#you dont have to read it its just some thoughts

[hjijp]

First kiss with nct dream

pairing: 7dream x reader genre: fluff, established relationships notes: not proof read, so sorry if some things dont make sense or just suck😭 ill fix it when i wake up

Mark! Mark loved sunsets, and so did you. So what better way to spend your evening than by taking a walk along the beach shoreline, hand in hand with your shoes in your free hands?

It was perfect, everything was. No words had to be said - the sounds of the waves and birds did it all for you. It had only been around three months since you and Mark started dating. You both wanted to take things slow, and you wouldn't have it any other way, but you also wanted to kiss him, you wanted to know what it was like to kiss the man you truly loved.

After strolling around, waiting for the sun to set, you finally found the perfect spot to sit and watch the sunset. Both of you sat down in silence, savouring the beautiful scenery around you.

While still holding hands, you turn to Mark and say, "I really, really want to kiss you." Mark smiles, his eyes lighting up with excitement, and without saying a word, he leans in to kiss you. Just as your lips touch, you pull away quickly and start to ask, "I'm sorry, are you sure you-" but before you can finish your sentence, Mark gently but firmly pulls you closer, and he kisses you, melting away any lingering doubts and uncertainties.

Renjun! Renjun had recently learned about a traveling carnival that had just set up in your area. Upon discovering this, he immediately knew that he wanted to plan a special date for you guys.

The bright lights and sounds of laughter could be heard from miles away. I always loved events like this; they remind you of your childhood. you always made sure to get some cotton candy whenever you attended these types of events, so when you saw a stall with some, you immediately dragged Renjun over to get some. He insisted on paying for you, saying it was his treat. Upon hearing this, you smiled sweetly at your boyfriend and thanked him.

Turning around, you saw a big ferris wheel calling out your name, “Can we go on the ferris wheel?” You asked him sweetly.

“Of course, lead the way,” He said with a soft smile on his face. Making your way towards the not-so-long queue, you chatted away happily with Renjun waiting for your turn. Once you were on, you sat and admired the view, not noticing the way Renjun was staring at you. “Isn’t the view so pretty from up here?” You ask him without turning around to face him.

Renjun continues to stare at you, which delays his response, but he finally says “Yeah, it is,” It comes out almost as a mutter. You turn around and see him staring at you, which has you instantly blushing. He smiles and comes to sit next to you rather than opposite you.

“You’re rather red,” He chuckles out, you turn away upon hearing this feeling embarrassed, but he quickly turns your head to him with his pointer finger under your chin. He goes to lean in but stops to get your consent, you nod and lean in as well.

Pulling apart you softly speak “I’ll never forget this moment.”

Jeno! Your relationship with Jeno was still in its early stages, and everything was going perfectly so far. He was everything you had ever dreamed of. He always showed an incredible level of attentiveness towards you, ensuring your safety and well-being at every turn.

You recently received a promotion at work, and to celebrate, Jeno had the fantastic idea of going to a fancy restaurant. You were immediately excited at the thought of him dressed to perfection with his amazing style, which had you feeling dizzy.

After dinner, Jeno drove you back to your apartment. When the car stopped, he came around to your side and opened the door for you. You smiled at this small but sweet gesture, something you adored about him. You've never loved anyone like this. That was the moment when you realised that you wanted to take your relationship with him to the next level. You envisioned having a typical white picket fence, a few kids, and maybe even some pets. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

Stepping out of the car, you turn to look at him and say, "I had a good time," You smile once you finished your sentence. Jeno goes to say something but you stop him and carry on, "I really like you, I want this to work out. And god, If anybody were to kiss me, I would want that person to be you," Admitting it out loudly had you rather shocked at your boldness that came out of nowhere.

He does nothing but give you his signature smile which brightens up his whole face while reaching for your waist to pull you in closer. He leans in and presses his lips to yours,

"I want you to be that person too."

Haechan! You and Haechan were strolling around the mall just shopping for random, unnecessary things. Haechan was a few steps behind you, you didn't even notice this until he had to jog up to you to grab your hand to stop you from losing him in the crowd.

Upon his arrival to your right side, you slowed down and spotted a photobooth over in a secluded corner of the mall. You smile happily and drag him over. You've always wanted to go into a photobooth with a boyfriend but never had the chance to seeing as Haechan is your first-ever boyfriend.

Once you reached the photo booth you turned to him and pleaded with him to go in together, "Please, I really want to get some pictures with you," Haechan couldn't help but coo at how desperate you were to take some pictures with him. "Of course we can cutie," He laughed out.

After his confirmation, you rushed in and dragged him in to sit next to you with a smile on your face. You quickly paid and agreed on a few poses to do, the first one was you guys squishing each other's cheeks.

The close proximity had you running warm, he noticed this and turned to you before gently grabbing the side of your face to turn you to face him. He stared at you for a few seconds, not even caring about the camera still capturing pictures of this precious moment between you two. He lunges forward and passionately presses his lips to yours, the camera capturing it at the perfect time. Pulling back, he can't help but leave multiple kisses all over your face with his hands still gently holding your head up.

Jaemin! You can still remember your first date with Jaemin when you were just starting out as a couple. It had been a few months since then. He took you to your favourite museum. You always loved going to museums, so when the guy you liked asked to take you there, you couldn't help but feel like a kid on Christmas.

Walking around, you couldn't help but reminisce about all the good times you and Jaemin shared here before you were even dating. You could feel that today would also make a good memory.

Jaemin was walking around taking pictures on his beloved camera, he was always good at taking pictures. Seeing that Jaemin was distracted at getting a good angle for his picture, you took the opportunity to go over to a piece of art that you've never seen before here. Distracted by the beauty of the art, you didn't notice Jaemin taking photos of you, not that you would of minded anyways.

"You're so beautiful," You hear from behind you, the voice getting closer. You couldn't help but smile as you feel him snake his arms around your waist and hug you from behind. You hide your face with your hands at the sudden compliment, he laughs at this and spins you around so you're facing him. He speaks up again with a gentle, "Don't hide from me, let me see your pretty smile," Before removing your hands from your face.

"Stop saying cheesy stuff or I might have to kiss you," You say with a teasing voice, but he took it seriously.

"Kiss me then."

Chenle! You had been begging Chenle to take you to the basketball court to teach you the basics. After all, it was a new relationship, and you wanted to bond with your new boyfriend.

It was around seven at night when Chenle first took you to the outdoor basketball court. The cool evening breeze gently blew your hair as you stood on the court, feeling the sweat gathering on your neck from the exertion of trying to keep up with your passionate boyfriend.

As Chenle passed you the ball, you attempted to throw it into the hoop, but you failed miserably. Chenle couldn't help but laugh, "Babe, your aim is so bad. Here, let me show you how it's done," He jogs up to get the ball from the ground and throws it in perfectly.

He looks at you with a smirk when he sees your face drop. "Okay show off," You mutter out while crossing your arms. Chenle just kept the smirk on his face while staring at you with no shame of being caught. You look up at him and see him staring, "Is there something on my face?" you rush out feeling embarrassed. Chenle just shakes his head and says

"No, I just really want to kiss you right now," His bold statement had you feeling shy with your cheeks reddening instantly, trying to hide your shyness you mutter out, "Do it then," But that just made him even bolder. As you feel him come closer - closer than he's ever been before, you hear him softly mutter an okay before leaning in and catching your lips with his.

Jisung! As you and Jisung entered the bustling arcade for your weekly date, the bright lights and lively atmosphere immediately caught your attention. It was different from your usual date spots, but you didn't mind, especially since it was Jisung's turn to choose the location.

Jisung immediately grabbed your hand and dragged you to the claw machine to win you a teddy bear. After multiple tries, he failed to get you one. You couldn't help but laugh at the pout forming on his lips as he rambled on about how rigged claw machines were.

"Babe?" you asked, trying to get his attention from the constant rambling, but he just kept going. Until an idea popped into your head. "Close your eyes," Jisung looked at you before questioning you.

"Just close them, please," you said with a soft plea. Thankfully, Jisung obliged and closed his eyes. You leaned in slowly and gave him a sweet kiss. Pulling back, you saw Jisung flutter his eyes open, staring at you in shock.

"Did you just kiss me to shut me up?" he asked breathlessly. You couldn't help but laugh while saying a shy no. "Well, how about you do it again?"

[brucewaynehater101]

"If it's closer to fanon Tim, he would feel guilty for Jason. Closer to canon Tim would either be indifferent to Jason's troubles or he'd feel glad (maybe even a little spiteful) that Jason is facing the consequences of his actions. He would, however, feel guilty for how the revelation affects the street kids."

I have to say I disagree with this. Firstly; with the whole post you're framing this as though Jason beat up a child... which like, true, but also Jason is hardly two years older than Tim. I know comics make him seem aged up, but its simply not the case. (dont @ me if u know this cuz u probably do know this already)

Secondly, Canon Tim.... doesn't hate Jason?? Like, really not at all. If there is any dislike, I'd see it as when Jason is acting particularly villainous, he treats him like any other rogue. Though they don't necessarily interact a lot when Jason is in his villain moments. It's other bats who take care of that, so there's really no beef there.

When Jason isn't having an evil moment, honestly a good word for what Tim feels for him is either pity at worst, admiration at best. With the admiration, I'm not talking about Tim liking him as Robin 'cause that's honestly pretty fanon, I'm talking about how Tim admires his tenacity and determination to keep going even when he feels like everyone is against him. And Tim wants to support him! He sees Jason struggling a lot and wishes Jason would accept help- hence the pity.

I sincerely doubt that Tim would ever feel glad or spiteful towards Jason. He's gotten him back for the whole 'beating the shit out of him' thing. Which really, wasn't really about Tim? Plus its far in the past at this point.

Not to mention Tim is one hell of a badass, he doesn't wallow in self-pity, and I don't think he'd want to interfere with RH's stuff and would probably stop the information leak himself, or even deny the rumors with something like "Oh that? It was just a disagreement/misunderstanding lol the rumors got out of hand,"

Sorry if this was too much, I like ur blog and the things u say, this one just felt really misinformed.

Thank you for letting me know. Reading the post back, I can see how I worded it wrong. I appreciate you giving me the chance to correct that and clarify.

Yes, Jason and Tim are close in age. However, Jason's age (as far as I'm aware) isn't known to civilians. Because of his helmet and bulkiness, a kid would view Jason as an Adult. If they knew his age and then the fight with Robin, that would probably be an acceptable level of violence for them. That's just two kids beating each other up, then. From their perspective, though, Robin is a Kid and Jason is an Adult. A possible solution to gain back their trust could be to disclose how old they were at the time (they might not even need to disclose any details or reasoning with that).

Later in canon, Jason and Tim start getting along. If the reveal happened at that point, Tim would not feel gleeful and spiteful. He'd feel bad for Jason. That is entirely my bad for not making that distinction.

Tim is, undeniably, an asshole at times. He wants to do good, tries to help people, and overall is kind. He's badass and I love him, but he can be an asshole (particularly to Steph). He, especially his inner dialog, sometimes makes asshole comments. This includes Jason. To add on, when Jason was beating him up and demanding Tim to answer if he thought he was good (skill wise), Tim answered yes twice. To me, this seems like a petty/spiteful response. That or Tim is just being honest af about his feelings, not giving a shit he's taking a beating.

However, Tim would not hold this grudge against Jason. One of his better qualities is to not hold grudges against most people (even those that he arguably should). It's why some villains/rogues/enemies become his allies or end up becoming fond of him.

