#sometimes i simply do not see consequences i know are real

[ailinu]

preserve us from edgelords. good lord.

[oceanic-sunsets]

fandom is fun until people find out that *gasp* it's inevitable that others will disagree with their takes and interpretation

[centrally-unplanned]

The thing about morality is that it only matters when it's real. Discussions of rules or norms for what is right or wrong are almost always, at some level, illusions, approximating reality and guiding decisions in an uncertain world - which does not make them useless, just contextual. Profaning god in your bedroom can never be “wrong” - there is no one to hear you, no one to be hurt by it. You can only show something is really wrong from the intentions of the actions and their results.

So with that out of the way, lets talk about Knives Chau - and specifically, how the comic vs the anime handled that part of the story.

Scott Pilgrim vs The Reification of Dating a High Schooler

There is an extremely pervasive meme in Scott Pilgrim discourse that our titular Scott is a scumbag. Our returning whipping boy the Kotaku article loves this idea, describing Scott’s “detestable behavior” and wondering “was it too subtle the first time about Scott being an absolute shitbag?”. There is this viral headline screenshot from an interview floating around right now riding that same line:

Which is, of course, pretty much false. Its up to you in the end, “shitbag” is a subjective description, but the story just isn’t about events that would be described that way. Its the story of a guy getting over an awful ex, hurting some people, then meeting a new person, and realizing step-by-step what it takes to be their partner and levelling up as a person each time he does. He starts off broken, and Ramona of course is just as broken - getting better is their mutual arc. And its fundamentally about relationship drama - those stakes don’t make you a scumbag lol, just clueless, unless you are terminally online and don’t know what real stakes are.

I will let O’Malley get the last word in with his quote the writer of that interview is hilariously trying to torture into his headline:

There's a bit of, like, young people see Scott Pilgrim a certain way, and, you know, there's a lot of, like, 18-19-year-old fans that are really judgmental of the character. They're like, "Oh, he's a bad person. I would never do that." But I always tell them, like, get back to me when you're 25 or 30, tell me how your 20s went. Were you a bad person? Everyone has to make choices and do things in life that maybe they're not going to be proud of later.

Scott is a scumbag the way everyone is - you yourself will likely commit similar sins; that at least seems to be the authorial intent, and I agree with it.

So how does dating Knives Chau slot into this?

Despite the memes, age, in fact, is just a number - two consenting people dating does not a sin make. The reason dating underage people is bad is because of its consequences, not the categorical imperative. So what are the consequences of dating Knives Chau in the comic?

Knives is, as a consequence of dating a guy who is simply via his age able to appear so much cooler than her peers to her, absolutely obsessed with Scott. She worships his band:

She starts aping his taste in music and interests; she slots herself into his circle of friends, who don’t relate to her, even after their breakup (often drinking her way through it):

She totally spirals after he cheats on her and leaves her, blaming everyone but him; she is wounded and hurt for months, a year, over a relationship that lasted weeks:

Knives Chau is a literal poster child for why you should not date a high schooler. She is, at every turn, emotionally not ready to date someone who is not at her own level of social development, and is deeply affected by it. It is, sometimes, played for laughs - that is the nature of the comic, everything is played for laughs, but I would have given it a bit more dramatic space myself - but over the course of the story Scott himself realizes how much of an ass he was to her, and how he didn’t take what happened seriously.

The reason I view this with charity is what Scott did to lead to this - he met a cute girl on the bus! He was deeply hurt and kind of numb in life, and found someone who was safe and easy to talk to. He never attempts to kiss her (she starts trying to kiss him which he repeatedly rejects) they don’t even hold hands, and it lasted a few weeks. He knew deep down, pretty much immediately, it was fake:

Then he met an actual person he liked, and with some browbeating from Wallace agreed to break up with her, but chickened out for a day. Then the next day he decides to break up with her, and she drops the L bomb before he can, so he instantly ends it. It is really awkward for everyone involved.

Pushing off an awkward and uncomfortable conversation resulting from a dumb decision you made on a whim for a week - god I relate to that, that’s everyone! If you think it isn’t you I think you're lying. Its why this relationship is so interesting in the comic - Scott is always one step removed from it, putting it at abeyance, and the fact that something so minor to him is so destructive to her is a really good portrait of how these kinds of things happen. Its so easy to hurt someone when you don’t even know what the stakes are, and when its coming not from malice, but from weakness. Its a very good portrayal of a bad relationship because its bad in a relatable way, even if as a story is a bit more dramatic than is typical. And its a great portrayal of how fraught age gaps can be - this bad relationship is part of what makes the comic a good story.

But its 2023, we don’t give a shit about any of that anymore!

O’Malley in the same interview discusses the cultural shift around these kind of relationships:

I felt like in this day and age, I had to provide clarity on that [relationship]. Because when I wrote the first books, I took it for granted that people would understand that dating a high schooler was a bad thing. But on the internet, in this day and age, people are like, "He's dating a high schooler. That's terrible!" Like, that's pretty much what I say on page 1 of the book. But I try to spell it out a little bit more this time.

He isn’t telling the full story though - it was bad in 2004, but not bad the way it is today. Its dubiousness was mitigated by its frequency; people were doing this kind of shit all the time. Scott Pilgrim is a bass guitarist in an indie band; fucking groupies is like built into the cover charge. Half the problem Scott has in dating Knives is that she is the wrong kind of 17-year-old - had Scott met her at 1 am in the aftermath of a Born Ruffian’s concert at the Whippet Lounge knocking down shots off the back of her fake ID, no one would have even noticed. Hell, no one does notice; there is someone who actually makes out with a drunk 17-year-old Knives Chau in the comic Scott Pilgrim, and isn’t Scott Pilgrim:

No one cares about Kim’s inebriated petting session here; that is 10% because she is a Girl and Girls Can’t Be Predators, 40% because she isn’t the main character, and 50% because Kim Pine’s dating history is not a useful proxy battleground for GamerGate-adjacent nerd culture wars in ~2014; but that is road that goes directly to hell, so let's veer back.

The point, of course, is that in 2004 this is a crime flecked with normality, something your friend would do and you would maybe just cock an eyebrow at:

Its not that in discourse today - it is radically more condemned. It is not a contextual sin, but an original sin. It underwent a process I am calling reification - where it goes from being just a shifting descriptor of reality, to a thing in itself, with a defined (reified) meaning. And to be clear, that is in a lot ways on net a good thing? The reality is that, despite everyone’s protestations, there are today thousands of 17-year-olds taking the L line out to a gig at the Brooklyn Steel and going down on a 25-year-old guy they just met in a back alley off Frost St who swears he’s a “drummer in a sick new band” that played here “just last week”, he promises, and she is having a great time, bragging to her friends about how hot his tattoo was, and then shipping herself off to Cornell next year to start on her pre-med track with barely a memory. But for every dozen of those, there is at least one person who is deeply, deeply hurt, a Knives Chau who never deserved this. The rest can have a slightly worse time, its probably worth it.

That does not make it a categorical imperative, though - the reification has masked that truth. The crime comes from the context - those other girls aren’t victims, they would laugh at you for suggesting they were. But in 2023, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off is no longer concerned with context. It is telling you, right to your face, that Scott is a bad dude. Over and over and over - jokes from the Evil League about “wow, I thought we were evil”, its not subtle.

Yet meanwhile, Knives Chau is, like, fine? She dates Scott, is totally into him, and then literally in the middle of his funeral forgets about him for Envy crashing it:

Picks up the bass and has yuri-inflected playtime with Kim the literal next day:

And less than a week later is pitching an off-broadway musical adaption of Scott’s life to a billionaire Matthew Patel - I can’t explain that okay, I’m as confused as you are.

She is mad at Scott, sure, but she is over it in a matter of days. Hell, notice how she was already a fan of the Clash at Demonhead now? There is no scene of Scott introducing her to his kind of music. He didn’t change her. By the end she is a member of his band and they are totally chill:

This is, again, about a week or two later.

Knives is not an important character in this show, way less than in the original, this is no grand sin. But I still find it very interesting: O’Malley is wrong. He “spells it out” way less in this version when it comes to the actual consequences of Scott’s actions. Everyone’s verbal condemnations are substitutes to replace the real damage his actions dealt in the comic. Scott is a better person this time, in a world that has universally agreed he is worse (still not a good move ofc). Even Scott’s moment of apology to Knives about their dating is so tepid its almost Straussian:

Its ‘frowned upon’…which is not the same thing as saying it was wrong! I don’t think this is intentional, its just funny, but its a nice capstone nevertheless.

And it had to be this way, not just for media in general, but for Scott Pilgrim in particular. Not only are sexual crimes far more reified today, but Scott Pilgrim’s sin of dating a high schooler is reified as well - its the first piece of discourse everyone encounters about it. Its the ur-debate of the franchise. The idea of actively engaging on this point, and digging deeper into it…its too hot, too controversial. Way better to shy away from it, disown it. The discourse wrote this part of the script over the course of a decade; its not something the creatives had any say in.

