#though it still made me feel things. does it make sense??

[ihavenocluewhatiwanttobecalled]

"Cis allyship that extends only as far as saying trans people are who they say they are does not make room in its thinking for actual trans experiences because they are not 1:1 with cis experiences does not actually, materially, help trans people."

Precisely, but I think you didn't touch on another important point.

The fact you chose not to touch on this point is 100% understandable, though! It deserves its own paragraph! What a lot of cisgender people see as the "cisgender experience" is often only their own experiences as a cisgender person, which means they often fail to account for the nature of intersectionality. This failure to account for intersectionality, though, is understandable. Intersectionality is simple in concept, but to actually put it in practice with your thinking can be difficult, or at least it was a bit difficult for me. I'm sure I still struggle with it. For instance, the "cis experience" varies wildly due to the fact that factors such as ethnicity, gender, wealth, sexuality, religion, being perisex vs. intersex, age, able-bodiedness, neurotype, and more I'm probably forgetting may create a very different experience. The "cis experience" for a black man is very different from the "cis experience" for a white man, which is very different from the "cis experience" for a black woman and the "cis experience" for a white woman, just as examples. I think that a lot of the time, when cis people think of the "cis experience," they think of the most privileged (or at least, one of the most privileged) versions of the "cis experience," which is not always the case. Just as an example: I am a perisex, cisgender, mostly-heterosexual, autistic, atheist white man. Because I'm not fully heterosexual, I'm autistic, and I'm an atheist, my experience isn't as privileged as a lot of people who aren't those things (Though I am absolutely more privileged than a lot of people. I'm definitely more privileged than I would be if I were not white and if I were not cisgender. I'm just using myself as an example) Anyway, hope my rant made sense. If you have any questions or constructive critiques, please feel free to reblog with them phrased as clearly and politely as you can manage.

Getting mad, as a trans man, that a woman sees you as a man is. Really really funny I'm so sorry. Like yeah she was saying some transphobic garbage but if you're so mad about being perceived as a man after apparently being frustrated that you're never seen as a man, ever, for your whole life, then maybe you've got some stuff to work on LOL...

I am not mad at a Cis Woman for gendering me correctly I am mad at a Cis Woman for refusing to acknowledge how a Trans man, especially a very much non passing Trans man, might have different experiences to Cis men in terms of how they are treated.

I was frustrated at being spoken to like I was de-facto ignorant of misogyny existing despite being subject to it daily because this Cis woman was so deeply fixated on gender essentialism she couldn't process how any man could possibly experience what she had decided were exclusively woman-issues. Including a man who she took 40 fucking minutes to stop calling a woman.

Shockingly, random people "affirming my gender" is not the soul point of my existence and does not magically erase either the years of often violent misogyny I faced for being perceived as an "incorrect woman", or the continued threat of violent misogyny I face from still being perceived as an "incorrect woman." Sure it's nice when cis people bother to remember that I'm not just a delusional freak girl that thinks it's male, but that doesn't give me a 1:1 identical life to a Cis Man.

Cis allyship that extends only as far as saying trans people are who they say they are and does not make room in its thinking for actual trans experiences because they are not 1:1 with cis experiences does not actually, materially, help trans people.

There. Does that explain it? I highlighted the words I think you're struggling with, anon.

[omniphilic]

WAIT MARK ACCIDENTALLY KNOCKING YOU UP???, (from the last bit of the other ask) I just got to know how that would play out because omg 😭😭😭

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀18+ content below / MDNI tw: pregnancy stuff, baby stuff, medical intervention (it's reader's choice), angst ig?? but also a little fluffy

You see, if you were the responsible, reasonable, rational individual you should have been, you wouldn’t have let this boy in your bed in the first damn place.

But you did. And at first, you had sense. As much as you can have granted, you are fucking around with your daughter’s boyfriend.

Rule number one: Condoms always. If he's not wrapping, he's not tapping.

Rule number two: He can't linger afterward for too long. He needs to be gone before Amber is even thinking about coming home, and if he's planning to spend time with her then he's not supposed to be thinking about you.

Rule number three: No kissing.

"What?" He said to you, the exasperation on him audacious. "What do you mean no kissing? That's like, the best part?" He's crawling atop you as if he's the kind of boy that breaks rules and you have to be firm, place your hand on his chest and give him the spray bottle.

"No Mark," you shake your head and the boy wilts. "It's too personal. I don't need you falling in love with me or some nonsense like that." It's already too late for that, but he doesn't correct you. "We're already," he gesticulates, finger-in-hole, "You know? That seems plenty personal to me already, so what's a little kiss?" He says with that lilt he does when he's trying to convince you, his finger tucked under your chin to lift. "C'mon," he goads, lips puckered as he leans into you. "Just humor me?" You're not laughing as you place a finger over his lips and push him back. "Aww... not even a little one?" You scoff.

"There are other lips you could be kissing right now." He shrugs in concession. "You right." And between your thighs he goes.

He always was great at wearing you down though, he got into your bed after all.

Mark Grayson breaks your rules because as it turns out he’s not a very good boy at all. He weakens your defenses—warming you up to the idea, he lies—undressing you, starting from the bottom and going up.

He hides orgasms behind paywalls, if you really want to cum as bad as you mewl, then you'll give him a kiss right? It's like a reward, he persuades, for all his hard work. If he’s making you feel sooo good, show him how good, as if your crossed eyes and his fucked up back don't speak for themselves. You want to rationalize it's just "whatever" when you two are tongue kissing on the bed; considering you've already fucked him, which now makes sense in a way it never had before. Your reservations turned to hoops and hurdles, mere obstacles in your race to completion. It doesn't help that Mark comes pre-equipped with justifications as well, ever eager to whittle your boundaries away with those soft brown puppy-dog eyes.

He starts being messy with his entrances and exits. He can start the day in Amber's arms but still somehow in your bed at night, holding you still as the post-orgasm exhaustion sets in, eyelids and limbs leadened, skin tacky with sweat and... other things.

So eventually, it makes sense that you stick your hand up when he pulls out the dreaded condom, waving it away.

"Just put it in, Mark."

And what kind of man would he be if he didn't oblige?

(Assuming you don't have your tubes tied.)

Arguably letting that boy into your bed was the dumbest decision you've ever made in your life. The second was letting him hit it raw. In most cases birth control would have all your bases covered. But this is not one such instance.

You don't know he's a Viltrumite. Which probably needn't be disclosed if you two maintained a more appropriate relationship with the other--but I digress.

You guys haven't seen each other since you've last had sex, and that was about... four weeks ago. Your birth control has been effective with other partners, so you didn't anticipate any issues. Couldn't have, in your stubborn mind, because it was easier to evade the guilt by not thinking about it; however, it is much harder to brush off when you feel that telltale rise of bile in your throat some early morning, a dizzying nausea gripping your stomach and pulling your heart down into it.

Clearblue, Pregnate and Nautilus all come out positive and by the end of it you're sitting on the toilet, wiping hysterical tears from the corners of your eyes as you're frantically flipping through contacts, trying to call Mark. You hesitate. Should you even? He's too young to be a father and he's still dating your daughter. Maybe it's better if he just doesn't know.