Tim may feel glad that Jason is experiencing the consequences of his actions, but not for himself. This would be during his time as Robin exclusively. Red Robin would not feel this way.

Spiteful, though, was the wrong word to use. Tim, as the loveable asshole that he can sometimes be, might be sort of happy that Jason, in his villain era, is being shown the effects of his actions and possible wrongs in his ways. Happy also seems to not match, but the emotions wheel isn't really giving me an alternative.

Tim would, despite his feelings, hate the effect of this on everyone. The street kids, Jason, and the batfam would be negatively impacted by this, and Tim would try everything he could to stop or mitigate the outcomes. He would never release this information willingly nor stand aside to let it happen. Robin may internally say some shit about Jason and the situation if it blew up in their faces, but you're right that he wouldn't purposefully make shit worse. He would actively work to fix the entire mess.

I really am thankful that you helped me articulate this.

It's 100% my bad that I dropped the ball so hard. If y'all see me fuck up like that again, feel free to let me know. As long as you're not mean about it, I appreciate constructive criticism.

Imma edit the previous post this is about and link it to this one so that I fix the mischaracterization

[loving-n0t-heyting]

Hi! So, seeing you in my notes reminded me that I meant to ask you about that Instrumentality poll. Being as I am tumblr user 人類補完計画, I have, asyoumightimagine, a lot of interest in the topic, and I'd be very curious to hear *your* thoughts on Shinji's choice - in part because you mentioned in the tags that you were wondering whether your take aligned with the consensus view, but also because I feel like you're among the most distinctive & intellectually honest philosophical voices I've encountered on here, and I do wonder how your faith, along with your overall view on things, influences your take(s) re:EoE.

I was going to wait until the poll finally closed but i think its been plateauing for a couple of days now anyway so i might as well. This is all going to be pretty vague and mysticism-y ofc, especially given the vagueness and mysticism of the source material itself, and im going off of memory on top of that (i am not putting myself thru the emotional hurdle of rewatching EoE just for a post, sorry)

So, first off, my interpretation of shinjis ultimate choice is to reject instrumentality for all of humanity, to retain our ATFs and our individuality. And i lean towards thinking this was a mistake, on his part. I sometimes see ppl suggest that he offered everyone a choice to either join or refuse instrumentality, but i tend to think this is just projection; idr anything in the text to clearly support this

Im not really sure how to go about arguing for this position directly, beyond rebutting objections. To the extent we are given a clear explanation of what an ATF is, it is smth like the secrecy of our own thoughts and desires and personality; ie, others ignorance of those things. Ignorance is a terrible thing, just generally, in itself! Like impotence. Its terrible in proportion to the importance/value of the things one is ignorant of, and ppl are about the most valuable things there are. Thats much of whats so bad about death, which is why it makes perfect sense the dead get to join in HI as well. So, putting it all together, the presence of ATFs is a terrible imposition, and their removal thru HI is a great blessing, maybe even the greatest possible blessing. And this shows itself in the end of strife and discord and the beginning of real unity of spirit and will, but its already present in the mere dissolution of interpersonal ignorance

The narrative itself frames this as an erasure of individuality, but im not sure how to understand this. Is the idea supposed to be that we would not survive the loss of our ATFs? Im not sure thats even intelligible: the loss of our ATFs is just the lifting of certain kinds of ignorance or, in other words, the instilling of certain kinds of knowledge. Knowledge in whom? In those undergoing human instrumentality. So clearly we survive HI, if it involves us coming into knowledge, and thus being around to know these things. Is this supposed to mean our distinctive contributions to the diversity of human experience etc would all be destroyed in favour of some uniform replacement? I dont see why that would be necessary; we can certainly imagine ways ppls varying idiosyncratic quirks can all "make it into" some sufficiently rich collaborative work. Why should HI not be the same? I suppose the fact it involves everyones bodies into a homogeneous sea of yellow goop speaks against this, but my inclination is to read this as a sort of pupal stage from which a mature instrumentalised humanity can emerge. Tho thats admittedly a bit of a reach

Theres yet another negative interpretation of the "destruction of individuality" i sometimes hear: that it would somehow rob us each of our agency and ability to shape the world in accord with our desires and beliefs. This goes along with a worry that the inauguration of HI would necessarily be a violation of consent and mental autonomy, which strikes me as misguided for much the same reason. Our ignorance of one another is not an individual condition of oneself in particular one can opt in or out of irrespective of the choices of others; if my not being able to retsin my ATF is a violation of my "autonomy", why is my retaining my ATF not in turn a violation of the autonomy of the others being thereby kept ignorant of my deepest self? Mutual ignorance of one anothers mental states (including that very ignorance) is in no interesting way reducible to the ignorant subjects each having certain "individual" or "intrinsic" or "internal" states that can individually and unilaterally be shifted without affecting those of the others; it is an "external" relation. So thinking about HI in terms of individual, unilaterally revocable consent is confused; the fact it is changing is irreducibly collective, and thus consent to it and only be given or refused collectively if at all. Hopefully thats not too opaque

This reply feeds into my answer to the worry about the dilution of ones agency and control over the world. This objection makes sense against a background view on which, for an agent A to control the answer to a question Q and a distinct agent A* to control the answer to a question Q*, Q and Q* must be modally independent: any answer to the latter must be compossible with any answer to the former. Or that, if this isnt true, this is bc As control over Q or A*s over Q* must be only "limited" or "partial" or w/e. My rejection of this assumption (which is i think what lies behind the last objection about autonomy) is probably my deepest, most abstract anti-liberal commitment. Its a conception of control or freedom that i think ultimately requires a debilitatingly narrow view of what full freedom could look like, or of what facts can amount to states of a person. (For example, i think it prolly requires you to say that knowing that the sun rises, a property entailing the "external" fact that the sun rises, is not actually a state of a person, in some important sense, rather than smth like a conjunction of a state of a person and a state of the horizon/sun.) But going all the way into this would probably take a lengthy book; mb i will try to work it out slightly more precisely at some point tho

You asked how my feeling about EoE connect with my faith, and broader view of the world. This illiberal assumption is close to the heart of it. I am always tempted in this context to quote marxs comments in the 1848 manuscripts about the whole of nature being the "inorganic body of man", and i dont think im alone in seeing connections between those passages and remarks like pauls about the mystical body of the church ("So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another." Now there is smth for mereologists to chew on!!) And this is a trend you see elsewhere in the Christian tradition, like dantes description of the celestial eagle in paradiso xviii-xx. I was surprised, when talking to an atheist friend about my tentative support for HI, that they said my christianity made sense of my disagreement with them about this point; not bc i dont think theres a connection but bc idt of these emphases on the unity of the mystical body as particularly prominent in outsiders impressions of Christian belief

Anyway, hopefully that was at least somewhat illuminating. Thx for the kind words ^^

[niftukkun]

so speaking of indigo park, (i say, like ive talked about indigo park before) (spoilers ahead)

i think what got a lot of people (and quite a lot of youtubers) thinking that the mascots are mechanical or animatronics,, its not completely from the genre? like, yeah it being mascot horror doesnt help but despite the, um, evidence that there may be something Funky(tm) with the mascots, i think most people think that theyre animatronics because of one set dressing:

this guy

if you dont remember (or dont know about indigo park), this guy is a very clear animatronic version of Mollie Macaw, one of the characters in indigo park. this prop is found in the hallway in the railway ride part. but this guy is not mollie macaw the mascot that stalks us.

bluntly, people think these two guys are the same guy

these two. are not the same.

i dont know why this park has both a mascot and an animatronic version of the same character? but like. theyre not the same guy

i think people thought theyre the same because of the combination of, we dont see mollie the mascot till later in the chapter (if the player ever sees her clearly at all), the voice line that comes from the animatronic, and the mollie death screen tip (the mollie can mimic voices tip). honestly, the line in the death screen that says she can mimic voices is more flavour text than anything, i cant really hear her say anything in all the playthroughs ive watched.

also, um,, that much blood at the end there,, kind of says theres something Funky(tm) going on? but im not blaming the folks who think the mascots are still mechanical after,, that. the fnaf games kind of fucked over expectations on how much blood is reasonable in a funky mascot, what with the dead kids in suits and all. im just saying thats some fresh fucking blood after, what, eight years of the park shut down? almost like shes alive. well, /was/ alive, at any rate.

anyway, TLDR. these guys arent the same.

the mascots arent animatronics for once. if uniquegeese creator of indigo park himself is reading, consider this as the reason people may think the mascots are animatronics. also, add some bone to the mollie head (you dont have to, but it may help. the flat plane of red kind of,, adds to the fake feeling? also its just personal preference for me to see some bone in that gore)

(pictures from OtterBoy VA's video on Indigo Park!! good job little otter guy you voiced a raccoon very good)

[thanosthefuckingplum]

first off the list…

stardew valley <3

harvey x reader- doctors orders

youve been dodging your appointment for months now. an embarrassing amount. so, lucky for you, your neighbor shane is helping you out by forcing you to go!! aren’t you just lucky. now you have to try and pretend you DONT want to have sex with your doctor. have fun!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a screeching cry from your horse woke you from your slumber, bringing you a shocking way to wake up. shooting up from bed, you shoved yourself into some pants and scurried outside, the brightness of the lovely 6am sun blinding you. sure, farm life was great. the responsibility, the freedom, the cute animals you would take care of, it was nice.

your neighbour, shane, not as nice. especially on mornings like this, where his idea of helping out was trying to clean out your poor horses nails.

“y/n!! did i wake ya?” he chuckled a bit, knowing damn well what he started. he pulled himself up from the ground he held your horses shoes at, as it let out a huff of frustration. wiping his forehead, he grinned at you.

“thought ya wouldn’t mind if i helped you with your horse this time around. i usually deal with the chickens but..”

sighing, dramatically, you raised a brow. what an idiot. but, he was your best friend, and had always been since you first moved here. sure, he wasn’t doing so great when you first met, but he’s cleaned himself up a bit. thankfully. for your sake, and for jas.

“shane..” you laughed a bit, almost in disbelief at his attempts. “thanks, but i don’t think poor maverick deserves any of what you’re trying to do.”

giving you a somewhat cocky, but pouty expression, he practically dropped with sarcasm as he whined, “you don’t appreciate my hard work.” he strolled over, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“need me to give you something to do?” you asked, gesturing your head towards your coops, full of clucking creatures that would be oh so grateful if you decided to give them their morning due.

“actually,” he began, pulling out a crumply letter that you assumed he’d pulled from your mailbox. “the doc wants you to go for your checkup.”

“you went through my mail?” you huffed, crossing your arms. he had a tendency to do that, especially when he was the one sending it. he was confident in his ability to give you good gifts. like pizza. or that weird bun recipe? which you’ve never tried? and probably won’t?

his grin turning into a more mischevious smirk, he nodded his head. “sure did, farmer. i’m sure he’s gonna have a very important conversation with you today,” he wiggled his eyebrows, childish as ALWAYS.

sometimes you wish he stayed the emo alcoholic he was before.

“shane!” you began, flustered as you snatched the sheet from his hand, scanning it quickly. just a nice, quick and brief letter. no connotations whatsoever. but shane knew you would overthink it. that little crush you had on your doctor was no secret.