Honestly they should have just gone all the way - just make Knives 19. Then how tepid it is wouldn’t be a distraction anymore. Scott can just be an asshole for cheating on her, that would work fine. If you aren’t going to commit to the reality of these things, you shouldn’t bother with it at all.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

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You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

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Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ lay down with me ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: they find out maybe bars aren't all the same. content warnings: alcohol, suggestive talk. not proof read. word count: 2.1k

"were you... brushing your teeth?" yeah he was. and yeah they were still on the jet, but as soon as they got back to hq he would be on his car for the 45min ride to arlington to see you. he couldn't risk bad breath on your first date.

before aaron could even answer emily's inconvenient question, derek came in with another one "hair freshly cut too, anyone noticed it?" well he cut his own hair, it would be simply rude not to look his best when he so easily could.

he knew jj was coming in with something too when she passed by him, so he had to cut it out before "hey, enough. i'm meeting an old friend after work, just trying to use my time wisely here." his eyes scanned the room for the reactions and even though no one replied, he could see all the little smirking around and whispering between emily and derek mostly.

so much for a private life.

he's not the hiding type, if he's in a relationship he has no problem letting people know it, as long as that is it, he enjoys keeping the details to himself. and right now that's all he can really say about you, you're an old friend, just an old friend.

for now.

he was running late now, and very stressed about it. of course it wasn't the greatest of ideas to go from quantico to arlington by driving instead of taking the train, but he wanted to have the choice to take you somewhere else if you wanted to and to get you home safe when the date ended. he was also aware that trains didn't run as late as he might be staying.

he planned the haircut, the hotel shower right before leaving, brushing his teeth while in the jet, having his car ready, but god, did he not plan for the traffic he would have to deal with after 6pm.

but he's a gentleman, so he calls from the car system to warn you about it and he's nervous and anxious because not being present enough and being late or not there at all ruined his marriage and he wants to do better, he really really wants to.

"oh don't worry babe, i'm still enjoying my wine in my living room. thought it would be better to wait 'til you were in town to leave, yeah?" aaron hopes the loud sigh of relief he let out isn't so obvious to you, but it is. you find it endearing. you were reading essays still just minutes ago, you understood him.

you weren't very sure how well would you two work considering that. but you sure as hell wasn't going to give up without at least trying it. and definitely not without a fight.

"send me your location then, i'll pick you up in... twenty."

"uuuh, picking me up? look at us, it's a real date date now, curfew's at 10pm then, don't forget it." you make him laugh easily with that, your father was a strict man, sometimes you both went to the movies or the park nearby and if you got home at 10:03 was enough for him to sit aaron down in your living room and tell him all about responsibilities and how he was the boy and so he was supposed to protect you and ensure you were home in time.

"i am curious about what the consequences of not following the curfew will be this time though." oh he's teasing you now, as if this wasn't your first date and the implications of consequences weren't so... suggestive, to say the least. but he feels comfortable enough for that.

"guess you'll have to wait and see then, agent hotchner." your voice drips like honey and he's pretty sure he just figured out some sort of deep ingrained fetish he didn't know he had until now. "see you soon, airhead!" you laugh innocently before finishing the call and it drives him mad in the most delicious way.

he thinks those are the most torturous 27 minutes he's ever had to go through his life, but the feeling is completely overrun with almost childish glee as he parks in front of your house. he could fit the choice for a house instead of an apartment easily on your own profile but he didn't need too, you liked your space. apartments have no space. no privacy. he remembers vividly of a conversation you both had after your cousins were forced into an apartment because of your aunt's divorce.

he dries his palms on his pants quickly not sure if he should go to your door, stay where he is or what. he hasn't done this, the whole date ordeal in a while and it just got to him that he has no idea how people do it these days. what's too much or too little?

aaron finally decides on leaving the car and waiting near by, after sending you a quick text to inform you he was there. it was a middle ground of sorts, he felt confident in it. kinda.

it doesn't take you long to leave and lock your door and the sight of you immediately takes his breath away, your smile takes him back some years but your thighs remind him quickly that you are both definitely not fifteen anymore. he shakes his head softly, directing his eyes to a more suitable place for a first date: your hands. you were holding a flower bouquet.

flowers.

"fuck." he mutters to himself in frustration, "i forgot to bring you flowers." you don't seem bothered about it, in fact it makes you smile more as you hand him the bouquet in your hands. "you got these... for me?" aaron grabs the gift softly with both hands, afraid he's going to break it somehow.

"yeah, wanted to test my theory that you're still a sap." the way his eyes were shining and his lips turned into the sweetest of smiles were enough proof to you. aaron was always loving, caring, soft. it was interesting seeing him on the news nowdays, stoic, serious, unbothered. you wanted to see how easy it was to break him.

turns out very easy. at least to you.

"a sap! i'm surprised i got flowers from a beautiful woman, sue me." he opens the passenger door so you can get in, which you quickly do with a cheeky smile on your face, the gift is carefully placed on the backseat before he's back to your side, seat belt on. nosy as you are, you're already typing some address on the gps.

"i heard people talking really good things about this place." you muse while he turns the car on, already following the instructions. "apparently the beer is great and it stays open til late." he doesn't ask for any clarifications, if that's where you want to go, that's where he'll take you.

the food you've both ordered hasn't arrived at your table yet but aaron has already gulped down two large beers and is trying so very hard to not show how annoyed he is, it makes you laugh, hard. he follows, laughing along and shaking his head.

"who told you about this place?" he asks accusingly, you take a sip of your own drink and pretend you didn't hear it. "who?"

"i don't want to tell you."

"your students then. you trusted a bunch of twenty somethings with our date. pitiful." you don't reply, instead you just keep laughing to yourself while you drink. the place is loud. loud music. loud college students. loud busy street. you tell him that's exactly the type of place you would hang out with your girl friends to hook up back in london, his experience isn't the same, the lover boy committed since high school.

"how do they even get to know each other over this nooooise?" laughing at his annoyance only lasts so long and now you're the one not being able to sort through your thoughts, the food is good though, you both agree while munching on the appetizers that accompany the beer.

in retrospect you should've imagined it would be this time of place by the countless mentions of beer whenever a student recommended it.

"look around, i don't think they're actually trying to." you follow his gaze and notice that as the hours passed, the more couples formed and the less they were actually talking. exactly as it was in your own college days. "i'm a bit tipsy so i'll let my curiosity win, you never told me why you divorced the second time." it was out of the blue, you told him the first one wasn't that bad, conflicting views on family and you both married too early in the relationship. the second one was... harsher.

"bastard cheated on me." you shrugged, but it was obvious it still got to you, aaron could see it in your eyes, in your voice tone, and that had nothing to do with being a behavior analyst, and everything to do about how he just... knew you. "his whore also pressed charges against me when i wasn't even trying to hit her, she just got in the way." he chocked on his beer and almost had to spit it out after that tiny little piece of information you hadn't mentioned before.

"you have a record?"

"he made her drop the charges when i left the apartment to him without a fight. that's why i moved back to the states." he blinks once, twice. maybe he should be worried, but he also knew that could get a bit aggressive when losing control. just it always happened to terrible people. "i'm obviously joking, airhead." the relief he feels is followed by an annoyed face for believing such a lie, you touch his forehead softy, smoothing the lines so he doesn't look mad anymore. he takes it as a sign, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles, then your hand, and pulls you to him, letting go to touch your chin.

if he wasn't drinking the proximity would inebriate him alone, the way your eyes closed and your cheeks blushed in anticipation, he's sweet, lips touching yours with tender patience, much more patient than you, you who lifted your body just a bit from the chair and pulled him by his collar to deepen the kiss, almost causing a disaster if any of you fell over the table with all the glass cups.

you let him go just after hearing some snickering from the table behind yours, not blaming them for it, it probably looked like an awkward kiss from the outside. but it wasn't.

"that was certainly better than our first one..." you smile sheepishly at him, putting your hands on your lap, nervous.

"you blushed and gripped my shirt." he says looking deep into your eyes, making you tilt your head slightly, showing him your confusion. "it's been thirty years, you did the same thing... you blushed and gripped my shirt."

"so you're telling me you make me feel like a school girl."

"i'm telling you you've just acted like one." you take the comment as a challenge, getting up and taking your chair with you to sit closer to him, brushing your lips to his before going to his ear.

