#source: ugly truth

[hxuse-xf-black]

Scorpius: Yeah, it's scary. It's terrifying. Especially when I'm in love with a psycho like you! Rose: I'm not a psycho! Scorpius: I just told you that I love you and all you heard was psycho.

[quietwingsinthesky]

A version of Hallucifer where his constant insistence that Sam is still in the Cage isn’t perceived as a threat but as a comfort.

Saying stuff like, “Don’t worry, Sam. All this is just set dressing, just a game we’re playing. The only parts that are real are you and me.” and Sam hearing this and thinking without meaning to, thank you, thank you, everything still makes sense, I’m still where I’m supposed to be. But deep down he knows he did get out and that’s what’s killing him.

[resolutepath]

   any other day can be celebrated- any, at all, at any given moment.

   but today is a day for comfort. 

   there's a specific person that would be welcomed into the Dawn Winery on this day- that has thrown caution to the winds in order to give his own brother comfort. the same person, against the storm pouring down Mondstadt whole. like that day, it's raining- it's raining heavily, and Kaeya's boots are dirty with mud, and the cape he's wearing has been soaked way past salvation, damp hair curling around his face.

   but he cares little for that, if not at all. he reaches the doorstep of the winery by night- once work has been over, once he has mentally prepared himself for that.

   for once, he's sure that Adelinde would understand why he's walking up the stairs and into Diluc's room, droplets of water leaving a trail behind him.

   he shows up on the second doorstep of the day- his brother's room, lowering the dripping hood on his shoulders.

   there's the hesitation- and then there's nothing else than Kaeya walking up to the older man, and enveloping him into an hug.

   there's no need for words. the hold is wet- but there are intentions, there's comfort behind that. there's an hold that, if not broken, will tighten as the younger of them breaks himself, quietly.

   as broken as he is today, he'll hold Diluc's pieces together. no matter the cost.

He stands frozen in the centre of the room, staring at the wall though it has been a long time since he registered anything of note. Crimson hues stare but do not see as the weight of the past sits heavy on his chest, laying heavy upon his shoulders, the very weight that grows heavier with each droplet of rain to fall against the glass panes.

When he touches a hand to his cheek, it is damp. He does not remember when he began crying.

His hand drifts down to his side and still he remains, gaze directed towards the glass but mind crowded with the memory of that day so long ago. All the blood that he smeared on his hands. His father's, his brother's. He is lost with it, unable to break free. He is glad Adelinde convinced him to take the day. He is a shell of himself. Pathetic.

The door opens, and he jolts in surprise, shoulders drawn up in a vicious flinch as though he expects a harbinger of doom upon the threshold. Instead it is nothing of the sort. It takes a moment to register the arms that have encircled him, the drip of wet hair, of blue hair that tells him who is here.

He shouldn't be. Why is Kaeya comforting him on this day? He shouldn't be.

He wants to struggle against the hold, to wrench himself forth and isolate himself again. But he cannot. He's tired of the fighting, tired of the distance and Kaeya's holding on with such fierce strength he's not sure he'd even be able to manage it if he did try.

In the end, the dam breaks, unable to fight against the maelstrom within, unable to see past the grief and despair that plagues his birthday. His knees buckle and he leans into Kaeya, a harrowing cry escaping his lips, chased by a wretched sob. Arms tighten around his brother, his grip perhaps veering towards too tight, as though he's afraid Kaeya might disappear if he loosens it.

"...sorry..." he chokes between breaths as he strifles his sobs, silences himself into a patter of angry tears and quiet heaves for air that rattle his chest. It comes again, the apology soft and broken as he buries his face in Kaeya's shoulder. It's too late. He took too long. It's wrong so wrong, but he needs to say it anyway. He breathes it into skin, left unheard to the rest of the world, only reaching the ears of the one who needs to hear it the most, the one who has been owed it for too many years, who even now is holding him up instead of leaving him to rot as he deserves.

He can only hope the words are not too late. That in this battleground of despair there is something left to salvage for them.

[citruscloudsandmoon]

Choi Chi Yeol: "Yeah, it's scary. It's terrifying. Especially when I'm in love with a psycho like you"

Haeng Seon: "I am not a psycho!"

Choi Chi yeol: "I just told you I love you and all you heard was 'psycho'"

[ivettel]

literally nauseated it's like a delayed reaction has been hitting me in waves and i keep getting carried out by the tide. if everything is fine then why do i still feel like i'm trying to sew a bleeding wound shut

[fvsm4x]

Hii! Can I request any jjk men with a best friend! reader who wears a mask to hide their face bcs they think its ugly? (its up to u if u want sfw or not!)

#PRETTIEST [Gojo S. and Geto S.]

SUMMARY: Since you were a child, you‘ve always hated the way you look, so- you started wearing a mask.

— C.W: Gojo Satoru x female reader x Geto Suguru , hurt with comfort , insecurity , fluff.

— WORD COUNT: 1.3k+

— TAGLIST: @starlightanyaaa

— A/N: AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST I HAD TO WRITE IT IMMEDIATELY AFTER I FINISHED WRITING MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE!! SORRY IF ITS SHORT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

Since you were a small child, you always hated the way you looked. Your nose, cheeks, and moles were constant sources of self-consciousness, and you despised the way you appeared in general. It was as if a dark cloud of insecurity constantly loomed over you, casting a shadow on your self-esteem.

Around the age of 7, it all began. You were just an innocent child, excited to go to school like any other kid. You possessed a unique ability that set you apart from your classmates - you could see curses, dark entities that others couldn’t perceive.

Every day, as you walked past your classmates, you were subjected to relentless torment. They would push you into the ground, snatch away your books, spill your lunch onto your head, and even steal your clothes during PE. You became a victim of bullying, and the reason behind it was painfully clear - you were deemed ugly.

At that tender age, you couldn’t comprehend the cruelty that surrounded you. You naively believed that this was their way of noticing you or playing with you. But as time went on, the truth slowly revealed itself - they targeted you because of your appearance, because you were considered ugly in their eyes.

It was during this dark period that you began to wear a mask, hoping that it would shield you from the relentless bullying. The mask became your armor, a tangible barrier that protected you from the perceived flaws you couldn’t bear to face. It became a part of your identity, an integral aspect of who you were. With the mask on, you felt a sense of safety, as if you were hiding your true self from the scrutinizing eyes of the world.

There wasn’t a single moment when you ventured outside without your mask. But despite the mask’s protective facade, deep down, you longed to be accepted for who you truly were.

It was during this challenging time that you crossed paths with your best friends, Geto and Gojo. Fate brought the three of you together on a fateful day as you were walking home from school. They witnessed your ability to kill a low-grade curse, and in that moment, they knew that you were like them - you could see curses just as they could.

This serendipitous encounter changed the course of your life. You made the decision to leave your previous school and join the same school as Geto and Gojo, hoping that this new environment would provide a fresh start, free from the torment of your past.

In the same class as Geto and Gojo, there was another girl who exuded beauty effortlessly. Her flawless skin, perfect facial structures, and the charming mole beneath her eye made her the epitome of perfection. Secretly, you couldn’t help but feel jealous of her. You longed to possess the same level of beauty and radiance, but you kept your jealousy hidden beneath a facade of indifference.

As the months passed, your bond with Geto and Gojo grew stronger. You began to address them by their first names, just as they did with you. It seemed like everything was going well, until one fateful day when a simple request shattered the fragile equilibrium you had created.

The three of you were gathered in Geto’s dorm, engrossed in a movie, when Gojo’s curious gaze fell upon your mask. His innocent question pierced through your defenses, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

“Say, y/n… could we see your face?” he inquired, his finger pointing towards the mask that concealed your true self.

In that moment, the smile that had adorned your face behind the mask vanished, replaced by a mixture of apprehension and fear. You locked eyes with Gojo, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

“We’ve been friends for quite some time now, and I can’t recall a single moment where you haven’t worn that mask. You even wear it while you sleep!” he continued,

Your gaze dropped, unable to meet their expectant eyes. It was true - you had never once removed the mask in their presence. You only allowed it to come off when you brushed your teeth or washed your face. The thought of revealing your true face to them filled you with an overwhelming sense of dread. You feared that they would be repulsed by your appearance, that they would abandon you once they saw the real you, the one you believed to be ugly.