“and it’s first thing in the morning too. must’ve been thinking about you all ni-“

SMACK.

giving him a hard tap on the shoulder, you smacked him away, making your way past him, burning with embarrassment. steam practically seethed from your ears. “i. will deal with that. after YOU deal with the chickens, kay?”

rubbing his arm while wincing a bit, he began his walk to your coops. “boo. you’re no fun.”

no fun? no fun??

sitting in your doctors office, bouncing your leg with anticipation and nervousness was definitely your idea of fun.

the clock in harvey’s clinic was broken. not in the way that you couldn’t read the time, but the sound it made. the incredibly clacky ticks it would make like it was on its last legs. which it basically was. speaking of last legs..

“come back as soon as you need it, george!” harvey’s voice came from behind the door, creaking open as evelyn, pushing george through the door that harvey held for them.

“thank you, doctor harvey. you are too kind.” evelyn, the sweet old lady she was, always so generous with her words. it made poor harvey so bashful. it was cute.

she smiled to you, the anxious little farmer sitting in the waiting room, ignoring the shaking of your leg. “good luck, dearie.” george, much unlike his wife, completely ignored your interaction, crabby as always.

harvey snapped his head to face you. “ah, y/n. early, i see?” of course, you had shown up 25 minutes sooner than you had to. shane was starting to push your buttons, what else were you to do?

nervously, you cleared your throat, the ringing bell or the door to the clinic closing filling the room. you spoke, “y-yeah, haha. i just was excited to-“ he raised a brow, allowing you to pursue your sentence despite your obvious hesitation. “ah, see what you wanted from me.”

“excited?” your doctor had a smirk creeping on his face, “i surely haven’t heard that term before when used in my office, but it does have a nice ring to it.”

you were just as shocked as him, listening to yourself talk. sometimes you wondered how you even managed to speak to people with the things that came to your mind in conversation.

“glad to hear..” you breathed, standing up from your seat. “so.. you called me in for..?” you inquired, hands stuffed into your pockets uncomfortably as you shuffled over to him.

“mm, yes.” harvey hummed, making room for you to walk into his office, almost pressing himself into the wall. he was too polite for his own good. nonetheless, he spoke, “i just had a few things i needed to discuss. nothing to panic about.” he reassured you, knowing how you felt in his office. ever since you’d first moved to pelican town, you’d always been nervous going to his office. sure, 5 years living here, you’d think that you would be used to it by now.

maybe it wasn’t just the office..

oh, for sure. it was him.

you couldn’t help it. he was so gentle with you. the way he’d make sure you were comfortable with everything he was doing, everywhere he was touching. always asking questions, and he was so, so charming. and his hands-

“take a seat, please.”

his orotund voice instructed you, his hand held out towards the medical bed. as you made your way over, he grabbed his clipboard and set a sheet of paper under the clip.

“okay…” he mumbled, mostly to himself, sliding his pen down the sheet, almost as if he was observing a checklist. your leg, subconsciously, began to bounce.

sliding a chair up to the bed, he took a seat, huffing a bit as he did, almost getting relaxed in the chair and slumping his hips forward. he clicked his own, and gazed up at you through his glasses.

“just going to ask you a few.. introductory questions, as usual.” he looked back down at his sheet, taking a moment of pause before speaking up once again.

“what has your diet been like?” he asks, genuinely. he had a way with his clients, his patients, you supposed. he always cared, perhaps due to the size of the town, being so small and insignificant if you weren’t apart of it. he was interested in the lives of the people he worked with, or maybe he was just interested in you.

“ah, since it’s summer, i’ve been having lots of strawberries from the farm. corn, too. lots of corn..” you sighed, feeling a bit sluggish at the thought of returning to your farm and ripping off those corn stems again.

“so, mostly your own crops, then?” he raised a brow, curiosity swirling in his eyes. he’d always been so fascinated with the idea of living on a farm. it was appealing, being in control of your own business. to him, at least.

nodding your head, you looked at him, for the first time this appointment, already feeling your face grow hot at his intense eye contact.

“yes, usually.”

scribbling a note into his clipboard, it felt like the silence was collapsing in on you two. it was hot, you felt hot.

he clicked his tongue, seemingly satisfied with whatever he wrote down, and looked back up.

“i’m assuming you’re good with exercise, of course. your body is great.”

he hesitated, a bit, seeming to overthink his words.

and with good reason, the implications of his sentence gave you a chill down your spine, feeling flustered and uncomfortable in your seat, suddenly. like you had to jump up, go for a run.

“uh, health wise, i-i mean. not that you don’t look great.” he corrected himself, a bit breathless as he spoke, knowing damn well he’d just made it worse. he couldn’t help but put emphasis on his words. either way, he hurriedly moved on, observing his sheet once more.

you sat in anxious silence, still bouncing your leg. there wasn’t much in his office. not much noise, except if you listened, his breathing. it was heavy, much like your own. like he’d been the one being examined this entire time. yet, he was the one with his eyes on you.

“are you.. sexually active?”

feeling yourself grow hotter by the second, you cleared your throat. “um, n-no. not currently.” why did you say it that way? why did you overthink your words so much, too? he’s asked you this question a dozen times, every appointment, and for some reason, you felt so, so, on edge just from his voice. the way he asked you. his voice was low, as usual, but it was gruff. like he’d been talking too much.

“mm.” he hummed, again, scribbling on his board. his face was pink, his ears mostly. which really sold him out. he’d like to think he was more nonchalant, especially when it came to appointments with you. he was glad nobody else had to come in today. he could take his time with you.

“just to confirm, you are aware this is a physical exam, yes?” he cocked his brow, almost inquisitively. like, he knew you weren’t aware. he was dying to touch you already, even if it was strictly kept professional. something about the way you would shiver every time his hands grazed your skin gave him a sense of superiority. he liked it.

but you, a tad shock stricken, nodded your head. “ah, i’m aware now.” you murmured, fiddling with the ring on your finger, feeling awfully shy, worse than before. now he has to touch you, and oh god, you weren’t sure how your body would react.

“i did give you a warning on the letter, don’t stress about missing it,” he said as a gentle reminder, setting down his board. he stood up, adjusting his jacket before taking it off, smoothing it out as he set it down on his desk.

slowly, almost trying to antagonize you, he began rolling up his sleeves, buttoning the cuffs. looking back over at you, shaky leg and all, he chuckled a bit. he grabbed another chair, sliding it in front of you. this one was a bit more at your level. when he sat on it, he was taller than you now.

“no need to be nervous, y/n, we’ve done this before.”

harvey attempted to put you more at ease, which was of course, helpless. he knew you wouldn’t relax. as much as he wished you would. not like he could help it though, he knew how you reacted around him. it’s not like it was a secret.

every physical between you two was the same. his cold hands against your warm skin, giving you the chills. he’d apologize, and you’d breathlessly apologize back, for being so nervous. and he’d say, “no, please, it’s okay.”

as you began snapping back to reality, there he was standing in front of you, pulling on a pair of medical gloves. leaning down to your level, he made himself face to face with you. a snap came from his wrist as he gave you a smile. voice low and pleasant, he spoke,

“i’ll be gentle.”

your helpless attempts to keep yourself still were.. to say the least, pathetic. he started off normal, as most appointments go, but the moment his hands went to feel your waist, you lost any sense of normality.

as soon as harveys hands grazed your waist, your back seemingly out of reflex, arched forward, causing you let out a gentle gasp. he looked up at you, again, through his glasses, raising his brow. frantically, you immediately went to apologize,

“i-im sorry. i get-“

he squeezed your waist a bit, almost teasingly, like he was scolding a dog for stealing a treat off the counter.

“ah, ah, no apologizing anymore. doctors orders.” he was stern, commanding. that wasn’t a recommendation, that was a demand. and you weren’t about to ignore it. especially with how he looked at you as he spoke. his eyes were slightly hooded, almost as if he was tired and had just woke up moments prior. but he was focussed, hyper aware of every movement you made, and even more hyper aware of every apology you’d been mumbling each time you’d make a sound.

saying nothing, you nodded your head, making a slight ‘mhm’ in response. his brows furrowed a bit, as he sat up. suddenly, it didn’t feel like you were in the doctors office anymore. he seemed on the verge of cracking, feeling a sort of lack of confidence in his professionalism. one more word from you and he was sure he’d break.

“good job.” he purred, pulling his seat in closer. he set his hands on your knees, he was above you now, from this angle, looking down at you as he spoke,

“i’m going to have to get a bit more invasive, i’m sure you don’t mind, do you?” he inquired, knowing full well your answer. taking a large breath, a shaky one, you spoke,

“please.”

without a moment of hesitation, you were kissing your doctor. every time you’d thought about it, you’d never imagined it would be like this. his hands on your thighs, locked lips so hotly you could barely breathe. the both of you didn’t want to separate, feeling so nice together. harvey refused to let go of you, his hand sliding up your hip to grab your waist.

he took his time feeling you, letting his hands praise your body. it was different than during your check ups, now. he was able to go wherever he wanted, however he wanted. learn your body more than just how the textbooks said it would feel.

“ah, i’ve felt this.. aching, for months.” harvey crooned through kisses, only taking a bit of a pull away to look at you, admiring the redness of your cheeks, and how hot you felt, and how beautiful you were.

“i cant believe i let myself take forever to touch you like this.”

god, he was making it difficult to stay quiet. your mind was foggy, swarmed with thoughts of what he was going to do next. where his hands were going, how hard he was going to kiss you, and where. and how his lips tasted when they were connected with yours. and how he’s just as desperate as you are, and how you wanted him more than anything right now.

he stood up slowly and almost hesitantly, keeping his head down to yours, not allowing your lips to keep themselves apart. his breath was minty, fresh and it tasted just the same. it was delicious. as he stood, his knee slid between your legs, moving his hand to your back to push you further into it, more against the edge of the medical bed. “mm, much better.” he whispered, mostly to himself, feeling the heat between your legs against his knee.

quietly, you let out a little noise, taking hold of his arm and gripping his dress shirt with your nails. harvey, sucking in air through his teeth, pressed you further up against him, your chests together.

“please don’t stop grabbing me like that.” he whispered, placing a final kiss on your cheek before lowering his head down, nuzzling himself into your neck. his hand was teasing you, pressing and rubbing circles into the nerve in your hip, sending waves of pleasure into your groin. he knew the body so well, and man, were you grateful for it.

his knee left your thighs as he pressed his tongue to your neck, giving you a shiver of arousal down your spine and earning a gentle moan from you. “ah, so you’re sensitive there?”

“e-everywhere, doc.”

he felt the hairs behind his neck rise as you spoke, “doc? you want to keep me in charge, do you?”

whining a little, you nodded, “i want you.” your voice was so scratchy, feeling weak and unable to breathe. but in the best way, knowing it was him that could make you feel like this. vulnerable.

“mm.” his voice was lustful as he crooned to you, “you do, do you? how about you get on your knees then? doctors orders, y/n.”

a chill crawled up your neck, arousal burning through your veins. you were so willing to listen to him, immediately making your way to the floor, sitting on your knees with your hands set on your lap.

he tilted his head to the side, strumming his thumb across your cheek. “good,” he whispered to you, sliding his thumb across your jaw. you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and just leaving yourself there, only for a moment, before took his hand away.

slowly, harvey began to unbutton his work slacks, looking down to you. “you’re okay with this?” he asked, his hand stuck on his zipper. how sweet of him. he was so reassurance, always fining you a way out. even in his appointments, your check ups, he would always make sure you were doing okay.

of course, this situation was.. much different.