"you're drunk and staying over, so why don't we get a taxi and i'll show you the school girl." you can see the way his neck shivers at your little teasing, but he takes advantage of the new found closeness to kiss you again, with much more hunger but also much faster than the first because he's ready to pay the tab and get out of there.

it wasn't really that hard to find a taxi, being a night time neighborhood, they knew to stay around. aaron had your bag on one of his hands and the other on your thigh. your arms went around his and your head laid on his shoulder. none of you talked the whole way there, just feeling each other's presence and the alcohol twirling around your minds and your stomachs.

and you did show him you were not a school girl anymore when you both got to your house: you got him your largest t-shirt and pyjama pants, your coziest blanket and after you both changed and took aspirins to try and prevent the headache that would inevitably come, you got your pillows and went to the living room and laid on your big couch with aaron, cuddling with him as some tv show re-run lured you both to sleep.

it was almost 2am, and while you could take him to your bedroom and take his clothes off like you wanted to, you both knew it was the middle of the week, he had to wake up early to get his car, you would probably pass out under him anyway.

cuddling was more than enough for a first date. and at least for aaron, he was sure he wouldn't let go of your embrace anytime soon.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Restless 🔞

In which Jungkook is simply restless, especially when making love to you.

Tags/Warnings: WAY MORE ANGST WHY IS IT SO ANGSTY, Idol!Jungkook, ADHD sex position challenge I guess?, Roma made me do it, obviously smut, multiple positions duh, primal feel?, angsty sex, denial is a river in egypt, protected sex (reader has an IUD), cum, body fluids oops, sweat?, he cums inside and outside lol, biting, manhandling, oops my hand slipped and now I wrote porn with feels again

Length: 1.6k baby, look at that

-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶--⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶

In the time of knowing him, Jungkook had always been restless.

He can't sit still for long, can't concentrate on one thing only, has to do something at all times it seems. Only sometimes, rarely, does he become lazy or tired, it seems. You cherish those moments just as much as the rest of the time you spend with him.

Now, you and Jungkook aren't necessarily.. a thing, at least not traditionally. He worries a lot; about his job, about you, about what could happen to the both of you if anything ever went public. But there's also this sinful feeling of doing something you're not supposed to, like a kid sneaking candy behind their parents backs. There's no denial even for you that you can't help but go back every single time. The feeling of longing sometimes just.. overwhelming.

You know this is gonna hurt you at some point. Maybe it won't hurt him as much, but it will hurt you, most definitely. He's sacrificed a lot and often throughout his lifetime already- who says he won't sacrifice you as well?

He's an Idol, a performer, singer, entertainer. He's made for the stage, made to be loved by millions, and you'd never force him to forget about that and leave this life behind. No. He's got it all, and he deserves it all. It's going to be fine. You'll just enjoy the times you have with him, the memories you're making.

It's not just sex, after all. You both often simply spend time with each other as friends as well. And you believe that that's what he actually sees you as- a friend, who's just a bit more intimate than a friend should be. And while his love might just be a daydream made up by your head to make your heart hurt less, his lust for you is most definitely real.

You don't know why he finds you so attractive, and you'll probably never fully understand it. Maybe it's because you're.. there. You're available. You're all he gets in this life, without fearing the consequences.

Jungkook is an old-school romantic with a twist here and there. He holds doors for you, helps you sit down at the dinner table whenever he cooks, opens tightly closed jars for you. He's a horribly cruel man in that department- because he always gives you attention, and something that might feel like it could potentially be love- but it's not. It's just a plastic rose that's going to catch dust at some point, never to bloom and never to rot either.

It'll just be thrown away, polluting the environment. Just like him leaving you one day will pollute your heart with feelings heavy and burning like molten lava, merciless.

"I- fuck." He gasps out as he halters his hips for a second, grip on them loosening as he kisses down your spine, your back arching downwards as you fall into the pillows below, entire bed already a mess. He's out of breath, and so are you- but you know he's not done with you yet. He's never just a hit-and-run kind of guy. He works his body until it literally gives in, never satisfied with just a one-time-high with you.

And he's also a carnal lover, raw and untamed.

He bites your skin, marks it up for you to remember, but also for himself to admire. Unbeknownst to you, he's hopelessly in love with you, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself, or scold his own emotions for acting out like that. You're just going to get hurt, and he knows this. He wants to end it every single time, but he also crawls back to you every night it seems, desperate to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, taste you on his tongue. He's starving, even though he's currently taking his fill.

Maybe that's why he feels so desperate every time he's with you like this. Maybe that's why he feels as if nothing is ever enough. As if he can't get close enough.

It scares him, admittedly.

With his hands on your hips, he slips out of your heat, obscene sounds accompanying every movement as he maneuvers you onto your back, hands pushing your knees apart in an impatient manner, before he slips back inside. With his knees digging into the mattress below, he holds your wrists close, pulls you into every thrust like that, jaw clenched and eyes unmoving, focused on you and the way you look.

Divine. Enchanting. Absolutely beautiful.

He wants to cry at how your skin seems like it's made of glass with the slight layer of sweat. He used to hate it on himself, used to hate it on others as well, but in a weird way, when it comes to intimacy with you, nothing seems to bother him at all. Not your slick coating his thighs. Not your spit drooling down his length whenever you give him head. Not the cum he covers you with at the end of every round.

He wants it all. He wants you.

His knees seem to ache after just a few moments, muscles itching to move in other ways as he pulls out yet again, making you whine. "I can't-" He stammers, unsure what he wants to say. He doesn't know why he's especially restless this time. It's like nothing feels quite right.

Until you climb onto his lap, pushing back his chest to get into a proper position to ride him. It's moments like these that simply hurt him, because you're always so attentive to his needs. You don't seem to need any verbal communication with him at all to know what he needs, what he wants.

And yet, you're oblivious of his feelings, or so he thinks.

He wants to keep you safe, hold you close, show you off and hide you at the same time. He just wants you, nothing else, and that's not just his lust speaking for him.

No, he's not like that. He knows what's right and what's wrong. He knows when to listen to his heart, and when to ignore it. But with you, he can't. It's all so loud, his thoughts, his feelings, his brain won't shut up about you it feels like.

He sits up with you again, pushes you closer by the small of your back, crosses his legs and finally kisses you again.

He keeps kissing to a minimum most of the time, hates how good it feels, how comfortable it is, how much it affects him. Your lips are so soft, moving in perfect sync, and when you tease his piercing or bite his lip, he just can't help but growl out because you just have to be sent from hell by the devil himself with the mission to drive him mad.

There's no way a person can fill his mind and body up like this simply by existing.

He's desperate by now. His cum already sticks to your tits, has already made its way down to your belly, some of it even rubbed off on his own chest, but he still isn't satisfied. He's close, so close, and his muscles are yelling at him to stop and rest, but he can't stop now.

"You close?" He murmurs between his open mouthed kisses, lips traveling along your jawline now before his head falls into the crook of your neck, teeth gripping any flesh he can as he marks you up. You just whine, and nod. You stopped trying to count your highs with him. It's surely never just one, however, that much you're sure of.

You know by now how to tell when he's close as well. His actual end, that is.

The muscles in his thighs tremble visibly under the stress he's forcing them under. The veins along his arms and hands are prominent, sweat dripping along his neck and chest. He will become more vocal, start to whine, even growl, hips becoming erratic as he collects every little last drop of strength to make sure you'll finish alongside him. "Hold it." He demands, teeth clenched together as he suddenly becomes more forceful, the sound of skin against skin loud and obscene echoing off his bedroom walls, as you whimper beneath him. "Fucking hold it.!" He growls out, palms grabbing your thighs before they slip beneath the small of your back, lifting you up a little for that very specific angle he knows will send him off the edge. "Cum baby, fuck!" He finally tells you, before your hips start to move erratically, no longer under your control as your orgasm hits you full force.

You don't notice the way his cum stays inside, this time. Because he doesn't pull out, keeps you close, falls to his side with you in his arms.

He doesn't know why he feels so incredibly emotional this time. As if he just cant hold himself together anymore, if he doesn't have his arms around you. The room smells like sex, air stuffy, bodies awfully slick from your entire endeavor. Usually, it ends like this. Usually, he will part from you, shower by himself to give you time to get your strength back up enough to clean yourself up after him. He hates leaving you on your own like that, wants to care for you before and after the act because that's how you're supposed to be treated, but he knows, the longer he keeps you close in a headspace like that, the more he will end up hurting.

But tonight, he can't bring himself to leave you.

Tonight, he holds you tenderly, kisses fluttering against your bare shoulder, as he feels your breath start to even out.

Tonight, he will clean you up first, before he will change the sheets and shower himself.

Tonight, he will let you sleep in his bed together with him while he airs out the room, cold chills forcing you both under the covers that smell like fresh laundry and unfulfilled dreams.

Tonight, he will let you have his heart.

Tonight, he will break.

And so will you.

-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶--⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶

[originalaccountname]

along with the "was Chuuya or Oda more important to Dazai" debates (stupid question, why compare the impact of completely different relationships), I often see arguing over who was worst or better for him.