“That’s true, y/n. If you have a larger injury or something, we won’t judge. We just want to see how pretty you look behind the mask,” Geto chimed in,

Pretty.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you with its expectations. They anticipated beauty, but what if you took off your mask and shattered their illusions? What if they saw the imperfections that plagued your self-image? The mere thought of their potential rejection was unbearable.

But why do you care so much about their opinion?

The reason was because you had fallen in love with both Geto and Gojo. Despite knowing that you were seemingly out of their league, your heart couldn’t help but beat faster whenever you were around them. You had tried to suppress these feelings, but they persisted, refusing to be ignored.

“I promise, Y/N, whatever you’re hiding won’t change a thing between us,” Gojo spoke, his voice filled with sincerity as he positioned himself in front of you. Geto, too, reached out and gently took your hands in his larger ones.

“Please, trust us,” Geto pleaded,

You found it difficult to resist their pleading gazes. Taking a deep breath, you finally relented, “Fine, but I warn you, it’s not what you expect.”

As the mask slipped away, revealing your face, you closed your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for the inevitable disappointment and rejection. You didn’t want to hear the people you loved utter the same hurtful words that had haunted you in the past.

But then, to your astonishment, Gojo’s voice broke the silence, filled with genuine awe, “Unbelievable! This is beyond stunning; it’s mesmerizing.”

Did you hear correctly? Mesmerizing? He didn’t say the word “ugly”? You cautiously opened your eyes, only to be met with Gojo’s intense gaze. He was staring at your face, his cheeks flushed with a deep blush. In that moment, you realized that he found you stunning, not repulsive. He was captivated by your appearance.

“I knew you were hiding a masterpiece under there, but this… it’s like you walked out of a dream,” Geto spoke, his hands tightening around yours,

Confusion and disbelief washed over you as you struggled to comprehend their reactions. “I don’t understand… why aren’t you saying I look ugly?” you murmured, your eyes flickering between the two of them.

“Ugly?” Gojo scoffed, his voice filled with disbelief. “That’s impossible. You’re the epitome of beauty, and we’re lucky to witness it.”

“Whoever said that you’re ugly clearly is blind,” Geto chimed in, removing his hands from yours and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “Because you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you widened them in shock. The tears began streaming down your face as a genuine smile spread across your lips. You were overwhelmed by their words and the overwhelming surge of emotions that flooded your heart.

Suddenly, a hand crept around your waist, and you looked down to see Gojo smiling up at you, resting his head on your lap.

“You guys…” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as more tears continued to flow down your cheeks, landing on Gojo’s face beneath you.

A hand gently cradled your jaw, turning your head to the side, and you found yourself meeting Geto’s intense gaze. He brought his lips to your face, tenderly kissing away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks.

“Beautiful,” he murmured,

© fvsm4x do not repost!

[ashipiko]

DANCE WITH ME YOU LI-IA-IAR ♡

OVERBLOT ASHI??? ANYBODY??? the ANGST that this baby can store!!! SHEESH!!!!!!! <3 I only have one post dedicated to her and liar dance lyric analysis (the post is kinda outdated in gen) BUT…… I also have an overblot monologue as a treat 🫶 I wanted to better explain her angst and so!!! BABAM!!! enjoy

ASHI’S MONOLOGUE:

Sometimes I wonder why I ended up here.

A place named “Twisted Wonderland”, and at a school named “Night Raven College”.

At first, I figured that I was the odd one out— Y’know, the Ramshackle prefect and everything. The magicless girl at the magical all boys school? Nuts, ain’t it?

I’m known for a lot of things. Things that are different from the others. The fact that I stand out is part of the Ashi charm, something I’m known for.

But… Over time I found myself sorta feeling in place here.

Because as much as I try to believe it, I can’t safely say that I’m better than anyone else here.

I’m a fake. I make conversation and lots of friends, but for what? A backup in case something goes wrong? A sense of protection for my reputation? In what case are any of those friendships something I truly want? In what case are any of these strings more than just a tool instead of a thread made of my real feelings?

Behind this, I’m no different from any other student here. Even through my individuality, my cheerfulness, my endearing oddness… I’m still a horrible person. Using people to get what I want, toying with people and their feelings in order to gain power and gain a spot the top. All to become untouchable. It’s screwed. It’s not right.

My insides are ugly. The truth of me is something I want to keep tucked away deeply, because I don’t want people to see this part of me. A brash, annoying, selfish version of me, everything people hate to see. I don’t want this side of me to be seen because people will run away— people I don’t care much about, sures, but people I love, too. I don’t want to drive them away. So I keep quiet and give them a shallow show.

I give them a source of entertainment that’s controlled by the real me, every calculated movement translating into a marionette-like response. The only show I allow you to see is one that’s so carefully crafted by the chaotic clown backstage. The one that is shunned away from the light, the strings being the only hint of the puppet’s phony existence to the foolish audience.

But suddenly, I feel as if being here has started to let this side of me come crawling back into the spotlight.

It scares me.

It scares me to be vulnerable, let all of my faults lay out on the table like playing cards. To take the risk without the protection, to gamble everything I’ve built up away just like that. But you…

You.

You make me feel safe. You make me feel as if I don’t need to hide anything. I can give you the key to my heart and you would have no malicious intent. You wouldn’t cut out the parts people don’t like. You would enjoy the performance in full, every bit of it.

You make me believe that I’m nothing special, and yet something so valuable at the same time.

It’s silly. You’re silly. And yet that’s something that’s helped me.

It’s helped me realize that that truly is just how people are.

We aren’t villains. We aren’t antagonists. We aren’t monsters.

We are nothing but people, with faults and feelings that should be valued.

I am more than just a jester, a sake of entertainment.

I’m a person who is entirely worthy of love. All of me.

It reminds me that I must’ve came here for a reason.

Because this is where I belong.

[larsthefishoil]

As I'm actively reflecting on the new hbomberguy video, but more specifically James Somerton, certain things are clicking into place with resounding clarity.

I've watched Somerton's videos for years. At first I thought he was kinda overly dramatic, and had outdated stances on how little lgbtq+ was seen in modern day. He always seemed to talk like we are still living in the danger of the 80s with staight/cis people's apathy and hatred. In truth the phobias have just shifted in how they present and things have genuinely improved in a sense.

But the thing that is actually getting to me rn is the misogyny thing. I think he actually injected really shitty thoughts into my brain that I absorbed like a fucking kitchen sponge. He's protectiveness over queer people but specifically gay men from "prevented white women" actually got to me. For over a year, I was walking around occasionally thinking about how "women are sneaking BL manga into their bedrooms and grotesquely drooling."- im not citing someone theres quoteation marks cause its a dumb thought. But i thought this because that's how bad Somerton made it seem.

But the thing that got me out of that head space was this video by talistheintrovert.

https://youtube.com/@talistheintrovert?si=vmpEa_TPP2UE9eQk - here's the link to her homepage on YouTube.

https://youtu.be/08pCrSBw5EY?si=bECaT_xC16IfN5TI - vid about Good Omens

https://youtu.be/zzSlRZhS_qY?si=unQzSbCQUaTqhSbv - Heartstopper vs. Only Friends

sorry for the ugly link I'm on mobile.

I forget their pronouns so I'm using they/them but I might be wrong. I watched a lot of their videos all at once, so a lot of their ideas interlinked between videos to connect points. But they frequently talked about how straight and queer people interact with queer media and the complexities that unfold. Their underlying message was always that an individual's sexuality doesn't matter when interacting with media when it comes to gatekeeping who gets to appreciate queer content. Still most people consuming are queer people, but straight cis people also benefit and that's okay, it's great even.

Talistheintrovert shooed away icky feelings of straight women fetishizing queer men, which was a fear I got from James Somerton!

Idk this is a long post, but hbomberguy's ending soliloquy about trying to find happiness kinda reminds me of the many countless queer YouTube channels- big and small. Most of us aren't clawing for the position of top dog and like Somerton and seem a lot happier dispit of everything going on nowadays.

