows, he probably just teaches you morse code so you two can communicate like that.

And little did either of you know, today was the day you'd speak to him for the first time. And not for good reason, sadly. You see, Liu... isn't necessarily a careful person when it comes to his own safety.

So he may or may not have gotten hurt. But it's not like it's a life-threatening injury or anything like that! Besides, he's taught himself how to treat minor wounds like this. Really, it isn't that big of a deal.

You think otherwise, because, uh, he was fucking stabbed. Who the hell considers a stab wound a 'minor' injury?!

So when you saw him cleaning and stitching up a stab wound, this obviously led to some bickering between the two of you. Liu is telling you that he's okay, while you're aggressively telling him via morse code that he's been stabbed and that he needs to get professional medical attention. But Liu was fine. He's gone through way worse than this, so you really don't have to worry.

But him saying that just leads to you throwing up your hands in frustration as you say, "Dammit, kan du ikke se, at jeg er bekymret, fordi jeg elsker dig?!"

And... well... Liu doesn't really know what you just said but he feels really bad knowing that this is what made you speak to him for the first time.

He'll sigh and apologize for not taking his injuries seriously, and he promises to get professional help rather than just treating it himself. He... is legally classified as dead, so he can't go to a hospital but... I mean... he knows a guy who was studying medicine. And a very suspicious doctor.

THE DOLL MAKER.

Vine's native tongue is Russian, so more often than not he'll mutter to himself in his mother tongue rather than any other language.

He doesn't really care if you speak or not, mostly because he feels more comfortable in the silence. He's not the best at holding conversations.

He was busy making a doll with non-human parts this time around. And you were roaming around his little workshop, inspecting all his half-finished projects and sketches of future dolls he planned on making.

Vine trusts you to be around his work, so he's not worried about you accidentally making a mess or breaking anything but he does find himself feeling a little nervous.

Dollmaking is his passion, it's something he loves doing. And he loves you as well and values your opinion more than anyone else's. What if you think he's not doing a good job? What if you think he could make something better?

You've never given him the impression that you dislike dolls or find his creations and passion to be 'childish' but it's still a thought that lingers in his mind nonetheless. Thoughts like this constantly plague his mind.

But when he glances away from the doll he's working on to see you gently straightening out the dress of another one that's on display, a small smile gracing your lips as you admire his creation...

"Я тебя люблю." The words just sorta slipped out of his mouth, and it took him a moment before he went to repeat what he said in English but you spoke before he could even open his mouth.

"Я тебя тоже люблю." And oh. That's the first time he's ever heard you speak, he thinks.

NURSE ANN.

She too is selectively mute, though she doesn't speak because it physically hurts to more often than not, and also... she sees no real reason to talk, to be honest.

You two probably communicate via sign language or writing, though she'll quietly whisper to you if she has to.

Ann doesn't care if you talk or not. She gets it, even if you two have vastly different reasons for your selective mutism.

She's not going to have that big a reaction when you do talk, though she will tilt her head to the side a bit when you speak in an entirely different language.

It'll probably happen while the two of you are spending time together in silence, Ann doing her own thing while you're sitting nearby.

She was caught up in her own little task, mind empty. She was vaguely aware of your gaze on her, but she only really came back to reality when she heard you sigh and softly murmur to yourself.

"Ich liebe dich."

She blinks, taking a moment to process your words. She... doesn't understand German, but the way you softly spoke the words, and the way you were looking at her with such fondness... well, she had a vague idea of what you said.

And very quietly, she whispers back, "Love you too."

CLOCKWORK.

Natalie seems like the type of person who wants to learn a new language, and even begins starting to, but her motivation for it just evaporates two days after starting and she stops trying to learn. And it's just a cycle that rinses, washes, and repeats itself.

Anyways, she overthinks a lot and needs constant reassurance more than she would like, so at the beginning of your relationship, communication was probably a little rocky.

But you guys manage to come up with other ways to communicate rather than vocally.

She'll catch herself wondering what your voice sounds like, and she'll sometimes wonder if you'll ever feel comfortable enough around her to speak but she doesn't push you to talk.

She understands, trust me.

But she's definitely surprised when you wake her up from her nap just to look her in the eye and bluntly say, "Anh yêu em." and you don't even give her a chance to process it before you walk away.

She's just baffled and confused. What the hell did you just say to her? You just spoke. What the hell did you say? Is she dreaming? She feels awake. She's definitely awake.

Natalie has to dig around for her phone to try and search for the translation of what you said, and it takes her a few tries before she finally manages to type it out correctly. She definitely buries her face in a pillow when she reads the translation. And she ends up falling back asleep.

It's only when she wakes up again that she'll go and find you. She'll wrap her arms around your waist and rest her forehead on your shoulder before placing a gentle kiss there and tiredly murmuring, "I love you too."

[luckyladylily]

So a bit ago there was a post going around saying Tumblr were scabs for advertising One Piece. That post now has reblogs off, but from that there is something I think still needs to be addressed. To summarize, I made a reblog saying that is incorrect and the strike did not call for tumblr to not advertise, to which someone responded this:

I think this kind of thinking needs to be addressed, because it is happening a lot and its a bit of a problem. This is the response I wrote but was unable to post, it illustrates my point:

So, near the start of the strikes some people who were not the leadership of either union started calling for boycotts of netflix, disney plus, etc. The leadership of the guilds actually had to come out and say that this is not what they wanted, that boycotting these companies was not part of their strategy and could hurt their strategy depending on how things developed. They left the possibility of boycotts in the future, but not now.