Putting aside for a moment that these are little imaginary guys in a fantasy setting that are vehicles for the story and themes and therefore their words and actions and their consequences are all meant to carry the story and themes, so applying 1:1 real-life logic is meaningless,

It's both. It's both, it's both it's always both. This is Bungou Stray Dogs, things are always messy and good things come from from the worst situations and good intentions create horrible dilemmas and things are unfair and people make mistakes and there is always love and perseverance and growth anyway.

Meeting Chuuya and having to fight through the events of Fifteen together gave Dazai the slightest drive to keep going, even if his reasoning ("to witness death from up close") was dubious.

Chuuya in Storm Bringer saw Dazai as a reflection of all his doubts and weaknesses. That hallucination in the lab, "you're like me, your birth was a mistake"? Those are Chuuya's insecurities projected on Dazai's passiveness that Chuuya can't stand. Dazai to Chuuya is what happens when you give up and stop fighting, and so Chuuya tends to see Dazai in a grimmer light, make a bigger monster out of him than he really is.

But Chuuya also serves as Dazai's wake up call (cue Dead Apple soundtrack) and keeps him from slipping too far. Yes Chuuya punched Dazai square in the face, but it was because Dazai was seeing an ally's death as an opportunity for him instead of a death. And it worked! Because Dazai then got into action not 2 days later to start on ending the conflict that had already been ongoing for over 2 months!

Meanwhile, in the world of death Dazai put himself into, Oda's single most important principle was not to kill. And he was such a strange man, near-impossible to guess, simply because he was so uniquely weird, even a bit stupid at times, which made him interesting to be around. He became a good friend (yes friend, not mentor or guardian) that always remained non-judgmental and asked almost nothing of the genius boy.

But Oda also saw himself as someone unworthy of criticizing anyone else. He had many thoughts about Dazai's behaviour and how he saw he was hurting, but wouldn't consider himself as someone who could do something about it. So he said nothing and did nothing while Dazai self-destructed. But he cared! When Dazai provoques the Mimic soldier into shooting him, Oda is scared! He just thinks he has no right to step in Dazai's head like that, and they come to an impasse.

And his last words. They may sound harsh, and really, they are, but they came from his own experience and were meant to force Dazai to reconsider his choices right now. It was the first time Oda spoke out on Dazai's issues, and he had limited time. No, there isn't gonna be a magic solution that will fix him one day. The time Oda was the most content was when he was taking care of the kids, that's why losing them was so hard. Saving people feels good and keeps you going. So he told Dazai to go do that, or things would only get worse. He knows his friend better than anyone else, and his friend suffers the same aimless life he was trying to escape himself.

Chuuya and Oda were both people Dazai found interesting and dragged into the mafia with him. They were both among the few people that weren't intimidated by his high mafia profile. They both involuntarily fed into his self-destruction, and they both did things that saved him in the long run. They both helped and destroyed him in different ways on their own time and it was messy and sometimes good and sometimes bad...

... but it's always both.

[springtrappd]

You said in one post that the author of Solar Lunacy is ableist. Could you explain how they're being problematic? I know almost nothing about them or the story itself, so I wouldn't know if they've said or done anything sus. Also, thank you for actually criticizing the Daycare Attendant stans, almost nobody in this site does that.

thank you for asking! it's rare to see, you're right, but it's also rare that people are willing to actually engage with that critical posting, so -- again, thank you! as for your question: oh boy, can i!

first: the basics. dissociation is a psychological response to overwhelming stress wherein the brain... disassociates from itself, placing a barrier between itself and the harsh reality. the most famous dissociative disorder is dissociative identity disorder (DID), known formerly as multiple personality disorder (MPD) or split personality. did occurs when someone without a fully-formed identity (read: a child) undergoes such severe stress that the 'brain' dissociates from its identity itself, creating alternate identities (personalities) to deal with the things they can't. these alternate identities work together to form a system. it's way more complicated than that and you can read more on it here and here but that's the bare minimum for the ignorant in the audience. we all caught up? good! moving on.

now, the question of whether or not the daycare attendant is a system is a touchy one. i've seen multiple different stances on the matter, seen a lot of arguments, and typed (and deleted) several hundreds of words about it, and the answer that i've come to is that, for the sake of this argument, whether the dca is a system in canon doesn't matter. what matters is how bamsara treats them. how do they handle the characters, how do they frame the switches in personality, the confusion, all the parallels to real-world symptoms -- how do they expect the viewer to feel, what do they pull from the cultural lexicon, yadda yadda. does bamsara -- regardless of their intentions -- depict the dca as a system, and if so, how do they handle it?

the answer is that they depict the dca as experiencing altered identity states, switching (and even blurring) between identities, and even repeatedly acknowledges them as a plural entity.

and it is these behaviours, specifically, that are used to make the dca scary. bamsara's daycare attendant is scary because they experience altered identity states. because they blur identities. because they are a plural entity. because they display the textbook symptoms and behaviours of a disorder most commonly caused by childhood sexual abuse. and it is the fear that this is inspires that makes them (but especially moon & eclipse) sexy.

now, one can argue that this is simply in line with existing horror media, and they would be correct: most pop culture depictions of dissociative disorders are extremely ableist, and have real-world consequences! but what makes it really, really shitty is that... i don't want to think about this stuff. i don't come to fandom to be reminded that people are terrified of what they don't understand, and that that very very often includes the mentally ill. i don't want to be reminded that there are people who don't believe dissociative disorders exist at all. i don't want to reminded that they -- the sick, the survivors, the unlucky 140 million -- are spoken of in the same way as monsters. i don't come here for harsh realities. but solar lunacy is the most kudos'd fnaf fic on ao3, and we all have to live with that.

if you liked solar lunacy or bamsara's content or... whatever, i don't particularly care. i'm not mad about people thinking evil alters are sexy, or engaging with horror content that says shitty things about systems -- it's your life, live it how you please (and i've got a vanny icon so who am i to judge lmao). sometimes the things that make us happy are kinda shitty, and that's okay! our views are shaped by the society we live in, and there is no society on earth that is kind to the mentally ill -- there's no way to undo that, to stop that from influencing you in some capacity. but... all i ask is for you to think about this stuff, and try to educate yourself on the topic. there's nothing wrong with making a mistake, or having flaws -- but there's something wrong with making a space that feels unsafe, that reflects some of the more uncomfortable aspects of our society, that unintentionally hurts people. it's just up to you if that something is something you care about.

i hope that answers your question, anon (and anyone else who's curious). take care, mate!

(edit 13/01/2023: due to some technical difficulties on tumblr's end, the notes aren't quite showing up properly, so here's the link to bamsara's reblog chain if you can't find it.)

[unclewaynemunson]

It was the thirteenth of September. Nancy was lying on her bed, with her head in Robin's lap and Robin's fingers softly combing through her hair, both of them holding a book in their hands. They had been spending a lot of time together like this lately, simply enjoying each other's company and perhaps headed towards something Robin didn't quite dare to name yet.

"Today is Barb's birthday."

The words came out of Nancy's mouth sudden and unexpected, cutting through what had been a comfortable silence like a knife.

Robin hesitated before reacting; something she wasn't exactly known for, usually, but she knew she should be careful with her words right now.

"You never told me about her," she decided to say.

"I suppose Steve told you all about what happened," Nancy answered.

It was true: over the months in which the two of them had gotten to know each other better, they had talked about pretty much everything - everything except this. Robin had often felt like it was something too delicate to ask about. She had seen the haunted look in Nancy's eyes sometimes, whenever she was staring at the pictures on her wall or into the Harringtons' backyard. But this was the first time Nancy ever alluded to Barb's existence.

"He did," Robin admitted. "Or, well, maybe not all of it, I don't know about that. He told me about the monster. The Demogorgon."

"What if I told you..." Nancy's voice was barely more than a whisper. "That that wasn't the only monster at Steve's house that night?"

"What?" Robin was pretty sure no other monsters had been involved when Steve told her about what happened on that fateful night in 1983.

Nancy went to sit up and turned her face away from Robin.

"Did you know that Barb didn't even want to go to Steve's in the first place?" she asked. Without waiting for a reply, she continued, "She wanted to drop me off and leave me there. She never even liked Steve and his friends. But I pushed her to come with me. She didn't wanna drink, she was uncomfortable all night, but I told her to be my guardian, to make sure that I wouldn't get drunk and do something stupid. And when she tried to do just that, I ditched her." She paused for a moment, but still didn't look at Robin. "She died mad at me, Robin. I told her to leave, when I should've looked out for her. And because of that, she died. I treated her terribly, that night. If I hadn't neglected her, she'd still be... I was the real monster."

Robin scooted closer towards her on the bed. She still couldn't see Nancy's face, but her shoulders were shaking, so she pulled Nancy into her arms and wrapped them tightly around her. Nancy responded to her touch by burying her face in the crook of Robin's neck.

"Have you ever talked about this?" Robin asked. "With Steve, Jonathan, your mom? Anyone?"