“yes. of course, harvey.” you purred, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “i’ve been wanting this just as much as you.” you insisted, unable to calm the giddy feeling in your chest at the thought of pleasing the man you’ve been obsessing over for the past.. way too long.

he groaned, a slight whine in his eagerness, unzipping his pants and pulling them down, revealing the tent that you gave him. you leaned forward, taking the initiative, and allowing yourself to take his cock yourself.

lucky for you, he was the perfect size, something you had problems with other men before. as you gazed up at him with admiration, he was holding his hand against his face, redness pouring into his cheeks. he was looking away from you, hiding his gaze.

you chuckled a bit, wrapping your hand around his length. “shy?” you teased, before opening your mouth and teasing the tip with your tongue.

“haah..” he breathed, immediately looking back down to you. your eyes, with batting eyelashes, were sending him spiraling, he could barely contain himself. “beautiful, y/n.” he whispered, placing his hand on the back of your head.

you teased him for a bit longer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. it was payback for all those times he’d done this to you during your check ups. all those times maru had interrupted just as his hand would slide up your thigh. all those times he’d murmur in your ear, knowing the implications behind his phrases.

“ng, no more of that.” he grunted, pushing your head further onto his cock. you hesitated, just for a moment, before finding a steady rhythm, swirling your tongue around him. his low and guttural moan told you he liked it.

“that’s good, that’s sooo good, don’t stop.” harvey sighed, rocking his hips back and forth slowly, but surely, as he found grip on your hair, pulling it up into a bundle in his large hands. each time your hand would twist a certain way, it would elicit a content moan from your doctor, and a mumble of praise. he knew where he wanted you to touch, where he wanted your mouth to go. and he would lead you there, pushing your head down, filling your mouth more with his length. it was addicting, his praise. his touch. you were willing to do anything for him at this point. anything to hear that pretty voice of his call you perfect.

“ha..” he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it a bit. “y-you keep doing that, i don’t know how much longer i can-“ he groaned, through his teeth, his brows furrowing. you had found a new pace on his cock, one that he particularly enjoyed. “ahg, last..”

you smirked a little against him, finding a sick pleasure in his weak points. seeing him made humble. it didn’t last long though, as his grip on your hair tightened, pulling you in.

“y-yeah? like seeing me all bent out of shape because of you?” he gasped, feeling himself drawing closer to his finish. “wanna make me.. nervous?” he panted out, a whine laced in his tone. he was less confident now, his voice shaky and weak.

pulling away with a pop, you smirked, “i really really do-“ you said with a mischievous grin, feeling proud of yourself.

sadly, that pride didn’t pursue much longer. he took the opportunity of you soaking in your pride to take you by the jaw and pull your face up to look up to him. you gasped in shock, though he had a soft expression, he had a smug smile smacked on his face.

“your turn.” harvey purred, helping you pull yourself up with the grip on your jaw and allowing him to hold you closer, wrapping his hand around your waist and squeezing it as he spoke, “go on, sit. you don’t need me to make you, do you?”

“no, sir,” the words fell out of your mouth so effortlessly, like you weren’t thinking before you spoke. and you weren’t. it was humorous, really, how you could go from so confident to needy and obedient so quickly. he loved it.

the nickname ‘sir’ gave him chills, giving him that sweet feeling of superiority over you. sure, he had his fair share of sex in college, but he was never confident enough to be able to actually execute the fantasies in his mind.

but now, he had you.

and you were all his.

with zero hesitation, you were pressed on the bed, the plastic sheet crinkling beneath you. your back was already arching just from the thoughts rushing through your head. what was harvey going to do now? how much better was it going to feel? your eyes went to his hands, watching him as he slowly removed his gloves.

“cant have those..” he mumbled to himself, tossing the gloves aside before crawling above you on the bed. his shadow fell over you, enshrouding you in him. his hip bones pressed up to your own, leaning his head down to your ear, mustache brushing against your skin as he whispered,

“stay still.”

as harvey found his place with his lips buried in your neck, you could feel his hand slide down your waist, sensitivity making you suck in from his touch. you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, just from knowing what he was going to do. it was like a dream, you felt crazy. your brain couldn’t comprehend anything now, except how badly you wanted his hands to keep going.

and they did.

harvey tugged on the hook of your farm slacks, giving you the opportunity to pull them down yourself, and wrap your arms around his back underneath his own. feeling your hands on him, he let out a sigh. “i love when you touch me, y/n.”

“i love touching you.”

letting his mind wander for only a brief moment, harvey groaned, his thoughts going everywhere but appropriate places. he was glad he was living it, instead of just imagining it. sitting at his desk, thoughts of you invading his mind. poor maru, asking why he was so zoned out.

he was teasing you, holding his hand just above your crotch and the brink of your panties,leaving it there. your legs shook, and you bucked your hips slightly forward and up against his palm.

“please.” you whined, feeling an overwhelming tightness building in your groin. it was paralyzing, almost, the way you felt so weak. and it irritated you, how he was treating you like this. of course, it was him doing it, so you didn’t mind. he was spoiling you just by allowing you this opportunity.

just as much though, you were spoiling him. he was so grateful he was able to touch you like this.

harvey chuckled a little, pleased with your whimpering. he slowly pressed his finger against your clit, the fabric rubbing up against it as he slowly drew circles on it. you gasped, your back immediately arching up. you cursed a bit, under your breath, gaining a sinful sigh from him as he smiled at you in satisfaction.

you tugged on the band of your panties, hoping he’d get the hint to remove them. “harvey..” you whispered, pathetically.

he raised a brow, a straight expression screwed to his face. “hmm?”

“take these off.” impatiently, you spoke, in a slightly stern tone, finished with all this teasingly vague touch. harvey, startled at your sudden tone, blew up in red, clearing his throat. “ah, aha.. if you insist,

y/n.”

you had to admit, you liked how flustered he became. how you could feel his grip tighten on the sheet beneath you. how his brows furrowed because of how flustered he became.

as harvey slid down your underwear to your ankles, you kicked them off the bed urgently, adjusting your position to be further up against his hand, earning an amused hum from him. he was reminded of you, and your position beneath him, and it gave him a delicious feeling of warmth in his groin.

his hand returned to his place between your legs, beginning a sort of circular motion on your clit with his thumb before slowly sliding a finger inside, eliciting a sweet moan from you. he hummed, quite satisfied with himself, and created a gentle rhythm.

harvey was talented with his hands, there was no doubt about it, you thought, grateful that your doctor was the man he was. you were lucky, for sure, having such a dexterous man being the one finding his place inside of you. and you showed him your gratefulness, rewarding him with moans of ecstasy just from his hand.

he got comfortable, inserting another fing-

“doctor harvey?” a knock came from the door.

you jumped, breath catching in your throat, causing his finger to twist upwards pressing into your g spot, causing a moan you couldn’t help to begin to slip from your lips. harvey hurriedly slapped his free hand to your mouth, giving you a stern expression.

“y-yes, maru?” he stuttered out, his thumb almost subconsciously continuing to massage your clit, screwing your eyes shut in pleasure.

“i was just wondering if you needed any extra support with your paperwork.. i know you’ve been busy..” she sounded hesitant, like she had more to say.

“no, no. i’ve got it all covered,” he said, so casual, despite the bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and the occasional hard swallow. he looked back to you, the smallest and most mischevious smirk on his face.

slowly, he put another finger in, curling them up into your g-spot, making you buck your hips forward up into his hand, almost on instinct, like a reflex.

“ah- harvey-!” you gasped into his hand, and he simply pressed it harder onto your mouth.

“keep it down, y/n.” he whispered, “cant have maru hearing you whimper like that, can we?”

slowly, maru wrapped her hand around the handle, beginning to twist it, “are you sure? i can-“

“i-im quite sure! thank you! i believe you have work to do, don’t you?” harvey rushed, a shot of fear running through his body at the thought of his assistant catching him like this with a patient.

with you, at that. yet, a rush of excitement ran through his mind at the same thought.

“if you insist..” she let go of the door, her footsteps clicking across the floor as she made her way back to the office.

you let out a sigh of relief into his hand as he removed it, boiling up a bit of anger. “h-harvey! what were you-“

“sh.” he whispered, “don’t act like you don’t like the rush.. i know i do.” he sighed, breathing a huff of air. “as nervous as it makes me..” he mumbled the last half under his breath, as if you weren’t sharing your most vulnerable parts together. he still wanted to be perfect for you. taking his fingers out, causing you to sigh in frustration, he fumbled a bit, grabbing your hips.

“can i…?” he asked, his eyes trailing down to his length, feeling overwhelmed with the idea of being inside of you. he’d been waiting too long, and knowing now that maru had the potential of coming in, he didn’t feel like waiting anymore.

any anger you had against his insane ideas washed away at the thought, and you whined a bit. “oh my yoba, please, yeah.” you groaned, letting your head knock back.

he positioned himself, taking a moment to ensure you were comfortable. “is this… okay?” harvey whispers, only a tad on edge from the almost immediate loss of his job earlier.

“yes, yes, please! how many times are you gonna make me ask?”

“i like the way you say please.”

with that harvey was eager, eager to finally feel himself inside of you. slowly, he began to push his length into you, as you immediately squeezed on him, unable to control how your body naturally reacted to his cock. it was mesmerizing, and thanks to his treatment of you earlier, you weren’t in pain.

“mmgn.. yes..” he whimpered quietly, his head cocking backwards in pleasure just from feeling how you wrapped around his cock. “ahh.. ah- i don’t know..” he whispers, slowly beginning a steady but sloppy pace, “how long.. i can last with you.”

you moan softly, placing your fingers over your mouth. “please please just fuck me while you can.” you gasp, breathless as the feelings overwhelm you, but in the best way. harvey was big, and you didn’t realize it until he was inside of you. but god he felt good.

with absolutely zero reluctance, harvey sped up, panting out gasps and moans, and little whines in between. he lowered himself down to your ear, his breath hitting the cusp of it hotly, his whimpers crisp for you to hear. it was intoxicating. he was intoxicating.

“y/n.. y/n, y/n, y/n..” harvey murmured, the words coming out of his mouth slurred and seductive, bringing a tightness to your groin that made you clench around him.

“don’t stop.. please, doc.” the nickname slipped from your lips again, earning you a satisfying groan in your ear from your lover above you, his thrusts growing faster and harder. his hips grinded against your own, as you brought them into his in a passionate rhythm.

his moans began to sound more like whiny gasps, his confident demeanor diminished. he was so entranced, so desperate to feel good, feel you. and those moans of yours and how tight you felt around his cock and the feeling of your bare skin touching and how hot-

“y/n.. so..so close!” he begged, almost expecting those cries to get you to help him cum, and his voice brought you closer to your finish yourself.

his name left your mouth thoughtlessly, reaching your arms up to pull him close to your chest, nails clawing into his bare back. “yes! yes! like that-ah!” you cry, your legs wrapping around his waist as you cum on him, and he joins in unison.

harvey slows his pace almost immediately, growing quick with fatigue as he pulls himself out of you, shivering at the feeling.

about as exhausted, you shift yourself slightly to sit up, feeling an apparent ache in your body. letting out a huff, you become increasingly aware of how loud the crinkling was on the bed. and then it hits you.

“harvey?”

“y-yes?” he gasps, breathless.

“you.. DO have sound proofing right?”

FIN.

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[soldier-poet-king]

Thinking abt body horror as romantic. Body horror as intimate recognition of the self and the other and the other as the self. Body horror as an encounter with the divine.