Anyways, stay safe, be accepting, and cite your sources or else hbomberguy will have to crawl out of whatever hole he hides in for the better part of each year and make a five hour long video about you :/

[romanoffsbish]

Affirmations

Natasha Romanoff x R (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Trauma (Red Room) | Sources say you might cry.

Healing—well that’s a family affair, 🥹💕 | WC: 2,618

Heavy at times, but super hurt / comfort — fluffy vibes. Probably the sweetest fic I have ever written tbh

"I am smart," your daughter repeated with a grin, eyes hopeful for some reassurance. "You are so smart and."

"I am kind," she remembered, and you beamed, not even needing to speak the next one either. All you could do was place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

———

"I a-am b-b-beautiful," she stuttered, then she took a calming breath before going on, voice a lot more steady this time as she softly said, "and deserving of love." Her gaze was however focused on your face, you smiled then gently twisted her head until she was solely staring at her reflection, she flashed you a nervous smile. "Again baby, but this time try to mean it."

Arabella nodded, "I am beautiful," her voice held a soft veil of conviction, "and I deserve forever love."

"Now all at once," you gently commanded, a proud smile on your face for encouragement. Arabella matched your confidence as she did as you instructed, then she turned and jumped into your unfolding arms.

"Always remember your worth love, people in this world will try to tell you otherwise but if you hold onto your heart you'll never perceive their lies as truth."

Natasha had watched the entire sequence from the moment you entered the house with the crying child. Her best friend Darla had dropped her for a popular girl who just transferred to their school, and in the process of doing so she called your daughter ugly.

When she heard the words leave Arabella's trembling lips she nearly left on another mission, but she chose instead to do what she does best, spy from doorways.

It amazed her just how quickly you were able to bring your daughter back to herself. To instill in her a sense of confidence and love that many kids only dreamed of. Natasha felt a brief flash of envy trying to consume her when she saw herself amongst the crowd of unloved. Then she really looked at you both and rebuked the notion, that was then, she needed to focus on the now.

"Oh look," you gasped to alert your daughter to the guest you'd locked eyes with through the mirror. Your wife flashed you a smile that spoke of guilt and hope. "Mama has been watching us this whole time."

Natasha saw the traces of sorrow in your eyes but she moved passed the need to talk it out as she stumbled forward and settled into the both of your open arms.

"How long did you know you'd be home today?" The redhead shrugged and mumbled, "Only a few hours."

It wasn't a lie, you'd walked in only minutes after her, unaware that she had made it home days before she was expected to. The redhead never knew exactly when a mission would end as the bulk of them came with sliding timeframes based on multiple factors.

It wasn't her fault that a standard two week mission only takes her one, but you hated it regardless of how true her reasoning was. The impromptu nature of the arrival always made it impossible for you to tend to her. Which wouldn't bother you as much if she wasn't going out of her way to stop you from doing it.

As she pulled away from the embrace she saw you were about to offer her assistance but she was saved by the tiny girl in your arms who yawned. On days like today, when your daughter was emotionally drained, she was ready to go to sleep before you could prepare dinner.

"I'll be okay detka," she pressed a kiss to your lips then pulled Arabella from your arms for a proper embrace.

"I missed you," she yawned while melting into her mama's chest. "I missed you too sweetheart."

"Night mama," she pressed a sweet kiss to Natasha's nose then rotated back into your arms. "Sweet dreams princess, I'll see you in the morning for cartoons."

Once your daughter's smiling face was out of sight Natasha's smile fell along with her shoulders. The mission she went on was only over so soon because of the total catastrophe it became. Tiny miscalculations on the bases end led to her team evacuating the wrong building, then by the time she knew it was too late.

You knew it was best to give her time to herself, so after you prepared a snack for your daughter and got her settled into bed you began to clean the house. Ears perked up to the sounds above, and after three long hours you finally sighed in relief as the water shut off.

Natasha had zoned out after the conditioner washed out of her hair, she stood there beneath the freezing cold water in a daze until she felt her tired body sway. Once she got out she tended to her wounds, some of which were already healing and that infuriated her.

Why should she be able to walk away with her life?

When her hollowed eyes met their reflection she sighed, and she tried to remember her therapists words, "survivors guilt is natural, but don't listen to the temptation, you have a family who needs you too..."

Natasha could feel the darkness creeping in though, so she decided she would try her hand at your method.

"You are smart," she tried to mimic your earlier words, but it left a bitter taste on her tongue. If she were, then the intel she received would've never mattered, if she truly had the power to be a hero she would've known.

The next phrases were followed by the same self deprecating thoughts. What good were kindness and beauty when you were meant to be a ruthless soldier? It was in her DNA to be efficient, yet she failed. It was like her mind split in two as she muttered, "you are a monster," with clear disgust and overwhelming anger.

Then she stumbled back and shook her head, "n-no." Her mind ran wild with memories of her youth, "I-I didn't have a choice," she whimpered, and that was when you knew it was time for you to step in for her.

"Stand up Natalia," you firmly commanded and the redhead fell in line in seconds. It broke your heart but you knew you needed to be strong; firm in tone and command so she'd mean what she was about to say.

"Repeat after me," you steadily spoke, "I am not bad."

Natasha repeated it but her gaze was far away.

"I am not a bad person," you rephrased, and just like before she struggled to say it with any feelings. You sighed, "I'm not a monster." Her body stiffened, which was odd as she'd already been stood straight as a board. This time, she refused to repeat the words.

Natasha never lied, and that broke your heart, but you didn't falter in pushing her towards owed forgiveness.

"I am human," you paused, "not marble." You felt the way her spine slightly slumped as she repeated your words with a hardly noticeable, but never for you, shaky voice. You noticed everything and that was how you knew your beloved wife was about to have a real breakthrough on the never ending road to healing.

You smiled softly as her eyes finally met yours, the both of yours glistened beneath the blinding bathroom lights. Hers were merely glazed, but yours were pooling in the corners as you spoke, hopefully speaking directly to her soul. "So I'm allowed to break."

"Oh god," she cried, hands clutching the marbled sink as she had to keep herself from collapsing. You were prepared for her to fall so you had wrapped your arm around her waist, spun her then pulled her into an abrupt hug. Trying to calm her nervous system and to shield her sobs for the sake of your sleeping daughter.

"It's okay my love," you tried to reassure her but she shook her head and only sobbed harder. You took the queue then to focus on physical reassurances instead. Holding her even tighter and kissing her face, usually atop of her cheekbone to catch the fresh tears, a silent way to tell her that you'd take her pain if you could.

Natasha felt even guiltier when she caught on. "I-I couldn't save them all," she confessed into the cotton of your shirt, body shuffling in vain because there was no way possible she could get any closer to you.

"You were alone?" She shook her head and you soon hummed, "then why do you shoulder all of the blame?"

"I'm an Avenger—I was the one in charge, and..."

"You are human."

"I am enhanced..."

"Enhanced metabolic rates doesn't mean you had the ability to save them all, and we both know you don't need me to tell you that Natasha. You are brilliant."

Before she could continue to bicker with you she was stopped by your lips pressing hers shut. Natasha melted into your sweet touch. No matter the case you were always gentle with her, even when she wasn't with you. If she was angry and shouting you'd quiet her with a kiss like this, you were patient and rarely yelled back.

It's what helps her to become better for the sake of your daughter. As she processed her feelings, some for the very first time, you only ever offered her patience. You were the light at the end of her tunnel, giving her everything that she could ever dream of and more.

"I-I," she really wanted to take you on but she was too tired to fight against the warmth of your love. Her body once again melted into yours and everything felt like it was settled, but the peace of mind was short lived.

"Mama, are you okay?" Arabella sniffled from your bed, and the both of you looked up to see her crying. "Baby, what are you doing here and out of your bed?"

You coaxed your wife to keep calm as you firmly held her hands so she could still feel you there while your attention was focused elsewhere. "I heard a scream and thought there was a monster next door. I was coming to get mama so that she could fight it off for me."

Natasha squeezed your hands and sat up to face her, uncaring that her face was a mess of irritated, red splotches. On the journey to wellness it is important that you don't hide the process from your loved ones.