She felt how Nancy shook her head, still hidden away in her neckline. Almost unconsciously, she let one of her hands wander until her fingers were back where they had been before, tangled in Nancy's curls.

For almost three years, Nancy had been living her life feeling like a monster. She had let the guilt about what happened to her friend gnaw at her until it made a home for itself inside of her and became part of her. "I was the real monster." She had let grief and remorse fester while refusing to ever share that burden with anybody. She had never even allowed anyone to tell her another story than the one she told herself.

"You weren't a monster, Nance," Robin said softly. "It breaks my heart that you've been thinking that way about yourself. You were just being a stupid teenager. You were - you were curious about a boy, trying some new things, and your friend didn't like that. That's like, half of what friendships are about when you're a teenager, isn't it? Nothing about that makes you a monster. There's no way you could've foreseen the consequences. If things were normal, she would've forgiven you the next day and you would've told her all about your night with Steve; and maybe she would've made fun of you a little bit, but at the end of the day, you'd have each others' backs. She would never let you think about yourself the way you've been doing. You were never a monster, Nancy. You were just a girl. A girl who lost her best friend through no fault of her own."

Finally, Nancy lifted her head to look at Robin. The look in her eyes was strikingly intense.

"Thank you," she said. "I - I honestly never looked at it that way. I didn't even know how much I needed to hear that." She uttered a long, heavy sigh. "I don't think I'll ever be able to stop thinking about how lonely she must've felt when she died."

Robin squeezed her tighter in her arms. "How she died was only a few seconds of her life, though. There's so much more to remember her by than that. She was a person for sixteen years, before that happened. And she was your friend for most of that time. You wanna tell me about that?"

Nancy stayed silent for a long time. Just when Robin started worrying she had said the wrong thing, Nancy drew in a shuddering breath.

"She was my best friend," she said, with a crack in her voice. "We used to bike into the woods and collect acorns and chestnuts in the fall. We'd make our own gross tea from leaves in her garden and read books to each other in silly voices. She cut her hair short when she turned twelve; I had to come with her to the hairdresser and hold her hand. And she helped me find one of my baby tooth when it fell out in the playground and I lost it."

Nancy kept talking, just sharing whatever memories came to her mind, like snapshots of this short life they lived together. And Robin kept asking questions whenever she fell silent. She let her talk about Barb until long after the clock struck 12 and it wasn't Barb's birthday anymore. And every year after that, on the thirteenth of September, she would ask Nancy again to tell her about Barb. And Nancy never ran out of stories to tell her.

(Ronancetober day 2: monstruous)

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Oh this is going to hurt... a lot.

I should be worried if the first thing I do after an episode isn't open Photoshop. Normally, I would now recall the best scenes of the series and decide on a set… But not today, even though I have the time. I once wrote that when a series can no longer catch me, you can tell by the fact that I stop making gifs… Okay, sometimes I just don't have the time. But today… I wouldn't even know which scene to choose, because there was nothing that got me, nothing that excited me and nothing that I felt emotional connected to. Instead, I have a lot of thoughts in my head that all want to get out somehow.

After the over-emotionalization of the last episode, I had actually already given up on Last Twilight. And that really hurts to admit. I loved the series from the very first second and I just thought it was so good! The problem for me was that they tried to just touch the audience's tear triggers, their emotions, all of them. And they forgot that too much of a good thing is simply not good. For me, episode 11 was right on the edge of what was bearable and I still don't think Day did the "right" thing. You're allowed to argue in a relationship and hold different opinions and then talk about why you hold a certain point of view, for example. If the other person can't deal with it, if you can't find a compromise, then you have to take the consequences, yes. But that wasn't even done here.

Day insinuated that Mhok pitied him, didn't listen to Mhok's side and today we learn that Mhok really only felt pity? Really? And that he is happy Day broke up with him so he could grow? Really? That is so fucking stupid. Day has problems with pity, that's understood and ok, but it's also ok for Mhok to make his own priorities in life and decide for himself not to want to leave, but to stay with the person he loves. But Day took that decision away from him. They could have talked about it. Different perspectives can also make a big difference. But no. Day pushes Mhok away and Mhok lies to Day… But back to tonight's episode. I was actually done with last week (yeah nope, I know). You can see that they tried to find a highly emotional ending that everyone seems to agree with and can cry into their handkerchiefs. The number of fuck yous I hurled at my laptop today shows me that the trick didn't work on me. It was all so over-emotionalized that it just felt fabricated and fake. And that's so sad, because the show felt so fucking real until episode 10. And now it was a weird cliché-ridden cringe-fest.

Honestly, if I had been dumped like Mhok and then ignored for three years, the time I spend thinking about that person would be really wasted. I'd be so fucking angry (probably not anymore after three years, I just wouldn't care). But Mhok immediately starts flirting. They pick up where they left off, but there's three years and thousands of kilometers between them. Unrealistic for me. And then Mhok just carries on, whispering to Day about what's happening and what's going on and just acting like his boyfriend again, holding his hand, helping him get dressed, showing him where everything is. I was a bit surprised that he didn't feed him. And Day is confused and just smiles. I think as a viewer I was the only person who was angry at the end. There were no bad emotions. Nothing. And that felt so fucking wrong!

And then comes the wedding and talk of second chances and of course Day says no because he's too scared someone will take pity on him. Yeah, fuck man, shit happens. and Mhok can't or won't give up. An emotional chase begins and the bride and groom leave their own wedding for the two of them and I lost faith in everything. And of course the plane is gone and of course they're all checked in because the passport was scanned and of course Mhok turned around and went back and of course he clued Night in and of course they end up doing the same dance they did back then and of course the family watches them get back together. And of course the series ends with a bunch of sugary sweet scenes from "call me mom" to sunset and let's repeat this most beautiful and heartbreaking moment from the past epsiode without any emotional impact. It was so predictable and so, I'm sorry, so bad. I'm so angry! And of course he gets his sight back. After all, what kind of a message would it be if Day remained blind? Is that possible? That a blind protagonist can find happiness and love and lead a successful life? No, it's not possible. He has to be able to see again. He has to become normal again in order to lead a normal life. What a shitty message! Damn!

Sometimes less really is more. Not everything has to be perfect and normal. At least that's the lesson I thought I should learn from this series.

If anyone has any gif requests, my inbox is open, but I don't think I'll be making any on my own. At least not today and not with this anger in my stomach.

[flowerandblood]

I don't like many of the authors' decisions here – sometimes their tropes, sometimes their choice of how they present events, dialogues, sometimes their characters, relationships between them or their appearance. It's not a bad thing. I have a right to feel this way.

But I would never tell them about it. Not because I don't have the courage to do it but because it would give them nothing, nothing good. You criticise when someone asks for it – when someone doesn't, then you should keep quiet.

Why? Because perhaps someone does not want this criticism and it's their right too. I, for example, don't care and I don't want to know how much someone dislikes something in my work. I don't need the fake appreciation of others, just as others don't need mine.

If I don't like someone's stories, I just leave them alone. God bless all of them! Write and be happy.

No one here is an oracle or judge, and some people feel that way. If you don't like what the authors are writing and their choices, give them a holy peace or else all you'll achieve is that they'll be discouraged from writing – they'll think: maybe nobody wants to read this after all, look at my characters, maybe it's pointless, maybe everyone thinks about me and my writing this way.

Sowing doubt and passive humiliation is very popular here for some reason and I find it incredibly annoying. People don't know when to shut their mouths and when their private opinion to which they are, after all, entitled hurts others, making them uncomfortable.

Our right to free speech should not cut someone's wings and mock them. This is an expression of disrespect and basic culture.

Not everyone has to want to change, to develop if it is not their profession but a simple hobby.

Anonymity does not make malicious gibberish sound any smarter, and a large audience or reactions under posts does not make anyone entitled to post an opinion in which they criticise works of others for their choices.

"Why do you write with only small letters? It's so annoying. This character would never do this, are you dumb? Aemond would never betray his family! Oh nooo, next Visenya on a big dragon? Why these OC's are so boring? Reader insert is just for you because you are desperate to fuck. Why do your OC is fat? Why do your OC is slim? Why do make your OC look like this, why won't you try something new? Why do you put Alys in your story as a third wheel when she is Aemond's real love interest?"

Shut. The fuck. UUUUUUP. GOD.

You say – you don't agree, don't read, I have a right to my opinion. Well, I say: your right does not absolve you from thinking about the feelings of others.

You are hypocrites. You cry and make a hiatus when someone sends you a nasty anon writing that you write crap, but you devote 2,000 words on your blog to why a certain trope doesn't make sense, why other authors don't have a right to make their OC's look the way they want.

What you write is not private, it's public. Who are you writing it to? Is it an expression of your frustration? Those you write it about can read it. They may feel very, very bad about it, they can think to stop writing at all or make themselves to do something against their will. But that's not your concern anymore, right?