[spookygibberish]

Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.

The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.

A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.

[mishy-mashy]

I said this in a whole reblog, but just copy-pasting to a separate post because I think it'll give some reading comprehension and reblogs don't show up in the search feature.. again, I'm reiterating what I said in another post.

Go check out @demidokuriya 's post for this; OP's post made me put this all down in like. 20 minutes. Mind went vroom vroom cuz HEY THEY'RE ONTO SOMETHING.

(They also reblogged the post with some hint to some behind the scenes of what led to the ideas if you wanna check that out)

Look below at how, when Mineta told AFO to spare Tokoyami, AFO specifically went "..."

He remembers Jirou and thinks, The braying howls of the weak...

He was going to take Tokoyami's Quirk. He took Hawks'. But after Mineta pleaded with him, AFO just straight-up left and didn't take anyone else's Quirk.

AFO saw Yoichi in Mineta.

These scenes are near-identical to each other.

Mineta and Yoichi (at that time) are both much smaller than the normal person at their age

They're both hurt, yet dragged themselves up from the ground to throw something at AFO, to get his attention and make their voice

Both are considered weak, even if they have a Quirk (Mineta's Pop-Off and Yoichi's undeveloped Factor)

The fact that Yoichi got AFO's attention here by throwing a can at him, while Mineta got his attention by throwing a Pop-Off ball; and it stuck.

Mineta's call for his attention landed and actually stuck to AFO. This is unlike when Yoichi and his can bounced off, and AFO kicked him, not listening to him; AFO listened to Mineta and left Tokoyami alone, technically doing what Mineta wanted—to not hurt this person.

AFO just went on to hurt more people away from Mineta's [Yoichi's] eyes so the small weakling wouldn't see.

Yoichi and Mineta both cried to AFO to not hurt in his ways, when AFO was intent on stealing people's Quirks

AFO even stole Hawks' Quirk during this time.

He had time to steal Hawks' Quirk, and though he could've tossed him to the side, he let Hawks stand in his way.

He had the energy. Right after this event, he flew off and left the scene. But he didn't go for Tokoyami immediately.

And this let Mineta play his part, and remind AFO of Yoichi.

"A putrid, festering Quirk Factor."

That sounds like Yoichi, AFO.

".. such garbage."

Hey hey hey, what did Yoichi throw at him when they were kids?

A discarded can. Garbage.

This chapter (385) where AFO listens to Mineta is literally called [A Youthful Urge].

Mineta told AFO to take his Pop-Off (hurt him) instead. But last time, AFO hurt Yoichi by kicking him; this time, AFO not only listened to Mineta to not hurt Tokoyami, but didn't touch Mineta at all.

Even though this time, Mineta [Yoichi] offered to take that place of suffering.

Yoichi didn't do that back then. AFO just turned on little Yoichi anyway.

Yoichi through his whole existence is literally [the braying howls of the weak]. AFO acknowledges he's weak and idealistic, yet he still loves him.

Side note about this panel, I think it's interesting that in this vision, this was the first time we saw Yoichi's eyes: when he was being defiant, despite being pushed down by someone much stronger than him.

Really characteristic of him, honestly. Yoichi's soft-spoken and frail, but it's always reiterated that Yoichi had a powerful will against his stronger big brother.

Mineta at this moment reminded him too much of Yoichi, because the two scenes are near-identical to each other. Parallels, really.

Reiterating something from OP's post that I reblogged this from;

"The reminder of his brother made him uncomfortable, so he hurried away."

AFO didn't want to hurt Yoichi again.

[orange-coloredsky]

the "3000 year old child" trope has the possibility to be genuinely intriguing and could explore the way children are treated across time no matter their apparent level of intelligence. it could be funny it could be heartbreaking it could be horrific to think about. too bad 90% of it is just an excuse to be a creep. sad!

[kaladinkholins]

i know I've mentioned my interpretation of mizu's gender a million times on here but i don't think i ever fully elaborated on it.

so on that note i just wanna ramble about that for a bit. basically, it's my reading of the show that mizu is nonbinary, so let me dig into that.

putting the rest under the cut because it ended being pretty long lol. also here have a cute mizu pic of her being happy and most at ease with herself, symbolised by her letting her hair down. <3 ok let's proceed.

okay note that nonbinary is an umbrella term, and applies to a vast range of gender identities, but it's my personal preference to use it as is, simply because i'm not a fan of microlabels. more power to you if you are though, but anyway.

essentially when i refer to mizu as nonbinary it means that i interpret mizu as a woman, but not ONLY a woman. not strictly a woman. she is also a man. she is also neither of these things, she is something in between, while at the same time she is none of these at all. i've said as much many times, but i just don't want people to think that by nonbinary it inherently means a "third androgynous gender" that essentially turns the gender binary into a gender trinary. not only is that going against what the term nonbinary was crafted for (to go against rigid boxes and categorisation of gender identities), but also, not all nonbinary people fall under that category or definition, and that's definitely not the way i interpret mizu.

also, before anyone fights me on this, let me clarify further that gender means something different to everyone. it's not your biological sex or physical characteristics. but at the same time, gender is not mere presentation. you can be a trans woman and still present masculine—either because you're closeted and forced to, or because you just want to—and either way, that doesn't take away from your identity as a woman. same goes for trans men. if you're a trans man but you wear skirts and don't bind or don't get top surgery, that doesn't make you any less of a man. because gender non-conformity exists, and does not only apply to cis people! some lesbians are nonbinary and prefer using he/him pronouns while dressing masculinely, but that doesn't mean they're a man, or that they're any less of a lesbian. neither does this mean that they're a cis woman.

the thing about queer identities in general is that, like i said, they mean something different to everyone, because how you identify—regardless of your biological attributes and fashion or pronouns—is an extremely personal experience. so a nonbinary person and a gnc cis woman's experiences might have plenty of overlap, but what distinguishes between the two is up to the individual. there's no set requirements to distinguish you as one or the other, but it's up to you to decide what you identify as, based on what you feel. either way, by simply identifying yourself as anything under the LGBTQ+ umbrella, you are already communicating to the world that you are not what a conservative, cisheteronormative society wants you to be.

which is why i find all this queer infighting on labels to be so ridiculous. because we're all fighting the same fight; the common enemy is a societal structure that divides us into set roles and expectations purely based on our biological parts. that's why biological essentialism in the queer community is a fucking disease. because by arguing that women are inherently weak and fragile and soft and gentle and must be protected from evil ugly men, while men are inherently strong and angry and violent and exploitative of women, these people are advocating for the same fucked up system that marginalises and abuses women as well as effeminate and/or gay men.

anyway. i'm going on a tangent. this was meant to be a blue eye samurai post. so yeah back to that— the point i'm trying to make is that there's no one way to identify as anything, and everyone views gender in a specific way.

so with that being said, yes you can definitely interpret mizu as a gnc cis woman and that's a totally valid reading. however, interpreting her as nonbinary or transmasc also doesn't take away from her experiences with misogyny and female oppression, because nonbinary and transmasc folks also experience these things.

me, personally, i view her as nonbinary but not necessarily or always transmasc because i still believe femininity and womanhood is an inherent part of who mizu is. for example, from what we've seen, she does not like binding. it does not give her gender euphoria, but is instead very uncomfortable for her both physically and mentally, and represents her suppressing her true self. which is why when she "invites the whole" of herself, she stands completely bare in front of the fire, breasts unbound and hair untied. when she is on the ship heading to a new land in the ending scene, she is no longer hiding her neck and the lack of an adam's apple. we can thus infer that mizu does not have body dysmorphia. she is, in fact, comfortable in her body, and relies on it extremely, because her body is a weapon. instead, what mizu hates about herself is her face—her blue eyes. she hates herself for her hybridised identity, hates herself for being a racial Other. hates that she has no home in her homeland. these are not queer or feminist themes, but postcolonial ones.*

* and as a tiny aside on this subject, i really do wish more of the fandom discussion would talk about this more. it's just such an essential part to reading her character. like someone who's read homi k bhabha's location of culture and has watched this show, PLEASE talk to me so we can ramble all about how the show is all about home and alienation from community. please. okay anyway—

nevertheless, queer and feminist themes (which are not mutually exclusive by the way!) are still prevalent in her story, though they are not the main issue that she is struggling with. but she does struggle with it to some extent, and we see this especially during her marriage with mikio, where we see her struggle in women's domestic spaces.

on the other hand, though, she finds no trouble or discomfort in being a man or being around other men—even naked ones—and does not seem stifled by living as one, does not seem all that bothered or uncomfortable navigating through men's spaces. contrast this to something like disney's mulan (1998), where we do see mulan struggle in navigating through men's spaces, as she feels uncomfortable being around so many men, always feeling like she doesn't belong and that she's inherently different from them. mizu has no such experiences like this, as her very personality and approach to life is what can be categorised as typically "masculine". she is straightforward and blunt. her first meeting with mikio, she tells him straight to his face that he's old while frowning and raising a brow at him. she approaches problems with her muscles and fists (or swords), rather than with her words or mind. compare this with mulan, who, while well-trained by the end of the movie, still uses her sharp wits rather than brute strength. this is a typically "feminine" approach. it's also the approach akemi relies on throughout the show—through her intelligence and persuasive tongue, she navigates the brothel with ease. mizu, in contrast to someone like mulan and akemi, struggles with womanhood and femininity, and feels detached from it.

thus, in my opinion, mizu is not simply a man, nor is she simply a woman. she is both. man and woman. masculine and feminine. she has to accept both, rather than suppress one or the other. her name means water. fluid.

as a side note, while i do believe mizu is nonbinary, i also primarily use she/her pronouns but this is a personal preference. i find it's easier, plus it's what the creators use, and because, in general, being nonbinary simply doesn't necessitate the use of they/them pronouns. nonbinary is not just a third gender. it's about breaking the binary, in any which way, and that's exactly what mizu does.

also, i'd also like to mention that one of show's head of story even referred to her with the term "nonbinary", rather than simply "androgynous" (see pic below). and it's possible this could be a slip up on his part, in which he believes the terms are interchangeable (they're not btw), but regardless i find it a very interesting word choice, and one that supports my stance.

so anyway yeah that's my incredibly long rambling post.

TL;DR nonbinary mizu rights 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 congrats if you reached the end of this btw. also ily. unless you're a TERF in which case fuck off. ok i'm done.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

in the dream i don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap ; shoko ieiri

synopsis; ever since the battle in shinjuku came to its conclusion, nothing’s been the same as it used to. but you don’t think anyone is doing quite as badly as shoko. 

word count; 4.5k

contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader, canon-typical mentions of death (iykyk), angst, hurt/comfort (but not very heavy on the comfort), jjk spoilers (up to chapter 236!!), mild gore (mentions of blood, autopsies and general gore-ish imagery? nothing too bad tho), shoko ieiri deserves better, includes gojo slander (stay safe gojo nation)

a/n; first of all i just wanna apologize to the shoko girlies for writing angst when we’re already so starved of content, i have like 50 fluff drabbles planned for her but chapter 236 threw me into a mental angst pit so </3 yeah. i love my wife!!