If You Tell Him, but you're not keeping it:

He's appalled, ecstatic and terrified all at once. He's fully prepared to commit to supporting you (in whatever ways he can) too, which is what concerned you the most. He doesn't have the time to spare to care for a kid, and you weren't exactly looking to give Amber a sibling at any point. So, you do the reasonable, actionable thing, and terminate the pregnancy.

Mark is devastated in a way he never expected to be. So are you, in a way. You wonder what could have been, almost, then dash the thought.

You're doing the smart, actionable thing. You tell yourself that whenever you feel your stomach turn, the hormones fogging up your reality, forcing tears to your eyes.

You probably stop seeing each other around that time. You realize sneaking around isn't worth the headache or heart attack. Mark is upset about it reflexively, but you drew your line in the sand, and he'd be one to respect that. If you don't tell him, you still break it off anyway.

You Get Pregnant and Keep It:

Maybe it's a bad case of baby fever that seduced you into your second bout with motherhood. Whatever the case may be, Amber is gonna have a baby sister soon! She's excited at first. Then grossed out. "...ewwwww, Mom..."

"Listen, you asked about my belly bump first. As far as I'm concerned, this TMI is all your fault."

Mark is just as frightened as he is aroused by the idea. He likes the way you look laid up and relaxed, how you're a little more helpless, crawling all over him for things. He thinks it's cute when you're needy.

You get really horny, too. It's really fun for you though, cause as bad of a boy that Mark Grayson is, he's at least a gentleman.

He'd visit more often, though his behavior/attitude towards the pregnancy changes depending on how he learns about it. Amber's attitude about little sibling changes depending on who the parent looks like.

What if you don't tell him, but the child looks like him completely? You had a hookup, and maybe it just sort of happened on accident. Or that's what you say, whether you're telling the truth or a lie is for you to know.

But you gave birth to a twin. From his cute brown eyes, to his nose, to the jet-black hair. They even have the same beauty marks. Amber keeps giving her odd looks in the crib. She seemed so familiar, but Amber could never quite place it.

But she's showing her off to whoever she can find, posts about it on her socials. Mark goes to see the baby in person as soon as he can and... he knows that's his kid.

It kind of makes him feel odd, like he's gone back in time and plopped himself in this crib. He feels like he should be panicking, sweating shaking, crying. But he just... holds her.

It's not going to be easy, but maybe not terrible? Of course, his relationship with Amber will end, your daughter is going up and it becomes an unignorable and uncanny resemblance.

Don't even mention when her powers start to come in.

She'd will put two and two together, eventually. Say goodbye to your daughter. Probably most of your friends?

But at least you have Mark, right? Whenever he's not saving the world, you guess.

But he really does love you <3 Though, I think it would be your mortality that saddens him. You're too soft, too sweet for his life. He'd just die if anyone got their hands on you.

Overprotective as shit as a partner, though. He's a sweet little golden retriever up until he sees someone eyeing you up and then he's just in go mode dude. Anybody who steps to him is getting thrown over the bar.

But,,, no Amber. Your daughter hates you. Forever. Would probably keep in contact with her sister, and eventually she's gonna know the truth of her birth. Who knows if she'll want to talk to you after?

But you made your bed, and Mark chose to lie in it.

[gnabbang]

Sparks

word count: 1k

warnings: none that I can think of- a bit of language maybe!

authors note: love baby lino man- bias wrecker for a reason. I hear this song and immediately it made me think of him- the quiet love I think he'd give- hope you enjoy!

.・゜゜・　. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄　・゜゜・．

Minho isn’t a loud lover. He isn’t one to shout on top of the roof, our from out of his balcony that he is in love with her. He thinks things like that, and the people who do them aren’t really in love with their partner, because if they were, why did they have to tell the whole world? Why isn’t their partner knowing how much they’re loved enough? It was something he could talk forever about.

Despite the fact that he wasn’t a loud lover, he was a deeply compassionate one. When he loves, he loves with his whole body, mind, and soul. Whether that be platonic, or in her case, romantic.

He loved simply but deeply, and at first a bit hesitantly. He doesn’t say the words “I love you”, but he will make for damn sure that she knows he does. He loves by remembering her favorite drink (matcha with cinnamon and honey), her favorite song (No Complaints by Noah Kahan), her favorite artist (Lizzy McAlpine and Noah Kahan she always said she couldn’t pick between the two), her favorite color (pink most of the time but it depends on how she’s feeling), which one of his hoodies is her favorite (anything he’s been wearing for an extended period of time, which made no sense to him until she explained it “They smell the most like you, especially the ones you wear to work”), her favorite scent (sandalwood).

He could tell someone everything about her, paint them a very vivid picture of the person she is, not with just looks, but with her personality, her kindness, her compassion, her tenderness, he could write a book about her, about everything he makes her feel. The love that threatens to bring him to his knees when he sees her after a long day at work (or any day at any time- but the feeling hits especially hard after work), the shock that he still feels even after two years of being together that she chose him, that she keeps choosing him, even after she has seen all the ugliest parts of him. “We don’t abandon the people we love just because they can be a bit horrendous sometimes, if everyone did that, no one would ever stay together. That’s why love is such a strong thing Min, we see that ugliness and chose to stay despite it, because that is not who the person is at a whole. No one is perfect, therefor everyone has a little bit of ugliness in them.” Though if asked out right she would never say there was anything wrong about him.

“If there was a part of you that I truly thought was ugly, Min hon, I wouldn’t be here, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You have to think about that when you get into a relationship of any kind- is this part of the person something you can live with? Is it something that will affect your relationship with this person on a deeper level than just annoyance. If the answer is yes, then you fight for them, and love them. Love isn’t one dimensional, it’s multifaceted. There’s a little bit of annoyance that goes with it, a little bit of sadness, of anger, but love trumps all of those. That’s why its called love.”

It shocks him at times, his girl that primarily reads about dragons and romance and things he sees as silly is very emotionally intelligent. That’s apart of why he thinks they’re so good together, he sometimes struggles with emotions, not just his own but others as well, but she gives him guidance, helps him see things he cannot at times, either because he is blinded by his own emotions, or because he thinks the other person is being ridiculous, but she gives him a fresh pair of eyes, helps him see things not form a logical stand point, but an emotional one.

It has saved him from turning a small argument with one of the boys into something much bigger. At times he stops himself an thinks what would she do right now? If she were in this situation how would she move forward? and he thinks. He doesn’t rush into a decision, and instead sits with his thoughts, sorting them and curating a response to the situation that is both him and her, and goes on accordingly. Sometimes if that doesn’t work and he is really stuck he’ll call her or wait till he can see her in person, and they’d just talk. For hours about it.

That was one thing he loved about her, and about the two of them. They talked, about anything and everything. Ninety-nine percent of the time he was so focused on controlling what he was saying, with cameras and the peoples eyes always on him, he’s found himself filtering out his words a lot but he never has to with her. He can tell her every thought he’s ever had, every dream, every nightmare, and she will listen, and respond back. No finger pointing, no gasps of outrage, just quiet understanding.

He loved the quiet moments more than anything. When the silence wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable, it was filled with love.

So when it was late at night, the window slightly cracked open, a gentle breeze making the blinds sway and occasionally hit the window sill, and he was still awake, staring down at her, that feeling of overwhelming love hitting him straight in the chest. She was asleep, he could see her eyes going back and forth and up and down behind her eye lids. Her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. She was curled into his side, her hands put together as if in a prayer and tucked under her cheek, childlike almost. He lifted his hand, pushing back her hair from her shoulder softly so he wouldn’t risk waking her. “I’ll always look after you,” He whispered softly, leaning forward, placing his lips against her forehead. Her body curled into his, her lips closing and pulling into a small smile.