Obviously, this is not directly applicable. But it does demonstrate a point: We should look to the leadership of the strike for direction on what action should be taken, not our own guesswork as to what is best for the strike, because we may inadvertently hinder the strategy currently in play.

Now, I can see why you assumed the position you are taking. It seems obvious at first glance that if they don't want actors or writers creating advertisements, then they probably don't want anyone creating advertisements.

Except that might not be the case. I can think of one major possibility off the top of my head, that they want to show that actors and writers specifically are invaluable to the advertising effort. If Netflix tries to advertise without guild members and they can see how badly that effort fails, that gives them leverage in negotiations. If we prevent Netflix advertising at all, they don't get that leverage.

Of course, both of us are purely working off of gut feelings and guess work. We don't know the details of their strategy and frankly there is little reason for them to give it to us, especially since that would tip their hand to the studios. Our part in this strike is to follow the guidelines they have given us, not second guess those guidelines, extrapolate from them, or otherwise come up with our own ideas about what is best.

Now I know we are all really excited about this strike, we all want it to succeed. Because we are excited we want to do things about it. But our part in this strike has been very clearly laid out. So the second they call for a boycott, I'll be canceling my subs. The second they want me to give shit to tumblr for advertising One Piece I will be writing some very strong feedback messages. But until then I am going to assume that the leadership of the strike are making certain moves (and not making certain moves) for a reason.

[howtofightwrite]

I'm not sure if you've covered this before, but could you help me understand draw weight of bows a bit better? The concept itself makes sense, but I'm having trouble understanding it in relation to a person's strength. Does a draw weight of 55lbs. mean you have to be capable of lifting that much weight, or is there a better way to interpret it? (I'm also curious: does that strength needed to use a bow come mostly from the back and arm muscles, or is it more complex than that?)

Basically? Yes. The draw weight is the amount of force you need to use to draw (the technically incorrect term would be, “pull”) the bowstring to full power. It's not exactly analogous to lifting an object, because you are trying to pull your arms apart, but that's more of a distinction for exactly which muscle groups are getting used.

It's been a long time since I handled a bow, but from what I remember, it's a bit harder to draw at a given weight than it is to pick up a similarly weighted object. A better analogy would probably be the amount of weight you can lift with one hand in a curling motion. Most of that strain should be in the bicep and shoulder, which is part of why the explanation of the English longbow technique doesn't make a lot of sense to me, the writers said it involved the use of the archer's back, and body weight, but without further detail, I'm not sure how that would work without risking serious back injuries.

As a general safety rule: Never lift with your back. Keep your back straight, and lift with your legs. Trying to lift with your back can cause serious, or life-altering, injuries.

Also, and this is a measurement quirk, but I've never seen draw weight expressed in kilograms. You could convert the values, of course, but I've always seen it expressed in pounds, and that's probably part of the standard at this point. In fact, I've seen paragraphs that express draw weight in pounds, and relate that to maximum range in meters.

When you draw the bow, you're doing that with your index and middle finger. So, when a modern bow caps out at around a 60lb draw weight, you're pulling all of that weight with two fingers (and some assistance from your thumb.) Obviously, that can be performed reliably by an experienced archer, but it is a more significant feat of strength than it may first appear.

Personally, I always used a partial glove when using a bow. This specifically included protection for my index, middle finger, and thumb when drawing. Even with that, I did get a couple minor scrapes on my bracing arm, from being an idiot.

Now, there is one interesting exception to all of this, and it's worth knowing when picking apart the terminology in a little more detail. Modern mechanical compound bows use a complex pulley system to dramatically reduce the archer's experienced draw weight. These will feel like they're drawing ~10lbs, but the bow's rated draw weight will be around 70lbs. In this sense, draw weight isn't how much you're pulling, it's how much force is being imparted when the arrow is released. However, outside of this specific example, and crossbows, this is mostly academic distinction, and very few people would take issue with you describing it as the amount of force you need to draw the weapon.

Since I mentioned them, crossbows tend to have radically higher draw weights than bows, modern hunting crossbows frequently range from 150-210lbs. (That's not the ceiling, it gets higher than that.) There's a couple critical factors about crossbows. First, holding a cocked crossbow doesn't require continuing to hold the draw weight with two fingers. The locking design of the bow itself will take care of that. Second, you can pull with both hands, and use as many fingers as you want. So long as the string ends up locked in place, it doesn't really matter how it got there. Third, there are crossbows with mechanical assists to help with drawing the bow. This why, when I see someone mention historical crossbows with a draw weight over 1,000lbs, I don't really find that unbelievable. There are a lot of different tools that can be used to help arm a crossbow, including levers and, ratcheting hand cranks that function as a kind of winch, pulling the string back until it's ready to fire. While these numbers may sound really impressive, crossbows tend to have far less range than bows. I'm not sure why, and crossbows really aren't my area of expertise, so I can't offer too much insight onto how valuable that extra draw weight is in a realistic situation.

But, as I said at the beginning, you seem to have a pretty good grasp of what's required. It's, “like,” lifting (with two fingers), and if you're an archer you can probably lift significantly more than your draw weight, in more conventional ways.

-Starke

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