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while.

the thought sneaks its way into your subconscious, as your feet carry you to her morgue — a rotten thought you just can’t seem to rinse away.

it’s not very hard to notice. she doesn’t talk as much, for one. not that shoko was ever much of a talker, but now the silence around her is deafening. thick and heavy like the spine of a knife. and she smiles even less.

you can’t remember the last time you heard her laugh.

the crescents beneath her eyes are darker than ever, darker than you thought possible. a murky purple that you’d find soothing in any other context, but like this it’s just revolting. her eyes are deep and dark, the same as ever, but now they’re glazed over with something you can’t quite put your finger on. 

apathy, maybe.

or bloodlust.

the scent of cigarette smoke that follows her is suffocating. indistinguishable from her natural scent. you don’t know if she’ll ever be able to scrub the tobacco stench off her skin.

(you’ve given up on counting the exact number of cigarettes she smokes each day. you’re not sure you want to know the answer.)

she doesn’t even look alive, anymore. like some part of her already reached its expiration date. a spectre, wandering the hallways, filling the air with the slow, ominous clacking of her heels.

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while — and it’s so obvious. her grief is so heavy, her sleep-deprivation so severe. you’d have to be blind not to notice it. 

so why hasn’t anyone said anything?

you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to suffocate the bitterness swimming inside your veins. it’s a dumb question, really, because you already know. you don’t want to acknowledge it, because it’s so unfair, but you know. of course you do.

no one has the time to. it’s as simple as that. 

no one’s doing well, anymore. not since shinjuku.

not since gojo died.

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing. always with her, tucked away within those eyebags, in the pockets of her coat. in that smell of tobacco, never-fading, always lingering. it follows her like a ghost, like something she’ll never quite be rid of.

(like something she doesn’t want to be rid of.)

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing, and it always has been. but recently, it’s been downright overwhelming. it used to be subtle, the kind of thing you notice if you look close enough. if you squint. if you even care enough to try.

but now, it’s more like a haunting than a simple ghost.

(geto. nanami. yaga. and now gojo, too.

how many people does she have to lose before whatever’s watching is satisfied?)

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while, and it’s obvious, and it’s sickening. she still does her duty to a tee, but she isn’t quite there anymore. gaze always forlorn, as if she’s trying to convince herself of something.

and yet no one says a thing.

everything is one big mess, right now. you don’t want to blame anyone. everyone’s exhausted, completely and utterly spent, but they’re still planning it all out. even in the midst of their mourning. because they don’t have any other choice. 

this is not the kind of situation where you should be pointing fingers. a part of you is angry, livid even — but you know the others are doing just as badly. it’s not like you aren’t, either.

still, though. isn’t this just too unfair?

”i brought you coffee!”

making sure your voice doesn’t waver is tougher than you initially assumed. just the sight of her sends a tremor running through your ribs; sunken down in her chair, papers in hand, eyes scanning the pages methodically. papers of what, you’d like to ask — but you already know.

(she’s reading through the post-mortem examination report, again. searching for something you don’t understand. you’re not sure she does, either.)

and she looks exhausted.

try as you might, your voice ends up sounding a little stale, as it flows from your lips and reaches her ears. but the attempt is there — the attempt to sound cheerful, calm. normal. to give her something to hold on to.

shoko looks up at you, and her lips curl in a way you think is supposed to form a smile. it doesn’t. her eyes look into yours but it’s like she’s not seeing you at all.

when you go to give her the cup of espresso, your fingertips touch. only for a second, before she curls her fingers around the ceramic handle. she receives the coffee with a small murmur of thanks, but you don’t notice because you’re too busy thinking of how cold her skin feels.

(cold like a ghost. cold like death.)

shaking away the shivers down your spine, you allow your gaze to trail over the morgue. it looks the same as always. cold, empty. foreboding. today, you think it feels just a little chillier than usual. matching the temperature of the outside world, where everything lies buried in heaps of snow and frost.

hesitantly, you plop down in the seat right next to hers. with such a narrow distance, you can smell the tobacco sticking to her clothing. it makes you want to throw up.

(you try not to look over at the couch in the corner of the room, where a certain someone used to slack off. his awkwardly long limbs would dangle off the edges, and shoko would pretend that she didn’t enjoy his company. you were more than content with silently admiring the smile she was trying to hide.)

shoko doesn’t look at you, professional in the way her eyes run across the files. cause of death: damage to central intestines, subsequent loss of blood. from a cut to the stomach, right below the liver and spleen.

you look away before your eyes can read another line.

leaning back in your chair, you exhale a tiny sigh. desperate to fill the silence with something, anything at all. you scramble for topics, racking your brain.

(what could you possibly tell her that she doesn’t already know?)

”the others are still planning everything out,” you speak, playing with your fingers idly to distract yourself. ”i think it’s going well.”

shoko hums, unaffected. ”that’s good.”

she’s speaking to you, but that feeling of unease still won’t go away. her voice sounds still, flat. empty of emotion. but you can tell she’s trying to be polite.

that’s no surprise. shoko isn’t the type to ever show how she’s truly feeling. she’s not the type to ask for help, either. people come to her for help, not the other way around. that’s all she’s ever known.

(in that sense, the two of them were alike.)

but that just makes it all the more important for you to be there. even if you’re a little awkward, and even if you can’t do much. even if it’s only for a moment or two, you want to see her smile. you want to feel for yourself that she’s really there.

looking over at shoko, you wring your hands together, the cold air of the morgue nipping at your sweaty palms. she’s drinking from the cup, one finger around the handle as her other hand flips through the papers.

”does it taste okay?” you ask, softly. if only you could ask her that under better circumstances, with cups of espresso made with better coffee machines than those at jujutsu high. ”i made it myself, so…”

”it’s fine.” shoko takes a sip. dragging her syllables out, as if mustering the will to speak. ”don’t worry.”

short sentences. almost cold, but you know better than that. she just doesn’t have it in her to pretend that everything is normal, anymore.

and it makes you uncomfortable. this silence. 

a couple months ago, it would have felt comforting; a quiet, peaceful kind of solitude shared between the two of you. nostalgic, like the smell of morning dew. or the way moonlight feels on your skin when the world falls asleep.

the silence you had with shoko always felt so tender. a single moment of peace, before the other shoe dropped. just that one moment was enough to give you the hope you needed to make it through another day.

you loved being silent with shoko. you loved her silence, the way she could soothe your very soul without saying a thing.

but now it only stings your skin. you fear that you might drown in it.

there is nothing to say. you want to ask her how she’s doing, but you already know. you want to ask her why she’s still reading the files from gojo’s autopsy, but you already know.

you want to ask her if she can still keep going, like this. but you already know.

she doesn’t have a choice.

(something crumbles, deep inside your chest, like ashes cast into the sea.)

”hey. shoko?”

she hums, again. weak. quiet. absentminded, acknowledging your words but not really hearing them.

you take a deep breath.

”i think i’m going to quit being a sorcerer.”

silence.

for a moment, nothing happens. nothing moves, or speaks. the air is cold and crisp and carries no meaning, no words, nothing at all. 

like time is frozen. frozen like all the bodies shoko’s had to dig inside these past few months. frozen like gojo was when she found him in the snow.

frozen like your youth, a glass marble kept in your pocket for moments when you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is about to slip away. then you’d take it out, and look deep inside it. watch the swirling of greens and blues and purples. that streak of indigo right in the middle of the glass. memories of the past, to give you comfort.

to remind yourself of why you’re doing this. to give you a reason to keep moving forward.

(south or north, it doesn’t matter. stay as you are or move forward, look to the past or to the future — none of it matters if you aren’t alive. that’s the conclusion you came to.)

shoko’s expression, too, is frozen. it doesn’t change, even as you let those loaded words fall from your tongue. you watch her carefully, out of the corner of your eye. she doesn’t even look at you, gaze still glued to the tiny letters detailing exactly what gojo’s pulse was at when he got cut.

but something flickers, in the depths of her irises, so fast you barely catch it. something you can’t identify, but it’s still something. it’s movement. it’s alive.

”not right now, obviously,” you elaborate. suddenly a little nervous, now that the words have been made manifest. ”but… you know. once all this is over.”

not sure what else to say, you trail off, fidgeting with your fingers again. voice wavering pitifully towards the end of the sentence, because deep down you know it’s not a question of once, but a question of if.

(if this ever ends. if i don’t die tomorrow, or the day after that.)

you swallow the lump in your throat, and look at her. trying to find her eyes. trying to keep her alive for as long as you can, this sequence of motion, this moment frozen in time.

trying to reach her.

”you won’t ever have to worry about me dying,” you throw in, like the words are light and not heavy as bricks. but you know she needs to hear them. ”i’ll leave, and then — and then…” 

staring down at your lap, you link your hands together. exhaling, a little breathless. sheepish, in a way. ”… well. i don’t know. i haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”

you never had the chance to. you didn’t even really think of it as a possibility, as something you could do. and you know it’s not a possibility for shoko. the choice to be a sorcerer was never hers, from the very beginning.

a user of the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing almost any wound, more power and capability than a child should ever have. invaluable. she’s saved so many lives you’re sure she’ll be reborn as a god.

but the choice was never hers.

a soothing kind of ache blooms in both your palms, as your nails dig into the soft skin. hard enough to form crescents, like the ones under shoko’s eyes, that she’ll never be rid of no matter how much she sleeps. the choice was never hers.

isn’t that just too cruel?

they don’t deserve her. none of them do. the elders didn’t, the jujutsu world doesn’t — not even the students. no one deserves it; everything she does for everyone, day and night, just slaving away in the morgue or her office. cutting up curses and old friends. every second of the day, always that same buzzing of her name being called. 

shoko, someone needs healing, come quick! 

shoko, i know it’s 2 am and you have work tomorrow, but there’s a curse that i need you to dissect.

shoko, i think i got a paper cut, would you mind taking a look?

none of them deserve her.

you think of gojo. a flash of white hair, a grin brighter than the sun. a bloodstained smile — one shoko had to wipe away.

something ugly claws its way up your throat.

none of them deserve her. especially not him.

what were you thinking, leaving her all alone like this? so much for being the strongest. you couldn’t even stay alive.

why would you die with a smile on your face? do you have any idea how cruel that is to her?

you idiot. don’t you know how much she missed you?

— yeah. none of them deserve her. gojo doesn’t, the world doesn’t, and neither do you. no one does. 

what shoko deserves is to live a normal life. 

and she never will.

it’s foolish. it’s naive, a juvenile daydream. but you wish for it so, so badly. so much that even just the thought alone feels like too much to bear.

you wish you could bring her with you. 

you wish you could take her hand in yours, and run away. leave it all behind, every single thing, without caring about the consequences. you’d hold her hand and never let it go, and then you’d run and run until you were both high on adrenaline and breathless laughter.

maybe you could go somewhere, together. somewhere better. outside of japan, where there are less curses. money wouldn’t be an issue, you both have more than you know what to do with — one of the perks of having a job that’s bound to kill you. you could settle down in some smaller town, peaceful, maybe a little secluded. just to make sure no one finds you. 

maybe you could open up a little shop, together. or spend all your days tangled up beneath the blankets, catching up on lost sleep. talking and whispering, like you’d do back at the sleepovers you used to have. you’d make her coffee every morning, and tea every evening. you’d spend the rest of your life trying to make her laugh as loud as possible.

there’s nothing you want more. absolutely nothing. there never will be.

— but you can’t ask her.

you can’t ask her to come with you, no matter how much you want to. that’d be the cruelest thing you could possibly do to her.

she would never agree. you’d only be hurting her more. so selfish, all of these wishes. it was so much simpler back when you were just kids. when you didn’t have to care about duties or responsibilities. when your cognitive empathic abilities were just a little more lacking. 

a sigh flows from your lips. resigned, but somewhat hopeful, all the same. tainted with the murmurs of a memory that’ll never happen.