He felt himself smile in response, and shifted closer to her, letting his eyes shut. He let sleep over take him, his dreams full of nothing but her.

He loved quiet.

He loved their quiet.

But most of all he loved her.

.・゜゜・　. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄　・゜゜・．

this was very self indulgent and i need it thanks

[resident-idiot-simp]

Rogue taking Logan's powers

Shout out to @shy-canadian-snowflake for yelling at me to make this more of a thing besides a one-off idea

It started off with her being more comfortable with the fact that she could take Logan's mutation. After all, she couldn't exactly drain him easily and he really didn't care. It was also extremely useful for more than the healing factor, though she suspected people didn't realize that.

So it became something like second nature to absorb his power on the field after all there were no downsides.

This of course led to her getting very acquainted with the mutation and it becoming second nature for her to use.

Which again was exceedingly helpful. From there it just became second nature to keep his mutation active always.

He enjoyed it and if it made Logan feel less alone that was a nice bonus. He always struggled being the only one that was different.

She found a comfort in the fact it was just for them. Some secret ability and communication only for them to know and use.

So that's how it was and stayed. It was so gradual people barely noticed the change but even now ironically they looked at her the same way they looked at Logan. She wore it with pride, Logan saw it as a failing on his end.

But she never let that mindset slide for long.

New students came and they never explained, they rightfully assumed she was just like Logan and she never corrected them. Why would she?

It gets to the point she suspects some of the adults forget too.

Objectively they should know better but then again habit is a hell of a thing.

One of her favorite things is when people first come to the mansion one of their first questions is if Logan is her dad.

She wishes he was but alas no, but he might as well be. It's no secret they are close that she's his favorite by a LARGE margin.

They may as well be family even if it's not technically true. What matters is how they see one another.

Logan doesn't leave as much anymore but every now and then he does. The worst part of all of it is if he leaves long enough she can't keep the mutation.

It's fine at first besides it suck factor of Logan being gone, but then the mutation starts to leave. Her senses slowly start going back to normal.

The ability to smell and hear people before they are close gets harder and harder. It rattles her; it's like going blind.

It sucks majorly and it's becoming obvious to everyone else too. They can sneak up on her and it's throwing them for a loop. Slowly the enhanced senses leave completely.

The healing too, it took her a few injuries to get that back in her habits.

Which is worse than the instincts leaving first because now she can fall asleep sounded by the scents of Logan and her friends.

She couldn't though and now she was left tossing and turning sleep abating her.

Others asked if she was off and what happened. She tried not to laugh at the whole thing as she tried to explain. She truly forgot people don't know her mutation, it's not like she didn't mention it. He suspects people assumed it was on top of Logan's, but no.

This seemed to shock everyone except those who had known her from the start.

She was still miserable though, couldn't help but be. He was missing a part of herself and she hated every second of it. She knew Logan would be back soon but it truly couldn't be soon enough.

As soon as she heard the roar of the motorcycle she was out the door. Logan just smiled as he was bowled into.

"Hey kit."

She just tore her glove off and grabbed at his hands she hugged him tightly. He just purred and finally finally she could purr right back.

[gyurilla]

bite me

synposis; vampire jungwon🙂🙂🤤

vampire!jungwon x fem!reader

wc;490

late night // roof top of your apartment building

the wind bites a little sharper at midnight, the city glows beneath you—dim and drowsy, like it’s breathing.

you flinch when jungwon appears behind you, though you didn’t hear his footsteps. it’s his presence

“you always come from the shadows,” you murmur without looking. “you trying to give me a heart attack?”

a soft chuckle escapes him, deep and unhurried. “if i wanted your heart to stop, princess, it wouldn’t be from fear.”

you roll your eyes, turning your head finally—and there he is, looking like he always does: unnervingly beautiful, unfairly still. his eyes, a beautiful blue color you loved

and yet, you dont move.

“hungry?” you asked, a little quieter now.

he steps closer. his leather jacket shifts as he crouches beside you, one arm resting loosely on his knee. “not for blood.”

you narrows her eyes at him. “stop trying to be smooth.”

“im not trying”

theres silence again. the wind dances with your hair. you feel him watching you like he always does—like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to figure out why he’s so obsessed with a human.

“i could kill you,” he says suddenly, voice soft.

your eyes don’t waver. “i know.”

his jaw tenses. “but i won’t.”

“i know that too.”

he looks away, exhaling slowly like he’s trying to hold back everything monstrous. his fangs flash for half a second when he grits his teeth. the hunger’s always there—but so is the guilt. so is the restraint.

you reach out and places a hand over his. warm against cold.

“you don’t scare me,” you say simply.

he looks at you again—and this time, the monster is gone. It’s just jungwon. your jungwon.

“maybe you should be scared,” he whispers.

you smile faintly. “maybe you should stop falling in love with someone you can’t have.”

but neither of you moves. stretches, thick with unspoken things.

then, his voice breaks the quiet, raw and sudden,“i hate seeing you age.”

your heart stutters, “jun…” you say, shocked, your voice barely above a whisper.

he turns to look at you, eyes dark.

“ynie, i can’t bear the thought of you dying. you’re twenty-one now—i met you when you were eighteen. seeing you age these past years made me realize… i can’t stand the fact of living a life you’re not in.”

you dont look at him, you refuse too.

you dont say anything. just tilted your head, brushing your hair behind your ear — exposing your neck, whether you realize it or not.

he notices.

“dont tempt me” he murmurs, smiling faintly

“would you really bite me?” you ask, voice quiet but steady.

his smile fades. “dont joke about that.”

“why not?”

“because i want to.”

the wind pauses, silence stretching between you.

“then do it…” you say.

︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶

ju; does this even make sense..

masterlist!

[elodieunderglass]

Ok, so Bren’n’Blaw have been riding shotgun with me at work this morning and I’ve got questions.

What did they think when Bill married Helena? Did they like her? Do they think she’s good for him? Bad for him? TOO good for him?

Not that she would ever need help making or disposing of a body, but I assume they would help her, if only for her family’s sake. But does Helena like them?? Does she know about the mutual murder pact between the B’s?

Also, I assume they’re versatile fixers. In the normal course of things I wouldn’t think a dead body would turn up more than once every other year or so. In the offseason, do they help fudge financing at tax time? Do they hunt down deadbeat dads and encourage child support? Are they the scary but competent but no you were right the first time actually unnervingly scary people at the horse auctions you never try to scam?

Oh dear, I’m so sorry, what a pair of shifty hitchhikers!

When Bill was courting Helena, she set him some quests. Sure, he made her feel safe, and she fancied him in a weird way that grew on her, and it all represented a massive two fingers up to her parents; but she was still lowering herself to marry him, and figured she might as well get some errands done. Helena does not mind about the crime. She thought this was a relevant perk.

Bren’n’Blaw helped with the quests. They have very little sense of what is normal, and at the time, were painfully loyal to Bill. They knew Bill wanted to marry and raise a brood of champions, so they buckled up and trotted off to slay Helena’s dragons for her. That’s probably what women like. Who knows. Despite their fascinating personal lives they are not romantic themselves.