They can only understand you if you show them...

"Come here honey," Natasha called out to her and she immediately shuffled over and into your lap, her eyes were stern as she stared into your wife's broken pair.

"Mama needs to remember her worth," she huffed to you directly and you refrained from chuckling in her face as she looked like she meant business. "Yeah, I suppose she does—are you up to lead her through it?"

Arabella nodded her head then stood, pulling Natasha off of the ground and right over to the mirror. You left them to their moment and slipped off to the kitchen.

When you got back to the room with the tray of snacks you nearly melted into a puddle. Your daughter was sat on the counter, her tiny hands cupped around her mother's face as she told her even more phrases, it was as if she knew exactly what Natasha needed to hear.

"You are brave," then she paused so her mom could say it back. It continued on, the two in their own world as you watched your wives heart mending in real time.

"You're an Avenger," she spoke with a soft smile that only grew as her mom teasingly groaned the words.

"You're my hero," she beamed, "my super mama."

"Oh wow," she huffed shakily, "I love you so much."

"I love you even more than the Barbie movie mama."

Natasha chuckled, "wow, I must be special." Your daughter innocently nodded and you watched as Nat pulled Arabella up and into a tight hug, one of her arms loosened as she approached you without even looking up, you didn't hesitate to slip into her hold. "My greatest loves, you fit perfectly in my arms..."

The three of you remained in a tight embrace for a total of five minutes before your intuition was proved right. Natasha's stomach roared, then Arabella's followed.

"On the bed, pick a movie while I clean up some."

Natasha handed your daughter the remote then went on her nightly patrol, her hand never too far from a hidden weapon—just in case. Once she knew the lot of you were safe she grabbed the drinks you had left on the counter and returned to join you both in bed.

Arabella happily took the chilled capri sun from her hands then reached into the snack pile for a cookie.

"We are watching Encanto," she cheered and your wife fell into your unoccupied side with a hushed groan. "You and I both know she'll be out in twenty, then you can turn on Moonraker and I can finally sleep."

Natasha pinched your side but you only chuckled, and in about fifteen minutes time you had proved her right.

Your wife watched as your daughter, in the depths of her sleep climbed atop of your body and settled down. It warmed her heart to see the love that your daughter expressed even without the need for consciousness. She pressed a kiss to her cheek then moved to hover her face above your stilled one, waiting for you to bite.

Hook, line and sinker—it only took seven seconds for your eyes to crack open and your lips to perk up. The woman gently kissed your lips and if the both of you didn't desperately need to sleep she'd have continued.

Natasha's kisses lowered, pressing down your jaw until she could feel your racing pulse as she settled her face into the crook of your neck, where she slept the most.

With the tv playing on mute you found yourself drifting off as the flashes of light brought you a weird peace. You were settling into it just fine, "Y/N?" then you were being startled. Your entire body shivered as her rasp tickled the thin skin of your neck, once she kissed you in apology you found it in you to urge her on.

"You are the most beautiful partner I could have ever been blessed with—your love is the atlas of my hope."

"That was a really dramatic way to tell me you love me," you teased, voice grumbly as you fought sleep.

"Goodnight," she groaned and you giggled, "Your love is the atlas of my hope too Natty; I adore you, truly."

The redhead nipped your neck in retaliation but it was a ruse as her hand intertwined with yours atop of your daughter's back, nestled beneath the fluffy blanket.

Healing was a process that Natasha never expected to occur in her lifetime, with the blood in her ledger she always thought she was undeserving. Then there you were, at the ready to wash her hands clean in your personal oasis of understanding and righteousness.

Natalia Romanova was a victim of her circumstances, built only to lay waste to entire regimes, her story however was the greatest one to topple. All because she met a couple of people who saw her heart. Natasha Romanoff was a woman who was painfully reborn, whose entire purpose now lay beside her, at peace.

"I am not a monster," she finally repeated, just after you slipped off to sleep. "I am worthy of this love."

[melrosing]

the thing that annoys me the most about the bullying claim among the stark sisters is that they talk about how much it affects Arya that she thinks she’s ugly and such and like she does, but she’s so much more worried about being “bad” she killed a boy. She’s also going through poverty and war and starving and being introduced to cults/bands of “justice” by murder

but nooooo she totally is more affected by being called horse face despite being compared to SOOOOOO MANY PRETTY PEOPLE AND THAT MEANS SHES GOOD (never mind that good looking=good person should NOT BE YOUR BASIS)

I think most people, and especially girls, know exactly how it feels to worry about your appearance and feel ugly and unattractive, and I get that this is a particular pain for Arya, who apparently has never been called pretty except by her dad one time in AGOT, in an offhanded comparison to her aunt Lyanna. I don't think attractiveness is the most important thing to validate in any child, but I do think that it is good and nice to affirm to your child that they have their own beauty, so that they can then negotiate their relationship with that word from a safer place in adulthood.

It's not about telling your child they don't look a certain way (e.g. no good telling Brienne she's a normal height and her nose is hardly crooked at all), but that the way they look is something unique to them and something they should take pride in, regardless of what others say. Like I think it's an OOC moment in the show, but I think it's sweet when Olenna tells Brienne she looks 'marvellous' or something. She's not saying 'you look like bella hadid', she's saying 'I love the way you look!' to a woman who has received nothing but insults (despite looking like fuckin. Gwendoline Christie lmao). that is nice. it's not the most important compliment anyone can receive, but it embraces divergence as positive.

as it goes though, Arya is a pretty girl and it's just weird that the adults found countless compliments for Sansa and none for Arya. and that's why I find it so bizarre that everyone wants to pin Arya's self-esteem issues on Sansa, a prepubescent child!! like, would Arya have taken these insults so hard if Cat had stepped in and said 'don't listen, you're a lovely girl and your father says you look just like your aunt Lyanna! sansa i am telling you off for calling people names'. children are always going to call each other mean names! it is one thing that is practically guaranteed to happen in any sibling relationship, and anyone who says otherwise is an only child or lying.

but it is much harder for a child to manage that hurt if they're getting called those names, and society seems to be reifying to truth of them at every turn! Septa Mordane is calling her ugly! Cat is calling her a mess! Ned has never complimented her till AGOT! etc! she has never received a compliment before! so how on earth can you say 'and Arya's self-esteem issues can all be traced back to the playground bickering between she and Sansa and Jeyne' when Arya is obviously getting the same message from what seem like far more authoritative sources! is it not worse that those sources are all complimenting Sansa all the time and never Arya? does that not make it worse when Sansa acts like a child about it? like!!

and yeah I agree that there are other more painful insecurities Arya is struggling with. I do think at least part of the reason that this argument keeps coming up in fandom is that people keep trying to claim that Arya's story is similar to Brienne's, in that she IS ugly according to society's standards and that's ok! which isn't true, Arya is canonically a pretty kid with a dirty face and unbrushed hair. that's all it is. so if we could just accept that, there'd be no excuse for the insistence that this is an important aspect of Arya's story.

because it isn't. like im sorry but the ugly duckling means nothing when there are plenty of people who don't grow up to be swans. they get called ugly as children, and they get called ugly as adults. look at Brienne: she has suffered far, far worse prejudice as a result of her appearance in childhood, and she doesn't get the catharsis of growing up pretty to show them all how wrong they were. Brienne has been treated like a fucking monster for how she looks, all of her life. this is a character for whom her appearance IS actually an important theme, and it will be meaningful to see her realise it's a strength, and find love etc. I'm sorry but Arya growing up to be beautiful doesn't mean shit to me lol. I fully accept it's canon, but it is not a meaningful story beat, in a story with people like Tyrion, Brienne and Sam. Arya's story has so many more fascinating themes about identity, trauma, justice, war, friendship and family. if Arya was pretty all along, why should I care?

[linkemon]

You're in the wind, I'm in the water (Dan Heng x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴅᴀɴ ꜰᴇɴɢ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ, ᴅᴀɴ ʜᴇɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴡɪɴᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡɪɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀꜰᴀᴄᴇ, ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ʀᴇꜰʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅᴀɴ ʜᴇɴɢ ᴡʜᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛ ʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴀꜱ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ].