Taking responsibility for your own words only when it's convenient for you is an expression of immaturity and that's what I see in this fandom – most people here are afraid of adulthood and the clash with it. Because in adulthood everything we do has consequences to face.

But it's easier to say that we simply have the right to express our opinion, no matter how hurtful and unfounded it may be.

I want to be clear – I will see anyone reblogging or write this kind of posts – I will block them. Even if I like you, if you are with me for a long time. I don't want to see this kind of toxic behavior on my wall ever again. Enough is enough.

[alchemie-tarot]

How To Walk Your Talk

Hello! It’s been a while. I felt like this slightly ambitious (for me) pick-a-card topic needed a ton of energy and discernment to execute, and so I really took my time with it. I intended it for Aries season but, oh well... Look, another fire season Leo is just around the corner!

Take a breath. Feel free to choose the pile/s that call out to you. Some details may not make the mark and that’s natural, since this is a general reading. Please don’t take it too seriously as well. Nothing is set in stone. My objective has always been to channel messages that may help its readers in any way.

Yes, these are more sunset pictures from my sunset photography cache.

Pile 1

Cards: 5 of Swords, Queen of Cups, Death, 8 of Wands, Page of Cups, 10 of Wands, 7 of Pentacles

Your Talk is about overcoming conflict with other people. You’re proud of being able to defend yourself at all costs, from those who “attack” you and don’t believe in you, in particular. When you do, there’s a winner takes all kind of feeling. Proving yourself against any kind of criticism is a win. You definitely are not one to hold back and, if worse comes to worst, you can cut deep if you feel like you need to.

You think that this is the way to prioritize yourself. The way to show yourself love. It doesn’t seem to matter to you if you end up not having a lot of intimate ties because of this. You believe that the worst betrayal is the betrayal of your own self. 

I think this Talk of yours usually comes out when it has all been said and done. Something about you making sure you have the last word. You may wait to strike when the other party has their guard down. You may also want your Talk to have a potent and instantaneous effect on its listener. You tend to make sure there’s no room for them to say more, to potentially dismiss or disprove you. You’ll cut the conversation if you have to. 

What you may not realize is that this hurts your objective either way. Yes, you’re an advocate of yourself, but this behavior makes them see you as a “child” who doesn’t really seem to know what they’re saying and thinks little of consequences.

Under this bravado of yours, I sense an expectation to be understood. It may be that a part of you hopes that someone with an x-ray vision meets you with empathy, instead of the dismissal or outright opposition you know so well. Sometimes, other people’s emotions simply do not run as deeply and strongly as yours. What matters to you may be something they don’t personally read too much meaning into. 

Pile 1, your Talk seems to be taking a toll on you more than you would like to admit. This kind of vigilance is a lonely burden to carry. Do not get me wrong, though, it has paid off somehow when you learned to protect yourself. You’re impenetrable, but at what cost? You leave out the potential good that can touch you in significant ways.

Spirit urges you to put the sword down for a bit and look around you. You can’t make the most out of your life by always being on the defense. To truly Walk your Talk, you need to uncover the root cause of all this defensiveness. Do you think that being alone is worth turning away the compassion that you can receive? Is that what you really want? Continuing down this path will only push that possibility further away. 

Try to look over everything that you have gone through so far, but with curiosity to understand rather than a restless need to justify. I hear a suggestion, to redefine your boundaries. Take a rest, too, Pile 1, I believe you really need it. It will all pay off either way, but there is room for grace that may benefit you more than you could imagine.

Pile 2

Cards: 7 of Cups, 10 of Wands, 2 of Wands, The Hanged Man, 8 of Wands, The Emperor, Death

You think that daydreams get in the way of real life. Fantasy is a way to escape responsibilities and that it ultimately ends up being a burden since it’s technically not really a “way to live.” You think having too many choices is more inconvenient than it is exciting. Most of them are simply distractions, temptations to veer off course. 

You may be a really pragmatic person for the most part. For some, though, I see that you are not necessarily repulsed by the rose-tinted perspective, but that this kind of ambition is too much work to actualize. It’s something that would force you to choose between what is necessary and what is ideal. Grounded, longer term goals are more important to you, anyway. Not letting yourself get carried away is an act of bravery to face reality.

I sense that you’re surrounded by people who don’t really agree with your way of thinking. Perhaps a lot of the people around you have quite lofty dreams and, maybe at times, have too much faith in their abilities. You may think that they could learn a thing or two about staying in one’s lane. On the other side of that, they may think that you’re self-righteous and quick to judge. They see you as a person of action and laser focus in your own right, but your Talk about achieving such goals suffers because, well…some goals are idealistic and unlikely by nature. That’s what makes them goals! 

As far as it goes, you seem to be really Walking your Talk. To a tee, in fact. A little too firmly, perhaps, to the point where you may be getting complacent. 

Something you should know about this Emperor's energy that you have is that, no matter how strictly the Emperor follows a certain system, he would still strive for something beyond him. Why would he need to stick to the current reality if it could be changed and improved? With his power and position, why not seek what would commonly be thought of as “impossible”? What is good, and for good, is always worth a try.

There can be more than logic to make the most out of the goals we form– a touch of compassion on yourself and your circumstances can truly transform those goals into more than ticks off a to-do list, you know? Instead of resisting changes in plans, welcome them as a potential channel for breakthroughs. Even if they entail a little imagination from your part to materialize. Nothing wrong with letting yourself dream a little, Pile 2.

Pile 3

Cards: The Hermit, King of Cups, 8 of Cups, The Star, Justice, The Sun, The Empress

You keep this Talk mostly to yourself. You’re in quite a period of serious introspection, Pile 3. Gathering strength and gaining inner wisdom. You want to master yourself: your inner workings, your emotions, your psyche, the subconscious– and you believe that this is the way. You’re trying to find balance by going within and spending time with yourself. 

You carry out this Talk in the times you walk away from things you determine no longer serve you. Things you don’t see developing positively or going anywhere. Leaving behind those spilled and empty cups. For now you have been withdrawing a lot on an intentional and well-meant level. To be honest, the Talk here is Not Talking, and so it manifests that way… through silence. Focusing on what you would like to move ahead towards.

You want people to see this as what it is: your way of healing. You want to be seen as someone taking their time at the moment. There’s a factor of distance, the not wanting to be disturbed by outside energy. Minimizing your availability. This is all about you right now. There is also something about  finding yourself that you may have lost connection with at an earlier point. You want to achieve that peace and somehow let that energy seep through and act as its own protective barrier.

And you know what? The people around you believe that you are undergoing what you rightfully need. They see and understand what you’re trying to do. You have their support, and many are even cheering you on from afar. This is such a positive message, Pile 3! They believe it’s a victory in itself to see you in the process of bouncing back. The way you are holding everyone, including yourself, accountable for the things that should be so. They think that events are finally turning in your favor.

Getting The Sun for asking how your Walk looks right now is really one of the best things I have seen for this pick-a-card. It is so lovely to see that this is making you happy. I am happy for you, too! If you’re not quite there yet, trust that you will be. You will find that light you’ve been seeking in the dark depths of yourself that you bravely traversed. I’m telling you, what a shining light it is that you will find. You’re genuinely finding your way back to your inner child. Keep going and they will have more blessings to give you.

If you are feeling up for it, Spirit offers that you can take it up a notch by exploring more ways to nurture your soul. I see letting your imagination expand, creating things with your hands, pampering your body. Whatever has happened, Pile 3, know that it’s not too big for you to overcome. Your Walk is such a profound journey to a revival… You’re very close to experiencing the fruits of your labor. Sending you my warmth, Pile 3!

Pile 4

Cards: Death, Ace of Swords, 8 of Pentacles, 6 of Wands Rx, 5 of Cups, The Hanged Man, The Star

Change starts in your head. Change starts from within. Your Talk is giving me coach or counselor vibes, mostly of the spiritual kind. You may have gone through a major life event at some point in your life, however it applies to you. This may have pushed you then to speak about these major, life-changing events. You think that they are opportunities to grow. Signs to cultivate a new mindset. The best way to ride with it is to be sharp and alert, and to fight with all your might.

You seem to be quite methodical and stubborn about it. I hear you could have catchphrases of some sort, along the lines of “everything happens for a reason,” or that “you can get through anything if you just tried and worked hard enough.” Like I said, you may have experienced such events in your life already and it seems like you’ve seen enough to point out certain patterns. You developed a sense of anticipating how long something may last, where it is likely to lead, what’s next, etcetera. 

You want others to see how humbled you are because of these experiences. You want to gain their support, partly because you feel that it solidifies the validation of your Talk. Here’s the thing, though: the insistence of your experiences have been rubbing some people off the wrong way. You’ve been taking your narrative to an unclear length. It’s not your bravery and openness that they have reservations about, but the fact that it’s starting to sound like a broken record. At the end of your anecdotes, what message does it all lead to? Some are getting the impression that you’re stuck in some way with that period in your life instead of presenting solutions or forward steps to move on from it.