They did not like Helena being English. They were unfazed by her snobbery. They admitted that she is very pretty. I don’t know if Helena converted to Catholicism or was an outlier for her time and place and class who already was, but surprisingly, that wasn’t something Bren’n’Blaw actually cared much about.

She, in turn, understood their utility, but disliked everything else.

When the twins arrived, and Helena discovered she didn’t like them, and Bill was working two jobs across two countries before fully retiring from being a jockey, he naturally deputised his henchmen to look after the babies. Blaw and the Saint were simultaneously very good and very bad babysitters (“baby want smoko” / “put baby in pelican mouth” level of bonkers, but physically surprisingly capable of keeping babies alive, and cheerfully interested in doing so) and they pressed the rest of the family into service. Helena kept having kids, and not liking them, and Bren’n’Blaw kept throwing them loosely into the back of the Land Rover and feeding them on horse vitamins, and potty training by letting them run wild with nothing on the bottom. Everyone liked this state of affairs, and Helena got to pick towering magnificent quarrels about the PEASANTS STEALING HER CHILDREN, without having to wipe any snotty noses or pack any lunches. Perfect!

Bren’n’Blaw were furious about the loss of Charlie and spent a lot of time looking for him - never stopping, really. It became a kind of quest in itself, and obviously was always doomed to be fruitless. This schism started sending major cracks through a family that would otherwise be clannish.

In theory, on Albert’s death, Blaw and the Saint inherit the stud operation up the driveway and the old house, with Bill’s stronghold always having been the training yard. I think the stud operation has to close down, though - they’re all fading in influence and cash.

These days they’re getting on in years, and there are a lot of competing tensions - Bill’s spinal injury, the lack of succession planning - and they spend a lot of time on horsey errands. I think they disappear quite a lot of unwanted horses, which are always a problem, and in addition to training racehorses and doing a thousand all-consuming horsey chores, they probably practice a certain amount of weird DIY vet stuff and quasi-farrier work. There are vague disputes around the territories of other racing dynasties that I intend to fictionalise heavily. They do a surprisingly good line in looming, for ex-jockeys, and can do menacing for a discount.

They are not very nice people, mostly because of the lack of moral compass, but they are devoted to Killie.

They sound like a loopy pair of unadoptable bonded rescue cats who are also comedy Arthurian knights. Sorry.

[helsex]

You might have noticed things have been kind of strange here on my blog for a hot minute, and not just because of the whole housing insecurity and unemployed thing. I have been behaving erratically, making posts and getting asks that don’t make a whole lot of sense without context.

Until now I have been fairly civil about it (key word fairly), keeping things vague and nameless, blocking and moving on. Not sending anon hate, not stalking blogs. I won’t pretend I haven’t gotten angry and made my strong opinions clear, but I have kept it in my dms and on MY blog with over fifty people in this section of the community blocked. However that courtesy has not been extended to me and I am tired of rolling over and taking it. 

This post is about the harassment I have received alone. I will not cover the other actions of this user nor the contents of his blog because, though there are reasonable criticisms to be made, that would overall weaken the point of this post. It’s not about what he does generally but how in this situation I have been targeted.

The main players in this are myself, and ‘Wizard’ - aka wildestwizard, wildwizardcreations, wildwizardest (most recent), and soberhorn/addictedantler (his main). I am on the adult side of the fandom and have an alternate blog for it. It all started with this post there:

I’ll admit I do think his behavior is gross! And I say as much here. But this was a post on my blog. Stating my boundaries. I’m within my rights to not like him and not want him or his people around me. I’ve had him blocked since I knew he existed and you know what? Despite clearly outright saying on my pinned post I don't like people who interact with and make the content he makes, he has followed me TWICE on that sideblog. Even after being blocked. Because his blog keeps getting rightfully terminated for breaking tumblr ToS. I refer to these kind of posts I make as ‘semi-private’ crit because they are untagged on my very small blog where I have a ton of people blocked, very few people would ever see them and if my detractors see them it’s because they chose to block evade and search out my blog.

After making this post I did get backlash and a few genuine questions from some anons, some I tried to answer in good faith but most I blocked. Some time later, maybe a few days or a week, I posted about the discord server I made. I mentioned that I was trying to cultivate a safe space because wow! Guess what! A lot of people do not feel safe or comfortable around people like Wizard.

This got me more anon hate, I kept blocking anons but more continued to pop up. Not long after it was brought to my attention he had been vague posting about me on his blog, calling me an awful person for stating my boundaries and specifically mentioning my server by name, getting offended I made it but didn’t want to let in certain people. Establishing that he was seeing my posts despite being blocked and giving his followers a direct way to find me.

Some time later Wizard got terminated yet again.This is when things really ramped up, I started getting the feeling my blogs were being watched. I got exponentially more anon hate, not just on my sideblog this time but on my fandom main. Any post I made, even completely unrelated, would within MINUTES get several anons. I blocked them but more kept coming in.

It was much of the same until two of my friends (autistic-evil-xisuma and madscience) were also sent anons. One expressly misgendering me with she/her pronouns, both of them warning my friends against associating with me.

This was around the same time it was coming to the end of the month. I am unemployed currently and couldn’t pay rent for June so I was posting preparing for the worst, expecting that this would be the end. In response i got sent suicide bait twice. (of course obviously I am still here, thanks to the help of the community)

A common theme in all the anons I’ve received is “you are not getting harassed, you are the one harassing" explicitly and implicitly calling me crazy. Deciding that my vague and semi-private posts constitute harassment. I don’t send anons. I don’t have that energy and quite frankly I don’t even want to be looking at the blogs of these people. Whether coordinated and intentional or not this has been genuine gaslightling and its effect on me has been bad. That's a big part of why I am posting this. I want to lay everything out, make it clear I HAVE been getting harassed. This is utterly disgusting behavior, calling anyone crazy or the like perpetuates harmful language LET ALONE a mentally ill person who does in fact experience psychosis. It’s something I know I would never fucking say to even my worst enemy. But considering this is the guy who unironically put ‘freaktard’ in his bio I’m not even surprised by the ableism/sanism in this community anymore.

Unfortunately Wizard did make a new blog. He continued to play victim, call me a moral crusader and claim he doesn’t condone harassment

I don’t know if he’s posted about me more than a couple times publicly because I don’t go looking at his blog. But it’s very obvious there’s at least talk going on in some discord server, though it’s not something I can explicitly prove. In addition, he hasn’t made any post saying to stop harassing me or that he doesn’t approve of the harassment and suicide bait. All the anons I get simply ignore or justify it. Even if he’s not directly telling people to go after me in a server or sending asks himself, he sure isn’t telling them to stop, and if he didn’t condone the harassment he would say something.

The last straw was when I got my zip code in my inbox. My fucking zip code. Obviously I'm not gonna show it here but Moony can back me up.

But of course these people are the ones who are ‘anti-harassment’ and ‘don’t like don’t look’. Sure.

I think what’s most concerning is the vast amount of people, including hugely popular artists willing to rally around him. Defend him, harass for him, praise him. Him the guy who got banned from Scar and Impulse’s channels due to his actions. The guy who got banned from r/hermitcraft. The guy who made a hermit rape tier list which included statuatory rape. The self proclaimed “captain shota” who gets incredibly defensive and reactionary when people call him gross. 