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛꜱ ɪɴ xɪᴀɴᴢʜᴏᴜ ʟᴜᴏꜰᴜ.

ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴘꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ.

Dan Heng felt as if the last few days had passed like a kaleidoscope. A colourful mirage of emotions he didn't want to feel. Events that took all his strength out of him. Memories that weren't his and yet they haunted him like the ghosts of the elders in the Scalegorge Waterscape. 

Only now, sitting by one of the waterfalls, did he get the impression that he finally had a moment of peace, torn away by the clawed claws of an evil fate. The quiet sound of the water was nothing like the voices of the soldiers who had encountered the mara a few days ago. 

It took him a long time to realize a simple fact — he chose a place where HE would come. A typical source of water from which he could draw strength. He smiled bitterly and turned his back. There was no point in running away from here. Even if the beauty surrounding him suddenly turned ugly, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. 

His stay in Xianzhou Luofu turned his life upside down. The past had long legs. He ran as hard as he could but in the end it was faster. It caught him in a place he didn't want to return to. He wished that the wind playing in the branches of the twisted trees would blow away all thoughts from his head. Especially the one he had doubts about. 

[Reader]. She flooded his mind like a wave. He rejected his past. He drew a line between himself and Dan Feng. The title of Imbibitor Lunae was no longer his. He was sure Bailu would do just fine. She kept Luofu safe. He left all the residents in good hands. He told everyone his name was Dan Heng. Many still saw him as a previous incarnation. And even though it hurt like old wounds, he rejected their opinions. The express crew were his family and they didn't care about the sins of who he once was. Only their opinion mattered. At least that's what he thought.

Jing Yuan, although he wasn't like Blade, stuck to his previous name quite stubbornly. At least he was aware that the general was doing it out of habit, not out of pure hatred. Something he couldn't say about the old Yingxing. [Reader] was neither of them. She called him Dan Heng from the very beginning. Sometimes he wondered if they met after all of this, if she would still hold on to it. If she hadn't stood next to Sushang that day and met him first as an archivist, would she still have had reservations? Although he wasn't Dan Feng in her mouth, he was Dan Feng in her eyes. He had seen it in every conversation they had ever had since the truth came out and she managed to recognize him. 

Her eyes traced the pointy ears and followed the emerald horns even when they weren't there. She involuntarily talked about the things that Dan Feng loved. She recalled the times when he was still next to her, becoming embarrassed rather quickly when she realized what she was doing. He would interrupt anyone else who was doing it. This double standard only existed with her and it was eating him from the inside. 

Dan Heng bit his lip. He was like a gust that sometimes met the water. He rushed over the surface and saw his reflection but he was not a lake. What a strange feeling it was to be and not be loved at the same time. [Reader] loved his reflection. He could show it for a short while for her but no matter what he did, he couldn't become water because he was wind. 

It wasn't that he wanted to become Dan Feng. He hated his previous incarnation. Who he was and what he did. His predecessor followed him step by step, reminding him of himself and not letting him be who he wanted. But why did [Reader] have to be in love with him? In that hidden part of himself that he never wanted to become. 

This love was like a sea current. The swift current seemed to carry him away without any hope. And maybe because it resembled water, he wondered if it was his feelings, or maybe the remnants of the attachment of a former self that he had tried so hard to let go of. After all, they had known each other for such a short time, and he, as he deeply wanted to believe, was not a man who would give his feelings to anyone he came across. On the other hand, March immediately noticed that he was in love and said it was obvious. So maybe it was him after all? 

Dan Heng from [Reader] didn't sound like Dan Feng. Even if it was hiding behind it. Maybe he could pretend to be like him? He turned back towards the waterfall and looked at his reflection. Ripples in the water obscured his vision.

He wouldn't. He didn't want to be him. Never. Even for her. 

So maybe she could pretend? After all, he looked similar and had a fraction of his former power... 

He shook his head. Not at this price. Neither of them would be happy. 

At least he had memories. Even if they weren't his. Glimmers of light amidst the dark void of forgotten days. Sometimes they came back involuntarily. He hated the echo of Dan Feng's laughter, even though he felt like the joy was his own, but he loved [Reader's] laughter. Her silhouette looming somewhere under his eyelids. The same one that came back to him when they sat on the stairs after sunset after a hard day's work. The warmth of her lips, once so close, now within reach but at the same time eons away. How easy it was to lose himself in this old reality that was not his own. In that which interspersed his nightmares with sweet peace.

But these were stories of bygone days from several hundred years ago and he had to constantly remind himself that they did not belong to him. 

The sound of familiar footsteps sounded on the path. The wind brought the sound of trampled leaves. He didn't need to turn around to know who was standing there. Of course she figured out where to look for him. This was the place HE would came to. 

— Dan Feng. 

This was the first time something like this had happened. Until now, she had always been careful not to use his pre-reincarnation name. 

Maybe it was the sight of him surrounded by a familiar waterfall. Or one of the memories gnawed by the teeth of time, which now came to life in her eyes. He couldn't find it among the dark depths of his memory. If it existed, it belonged only to her. It was probably even better that way. This made "Dan Heng, not Dan Feng " easier to leave his mouth.

He wasn't ready for the regret that appeared on [Reader's] face. Nor for a tear that gathered in the corner of the eye, only to quickly disappear under a hard-blinking eyelid in confusion. However, he did not expect the feelings that spread around his heart even more. Jealousy, sadness and nostalgia of days gone by. He never found out if they really belonged to him. They were floating somewhere on the transparent surface of water, touched by the gust of wind.

[resolutepath]

' so, master diluc... i have a question for you. '

the leftover of his death after noon swirl lazily in the glass, the smile on Kaeya's face nothing but faux innocence: it's an expression they both know well. that pale diamond is nothing short of playfully insolent.

the way his lips curl in that innocent face of is gives away the game almost immediately.

' who's this gentleman, ah... ' he pretends to not remember, still smiling. ' very distinguished, very elegant- from liyue, if i remember correctly... '

he throws the bait, and, metaphorically, it bounces on diluc's head.

' something something- zhongli? '

That tone that slips from Kaeya ought to be accompanied with bells of warning, for it is a signal of danger, the sign that something is going to be said that he will not like for its encroach onto his personal business. It is one he remembers well from their childhood, spoken even after the tenth attempt at hiding his journal from the prying, curious gaze of his cunning brother.

And then the penny drops as the one name he has not shared, the name he has held fiercely close to his chest, is thrown out into the conversation.

Crimson gaze narrows and arms fold across chest in a eratz anger, more indignant than heated, the ferocity born in his own need to keep his cards close than any real offence.

"When did you get into my journals...?" he asks, the again lingering on his tongue, in his tone, the way he seems to huff at the end of the sentence. For a moment it strikes him that this feels like they are boys again and the weight of that year is not pressed upon their shoulders, for how can they be holding onto it with such a petty exchange. He is glad to indulge in it.

"Zhongli is... someone I have met." It's not a lie persay, but it omits a great deal of the truth at the same time. "You don't need to know any more of that." Already he realises that by denying Kaeya the answers he is inviting him to investigate further, or at least read more information from the journal to answer the questions alone. "Do you want another drink..?" A topic change if there ever was one, but it was worth a shot.

[argentiluver]

“Chu-Chu!” || Jealous! Chuuya Nakahara x G/N Reader - Bungou Stray Dogs

Warnings: Just some mild swearing (it’s literally chuuya), that’s pretty much it.

Chuuya grit his teeth as he watches you hug a plushie of him tightly, completely forgetting about his presence for the 5th time today. He already felt like ripping that stupid stuffed toy apart and throwing it out the window.

How dare that thing take his rightful place…? It should be HIM you’re hugging, not some damn plushie!

You were only sitting beside him with the Chuuya plushie held close to your chest, causing the actual Chuuya to narrow his blue eyes at the thing that was stealing your attention away from him.

You wouldn’t pay Chuuya any mind or attention the entire night due to your consistent coddling towards the plushie as you held it close to your chest.

“Goddammit, when are they going to throw that toy away already…?” He thought to himself with an almost envious scowl, glaring at the plushie in your arms.