I think you see yourself as a champion for these life-changing experiences, to the point where your way of expressing or living out the empowerment you preach seems like an effect of the hold it still has on you. Deep down, you may feel some level of uncertainty to step out from its familiarity. Where were you supposed to go next? Maybe a part of you is also wondering, is this all I'm ever gonna be talking about and be known for?

I can’t help but notice the comparison of the cards Death and The Star: Death, clad in armor, and The Star, shining in their nakedness. Spirit urges you to take off that armor. You don’t have to justify yourself anymore. It won’t always be a battle. Yes, what happened has happened, and it has affected you deeply. It helped you be stronger as a person, but you have to realize that you’re still wielding it in a way. You can’t truly move on even if you simply turned the weapon around– you’re still holding it. There comes a point where you have to take it out of your hands.

Your Talk will become more potent and natural that way. You will find a calm about yourself and this Walk will draw you the support that you need and deserve.

Pile 5

Cards: Ace of Cups, Justice, The Fool, Judgment, 7 of Wands, Knight of Pentacles, The Devil

All is fair in love and war is the first thing I heard. This is seriously your Talk. You’re a go-getter, especially the emotional, creative, watery kind. Not just a go-getter, but a kind of rule-breaker, too. You focus your sights far, far ahead. I’m seeing that you don’t really read too much or think too deeply into most things. When something catches your attention, you just take it and make a run for it, I’m hearing. What an interesting Talk.

You want people to realize how awakened you feel and how liberating it feels in general to be in that mindset. You want people to see how many paths and options it opens up for them. To you, even though it sounds contrary, it actually narrows down and leads to what you really want– and then absolutely taking it at all costs. You see this as a road to inner wisdom and taking responsibility for one's own life. You think this is a primal kind of behavior and it’s only natural to give in to it as humans.

However, people mostly just see that you’re setting yourself up to be in a constant, if not lifelong, struggle. They think you’re too high up in your worldview and that you could be taken down a notch. Even if they won’t necessarily call you out or actively try to humble you, they believe there will always be something or someone to challenge you, and that it’s not really a worthwhile thing to keep up forever. 

As far as it’s going right now, your Talk is coming to be your Walk, quite naturally. As chaotic as this mindset is perceived, there is a diligent and grounded way that you’re implementing it. You really believe in its value and it shows in your actions. Not much can shake you about it, I see.

In order to achieve your wants and goals in the best way, Spirit urges you to take some time to look at your shadow. Try to take a look if you’re acting out fully aligned with those goals, or are you simply carried away from the addictive feeling it brings? There’s a benefit to taking everything with a sense of moderation, no matter how you choose to live your life. Is there something deep-seated that you ought to acknowledge, that instead of giving you that “freedom” it could actually be a kind of blockage? Do you really believe that these are the rules of the world or did you impose them on yourself? Reevaluate what freedom is to you.

Pile 6

Cards: Queen of Pentacles, 8 of Wands, 3 of Swords, Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, Page of Swords, Knight of Cups

You believe that financial stability and reaching certainty in physical comfort are easy come, easy go. One should always be maximizing their time to be productive. Opportunities shouldn’t be wasted and the only things worth aligning with are those that lead to this state of living. Anybody you encounter is a potential for your network. There is no time for sitting back. You should always be ready. Go past or eradicate anything and everything standing in your way.

While your Talk is one that is supposed to be motivating by nature, the way you deliver it seems imbued with an element of fear. “Do this or leave yourself vulnerable. Hardships eventually catch up, so you better keep on moving.” I think you may be one to say that no matter how secure one is, one shouldn’t be chilling out too much. It can easily be lost in a blink of an eye.

You want to be seen as someone who means well and is only doing everything they do to help. You want to be seen as an embodiment of your Talk: always on the move and, for some reason I heard, looks cool while doing it. Willing to do whatever it takes.

Others see that your Talk is clouding quite a bit of your actual vision of it. They do see that you do not give up easily. Your directness is admirable, if not a little bound to the notion of having to always be on the next thing after finishing the previous. You look so far ahead you’re practically living in the future than the present. You’re also hardly paying full attention to the things you currently have, born from all the hard work you’ve put in.

Well, you seem to be using a lot of your words at the moment, I hear. Talking and talking. To people with like-minded goals, and to yourself? I'm getting that it’s because you feel quite flighty at the moment. Are you okay? When was the last time you took a breath? There’s a bit of anxious, running-on-fumes energy. You seem to be highly inspired, though. Bursting with ideas, in fact. For now, these plans mostly stay as plans.

Like all things, balance helps with feeling stable within yourself. Spirit urges you to get in touch with your emotions at the moment. Access what’s behind that flighty energy. You have the goals, the plans, and the direction. What you lack right now is a sense of being grounded enough not to run yourself ragged. Intuition plays a big role in this– yours wants to tell you something. It also won’t hurt to learn how to handle things, especially yourself, with more grace and compassion. Appreciate your ideas as themselves and not just a means to go somewhere else. It’s okay to not think about the goods right now. Think about what genuinely fills your cup.

Thank you for interacting with this post of mine. Always take care of yourself. 💜✨

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I have been off of Tumblr all day. But I am saddened and sickened to see what I’ve returned to.

I have a genuine love for the people I interact with here. While I have had my differences in the past with people, most have been resolved by talking it out like mature adults in private, so that we can move past it and resume our friendship. As it should be.

I will admit, I have been unkind about people I have had mutual enmity with, where a resolution was not possible and there was ill feeling on both sides. But who is not guilty of that? The post circulated today contains a blend of genuine screenshots, and a lot of ones that have been doctored. For those that converse with me on a regular basis, you’ll be aware of my use of syntax, turns of phrase and general mannerisms of speech. To quote a good friend “this Ange feels very ooc to me.”

To further address the racism, I will hold my hands up and apologise for not speaking out sooner. I have never excused it, simply been avoidant of it because I did not feel safe to speak out. When someone repeatedly uses the p-slur, laughs at your discomfort and continues to do it, claiming it’s fine because they are of mixed race, it’s difficult to know how to respond beyond simply pulling away quietly and hoping it stops.

I didn’t feel safe to speak on it sooner. To be honest, what forced my hand was finding out that I had been doxxed. That was frightening to me, and has very real life consequences. I have since learned that further illegal action has been taken against other users. That’s not something I want to be a part of. No, I can’t excuse racism, and I can’t excuse doxxing and cyberstalking either. If you felt there was a genuine concern for your safety, wouldn’t you want to act on it? Everything that has transpired since is utterly bewildering to me. The level of hatred is atonishing.

I don’t care what happens to me or this blog, if I’m being perfectly honest, but I do care about the feelings of others, and I appreciate that my inaction has hurt people. If your space feels safer without me in it, please feel free to do what you need to do to remedy that.

All I have ever wanted is to write, and to encourage others to contribute towards the community. I genuinely love this fandom and the friends I have made within it, but sometimes when you love stuff you have to let it go. And I am willing to do that if it means people can move on and continue to be creative.

[pr-incey]

For a while—after being exposed to the antiship movement, because goodness knows I didn't care about this when I was younger—I wondered *why* fiction and reality were so different in my head. Why I could happily see things depicted in fiction that would make me sick to my stomach or upset me to tears just from thinking of it happening in real life. I couldn't come up with a reason for this for a while, which caused me distressed and made me worried that I might secretly be a terrible person after all.

But I've done some thinking and I've figured it out. Or, rather, I've returned to the mindset that came so easy to me in the past and probably did to a lot of people before the well was poisoned.

When I see a fictional character, I don't see a person. I don't see a person like *me*, anyway. I see a person within that piece of fiction's universe; a plane of existence that is wholly different from my own. Lines and colour, words on a page, virtual drawings being played sequentially at a speed that simulates movement. Sure, the written passage, 'He had eyes, ears and a mouth' is a representation of what *I* am, and what other people around me are, but it is fundamentally a plane of existence that is *alien* to me.

An alien is something that is decidedly not human. I feel empathy for other humans because I can relate to them. I have no desire to hurt them because I either know what it is like to be hurt in that way, or I can imagine what it would be like. I know the harm it would do to them, which illicits a reaction of disgust and apprehension in me. 'That's terrible,' I think, which simply kills any desire to cause any harm to a real person or do any disgusting actions.

This is why predators are such terrible people. They are fully aware of the harm their actions will cause and then go ahead with them anyway.

But with a fictional character, it's different in these ways:

1. First of all, we have to remember that they AREN'T human and so whatever I feel towards them cannot accurately mirror whatever I feel towards real flesh and blood individuals. They're projections of humanity from OTHER people in whatever medium they choose, but fictional characters are—and I cannot stress this enough—NOT HUMAN. If I pull off the head of a Barbie doll, does that mean I have the desire to behead someone in real life? Does it mean that I MUST have the urge to behead someone in real life, because a barbie doll is a 'representation' of a person? Your answer, I'm hoping, is no. Because Barbie is not human.