I said I wouldn’t go into his other behavior here because it’s not the point and I’m sticking to that, if you’re an adult you're free to go digging around in his archives and blog (though much has been lost due to how many times he’s been terminated), but proceed with caution. If you’re a minor do not fucking do that. Don’t send harassment or give him attention via filling out that form. I’m making this post for me so I can feel less crazy. I plan to do my very best to drop all this now, and carry on with my life, but I do expect retaliation.

Maybe you can excuse the things he has posted and said, the dehumanization of a disabled man on the basis of him being popular - because it’s all ‘just fiction’. But now a real life person is getting actually harassed, are you going to excuse that away too? Am I just a delusional insane freak? He’s an asshole and a shitty person no matter how you cut it.

I’m limited on how many images I can put in a post but here’s a few anons as proof:

One of the first anons I got, in response to me making a server and posts on my own blog, accusing me of shit I simply don't do (I don't do callouts I don't do anon hate). Ironically going out of their way to send anon hate instead of following "dont like don't interact"

This is one of the most egregious examples of someone genuinely with their chest calling me crazy and a maniac. Fucking disgusting!

sent to madscience and autistic-evil-xisuma respectively

this ask specifically was sent the day wiz was terminated in response to a post i had made about my JOB HUNT.

that's all the images i can fit but yeah. yeah. I've blocked dozens of anons atp and it never helps, either it's one dedicated person or a group making alts JUST to send anon hate.

Thanks for reading

[strawbiecream]

Hallo spoon again, this time im doing another quick yap before i inevitably disappear for the next few days (or a week)

yes, its headcanon yap. yes, its john doe again. no, i wont stop talking about him

scratches my chin thoughtfully

The Spectre got John in its grip so the corruption comes in a package. A two in one! Not only it gets to manipulate John to its will but also the corruption, how crazy is that? Though it halted the advances of the defunct codes so it no longer spread across his body like wildfire. That doesnt stop the fact that it will continue to affect him. The Spectre could have just let the codes continue its thing: to let it strip away every ounce of empathy and reason that lingers within—turning him into a brutal, cruel and heartless killing machine he was made to be, to let it petrify his dying soul, to let it warp his body and twisting him from the inside out to the point where salvation is no longer an option.

I like my John being a creature but not too much of a creature if that makes sense, hes still somewhat human to me especially now when hes in The Spectre's "great" care that he gets to keep whatever essence of humanity is left in him

But it chose not to.

The Spectre gotta have its own fun with the survivors and killers as well. By halting the corruption's advances, it can keep John's mind stuck in a limbo for as long as it wish to—switching from him being pretty out of it and having moments of clarity. The latter rarely happens, though. Being under constant surveillance of the entity, no one is allowed to catch a break. However, if John were to gain his consciousness back: his body would immediately go numb along with his spinning head; his thoughts would be an incoherent mess that jumbles on top of one another, making him unable to form proper thinking and speech; his heart—would heavy with a feeling so familiar yet so foreign, so far away. John would only lay there in his own personal "limbo" that The Spectre set up for each killer, feeling nothing but the numbing pain across his body and the corruption humming ever so softly on his forever damaged arm. It drives him crazy—hearing the spikes rattles, clicks and sounds of the subtle movements on the side of his torso, gripping onto him, suffocating him. He wouldn't be able to do anything about it, completely powerless against a force out of his control. It's even worse when the sadistic entity doesn't let him go completely, not when it wants to prolong the worsening state of his.

If John were to be the next killer and he isn't ready for the round, The Spectre would mock him before forcing him back into the usual wild and animalistic self. It would also takes away any traces of her in his memories, to try and make sure he won't ever and will never remember.

The remaining essence of humanity that still presents in that monster can be seen through his old habits that he—unknowingly—does. Sometimes after emerging spikes from the ground, he will use his claw to pull on his tie a little as a way to "adjust" it. Sometimes after locating the survivors using 404 ERROR, he will bring his claw up to push the nonexistent glasses on his face with his palm. These little habits can catch the eye of the survivors, but they don't think much of it when their main goal is to survive.

Thansk for coming to my yapfest lelelele :D :D :D im off to lock in again

[mierins]

what hand shelters? what hand slays? // gojo x reader; chapter iii

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

x Masterlist x

Rating: M Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Shibuya Arc spoilers, Perfect Preparation/Culling Games Arc Spoilers, depictions of PTSD, mentions of violence/blood/gore, head injuries, vaguely "fuck it we ball" attitude towards lore

Apocalyptically empty Tokyo streets, gloomy in the early morning light, pass by in a blur. We climb up into the mountains. Trees. Paths.

I don’t know how long the ride takes, because Yuki’s gunning the bike like she were trying to star in Fast and Furious, and my headache is getting worse and worse, but as soon as we lurch to a stop, I nearly stumble off the bike, trying to claw the helmet off, desperately retching up empty air again with bile in my throat. Spots dance in my vision, and the pebbled path is rushing up to greet me rather too enthusiastically.

I’m sure it would have been a smoother experience if not for the fact that we were now to some extent, on the run, (her words, not mine) and I weren’t probably suffering from, in no particular order:

Oh, let’s see: I haven’t eaten probably in the last few days. I witnessed people being turned into literal mush, blood, and guts. I’ve received an intense download of the secrets of the universe from a Kakashi lookalike. I somehow started consorting with demons. I found out that I’m apparently a reincarnation of some freaky medieval witch.

And I hit my own head from experimenting with magic.

Some part of my mind, the part that isn’t just screaming in pain and drifting in and out of consciousness, wonders if I just need a good old dunk in Holy Water like those old pulp movies. Exorcised, and maybe witness protection might be nice. Or I can go hide in some foreign monastery too.

I may be dumb, but I’m not dumb enough to keep hoping this was all a horrible, horrible dream.

Yuki parks her bike, and grabs onto my forearm, hauling me up to my feet again, a process that makes my head scream in even more pain.

I think I must have made some kind of sound of protest, because she says, “Attagirl,” as if trying to wrangle a particularly disobedient cat. Or a drunk friend out of the bar after one too many drinks. Or a concussed, starving physics grad student who’s in far too deep over her head.

I can vaguely sense myself being frog-marched with an iron grip through a set of torii gates, or rather dragged, giving me a kind of carceral feeling, but truth be told-- the process was probably a lot more gentle and less brusque than my experience of it would claim, given the buildup of malady in my system.

Does that matter at all? Maybe, maybe not. I’m just being carted through-- wherever this, safehouse (?) is. Like in the subway, my body is simply moving-- my consciousness is just along for the ride now (not that I have much of it left).

The scenes pass in a blur, like an old stop-motion film: Steps. Door. Ancient-looking halls. Classrooms. Overhead lights. Voices blurring together as if I were hearing them from underwater.

The last thing my senses process before my vision goes totally black again is the scent of cigarettes on a white lab coat.

“Hey, we’re matching now,” he says, grinning--

I curse the fact that even in my own head (was that what this was? Jury’s still out, unfortunately) I could still feel the aching tenderness of my cranium, the pressure behind my eyes. Self-consciously, I touch my forehead, and find it wrapped in a gauze bandage-- and I can’t help myself, I smile a little, though I’m sure given my state it must have looked more like a grimace.

Maybe like this, is why Yoruhime loved him. The lackadaisical humour, so at odds, or maybe because of the unfathomable amount of power he held in his hands.