Chuuya hated to admit it, but he was jealous...Jealous that stupid plushie of him you sewed got more attention from you than you give him him. You barely paid him any mind, only paying attention to the cute plushie instead, and it infuriated him.

The plushie even looked exactly like him. The orange hair, the grey tux, the fedora hat, the coat, it just looked more cotton-like and small.

Well...Small-er.

Chuuya remained quiet and took another sip of his cold drink. His gaze fixated on you until he finally clicked his tongue in frustration and slammed his drink down quite angrily.

“I'll tear that thing to shreds, maybe they'll finally acknowledge my damn existence..." He mumbled to himself with a scowl, voice low enough for you not to hear him.

Before you could even react, Chuuya abruptly snatched the plushie from your arms, glaring down at the thing that was slowly poisoning your mind.

You gasped, startled by the sudden snatch and spun your head towards the source, only to see your boyfriend holding the plushie in his grasp tightly, "Chu-Chu!" You cried dramatically, trying to grab it yet Chuuya held it far away for you not to touch it.

"Chu-Chu...?" Chuuya repeated in disbelief with a glare sent to you. He slowly raised his free hand, the other holding the plushie securely, and pointed it at you, then he started to speak up again in a harsh tone.

"You've got some nerve..." He began with a cold stare, "You don't even speak to me at all. But when it comes to this ugly piece of cotton, you're willing to yell it's name out loud?! Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?!"

"It's not ugly, Chuuya! It's cute!" You gasped dramatically at your boyfriend, offended by his words as you continued to try and grab the plushie that just had a small, unwavering smile on it's face.

"It's hideous!"

"IT'S ADORABLE!"

Chuuya lowered down the hand holding the plushie, turning the other way while rubbing the bridge of his nose with an exhale leaving him.

"And what about me?" He then asked with a frown, turning to face you, "Am I not handsome? Do I not deserve your acknowledgment? Do you know how stupid it is when you give a goddamn toy more affection then you give me?"

You were clearly taken aback by his words as your brows furrowed and your hand dropped onto your lap.

"What are you—" You cut yourself off suddenly as a smirk slowly spread across your face, "Are you jealous...Of a plushie, Chuuya...?"

Chuuya stiffened at your words, a blush creeping on his cheeks, and he went silent for a moment before he looked back at you with narrowed eyes. He was thinking on whether to tell the truth or not, but he had already said too much.

"Yeah? So what?" He glared, holding the plushie in his lap with a firm grip, "You've been paying more attention to a sack of cotton more than you have been me! Of course I'm upset!" Despite how defensive he's being, he still looked pretty embarrassed and even tried to not make eye-contact with you.

You only laughed, throwing your head back against your chair, causing Chuuya to grumble.

“You're seriously jealous over Chu-Chu?” You snickered, trying to contain your laughter.

"Quit calling it Chu-Chu like it's a human being!" Chuuya demands, slamming his hands on the table, dropping Chu-Chu in the process to which you quickly caught with your foot and bounced it back up in your lap.

You finally stopped laughing, but your grin was still visible on your face as you fixed your position in your seat. You couldn’t believe this was the same Port Mafia executive who would kill someone heartlessly with cold blood, “Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'll put Chu-Chu to the side, then we can cuddle and you can have all the affection you deserved!" You grinned wider and put Chu-Chu on the table in-front of the red lounge sofa, spreading your arms out for him to enter.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes skeptically as he stared at your open arms, he was still annoyed but you knew he couldn't say no either. He slowly approached you, not saying a word and he eventually sat on your lap and wrapped his arms around you.

"I don't know how I got such a ridiculous lover." He said as he buried his face on your shoulder, "You can be such an idiot sometimes...Yet, I can't stop loving you."

The fact he was calling you ridiculous despite getting jealous over a plushie, and was only calmed down by cuddles was pretty ironic, but you decided not to say anything.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too..." You instead giggled, leaning your head against his and holding him closer. Chuuya smiled lightly against your shoulder at your words, a light blush spreading over his cheeks which you didn’t seem to notice.

The two stayed silent for awhile as they laid in each-other's arms peacefully before you suddenly broke it.

"Can Chu-Chu cuddle with us?” You asked sweetly, blinking your eyes in an innocent matter.

Chuuya was about to object, but sighed and glanced at the plushie for a moment before he looked back at you as if you were a child asking for a toy.

"Alright, the toy can join us," He said grumpily, "for now..." He added which came out as a mumble.

You grinned and reached over to grab Chu-Chu, placing him in between you and Chuuya before going back to cuddling with him.

After a few more minutes, Chuuya could hear your soft breathing and snores against his chest, and he took that as his chance to kick the plushie off the couch and away from them.

He held his leg up and swiftly kicked it directly where it’s face was located, causing the plushie to collapse on the ground with a soft thud!

A triumphant smirk spread across Chuuya’s face as he watched Chu-Chu lay flat on the ground like a starfish, the smile still on it’s face.

“Serves you right, little bastard…”

Live laugh love Chu-Chu, he does no wrong 🫶🫶 and I made this while my cat was laying in-between my legs, BUT HE WON’T MOVE AND I’LL FEEL TOO BAD IF I GET UP 😭😭

the chuuya plushie in question:

saw this plushie on ebay and I immediately thought of making this

[catboymoments]

Me: Asks you to educate yourself, providing easy access to videos that, turns out, directly address the issues that make you dislike vivziepop and provide more context than tumblr and twitter hate threads ever do

You responded to that quickly I know you didn't bother watching. Bruh. I told you a lot of the hate around Vivziepop isn't valid and you don't check it out? See if any of your concerns fell under the one video I directly recommended?? The creator had timestamps too.

Going to the video would have told you the one nazi oc was from eight years ago. And it wasn't even hers! The Vivziepop drama playlist goes in depth about the updates concerning the people Vivziepop has worked with. Which SEVERAL people that worked with her came out to defend her and provide their experiences

You'd find out if you had just watched the videos, the proof, that people love to hate on Vivizie for clout and to farm likes and attention. They take screenshots out of context, go on tangents without proof, etc.

And expect you to believe them.

SO I'll do this one more time to address what specifically you said you disliked about Vivzie.

This playlist has all the videos I will talk about and more. So, if you know of any other drama and controversy surrounding Vivziepop you should probably consult that before forming your opinion: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOWIXPh0p7CzgQoUIl7rqd8oz2Ym6V9XY&si=lhDApDPhX5sWyTHA

Again, it can be found by typing into the Youtube search bar, "ayy lmao vivziepop drama"

You'll find their playlist "Vivziepop Drama Playlist" right there or even just going to the youtube channel "Ayy Lmao" and looking through the playlists.

Specifically addressing what makes you dislike Vivziepop:

The one Nazi oc, the only one to exist, is discussed in "Why everyone hates Vivziepop" at 20:07 and in "The Truth Behind Vivziepop" at 5:07 The latter has more information on that and it only takes TWO MINUTES to watch! With screenshots and proof and everything.

If you heard somewhere that there were multiple, did where you heard that have a source? To, y'know, back up the claim? If you can find it that would be lovely otherwise that is just an allegation either someone told you or you are misremembering.

The drama concerning their workplace goes mainly from the beginning of the playlist to "Vivziepop Erin Frost Drama Round 3"

Multiple artists and people that worked with Vivziepop come out in support of Vivziepop and debunk claims made by others in "Helluva boss employees debunk Vivziepop allegations (Vivziepop drama Part 4)"

I'm not sure what you are referring to when you say "the way she treats her friends" and since you haven't provided any sort of source I can only guess that you may be thinking about the ugly situation covered in "Vivziepop Spindlehorse Drama Explained"

I can already tell by the amount of people responding to the first ask I sent that you have a platform, at least a larger audience compared to the average user. If you have problems with x y and z thing about Vivziepop, provide links and proof to what concerns you in the future.

If you don't remember or can't find that proof. Watch the videos. That simple. Put it on in the background, educate yourself, before you spread any more misinformation. Please.

Then form your opinion. It's a lot and I know it is a lot but you need to know this before jumping on the bandwagon of canceling someone. Especially if you have a large audience.