”maybe i’ll open up a bakery, or something.” you tap your fingers against the desk, smiling a little to yourself at the thought. or trying to. ”then you could come visit.”

shoko looks into her cup of coffee. watching the swirling of the vortex, the abyss that gazes back at her. she doesn’t look at you but you can tell she’s listening. then she puts the cup down, and you glance at her now-empty hand. 

shoko’s hands have always been pretty. even when they’re covered in grime, or stained with blood. thin, a little bony, smooth skin obscuring clear blue veins. moles litter her hands like stars in the sky; one right beneath her pinkie, another by her wrist. the more you look, the more you find.

tentatively, you broach the distance between you. curling your fingers around her slender ones, where they rest on her lap. linking hands. it’s a slow movement, drawn out and careful, accompanied by the heavy beating of your heart. 

(her skin is cold to the touch. your skin buzzes with unease, but you don’t let go.)

then you smile. a small thing, not really optimistic, but the attempt is there. something for her to hold on to. looking deep into her eyes, admiring the hazel glow that never quite left them.

”i’ll give you free pastries.”

a moment passes. shoko’s fingers squeeze around yours — weakly, but it’s there. movement, motion, life. a way of reaching out. a way to hold on.

her eyes continue to trail over the page, but you know she’s not reading any of the contents. you’ve caught her attention. a small victory, but you’ll take what you can get.

”i don’t like sweets,” she reminds you, leaning back a little in her chair. allowing her eyes to flutter shut, at last — and it’s not much but it’s something. a moment of relief for those tired, tired eyes. more tired than any 29 year old’s should be.

”i’ll change your mind,” you promise, mustering up enough will to sound smug. ”my pastries will be out of this world. you’ll get a sweet tooth in no time, sho.”

she exhales a breath, vaguely amused. your smile widens, hopelessly. her happiness was always the root of yours, wasn’t it?

then she looks at you, one eyebrow raised in lazy scepticism. ”can you even bake?”

”nope,” you deadpan. ”but i’ll learn. you’ll see.”

this time, shoko almost chuckles — and it’s more than you’ve gotten out of her in recent memory. god, you missed that sound. a little raspy, from all the cigarettes, but still so honeyed and smooth. hearing it makes you feel as if everything will turn out fine, in the end.

(what a powerful thing, for a voice to do. one so lovely it anchors you to the earth.)

a faux pout curls its way to your lips, and you squeeze her hand lightly. ”don’t laugh, i’m being serious!” your pout shifts into a soft grin, a little teasing. ”i’ll get you addicted to sugar instead of nicotine.”

”haha…”

shoko laughs. shoko laughs and it’s beautiful.

shoko laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s so beautiful that you almost don’t notice the tears in her eyes. almost.

and then you realize your mistake.

a memory comes to you, then. you recall a hushed conversation, beneath a cloudy summer sky. the air was heavy with the scent of lilacs and cigarette smoke. two people were beside you, and all you cared about was listening to the tilt of their voices. that, and nothing more. a time before everything and everyone went south.

(”you know, shoko. you really should drop those death sticks of yours.”

”i don’t want to hear that from the guy who needs 40 grams of pure sugar every day just to function.”

”rude! and as far as addictions go, sugar is a cut above nicotine, don’t ya think?”

”whatever. just worry about yourself, gojo.”)

by the time you realize, it’s already far too late. the tears have already begun to fall. little droplets of grief, sticking to her skin.

they trickle down the contours of shoko’s face, and fall onto the paper in her hand, smudging the letters. she clutches it tightly, crinkling it, just to make the damage worse. her other hand is still holding yours, chipped nails digging into your skin gently.

but she keeps laughing. low, hazy laughter — pained. she sounds like she’s in pain, and that’s because she is. even if no one ever cares to mention it.

(how cruel, for her to be born with the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing any physical wound; leaving her with too many mental ones to count. never to be healed or acknowledged, in this life or the next.)

you can only stare. helpless to her sadness. her eyes are a little red, and she’s biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood — a drop of scarlet falls onto the paper, and you think of gojo again.

you think of shoko finding him. running to his side. doing all she could to heal him, to patch him up — getting blood all over her hands and clothes. red everywhere, staining the pure white of the snowfall. like something out of a painting.

she did all that she could. pressing down on his chest, positive cursed energy pouring out from her fingertips in tandem with the snow. pressing two shaky fingers to his pulse point, just in case. just to find any sign of life, absolutely anything. hoping so tenderly that she’d feel the flutter of his pulse. that he’d get up, and laugh obnoxiously, and ask her if she really thought he’d leave her behind so easily.

you’d never seen her look so scared. so desperate, a primal kind of fear you’ve learned to associate with self-driven survival. the way some animals can claw their way out of a predator’s stomach if they’re swallowed whole. but she did that to save him. trying to claw him out, herself. from the belly of the beast.

she did all that she could.

but gojo didn’t do anything. he just laid there, split in two. frozen in time, eternally young. watching the sky. smiling.

(what a wonderful way to die. what an awful thing for an old friend to find.)

before your mind can catch up, your body acts. muscle memory, in the way your arms curl around her midriff to bring her close. tucking her into your side while she sniffles and cries. still laughing, like she’s still trying to convince you that she’s fine. like she’s isn’t falling apart at the seams.

the dam breaks. the ice shatters. everything comes crashing down — and you’re there to pick up the pieces. despite everything.

it’s not enough, it never will be. but at least it’s something.

it’s heart-wrenching, the way she clings to you. like you’re the only thing she has. the dry laughter that spills from her throat devolves into sobbing, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, nails clinging to the fabric of your clothing like she’s trying to anchor herself. broken sniffles fill the space between you as she hides away, in the crook of your neck.

(the sound makes you feel like someone drove a knife from your sternum down to your stomach.)

all you can do is hold her. quietly, delicately. as if she could break if you squeeze her too hard. as if she’d shatter like a sheet of glass if you were to say the wrong thing again.

you hold shoko like she’s fragile. because she is, regardless of what anyone else says. because she’s a human being, and she’s grieving, and she needs this.

eventually, she musters up the will to speak — and it’s awful, raspy, broken syllables she has to force out of her throat. 

she chokes on the words like they’re poisonous. like she’s been carrying them around for decades, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be let out.

“don’t — don’t end up here,” shoko pleads, voice wavering through the syllables. full of fear. “please.”

you know what she means. she doesn’t have to say it, because you know.

don’t end up in my morgue. don’t end up on my autopsy table. 

shoko sounds meek. she sounds close to falling apart. you’ve never seen her like this before, clutching onto your sleeves as if begging you to stay. 

“you’re — you’re the only one i…”

she doesn’t finish, cut off by a broken sniffle. but she doesn’t need to. 

you’re the only one i have left. i can’t lose you, too.

please don’t die. please don’t leave me behind.

a shaky inhale. your arms tighten around her waist, tugging her closer. praying that she’ll feel the steady beating of your heart, the undeniable proof that you’re alive. that you haven’t left her yet. 

you blink away the tears in your eyes, grasping for control over your wavering voice.

“i won’t.”

and maybe it’s cruel, maybe it’s the cruelest thing you could do to her — making a promise you know you might not be able to keep. but you do so anyway. helpless to her sadness. at the complete mercy of her grief. you’d do anything to stop the tears from falling, to soothe the turmoil in her chest.

“i won’t let you be alone, shoko,” you murmur into her hair, with all the comfort you can possibly muster. ”not now, or ever.”

three words yearn to be spoken, resting on the tip of your tongue. three little syllables, desperate to be heard after living in the back of your throat for so many years. 

and for a second, you think you might say it. 

you think you might say it, breathe life into the statement. you can almost taste it, can almost hear it. can almost see what her expression would look like.

but shoko sniffles, and hugs you tighter. protective, like you’ll leave if she doesn’t. so tightly that it hurts a little.

and you swallow the words, once more. 

right now, this is enough. it’s enough that you’re alive, that you’re here. that’s what shoko needs, right now.

she doesn’t need your love. she just needs you to stay alive.

so you will. you decide that you will, no matter what. you’ll leave, and you’ll open up a shitty bakery that won’t get any customers — and you’ll give her free pastries for the rest of your life. you’ll get her so addicted to sweets that she’ll have no choice but to come back for more.

shoko cries like a child. filling the silence of the morgue with her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles, little hiccups and whimpers. the tears never seem to stop, and you wonder how long it’s been since she last let them fall.

you hold her in your arms, smoothing a palm down her back, counting the bumps of vertebra — and don’t say anything. there’s no need to.

for now, the soft patter of your heartbeat is enough.

ijichi stands just outside the morgue, unmoving. not saying a thing.

it’s muffled, hushed and quiet, but still audible. the sound of childlike crying. the kind all sorcerers do their best to keep to themselves.

in his arms lie a bundle of papers. the final pages of gojo’s autopsy report. it’s important that shoko sees them — vital, according to her. something about the six eyes, the possibilities they hold. the hope that maybe, just maybe…

— he clutches them tightly, and then walks away.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

the doctor isnt neurodivergent or autistic or adhd or nonbinary or genderqueer or asexual. what the doctor is, is Not From Here

[thelien-art]

Day 2: Maglor of @feanorianweek

Kingship

Poppy = Sloth | Manipulation

I do think Maglor mourned when Maedhros got himself captured, I just also read Maglor as a manipulative power hungry character.

He probably convinced himself that Maedhros had died and ignored everything that proved otherwise, both as a poor coping mechanism and, subconsciously, seizing the power of being a king, although he never named himself one as that would give him trouble. He differently enjoyed the power and mourned, when Maedhros came back, for the power loss. He was happy to have his brother back of course. I don´t think he spoke against Maedhros choice to give the kingship to Fingolfin, even if he wanted it himself, as he did except Fingolfin to do something stupid and get himself killed eventually, and by agreeing he seemed more "civil" and the friendliest of his brothers, which would end up giving him political power, giving people the illusion that he´s the innocent and harmless of his family.