Not a god, just a man.

He’s charming, I can admit it to myself-- but given that he’s my (?) unwitting prisoner, it feels a bit unethical to think of him in that way.

But then again, he obviously knows much more about what’s going on than I do, so maybe that balances out?--

Argh, what the hell am I thinking? I’m definitely more concussed than I thought.

“-- It’s nice of you to drop in, though. I wonder if that’s part of your innate technique, or just because you’re just haemorrhaging cursed energy everywhere. Yuta was kinda the same when he first came here.”

A word salad, for sure, so I zero in on the names, because that seems easier to do than try to pick apart cursed energy again at the time being: “Yuta?”

“A student of mine-- I imagine with the current situation, he’ll be coming back soon, if he hasn’t already landed…”

“I’ll need a longer explanation of what’s going on,” I managed to get out. Trying to suppress my disgust, I take a seat across from him, trying not to think of the bones and desiccated flesh I’m currently leaning on.

“Where d’you want me to start?”

“I’ve been spending the last few days unconscious. I know about as much as when I was stuck in the subway station.”

“They wanted me off the board for their plans, and it seems they’ve succeeded,” he says with a droll sigh. “My students-- I have faith in them, though. Even stuck here.”

The pointed, thanks to you, was a bit obvious. I wrap my arms around myself almost protectively. “I mean it, I don’t really know what was going on then either-- and I am sorry. Gojo-” I fumble for an honorific. “-san--?”

“I’m not that old, am I?” he seems slightly mock-horrified for a moment.

“Ugh, are you always this annoying?” I say, before realizing I’d said it out loud in the moment.

“Yes, obviously,” he seemed familiar in some way with that kind of criticism, and the comment seemed to slide off him like water. He was even almost lighthearted about it, damn him.

“The-- erm-- demons wouldn’t have locked you in here for that reason by any chance?” I was so unsure of what to call them-- but also rather determined to match the particular energy of good humour he’d deigned to bestow.

“Curses and curse users,” he’d corrected patiently, “and… I guess being a wrench in their plans would entail being annoying, yeah.”

“And… the plans in question?” I asked, hoping maybe he’d be able to offer some more insight.

“Nothing good, obviously, but beyond that…” he’d trailed off, pensive.

Were we screwed, then? If Gojo, who, apparently seemed to be some all-powerful, near-omniscient pillar of their world of sorcery, couldn’t figure it out, and was now trapped (unwillingly, unknowingly) by me. Or my past self. Something or the other.

I rack my brain. The last thing I’d heard in the subway station… “The-- monk, Geto? Said something about--” I search my memory for the phrasing-- “a New Heian Era?”

Something dark flickers across his features-- even here, in a place where his power seems dampened utterly, his gaze lances through me. I decline to mention the rest of it-- the implied romantic history between Geto and him, between him and I both. “How well do you know your history and folklore?”

“Moderately well, I guess,” I replied. “I’m a scientist, not a historian, though.”

He shifts back, and I almost marvel at the fact that he somehow makes it look easy to lounge in a corpuscular cage. “To start from the beginning, the world is filled with cursed energy, which is created through negative emotions. What we are, are Jujutsu sorcerers-- the only people who are able to control the flow and output of cursed energy.”

I nod along, trying to commit all the words into my memory. To think that what our research was striving for all along-- alternate energy-wise-- was to be able to feed off the misery of others. It seemed almost too easy of an answer, too mystical, a little too ironic, even, but given my experiences the last few days, I was more than willing to put my belief in that by this point.

“The Heian era, that was the golden age of Jujutsu sorcery. A time of Gods and Monsters. Curses and sorcery and powers that you wouldn’t even believe could exist-- and if what he says is true, I think there’s going to be a hell awaiting all of you for sure,” he’d continued.

I awaken, not into hell-- not just yet, anyways, but a wearied face peers down at me. White lab coat, and the scent of cigarettes.

“Hi,” I croaked, feeling the recognition run through me. This must have been who had taken me in after the mad dash Yuki’s put me through. A doctor? Maybe.

“Doctor Ieri Shoko,” she says, rolling back in her chair, and noting something down on a clipboard after checking her watch. “You should be all right to move now-- but take it slow,” she cautioned. “I’m not exactly in the mood to use reverse curse technique on you again just for you to go and overextend yourself even more.”

“No, yeah, of course,” I had nodded along, slowly propping myself up. “But… where exactly am I?”

“This is the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus,” she’d responded, standing and gathering a pile of neatly folded fabric to hand to me. “Tsukumo-san says the higher-ups are after you, but while you’re in Tengen’s barrier, you should be safe enough with us.”

I look up at her-- why is she so nonchalant about the fact that they’re now harboring a fugitive that their authority figures are after?-- and the confusion must show on my face, because she shrugs. “Not the first time someone I’m looking after is on the wrong side of the law. There’s some spare clothing that might fit you. I’ll give you some privacy, and Tsukumo-san says she wants to see you after this-- I’ve paged her to let her know you’re awake.”

The bundle is a simple set of sweatpants and t-shirt-- essentially just lounge or athletic wear, but fortunately I get to have my own shoes, wiggling into the sneakers. Last minute, I decide to tuck the necklace under my shirt.

Doctor Ieri is right-- my head no longer feels like it’s been actively damaged, but I still feel woozy as all hell from not having eaten in several days.

“She’s awake?” comes a voice from beyond the curtains-- Tsukumo Yuki’s voice sure does travel, considering Doctor Ieri’s response sounds like a low murmur in response.

Rustling, and then she’s parting the curtains-- thankfully, I’m already decent, just shrugging on my jacket. “Oh, good,” she says, seeing me out of the bed. “I need to bring you somewhere.”

“My life’s just become an endless string of you all dragging me from point A to point B,” I muttered, the hunger making my filter far weaker.

She chuckles at that. “Can you walk?”

I nod, trying to swallow down my weakness-- bravado and spite coming to the forefront. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

And so, maybe I did almost trip when my legs gave out going down a set of stairs, but then again-- no one’s perfect. And I manage to catch myself against the railings, and Yuki’s far enough ahead not to have really noticed (or maybe she’s just too nice to call it out, content to let me grit my teeth and soldier on ahead, full of my pride).

“Now that we have everyone we need,” she announces, as we continue on, past several doors and corridors, descending ever deeper into the bowels of the mountain--

And it’s just my luck again, that--

“What is he doing here?”

My hands come up-- in defense, to ward off recognition, or just in blind panic, I don’t know-- but in front of me is the pale-skinned curse from the subway station-- and I remember the arc of blood, the way the red mist clung to my skin and the iron dampness filled my nose, as if I were drowning.

He, surprisingly enough, seemed to have the same reaction towards me, hackles raising. “You!”

“Hey, hey, everyone--” says Yuki, having apparently sensed the tension. “We’re all working together now.”

I don’t buy it, especially given how little elaboration I’m given on this, and I don’t trust him, but what other choice do I have? I’m helpless right now-- no idea how to use my powers, no idea how to navigate this new world, no idea whose side I’m supposed to be on.

I turn away, try to stick close to Yuki instead-- I don’t trust him, I guess he doesn’t trust me either, but out of the two of us, I mean, he’s the one who was killing people at Shibuya station, so I don’t know why he’d seem almost frightened of me, under the adversarial recognition.