Vivziepop drama and hatedom is so exhausting you wouldn't BELIEVE IT. People are constantly spewing hate without providing PROOF. THEY'RE ALLEGATIONS! Even with "proof" most are out of context and bad faith. There is a motive to lie about someone as well known as Vivziepop

I'm not asking you to like her I'm asking you to educate yourself before repeating what you've heard and provide sources to back them up.

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 44: Birthright

Summary: Loki wrestles with an old insecurity

Word Count: 1,724

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Loki's fingers trailed over your bare thigh then paused to gently squeeze the soft flesh. You wore a lazy smile as Loki lay stretched next to you, until you suddenly winced and gasped. You cried out in pain and flinched away. Startled, Loki sat up quickly, trying to find the source of your distress. He looked down at his hand. It was blue. Your skin where he touched you was burned. "Darling, I-" he looked to your face. It was twisted in fear. You were afraid of him.

Loki woke in his bed. His bed. He was alone. It had been one of the rare nights he didn't stay with you, and for once he was grateful. He shut his eyes and tried to push the dream away. It was hard to forget the fear in your eyes. He glanced out the window. It was early morning. He might as well get up.

While his tea steeped Loki wallowed in his shame. He had never told you what he was. He should have made it known. It felt deceitful. Norns, he had taken you to bed without telling you what he was. You certainly deserved better than that.

Thor came down the stairs and found Loki still at the table, now with a cold cup of tea. They passed their normal morning greetings and Loki watched his brother rifle through their cabinets for breakfast.

"Thor, I need to ask you something." "Yes?" Thor did not look up from the cereal he was pouring. "How did you react, when you found out about my true heritage?" Thor chuckled. "To tell you the truth, I was much more distraught over your recent death." Loki sighed. "Yes, certainly, but aside from that?" Thor looked over at Loki. "Why do you ask?"

Loki looked at Thor and there was only silence. Thor's shoulders slumped. "Oh, Loki." He sighed. "I know." Thor's brow twisted in confusion. "How is it even possible, after all this time?" Loki shrugged. "It simply never came up." Thor shot him a skeptical look. "Perhaps I guided our conversations away from certain topics." Loki muttered and fiddled with his idle tea.

Thor stood pensive for a moment. "Don't worry yourself over it." "I lied to her." Thor scoffed. "You didn't. And besides, are you not the God of Lies? I imagine she is willing to forgive some dishonesty." Loki glowered at the table. "I should have told her what I am." "She knows what you are. It's your lineage she's made some assumptions about." Thor stated firmly as he sat down across from Loki. "To answer your question, it didn't change the way I thought of you. It changed the way I thought of the Jötnar." He took a bite of his breakfast. "Though it did shed some light on a few of your actions." Loki couldn't bring himself to look at his brother. The wasted tea held his attention instead. "I think, perhaps, you should see her this morning. I can do without you for a few hours." Loki's heart wrenched at the thought of facing you with this. However, he recognized he couldn't avoid it. You should have known already. "I think that's wise."

**

As Loki trudged down the road to your home he tried to identify exactly how he was feeling. He knew, deep down beneath everything else, that you would love him regardless. Somehow that made it worse. You wouldn't have the context to understand what he had kept from you. He wouldn't be able to explain how despicable it was, and you would dismiss it like was nothing.

Despite knowing logically that you would still have him, there was still a part of him that feared you wouldn't. He remembered your terror from his dream. A small, ugly voice in his mind said you would be right to fear him. He deserved to lose you. He never deserved to have you in the first place.

He stood on your porch and hesitated for a moment at the door. He took a breath then stepped inside. You startled on the couch, but your surprise quickly gave way to a smile.

"Loki?" You set your coffee down and stood. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you until dinner." He kept his distance and avoided your touch. "I needed to speak with you." Worry crossed your face. "Okay." He gestured to the couch and you took your seat. After a moment of deliberation he sat beside you. "I haven't told you everything about myself." "Well, that's a relief. I haven't told you everything about myself either." You attempted a weak smile. Loki shook his head. "This is something important." His voice stalled out. He suddenly wasn't sure where to begin. "I think you should just tell me." You said quietly.

He nodded and pushed forward. "Do you recall, I told you of the time I fell from Asgard, into the abyss?" You nodded. He looked down. "My fall, I didn't- it was... intentional." Your face fell and your hands reached out, grasping him, as if you could catch him now. You dear creature. "It's alright, it's alright." He took your hands as you clung to him. You started to say something but he shook his head. "The reason is what I need to tell you." He found himself looking down at your hands, turning them over in his. "There were many reasons, I suppose. But I had traveled down a sort of spiral into madness. This spiral was triggered, largely, by a revelation about my heritage." He met your eyes. "I am not Asgardian." Your brows were knitted as you processed this. "So... Thor?" "We are not brothers by blood. Odin found me, abandoned as an infant and raised me as his son. I was born on Jötunheim." He swallowed. "I am Jötunn." "Oh." You ruminated on this for a moment. "Okay."

He looked down again. "I should have told you sooner." "Hey, it's fine." You bent in an attempt to meet his line of sight. "It's really okay. I came to terms with having feelings for an alien a long time ago. It's really not much of an adjustment to switch from one alien to another." He looked away. "You don't understand. The Jötnar, they are savage. Enemies of Asgard. The monster in every children's story." You grabbed his face and forced him to look your way. "You are not a monster." "I tried to kill them." He was surprised by the weakness in his voice. "I meant to destroy the entire race. I would have, if Thor hadn't stopped me. Is that not something a monster would do?" He expected to receive your disgust. Possibly your fear or your anger. Instead your face bent in sympathy. "Destroy the enemy of Asgard? It sounds like something an Asgardian would do."

Loki closed his eyes. You settled back against the couch, pulling him with you. "Obviously the stories are wrong, Loki. You bought into the propaganda. I'd expect more from a god of lies." He allowed you to bring his head to rest against yours, against the back of the couch. "Your clemency is too easily granted. This should have ended with you sending me away." "Loki, the first time I saw your face was on television, attempting to subjugate my planet." "All the more reason." "Hm." He rested with you in silence, your fingers stroking his hair.

You eventually ventured a question. "I didn't think Jötuns looked like Asgardians." Loki winced. "They don't. What you see is shape-shifted. This isn't the form I was born to. There was another beat of silence. "Can I see?" This was something he had hoped to avoid, but he certainly couldn't deny you. "You may not look at me the same way." "Don't be ridiculous." He sighed and sat up, facing you. "I did warn you." You straightened and watched him with anticipation.

He closed his eyes and felt his form shift. He didn't hear you respond, and eventually found the courage to look at you, with eyes he knew were now blood red.

You were looking at him with wonder, and reached out to trace a raised line on his cheek. "It's a lovely shade." "It's hideous." He muttered. You pursed your lips. "Loki, I think you might be racist." "If it weren't for my magic," he spoke sadly, the memory of his dream resurfacing, "my touch would burn you with cold." You took his hand and brought it to your lips, placing a kiss to his fingertips with a slight smile. "Then I'm very grateful for your magic." He found the sight of his blue skin against yours unsettling, and shifted back to his usual shape. "How can you be so unfazed by all of this?" "Oh, I'm fazed, for sure. We definitely have a lot to talk about. But like I said, I had already come to terms with the alien thing. I assumed there would be a few surprises."

That sounded reasonable enough, even if part of him still struggled to believe it. He leaned back, and this time you followed him until the both of you were reclined on the couch. He threw an arm around you and sighed. "It is unreasonable to be this tired so early in the day." He looked down at you. "Do you have work to do?" "It can wait. What about you?" "It can wait." He echoed.

You settled in against him. "So, you're only a prince by adoption?" A smirk curled his lip, despite himself. "Actually, I'm the rightful king of Jötunheim." "Oh, that's great news." He heard the smile creep into your voice. "I thought I would have to kill Thor to become a queen." That drew a chuckle from him, and he could sense you were pleased with yourself for it.

He looked up at your ceiling and his mind swam. You had given him a lot to think about. His concentration was pulled away by your fingers toying with a strand of his hair. It drew his focus to you instead. You were still his. He felt a deep gratitude for your reassuring weight against him. There were things that needed to be addressed, without question. Deep-seated beliefs. Ideas of who he was.