Maedhros | Celegorm | Caranthir | Curufin | Ambarussa | Nerdanel and Feanor

[rxttenfish]

Asking because I’m extremely curious about this, how did MonProm’s writing get different over time? I remember you saying that the lore and characters feel different, and that it's missing sincere character interactions, too. I know almost nothing about the lore and I’ve only seen a few people mention the characters, so I’d be interested in a rundown of what aspects you think got worse in the series

I wouldn’t mind a very long response since I’m not that active in the fandom, I need to catch up on what happened

sorry for taking so long to answer this! i kinda waffled on it for a long bit, mainly because i started doubting myself again, and whether or not this was me simply overreacting or being tinted by nostalgia or simply being extremely picky and choosy in what i like (the last of which is true, i seldom get into fandoms at all for this reason and stay away from most popular media, but i wasn't sure if it applied here). i've posted about it already, but i'm in the middle of a psychotic episode where i can't feel a lot of pleasure to begin with + most things i do experience ending up solidly in the "very bad" category, so as you can imagine, i really didn't want to mislead and check that i was actually in objective reality.

as it is, this is also when a lot more screenshots started to be posted in the monster prom tag, and that helped me bridge the gap back into returning to the games themselves and feel like i was making a more accurate judgement. if you're one of those people who have been posting screenshots, i sincerely thank you, and i appreciated seeing you in the tag greatly.

for those not in the know — i've been in the monster prom fandom since it first released, prior to even the first additional ending to be added (the "Punch the sun" ending, and i recall the minor fandom drama that happened at that time due to it). my impression of monster prom is very much influenced by this, as what got me into the first game was the fact that the characters genuinely seemed to care for each other and were friends with each other (not merely tolerating each other's presences nor dressing it up, they sincerely thought of each other as friends and were open about that fact), on top of the wide variety of small details and statements that, if taken at face value, could create compounding complexity in the lives of each and every character and had wider implications for their lives.

no, they were not necessarily explored nor even necessarily "real", with so many conflicting events and statements, but i liked this too, because it meant a wider flexibility in what you could imagine, helping to create a more tailored experience for everyone who thought about these characters. this was what i liked about the early fandom too. what was baseline "canon" was so vague and minimal that you could have wildly different interpretations of the same characters' histories and relationships with each other. you would have radically different perspectives on what the world itself looked like, what it was like, that there wasn't really any wrong answers so long as their personalities remained the same. this is where you got the old headcanon of polly and liam being childhood friends who knew each other as humans, or that the world of monster prom was post-apocalypse where humanity itself had gone extinct or only existed in tiny pockets, or my personal headcanon that both monster and human society existed right next to each other and had minimal crossover for petty cultural reasons. this was also prior zoe-as-ro, and there were wildly different interpretations of zoe's personality, with most going for a far more disquieting creepy-cute than the deep nerd we got.

this is why you get stuff like the timeloop theory, where everyone is repeating the same weeks leading up to prom over and over, and are perhaps vaguely aware of it but broadly unconcerned. this is also why it felt like the joke that, the characters were still in high school but were all fully legal adults with most in their 20's, best landed, because it was absurd and strange and didn't quite make sense, but the world itself was inherently absurd and semi-malleable to begin with. realistically, i felt like everyone understood it was making fun of the trope of having adults play teenagers in american sitcoms and wildly casting outside the age range, but for more in-universe explanations it wasn't any different from the way that you would have a large, dramatic ending in which everything changed, but then you'd restart and everyone would be right back at the beginning with nothing different, or even having conflicting events in the same run. it was a dream-logic that fit with the tropes and, thus, diagetically made sense.

to be clear, i don't mind canon having a set, well, canon on which it refers back to itself. i don't mind expanding that or including more things which are set in stone. but there was a perceivable shift in how the games handled this over time, becoming a lot more... bitter, it felt, towards all of these different branching ideas and concepts that, yeah, the people making them knew wouldn't necessarily be "canon" because "canon" already liked to contradict itself so much. most people weren't even sold on any one idea, and there was a much greater sense of enjoying and appreciating all the varying ideas people would come up with even if you personally didn't share them. making the characters be out of character was the real crime, because then it didn't diagetically make sense in the same way, didn't wholly fit.

(again, this is not to say fanon didn't happen and characters weren't smoothed down into a simplified personality that fit these varying fan-interpretations instead of the game itself. certainly damien love/lust was just as bad as it had ever been, and everyone loved to mangle his character into a more stereotypical "bad boy with a heart of hold" all the time. but it certainly felt less set-in-stone about it than it does now, with any deviation from the norm being considered strange and odd and even broadly shunned from the wider fandom.)

all of this is setup for establishing what the writing, lore, and characters felt like in the earlier days. the characters were the strongest part, with their relationships to each other being equally as important. the lore played it fast and loose and was far less interested in setting anything in concrete because that wasn't the important part. the lore wasn't the important part, which was what made it all the more intoxicating to think about, all the more fun to play with.

montrip is easily the biggest offender when it comes to setting everything in all-or-nothing terms and demanding absolutism from the world. broadly i blame the hitchhiker conversations for the worst of it, but i think ultimately the way they handled the entire premise of the game is where this problem stems from. it's not really an exploration in the same sense that you might explore the first game, discovering different perspectives and different people with different relationships to each other. it's an exploration in the sense of a sequel that over-explains the monster, that takes the most boring option out of all those that were possible and floating around and settles on something that was blatant, obvious, typically rejected not because of how novel it is but how trite and par for the course it is in the rest of the genre.

yeah, okay. humans know nothing about monsters and there's a "monster dimension" that exists separately from the human dimension. there's no crossover between the two of them. of course there's a big grand-scale fight between the eldritch powers that zoe used to be a part of, from which not only are slayers the main organization against them, but also the merkingdom has some horse in this race too. it's an urge to make things so universal in explaining them, in revealing connecting threads which unite everything that's ever happened in here, that makes the worldbuilding and lore immediately much more boring than it ever was before.

and it didn't have to be this way! nothing in the first game contradicts any of this too explicitly (see the above, the first game loves to contradict itself), and i would even be happy if this was basically canon but never stated or confirmed to be the big overarching everything going on underneath it all. i believe you should probably know these things about any world that you create and have them in the back of your mind. the difference is that you can know these things and keep them in mind, even focusing on things where its very relevant, and still not reveal them. this is why you have lore bibles, after all. every horror writer knows exactly how their monster works and the full underlying reason for everything that happens, but that doesn't mean the audience will see it or possess this same information too, and leaving it intentionally obscure will make far better stories.

which, this is bad enough, but it wouldn't be the breaking point for me if this was all there was.

but the worst thing of all has to be the slow decay of the very same characters that sold me on this world, this lore, this game in the first place. monster prom is nothing without the characters in it. it's a dating sim, it has nothing but characters to get you to play, and liking these characters are the entire reason anyone would pick up monster prom in the first place.

and the first game pulls this off extremely well. it's all in the tagline: be your worst self. they are, indeed, all terrible people. yes, even that character that you just thought of right now. they all have points in the game where they commit atrocities, where they kill or hurt people, where they do inexcusable things that could not be ignored in a more serious setting.

but that's the point. i think there's something very powerful in creating a character who not only do you love and love their personality and the way they interact with the world, but who also are inapologetically terrible, and to have the humor and the charisma be so good that you don't get bogged down in the "this is awful". likewise, it never feels the urge to really go out of its way to justify what's going on. this is not to say theres no discussion of if someone "deserved it", but usually there's still the sense that the joke is on them, that this is still an extreme reaction specifically for comedy and not necessarily something that can be justified. you can have damien set leonard on fire and have it feel earned, without prompting the needed reaction of what it's actually like to watch someone burn to death.

this is what sets the prank masterz ending apart from the rest of the game, and really establishes it as the first real "bad ending". because nothing that you do or happens in the prank masterz ending is any different from anything else that happens in any other run. you summon evil beings from other dimensions as a throwaway gag on how visiting one location raises your stats. you kill other people and damn them to terrible fates. you watch as body horror happens. the only difference is that, in the prank masterz ending, the laugh track doesn't play.

the rest of the game and the writing echoes this philosophy, this careful interplay of tropes that keeps everything tongue in cheek and yet sincere enough to make sure emotional beats still land when they're needed. the characters feel true to themselves and their own emotions, even when the world is extreme and excessive, when everything else runs on comedy logic.

this is also what i noticed failing first as time went on.

like i said, fanon has always existed and there's always been very specific ideas as to what characters are like in the same way fanon always flattens down characters into the same tropes over and over. scott is stupid and innocent and doesn't know what sex is. damien is violent and hot and too cool for anyone else. miranda is the idiot girl character. repeat over and over and over until you get sick of it.

but it's been an issue as time has crept on that canon has started to approach fanon and began to merge with it. now, scott is so innocent that he can't even curse. polly starts being mean to her friends and saying things that would be very hurtful to hear. the merkingdom isn't really super evil and fucked up, it's just miranda that's like that. they become simpler, easier to digest, streamlined for social media posts and mass-sharing. they become less and less subversions of existing tropes and moreso just another example of them, something else to add to the collection, not their own individual stories.

even further from this, what more complex traits they had are now stated and not shown. polly is stated to be smart and clever in a way that her party girl persona doesn't imply and to be sincerely rather down to earth with the people she cares about, but we seldom ever see this anymore unless its the game specifically trying to make a point about it, in which case it won't let her do anything that implies cleverness and moreso will just outline it in the narration. vera is stated to care for people in a very genuine and heartfelt way, but seldom will get a chance to do so, and every opportunity for her to do so to their faces is missed while she will just outright state it later. it does not feel consistent, it does not feel like any of these are intended reads of their actions. it feels like the devs have something they want to do but no idea on how to actually do so. and forget it if you want these traits to manifest in small ways that show up in unrelated moments and scenes.

the dialogue becomes harder and harder to tell between each speaker, if you are just looking at what's said and not at the pictures attached to it. the characters' distinct voices have been eroded away, so that they speak more and more like each other, relaying the same terms and ideas in the same words. perspective becomes a suggestion, instead of a must.

this is something that started back in monster camp too, as all of the endings in that game felt ultimately the same as every other ending. it's very hard to place or define the full reason why, why there feels like there's no emotional stakes nor investment, why everything feels moreso like selecting different coats of paint and trying to find all the different ending pictures rather than being interested in exploring the characters as characters.

stranger yet, the series that started with the tagline of "be your worst self" has experienced a kind of... softening, for lack of a better word? what i mentioned about being able to handle the balance between terrible people who do terrible things and the light tone of the game starts to change, as abruptly the same characters who were down with violent murder in the first game start to lose their nerve, acting more and more on more typical morality. it's one of those things that feels like it's starting to damage the tone, as abruptly it's not as absurd as it used to be, demands less suspension of disbelief which could buffer and support the rest of the setting on it. there's even a part in one of the endings in montrip which involves current-polly and current-scott looking back on their monprom selves and reacting in horror at how violent and careless their pranks are, in a way that fundamentally felt like it was undercutting and disparaging all the things that felt fun and made monprom what it was.

which is odd, really, because more and more i feel like the characters in these games like each other less and less. the friendships and genuine enjoyment of each others company that brought me to this game in the first place has gone. now they don't mention each other as much, don't care for each other's feelings and reactions as much, aren't as willing to support each other. they are more and more found on their own, relied on their own, seem to seek out contact and interaction with their own friends less and less. it feels like they're all separating out into their own worlds, but also feels like they wouldn't willingly want to interact with each other if they weren't already forced together by some other outside contrivance.

if anything, i'd compare it to every other dating sim out there, where you, the player, are the most important person in these characters' lives, and they only feel ambivalent or antagonistic towards every other character. which, again, is not why i picked up monster prom or why i liked it so much in the first place.

and it's because of this that it feels like the current state of the series has to focus on its increasingly weak worldbuilding and lore, trying to form a more serious foundation without character relationships being so tightly bound together, without the characters themselves being more developed and rich, without an aspect of absurd humor to rely on.

more and more i've noticed monprom has to rely on referencing other series to make itself funny and create humor, which, again, it's always done. it was just easier to ignore back then, if you didn't know what was being referenced, because there was always more going on in the exact same scene to bolster it and give context clues as to the setup and punchline at play. it feels like the current games are much more dependent on you knowing pop culture references in order to have any fun with it, and i'm someone who, again, is very picky in what i like or what i'll seek out. i'm not interested in a stream of references about other things that i would much rather be doing than playing through a game that feels like it hates that i like it at all, when i could, again, just be engaging with the thing that takes itself seriously and knows what it wants.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, I was just wondering - do you have an AO3? I see you referencing some fics/aus but I don't see a link or anything on your page lol. Love the art btw!! I'm living for the fantasy au rn.

Yes! but its all DC at the moment </3