As we trek further, I turn to not the rest of the group gathered-- and it’s four teenagers; two boys with dark hair, one in a white jacket and one in black; a girl with short-cropped hair and scar tissue that climbed over her skin like tiger-markings; and then a pink-haired boy who stood protectively next to the curse.

“Hi,” I’d waved, a bit awkward, introducing myself by name, feeling for all the world like a fish out of water-- in that way that only someone in their mid-twenties could feel when faced with a group of teens, knowing at the very moment you’re being judged, and found very wanting. And also incredibly uncool.

The girl reaches out to shake my hand first, calculating gaze unmarred by the bandage across one eye, and the thick glass covering the other. “Zen’in Maki.”

“I’m Yuuji!” replies the pink-haired boy, and he seems so friendly, wide-eyed, and almost fawn-like, that I nearly let my guard down. But even he has something in his eyes-- something old, something tense, something afraid. “This is my big brother, Choso, and--”

“Fushiguro Megumi,” offers the boy in black.

“Okkotsu Yuta,” says the boy in white, and at that name, the recognition dawns on me.

“You’re Gojo’s students?” I blurt out.

“You know Gojo-sensei?” Yuuji asks in response.

I falter slightly, hand going to the collar of my skirt, where the amulet sits beneath my palm. “In-- in a way, I suppose.”

“She sealed him in Shibuya,” Choso had cut in, almost sneering--

“I didn’t know what was happening either!” I protested, and it had been apparently too loudly and too heatedly, because Yuki shushes all of us as we continue to make our way down into the subterranean forest.

Simmering off my aggression-- half anger at the accusation, half posturing to ward off the fear and intimidation-- I’d acquiesced, throwing him a final withering glance, before falling silent, even though I could practically sense the intrigue flowing off the younger ones now.

I feel almost bad, but not bad enough to actually offer up any additional information. Who knows, the curses might favor child soldiers. So until I have any further evidence to the contrary, I’ll keep my cards where they are, thank you very much.

Gojo’s voice filters in through my head.

My students-- I have faith in them, though. Even stuck here.

The pendant lies heavy against my chest.

Choso and Yuuji fall behind us, murmuring something at another imposingly gated building, before they fall back into line, and then-- almost as if it had appeared out of thin air, like the optical illusion of a blind spot-- there’s a door in front of us, looming over the trees.

It opens into a lift-- looking for all the world like an old-fashioned elevator from some haunted house, complete with grated barriers that felt like a jail cell. We gather inside, and the door shuts behind us with a clang.

This feels like a tomb, I shuddered, feeling my skin prickle as we descended even further down, down, down.

The scent could only be described as ancient as we finally disembarked-- old stone, old earth, old roots. It sat almost oppressively on my skin-- each of our steps echoing in the caverns, a labyrinth of buildings below us, above which rose a massive tree.

“Bloodstains? What happened here?” came Yuuji’s voice from behind.

I shuddered.

I hadn’t noticed, too focused on placing one foot in front of another, too focused on sticking with Yuki.

My hand goes to the necklace again, what was a shackle just hours-- could it have been only hours?-- earlier now my only comfort in this place-- but then again, I’d been torn from my home, stripped of all my clothes, and told that everything I’d ever known was different-- and this was the only thing that I had managed to carry with me throughout all this time (shoes and jacket notwithstanding).

“It was eleven years ago,” the woman replies, softly. “Now that I think about it… that’s when everything started to become distorted.”

She didn’t elaborate any further either-- until we reach another archway, light filtering from within it-- almost blindingly white.

“All right, everyone,” she’d turned to call over her shoulder. “The main shrine is through here.”

I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but what awaits us isn’t any building, or structure, or altar, or--

Or anything, really.

Just blank whiteness, as if we had stepped into a void.

Yuki curses.

“There’s nothing here,” Yuuji says, as Fushiguro Megumi asks, “Is this the main shrine?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s rejecting us.”

Yuki comes to a stop, with furrowed brow.

“Tengen doesn’t interfere with the affairs of this world,” she mused, almost under her breath. “But I thought contact might be possible now that the Six Eyes were sealed.”

The necklace prickles in my hand.

She sighs. “Guess I was too optimistic.”

“Let’s turn back,” Yuta suggests. “Tsumiki doesn’t have much time.”

There’s a general murmuring of agreement, but the hair on the back of my neck stands up as we do so nonetheless--

And no sooner than we’d taken a few steps than a voice echoed out from behind us-- back within the shrine we’re about to vacate--

“Leaving so soon?”

Someone gasps. Yuki turns, followed by Yuuji.

I pivot on my heel as well, feeling almost-- compelled-- and something in me almost feels deja vu back to the subway, to my body acting outside of my will, to the way that the ancient terror of it all seemed to reach into the very bones of me, like a marionette.

I don’t think that power is evil-- not inherently, anyways, but something in it is so, so unpleasant-- a relic of a bygone age, and I wonder idly if it were of that Heian Era that Geto, and then Gojo mentioned. A time of Gods and Monsters.

Before us stands a figure-- wizened, covered in robes-- four pupiless eyes like gashes in a tree-trunk, on a treelike frame.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. The Children of the Zen’in. Descendant of Michizane. Death Painting Womb, Sukuna’s Vessel…”

“And Daughter of the Night,” its eyes alighted on me.

[catbowserauthor]

TMNT 2012: Final Thoughts

Started my rewatch a few weeks ago and finished it up this weekend!

I have a lot of thoughts. Some good, some surprising, some bad.

Overall—solid show. It’d rank 2nd for me (87 and 03 are still tied in first place) and I can absolutely see how it pulled in a new group of fans and became their staple. It’s a great combo of old and new ideas and most of them are executed pretty darn well.

Thoughts on the cast worth mentioning:

Sean Astin as Raphael is a match made in heaven. Once the writing really got the hang of his character, he delivers those emotional beats pitch perfect.

Rob Paulsen as Donatello has its own charm to it. It took me a while to not hear 87 Raph but I do like the characterization he brings. It has a bit more bite than other versions which is nice to see.

Mae Whitman as April works really well. For all my grips with the character herself, the voice work I can’t find any flaw with. She delivers anger really well.

Greg Cipes as Mikey is fine. Like, I don’t have any issues with the voice work. I wish they’d let him have a few more serious moments because Greg SELLS those. My issue is a lot of the writing for Mikey, it has nothing to do with Greg’s performance.

Seth Green as Leonardo is really well done. He’s probably my favorite of the VAs for Leo in this show. Especially in the later seasons, he sells the big brother/leader role just as much as he sells the teenager geek. Him being comforting to any of his brothers is great and I eat it up!

Thoughts on the characters:

I don’t like April. I just straight up don’t. I dislike they made her a psychic(because I think it would have made a lot more sense to give it to Mikey), I dislike the love triangle, I dislike her attitude (some episodes worse than others) and I just…don’t think she adds anything to the team dynamic. I’d have preferred her to be a reoccurring character who popped in every so often but they made her a series regular and I…don’t like it.

(I actually liked her friendship with Irma and was so mad they made her a Kraang)

Casey is fine. He’s kind of annoying but once things get going, he doesn’t bug me too much. Anything to do with his interest and April and thus with Donnie is 👎 but overall, I don’t mind him.