They could wait.

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[tendergraphite]

Stripping Back Richards Perspective—The Macaulay Twins

When observing the twins, context is vital. Remember ‘’The Secret History’’ Is a confessional biography written by a murderer who excludes incriminating details. Richard is a storyteller at heart, he will choose folly over fact always. This is all to say, we cannot trust his opinions of the twins—Neither his demonization nor sexualization.

Richard views the world under the lens that beauty, leads to love. That his birthplace, ugly and tainted, has doomed him to a lonely existence. Because he’s been deprived his whole life, he only knows what makes a member of society earn adoration (Status, money, intellect, etc.)

To put it bluntly: A man who’s never tasted water before, will walk right past it when parched—Opting to instead drink the blood of dear, as they’d seen the hunters do.

To Richard, touching greatness (The twins) is to be divine—To be worthy of affection. It's why he bolsters the twins impossibly high; he’s artificially made himself feel worthy of love. In doing so, he's removed all human flaw from these individuals.

Charles Isn't A Violent Dog

During the river scene, we gain insight into the twins true dynamic. Camilla, immobile on the warm grass, asks Charles to pull the trapped glass from her foot. But he is incapable, growing sick and faint at the prospect. In the end, Henry out of frustration pushes him to the side, and pulls the shard out himself.

This speaks for two things—That Charles cannot hurt Camilla physically, but also that he cannot help her when she is in pain.

''But how,'' said Charles, who was close to tears, ''how could you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?''

Henry lit a cigarette. “I prefer to think of it,” he had said, “as redistribution of matter.”

Charles isn’t possessive. Francis framing him that way is purely due to his own denial of his abuse. When Francis attempted to kiss Camilla, she was drunk… A direct mirror of how he’d been assaulted by him already.

And in the later half of the book, Charles ‘’true colours’’ aren’t suddenly getting highlighted, he’s just reached his breaking point.

His mental break wasn't because Camilla pulled away, but because of the overwhelming guilt the murder left him with. Charles had consistently attempted to prevent that murder.

During the ravine scene, he’s the one asking to go home. And when that does not work, he says he’s hungry, because he’s desperate for an excuse to leave that won’t provoke anyone.

At every opportunity, Charles concerns are swiped under the rug and left to collect dust. Who’s forced to be complicit in a murder? Who’s then used for his soft-hearted nature to consol said murdered persons distraught family members?

Like Bunny knew Henry had been planning on murdering him, Charles had known too: Now what did both react with? Fear hidden beneath aggression; Charles never brought that gun because he was mad with jealousy, he brought it because he'd finally buckled under the pressure.

The Truth: Their History & Relationship

What gets pushed aside, is that the twins are orphans. This is due to Richard, who assumed others had stepped in to fill the gaps that the loss of their parents would’ve created…

Well in reality, their parents died violently in a car accident. Their old-fashioned religious grandparents, who hadn’t expected to fill the role of parents again, had a societal expectation to raise the twins.

No matter how that is framed, it is traumatic for all parties involved.

The twins would’ve had no one in a world where you’re expected to get on and move on in the face of tragedy. This meant when Charles was sexually assaulted by a paster, he had no one to speak to or support him through it—Except Camilla.

Oh what? Ah yes, he was assaulted. How do I know this? Well Bunny, who Tartt establishes as being a reliable source to reveal others secrets. He’s the budgie squawking in warning as the group descends closer and closer into madness, and once he was silenced, they were already doomed.

Bunny is a lot smarter than we give him credit for. We’re misdirected in the beginning that he hadn’t know about the murder. It was an accident that he kept picking… But no, he knew the group likely had killed someone as soon as they’d walked in covered in blood.

That is all to say, when he stopped lying for the group [read more about that here. Seriously, he hates that group so much apart from Henry and Richard.] He specifically began discussing sexual scenarios to do with the church when it came to Charles.

It is in my belief Charles was assaulted, and his trauma response had been to become intimate with his own sister. Do I think it originally was consensual? What, no?! Fuck no. They were both children and didn’t know what was happening to either of them.

I doubt Charles realised what he was doing was wrong, and even as he grew older, he still hadn’t. Camilla however, had broken.

As for the "your fucking my sister" scene... Charles assumed it was to get back at him. Once again, it wasn't possessiveness.

Camilla Has A Perspective

Camilla is co-dependent on Charles, but that is because she's been left with no other choice. Hampton isn't where rich prestigious students go, but the failing destitute youth who have nowhere else to turn. It's why Julian is a teacher there, it's all under the table and hush hush.

Further proof the twins were abused/isolated is the simple fact their Julian's students. He only goes for the insecure who will take in whatever he spews. (Wouldn't surprise me if he regretted taking Bunny on as a student due to that, so took Richard on to give Bunny the eventual boot.)

That's all to say, Camilla is bound to Charles and their poverty. Which meant she couldn't move out. She was trapped with Charles, and up until Henry hadn't had someone she trusted to turn to.

She reflected Henry in that sense, who hadn't had friends and was trapped with his abuser too. Her relationship with him would've been the first she had with anyone without sex being expected.

Once Charles alcoholism reached its peak, and Camilla couldn’t fathom why, she’d rejected him. Remember the broken mirror and glass in the fireplace? That likely had happened because she’d said no.

Camilla had loved Charles, it's why despite trying to get away from him she still worried so much about him (And not Henry, who clearly had been devastated and had cried over Julian's absence—No instead she asked about Charles.) But a trauma bond can only go so far, and Charles had begun to use her as an outlet to an extent she couldn't bear.

So, she lied.

Henry as I’ve discussed, is an abuse victim. So she’d faked physical wounds on herself, and asked for his help. Now, why couldn’t she have just said she was being assaulted? Because no one cared. The whole class knew, and when Richard found out, Francis and himself lamented how they were jealous and wished they had a sister to abuse too. Even Bunny brushed of the act as simple deviancy on the twins part.

When she asked Richard why he didn't believe her, she was frustrated. Which came off as "I want attention, believe me. I want things my way" but really was "when will it ever be enough?"

Richard knew Camilla was lying, it was all in how she diverted the conversation and refused to be direct. All in that moment, as the sun shun on her just as it had in Julians classroom, his belief he could be loved through being caressed by her light, shattered.

Final Thoughts & My Fairwell

Camilla was trapped in an environment she couldn't escape from, and Charles was powerless to help her because he was the glass in her morning coffee. She did care about her brother, but too much had happened between the two of them for their relationship to be able to thrive again.

I know on the first read through it's devastating that they are strangers to one another now, but truly it was for the best.

Now, onto my final notes.

To be honest, the topic of incest was a poor choice for this book. It’s clear on reflection that it was there to create more depth, and to showcase how evil Richard is. But the audience doesn’t pick up on it, I’ve seen takes comparing it to things the Greeks/Greek gods have done and it’s grim.

At the same time, I understand you can’t control your audience. I’ve made many pieces of art only for them to be entirely misunderstood due to my own shortcomings. As an artist, you can’t guess what your readers will take away, and this book admittedly is old so has lost some of its historical contexts.

On the other hand, as a writer you can depict bad people whilst showing their perspectives are wrong. So, I’m not fully letting Donna Tartt of the hook for that one.

For those of you who’ve been reading my long (and old, wow so old-) posts, thank you. I see your likes, I see your reblogs, and I genuinely am grateful so many of you on Tumblr have taken the time to read my posts. Originally, I only wrote them because I was gathering my own thoughts—which I still do—and hadn’t expected any feedback whatsoever.

This community, although has offered many horrors, has given me so much confidence. I’m dyslexic, and never thought I’d be able to write as well as I do now. These posts have helped me with my disabilities so much, and I’m so glad I decided to be silly and write an insane theory about Richard actually being the one to push Bunny, and a bigger thought peace on proof that the Moutian Lion theory is indeed true.

I’m not ditching this account or anything, my posts just won’t be about TSH, but other media such as comics, tv shows, other books… You get the gist.

Sorry this post is rambly, I had to cut down a lot and got too exhausted past a certain point, hopefully my points aren't too hard to follow. Once again, thank you all for reading. Have a good one o7