2. And because fictional characters are not human, I don't have empathy for them. Not REAL empathy, anyway, the type that stops the desire to cause harm. When I 'violate' a fictional character, it illicits at most only superficial disgust because I know that character will not live with the lasting consequences of my actions. They're a projection, a facsimile.

So that might bring you to another question, 'Even if they're not real, why would you WANT to do that to them, anyway?'

That I can't answer. The human brain is weird. Sometimes, people have dark urges. If a kid tosses their Barbie onto the ground and seems to take pleasure in it falling, can that accurately say they want to push a real person onto the ground? If someone seems to enjoy a violent video game like GTA where they can run people over and shoot them to their heart's content, is that a surefire way to know that they want to do those things to real people? I wouldn't say it is. Would you?

The final thing to remember is that it's not completely black and white. A serial killer might have been 'inspired' by a violent horror story, whereas the actual author of that story is a nice, well-adjusted individual. People with the desire to hurt actual humans might make do with projections, but it does not change the fact that they actually want to HARM people. The fiction didn't make them want to do that. They already did, and probably would have even if they didn't discover said fiction. And horrible people CAN make their own 'projections'.

Generally though I believe it is obvious when someone is just playing with dolls, and when someone is exhibiting an actual desire to hurt somebody.

[tvlandofficiall]

I'm glad you and a few other people posted and reblogged some good darkner meta that last few days. I just recently watched some newer smaller theory youtube vids out of content drought thirst and walked away with a vague annoyed feeling on account several of them just assumed the FFTA style "seal away the fake fantasy darkworlds" type ending as like, a known fact. I feel like taking the darkners seriously as People is a super niche thing stuck in this circle of like a few hundred tumblr fans.

thanks! i'm glad to hear that my posts have been spreading around – the subject of the darkners is a pretty important one both in the game and to me, so it's well worth talking about! it saddens me that a lot of people seem to work off the base assumption that they don't matter or that their personhood won't be discussed – and there are many reasons i contemplate when it comes to why that is (do players have a difficult time believing in and caring for a world that isn't like the one they live in? do players assume deltarune will end sadly because sad endings are seen as more serious? why are these strange assumptions taken as fact by so many players, seemingly for no reason?) ultimately, i think the answer is that many players simply work off of what they know about these types of characters and plots from other games and stories, unaware of the ethos behind undertale and deltarune that twists and subverts these archetypes.

i've discussed it before, but in video games and other forms of media alike, the idea of a disposable character will arise. the legend of zelda, for instance, usually doesn't prompt you to consider the societies and lives of the octorocks you slay. in games where characters can raise the undead to do your bidding, they don't have to ask the skeletons permission – the undead are just mindless drones to command. robots in sci-fi settings will sometimes act as simple assistants to the human characters. monster movies star protagonists that mow down evil hordes of mindless werewolves or zombies. and in many fantasy stories, there lies the assumption that everyone will return to the "real world" at the end – at the end of the wizard of oz, dorothy doesn't contemplate the existence of the scarecrow or the tin man beyond their resemblance to the people in her real life. at the end of alice in wonderland, alice doesn't consider the personhood of the mad hatter or the white rabbit for long either. they simply fade away, leaving dorothy and alice with only the lessons they've learned and none of their strange new friends.

undertale zeroes in on this first example and twists it – what if the octorocks in zelda were more than just free EXP? what if the "monsters" in those classic rpg games were all just as much people as link and his friends?

undertale asks you to consider this question throughout. is this frog-like monster more than an enemy? what about this vegetable-shaped guy? is it okay to kill a monster if you're not sure how to get past them – or are they person enough to you to be worth finding a way to spare? what if you meet a relentless killer like the head of the royal guard or the king of the monsters himself? what about a killer robot? what about the reanimated corpses of long-dead monsters? what about a soulless talking flower that, just like you, sees the world as a game to be played?

time and time again, the answer is yes. all of these characters are people – and the more you get to know them, the more you learn that they're not just their archetype. monster doesn't automatically mean disposable.

deltarune, then, takes undertale's ethos and twists it again. now it knows that you likely have been primed to extend personhood towards the undertale characters. but what about the darkners – new characters playing on that same idea? deltarune takes the simple premise of undertale and digs even deeper into it – these darkners are objects. you can kill them without much consequence. and the very fate of the world itself says that they're only there to assist the lightners – to happily serve their purposes and be discarded. some of them even appear content with this role – ralsei sure seems to be (after all, what becomes of darkners that struggle for anything else?)

can you still extend personhood to these people? or will you accept the fate that many other characters like the darkners face – the fate of a world erased, a fountain closed, a world returned to "normal" with the people you're already happy to consider people?

many archetypical stories play this fate to its end – which is why i think a lot of players do, too. but if you look at the characters' stories – at our protagonist's distress at ralsei's role to be their comforting servant and at spamton's inability to break free from his as a spam email; at spamton's conflict with his own fate; at spades kings' anger towards the system; at lancer's worry over what he is to his friends; at ralsei's role as servant and guide and his keen awareness of his own inescapable fate; at anything that happens in the snowgrave route – you'll see anything but the archetypes. the darkness may be growing, and many may be scared of the dark – but many found monsters scary, too.

(also, if you're feeling like you're craving deltarune stuff, i'd suggest checking out the newsletters or replaying the game! i tend to do the latter a lot just because i feel i should refresh my memory on characterization quite often, and it's interesting to discover a little something new to think about each time.)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for yelling at my mom because of incense?💭

( emoji so I can recognise my submission and this is a hella long post so be warned)

So I (16F) really hate smoke. And I mean beyond the regular hate, I mean like the moment I smell smoke I instantly become very, very angry. I'm not sure why exactly, I suspect it might be because I'm on the autism spectrum but I haven't been officially diagnosed so take this with a grain of salt. Also just to clarify, I have no lung issues which would cause me to be extra effected by smoke, it's almost entirely psychological.

My mom (50F) got into this whole spiritual circle stuff about a year ago and does meditation thingies. Involves a lot of rituals, crystals and incense. Not entirely sure the exact reason why but the important thing is this means she is lighting incense almost everyday. As a result, on most days the house smells like smoke. I have told her quite a few times to ventilate properly if she's going to use it but I feel like every time I enter the main room of the house it smells like smoke. However I can manage this by simply shutting my door to avoid getting a lungful of smoke. No, the thing that pisses me off are her "cleansing sessions." This is where she goes through the house waving an incense stick everywhere to "purify the bad spirits." This means I have absolutely nowhere in the house to escape from the smoke and often get forced outside to escape. I have tolerated these "cleansing sessions" a few times but on the most recent one, it happened to be raining extremely heavily. This meant that I was stuck. In a house FILLED with the smell of smoke.

I tried to keep myself calm for a while by ventilating the smoke from under a blanket but even then I could still smell it and it made me raging mad. So I then proceeded to stomp up to my mom and yelled at her. I said some very nasty things which I'm not proud of saying. They were very personal insults mostly pertaining to how her beliefs were bullshit and about her insecurities. We had a shouting match over it which ended in her telling me to go back to my room.

Why I think I could be the asshole here is because:

A. I could have more clearly stated beforehand that I wanted her to stop cleansing my room or at the very least she needs to turn the aircon on when she burns incense.

B. She didn't really deserve the things I said to her. She's a sensitive person and I know it probably deeply hurt her even if she didn't act like it in the moment.

C. I didn't mention it earlier but I have a brother (17M) who has athsma. He has never had any problem breathing or any complaints about my mom burning incense. If anyone would be affected by this the most it would be him and yet he doesn't care. So I feel like I just really overreacted.

Why I think I might not be the asshole here is because:

A. I have asked her before that she ventilate the house properly when she does her meditations and yet every time I can smell it. Sometimes she wont even open the windows so I have to do it myself.

B. She knows how much I dislike the smell of smoke. I have said multiple times how I hate it and every time I have smelt it in the house I've been very obviously annoyed. There was even once incident where our neighbours were having a bonfire and I literally could not sleep in my room because I could smell smoke and had to sleep on the couch. Every time she's done one of these "spiritual cleansings" I have also made it abundantly clear how much I hate this but she doesn't seem to care because it usually forces me outside.

C. As before mentioned, my brother has athsma. While it may not seem like it bothers him I don't know what the long term consequences may be for his lungs. And for my lungs too! Like, I'm not an expert but I don't think regularly breathing in smoke is very good for you. She argues it's "real natural smoke" so it's fine and I told her she should try breathing near a wildfire to see how she liked "real natural smoke."

Anyways, with all these facts considered, random strangers on the internet, AITA?

What are these acronyms?