Splinter I remain divided on though I do appreciate him more on this rewatch. I still think he could be overly stern, played some blatant favoritism, and was not as wise as he gets credit for but he’s okay. I do like the humor they use with him and when he has genuinely heart felt moments with the turtles, it is so sweet to see. I just wanted more of it.

Karai…okay, so I’ve never really been a huge Karai fan but I like this one. I wish they’d stuck with her just being Karai and not Miwa though. (Yes, I know that was the plan from the beginning but I digress).

Mikey…oh, my Mikey. They could have done so much with this Mikey and sometimes they do! When the writing is on fire for Mikey, I’m in love. But they make him the punching bag/idiot WAY. TOO. MUCH. God! I do love we still get references to his spiritual energy (his instinctual fighting, heart, and references to ‘bad feeling about this’ is why I say they should have made him the psychic, not April) his out of the box thinking and empathy but they, much like 03, decide all/most comic relief must be on him and it hurts my heart…

Donnie is a lot better than I remember and truthfully my biggest issues with him are the love triangle. That causes most of the issues with his character. Eliminate that and you eliminate most of my problems with him. But…he does tend to hound on Mikey way too much (sometimes deservingly so) but “he never really matured past 6 years old” REALLY? Really? Little comments like that give him this superiority feel that I _don’t_ like at all.

Leonardo really gets his bearings in season 2 and I loved seeing his journey onward. By the final season, I adored Leonardo and it was really cool seeing him go from student to ninja then to leader/Sensei himself. It’s a dynamite end for the character.

I love this Raphael! Which really, really surprised me. The first couple of episodes you can tell they were figuring him out (hence the more bullying than brother behavior which I don’t like) but once those pass, we get a beautifully in depth character who truly loves his family and takes on the protector role so well.

THE LOVE TRIANGLE

Burn this thing with fire. My God! I hate this aspect of the series! And you know, I wouldn’t even be against it if they decided to make April a couple with one of the turtles…just like I wouldn’t mind if she ended up with Casey.

Heck, she could outright reject them both!

….

BUT COMMIT PEOPLE!

Decide an angle and stick with it! But they don’t! And when Donnie finally decides to lay off of April…she leads him on! She also shows interest in Casey.

They go back and forth so much and they still never commit! Even to the very end! Don’t. Do. That.

DECIDE, DAMN IT!

THOUGHTS IN GENERAL:

So, let’s get this out of the way:

—don’t like the ‘Mad Max’ episodes. Hate ‘em. Some of my least favorite of the series. In my mind, Owari is the end and Season 5 is a series of one shot adventures, the Mad Max world is an AU. I hate the idea that such a world is where they end up.

—Splinter’s death should have been reserved for the end. I get the whole reverse time to stop it only for it to be inevitable angle they were going for but it kind of cheapens his final death. I would have had him captured by the Triceratons and earth destroyed so the turtles still have to go in their time travel trip but it reserves that true gut punch for the end.

—This series probably has the absolute best finale in Owari. It’s intense, it’s heartfelt, it wraps things up beautifully. I still wish all the turtles had been part of the final blow to Shredder, not just Leo, but still really solid ending! And ending it with Splinter’s death and Leonardo taking over as head of the family is the perfect bookend to Leo’s arc.

—I mentioned it before but I think the psychic powers should have been given to Mikey. They hint at him having more spiritual awareness than his brothers (the fight without thinking, the hunches, his adaption in Dimension X, his empathy and creators confirmed the light around him on the roof in Owari was spiritual power) so giving him that would have made total sense. Then we would have: “Leo the master ninja leader, Donnie the brains, Raph the strength and protector and Mikey the heart and psychic.” Would have allowed more time for Mikey to have development and an interesting dynamic with his brothers. And Splinter! This Mikey gets almost no time with Splinter!

—April can still train to be a kunoichi, I’m cool with that but don’t let it pull away from the brothers. Their arcs should be the focus.

—On that same angle, like I mentioned before, I don’t like Karai being Miwa. I saw it coming, I think most fans did but I think it would have been a far more powerful arc if Miwa truly had died with Tang Shen and Karai chose to go with the turtles because her own moral code demanded it. Splinter gets the Shredder’s daughter but not by force. But because she CHOSE it.

Now, as for the seasons themselves, worst to best:

Season 1:

They were still figuring the characters and plot out and it shows. This one isn’t bad but you can tell they were still seeing what worked and what didn’t. Season 1 has some great “moments” but the episodes as a whole felt much choppier and I don’t see myself revisiting many of these. I especially like a lot of the characters much more later on.

Season 4:

I’m one of those people who don’t really like the Space Arc. There’s nothing wrong with these episodes. I enjoy Professor Honeycutt and the new environments but overall, the feel and plot of the episodes simply don’t hold my interest. It has some great moments, much like season 1, but no real episodes I find myself rewatching a ton.

Season 5:

With the exception of the “Mad Max” episodes these adventures are a super fun dynamic. It’s neat to see the turtles as a well oiled machine but now Leo has to figure out how to truly be the leader of his clan. There’s some great sweet moments, they’re entertaining and it makes for a fun “epilogue” of adventures.

Season 3:

So, according to the fandom, you either love the farm house episodes or you hate them. I fall into the love category. I’m a fan of horror which probably helps but I really like this setting. There’s a lot of time for bonding with each other which is my favorite part of the franchise. There’s definitely some things in here that fall flat but a pretty solid series of episodes.

Season 2:

Here we go! This is where I really think the show found its footing. The characters are consistent, the plots interesting and we get some really emotional beats. Ending it with them having to flee is a dynamite cliffhanger and having Leo taken out and mutated Karai still missing really gives us that sense of dread. To quote Raph: “For the first time in my life, I have no idea, little brother.”

I really enjoyed this rewatch. Definitely know some episodes I’ll be revisiting. And maybe…might play with some fanfic in this universe? We’ll see.

[plasterhound]

this is your sign to PLAY MR RAINER'S SOLVE-IT SERVICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[the-meme-monarch]

smiiiles i’m writing a dandys world fic. frowns. yes it is about arthur and delilah

[yellllowstar]

slowly I'm recovering the beauty of discovery

(creature by half•alive)

(textless + timelapse below cut)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just read the new mutants issue where Charles chose to stay behind in space and my god the juxtaposition between Charles trusting Erik and Erik joining the hellfire club and wondering at his own trust worthiness. I wonder how much of Charles decision was him ultimately trying to avoid the fact that his first class had seemingly betrayed mutant kind and not be willing to face them and how much of it was Dani and Illyana's reaction to him having Karma mind control Illyana. the fact that Illyana was depending on him to ease her mind through limbo and in choosing to stay he forced karma to do it instead, probably fucking up their relationship in the process.

I love him, this is crazy, how much of this is him trying to runaway and how much is this him not trusting himself to fix things and how much is it just him trusting Erik?

i keep trying to put into words my exact thoughts about the sitch but there really is a lot for one issue aintit... oh charles you and your brain...

[inkybinkyboink]

living on ur own is weird.

[misery-goddess-with-cake]

oh fuck. omfg. this! this! finally, i get it!

"you're not man enough, not feminine enough"

so gender is something we can fail?

that means gender is not genetic and absolute and unchangeable

but something we can build and perform, and fail at (the standards they set) but also redefine?

if i can fail at being a woman, does that mean i'm not a woman? so does that make me another gender?